Third part

Victor sat staring into his goblet, watching the amber liquid swirl about. He gently manipulated the goblet and thought about the council meeting. Lots of talk and little action. Herr Muller left the council meeting early, citing that he didn?t want to leave Helga alone after dark. The council was still wrangling when Herr Muller returned; both he and his horse in a lather. Helga was missing. Gretchen Schmidt?s horse was also there and she too was missing. There were signs of struggle in the barn and the mill itself. Victor took command to prevent a mob from racing out to the mill. The fire alarm was sounded, many of the able bodied men of the town had equipped themselves with torches, lanterns, and a variety of arms, mounted up, and followed Victor to the mill. When they arrived, it was after dark. Victor divided the men into parties of three and began a search. The men took in the torn clothing, bloodstains, and other signs of a struggle and muttered about monsters as they went about their search. However, even then Victor knew in his heart that the only monster to visit the mill was of the green-eyed variety.


Two days earlier at the mill?

Helga was flushed from the exertions of the battle she was in with Gretchen. She was especially flushed with the pleasure of seeing Gretchen?s cheek laid open with the very riding crop Gretchen started beating her with. Looking at Gretchen now she felt her flush of victory drain away to the growing realization that her opponent had become unhinged. Gretchen stood before her hunched over a little, in obvious pain. Gretchen was stripped to the waist, bruised and battered. Her long blonde hair all but obscured her face, revealing only a cold hateful right eye and a wounded cheek that freely bled on to her heaving breasts. For all that Gretchen held the pitchfork in steady hands. Quickly, Helga took stock of her own condition. She too was battered and bruised, especially on the face. Her left eye had completely closed. The welts left by the riding crop started to burn under the sweat of her exertions, fueling her desire not to lose to the bitch before her. Her top was all but torn from her, leaving her practically bare to the waist. Most importantly however, was the scrapes and bruise forming on her shin. It would slow her down at a time when she needs to move quickly. ?Stall Helga.? She thought to herself desperately.

As Helga slowly backed away deeper into the barn she asked almost conversationally, ?Are you going to kill me Gretchen?? Gretchen who was slowly stalking her victim snarled out a ?Yes.? ?Why? challenged Helga, who finally had a plan to get past her foe. Gretchen growled back. ?Because Victor is mine and will always be mine. No round heeled, peasant trollop is going to take him from me!?

Helga, now where she wanted to be and a little tired of being called peasant, decided to add a little fuel to the fire. ?Peasant am I? Peasant! We are not as different as you would pretend Gretchen. Look at yourself, beaten, bloodied, and soiled just like I am! You would, just like I would, do anything to possess Victor. You would scheme, lie, and cheat to have him. You think nothing of fucking him and having him make you pregnant in order to have him marry you. Like I would, you would fight for Victor and?? ?Kill for him.? Gretchen finished. ?Kill for him.? Helga softly echoed. Looking into each other?s eyes, they came to an understanding. Only one woman would leave this place alive.

The time for conversation was over. Gretchen had just tightened her grip on the pitchfork in preparation to charge when Helga darted into a nearby stall. Robbed of her prey, Gretchen gave a hate-filled shriek and pursued.

Old Willie was skittish. The old roan plow horse was quite upset over the conflict that erupted in the barn. The high pitched screaming and the smell of blood had him so fearful that he almost attacked Helga as she entered the stall. A quick word and a gentle pat are all that kept Willie from kicking Helga. Willie not so sure about the screaming two leg behind him, so he kicked back so that it would keep its distance. Willie appreciated the two legs that cared for him freeing him and he wasted no time in thundering out of his stall and out of the barn. He brushed aside the other two legs with out a second thought, just as long as he was away from those two crazy two legs.

Gretchen somehow managed to keep her feet and a hold of the pitchfork as the old plow horse knocked her spinning into a stall across from the one Helga was in. Turned around, she quickly spun only to catch something in the face. The weight, texture and especially the smell told her immediately what it was. Gretchen screamed with absolute fury as she wiped the remains of the road apple from her face. Looking around she saw Helga quickly hobble out of the barn door. Screaming like a charging valkyre, Gretchen set off in hot pursuit.

Helga ran for her life as well as she could with an injured leg. She spared a wistful thought about her house with locks on its doors and her Papa?s loaded musket over the mantle, and knew that she couldn?t make it to the house before Gretchen caught up with her. Instead she headed next door to the mill where she hoped she could hide, evade Gretchen, and get to her house.

Helga?s heart leaped in her chest as the mud between the barn and the mill sucked the shoes from her feet, almost causing a fall. She could hear Gretchen?s almost insane shriek of rage an imagined her and that awful pitchfork closing the distance to pin her to the side of the mill. At the side door Helga grasped the handle of the sliding bar that kept the door closed. It took three tried to open that door. Helga stumbled through and turned to close and lock the door only to find Gretchen almost on top of her.

Gretchen screamed again as she caught sight of the closing door she would not be denied her prey this time. Turning so that her shoulder would strike the door, she charged to prevent Helga from locking her out. When Gretchen hit the door, it flew open. There was none of the resistance Gretchen was expecting. She stumbled into the mill a few steps before losing her balance and falling face first on the rough plank floor. The impact was such that Gretchen lost the pitchfork she was holding. It clattered across the large open room to rest against the far wall under some machinery.

Helga was filled with glee. When she saw Gretchen about to hit the door she stepped aside instead of trying to force the door closed against Gretchen?s charge. She was rewarded at the sight of her enemy on the floor before her. She wasted no time in diving onto her foe, straddling her, and yanking back as hard as she could on her enemy?s long blond hair. Helga enjoyed the damage she was inflicting and gleefully told Gretchen what she had in store for her.

Gretchen was in dire straights. Her eyes started to fill with tears as her scalp was being torn, her neck was stretched back, and her back was bent almost to the breaking point. She heard Helga hiss into her ear, ?When I get through with you, the funeral will have to be closed casket!? Spurred, Gretchen reached back blindly and got a hold of one of Helga?s braids. Yanking as hard as she could she was rewarded with a shriek of pain. Even more rewarding, was the fact that she pulled Helga off balance. Pushing off the floor, Gretchen started them both rolling across the floor. Helga, surprised at this turn of events, loosened her grip, allowing Gretchen to escape.

Both have got to their knees as they caught sight of one another, they paused, breathing hard and sizing up their situation. Two madwomen were in an isolated place. No one will interrupt them. No one will stop them. This has gone beyond Victor. Despite the clothing torn, the pain received, the blood shed, both were eager to go on. Nothing would satisfy either one of them except to see their foe dead.

Gretchen took the opportunity to view and categorize her surroundings. The mill was a large open room about 40 feet long and 20 feet wide. 20 feet across the small side door she came in was a moving convoluted mess of wooden gears that somehow turned a millstone to crush grain into flour. To the right of the machinery was a 6? long table with benches to either side with cups and a bottle upon it. Behind the table a set of shelves with various items, mostly drink, upon them. At the right wall was a double door large enough to admit a wagon. To the right of the door was a large set of scales and a stack of grain filled sacks. To the left was another small door, Gretchen had no idea where it went. Windows with their shutters open, provided light and ventilation. The entire room smelled of and was coated in a light dusting of flour. Their struggle raised a gossamer like cloud of flour and the breeze though the open windows set it dancing in the sunlight.

To these women however, the beauty of the moment was lost as they concentrated at the task at hand, killing their rival. Slowly the two got to their feet and started circling. Ruthlessly, they categorized the damage they did to one another, looking for some weakness to exploit. Then at some signal that only they could hear, they attacked one another. With shrieks of rage they filled their hands with their opponent?s hair and spun about the room, ripping and tearing at one another until Helga tripped and both ended up on the floor again.

There on the floor they rolled, their skirts riding high as each tried to gain the upper hand. First Gretchen would be on top raining blows onto Helga?s once pretty face. Then Helga would manage to get on top, clawing at Gretchen?s face with cruel fingernails. Back and forth they battled pretty evenly until Helga latched onto Gretchen?s throat and started squeezing. Gretchen gave a small cough and suddenly found herself unable to breathe. Helga, who had her by the throat, was shaking her like a terrier shakes a rat. Gretchen knew by Helga?s expression that if she didn?t get out of this Helga would strangle her to death. Once again Victor?s fisticuffs lessons came to her rescue as she cupped her hands and slapped them to each side of Helga?s head. The double blow was relatively week and sloppy, but the pain was enough to cause Helga to thrust herself away and cup her ears. Gretchen was up and crawled after her as quickly as she could. Helga, seeing Gretchen crawling after her drew back her right leg and kicked out at her enemy. Gretchen grunted as she took the impact on her right shoulder. Grabbing her foe?s leg to immobilize it, all Gretchen managed to do was to come away with Helga?s stocking.

Helga managed to get to her feet and stumbled toward the table in hope of using the items on it as weapons. Her heavy green skirt and apron tripped her up, causing her to fall to one knee. Hearing footsteps behind her, Helga got to her feet and lunged for the bottle on the table, only to be stopped short and jerked back like a dog on a leash. Her wind suddenly cut off, Helga reached for and tried to dig her fingers under the thing that had stolen her breath.

Gretchen delighted in her rival?s plight. Grinning savagely, she pulled her makeshift garrote, Helga?stocking, tighter around the bitch?s throat. Gretchen gloried in the fact that Helga?s face was turning red. She enjoyed Helga?s futile attempts to pull the stocking from her throat. She laughed at Helga?s antics as Helga pulled her around the room in a vain attempt to get free. Gretchen stopped laughing when Helga suddenly went backward, pushing Gretchen into the moving machinery of the water wheel! Gretchen screamed as the gears scraped into her back and tangled up part of her hair. Gretchen instantly abandoned her hold and threw herself away from Helga and the machinery. Her shriek echoed through out the mill as she left part of her hair in the gears. It was lucky that she escaped when she did, otherwise she would have pulled into the machinery. Gretchen stood there, contemplating her escape when the sudden sound of smashing glass brought her attention back to her enemy.

Helga had had enough. Once free of that makeshift noose, she again lunged for the bottle of liquor on the table. Where once she thought of just wrapping it around Gretchen?s head, she now had a better idea. Raising the bottle high, she brought it down on the edge of the table. It exploded with a satisfying crash, leaving a nicely jagged edge. Helga turned and brandished the broken bottle, giving Gretchen an idea what was in store for her. Gretchen seeing the bottle took a step back, whirled and ran for the far door. Helga screamed in frustration and pursued as quickly as her hurt leg could let her. Despite her scream, Helga was pleased. There was no escape for Gretchen behind that door. It was a walkway that only went to the wheel. Helga laughed maniacally as she saw Gretchen pause, look at the lake 20 feet below, and then turn to await her charge.