Lutter am Barenberge, January 1627

He froze for a moment, but then launched at his opponent with the raw strength of an animal. The other man, unprepared for such ferocity could not do much, and was brought to the ground. Peter jumped at him, straddled him, and delivered several blows to his face. Caught in a fury, he soon lost count, and only after Dachs dragged him away did he stop.
"Come on now!" Dachs said as he pulled Peter off the man. "It is not worth going to the gallows for that man".
Peter settled, and Dachs let him go. The other man still lay on his back, motionless and his face covered in blood, yet still alive. The crowd was a bit disappointed, they had wished for more of a fight, but in their minds, anything that involved fighting was interesting enough. Snow fell silently on the ill lit street, and although the crowd that had gathered to see the fight was silent, the night was all but silent as the songs and murmur from many inns filled the cold winter night. Peter gave the crowd a look before briefly turning his gaze to the man he had beaten up. He shrugged.
"It is getting cold" he said without hinting any emotions. "Will you join me to drink some more?"
Cristoph and Dachs, who understood the question was directed at them of course accepted and the three left the scene, only after Peter had left did the crows help the man back to his feet. He groaned.
"What did you do?" asked a rather young man who had been to late to see what triggered the fight, if you could call it that. The man did not answer.
"They had an argument over something, I do not remember what, and he got upset and insulted him for being a non-believer. Then that other man went furious and attacked him. He probably drank a little too much" another man answered in his place. After assuring them that he was fine, the beaten man left them, and the crowd soon scattered.
Meanwhile, Peter, Cristoph and Dachs had entered another inn further down the same little street. The inn was located in a cellar and had a low roof, it was filthy and badly lit with it's single fireplace, but at least it was warm - and crowded. There were other soldiers in there, but most of the customers were scruffy-looking men, whose only apparent aim was to drown their own sorrows. At a table in a corner, a group of prostitutes sat, they were the only female customers.
They sat down at a vacant table, ordered in wine and some bread for Dachs from a maid, waited for their order and then started drinking and eating. The bread was rather bad and looked mouldy, even in the dusky light, so Dachs tossed it away after only a few bites. They remained silent for a long while, all of them seemingly unwilling to speak of anything, but as they got drunker they went back to describing the fight, and all had a laugh at the shocked face of the other man has Peter lunched at him. This went on for a couple of hours, but when Cristoph fell asleep for the third time they decided to call it a day, and to return to their lodgings. Dachs slapped Cristoph to wake him up, but they still had to more or less drag him from the inn. By the time they left, the inn was almost empty, and by now the streets were finally silent.
The bitter cold of the night awoke Cristoph somewhat, and he and Dachs stumbled off in the direction where their temporal home was while Peter went in the opposite direction. It only took him a few minutes of staggering to get home, and as the maid finally opened the door after quite some time of knocking he actually hugged and thanked her. She did not really appreciate his act of gratification and sent him up to his chamber. He lived in a small, filthy, chamber in the attic of a house owned by Mester Heinrich Schumacher, a nice old man who lived alone with his maid after his wife had passed away. Different from the other burghers he actually seemed to welcome the soldiers to stay at his home, he probably appreciated all the company he could get as his children had all left Lutter for other places. Peter lived alone in his little chamber, but there were five other men who slept in the house as well.
He opened the door to his chamber, and found that it was as cold as the streets outside. The fire had gone out. Apart from the small fireplace the only furniture in the little room was a bed and a small desk out of decayed tree with a simple chair next to it. He relit the fire and threw in a few pieces of wood. Dead drunk as he was, he could not keep himself awake waiting for the heat to come, so he threw off his boots and went to bed with all his clothes on. He fell asleep at once.

***

He was awoken by the maid’s knocking on the door. Through the shutters of the little hole that was the chamber’s excuse for a window, a little grey daylight forced its way into the otherwise dark room – the fire had gone out again. He only grunted for an answer, but the maid opened the door, which he had not locked, anyway and entered the room. She brought with her a bowl of porridge and some bread. She placed it next to his bed and went over to the window and opened the shutters, she then skilfully lit the fire and put some more wood on it – all the while she was speaking to him in her tutoring voice, she acted like she was his mother. She very well could be. Her name was Eva, a woman somewhere in her late fifties, her husband, who had also been a servant to Mester Heinrich, had passed away a couple of years ago, but she remained in the household that had become her life. They were used to accommodating several guests, and were not particularly bothered by the presence of so many soldiers.
“Oh, yes” Eva said right as she was leaving the room “A friend of yours is here to see you. Shall I permit him entrance?” Peter, who still had not gotten out of bed nodded and mumbled something vaguely reminiscent of a “Yes”.
“Now, you eat your food and I shall bring up some beer for you and your friend” Eva said in an almost nursing voice before she left.
Peter sat up in his bed with great effort, and then threw his blanket off. He moved closer to the fireplace, but remained sitting in bed. He took the bowl of porridge from the floor and began eating with the simple wooden spoon in it. It did not taste very well, but it was warm and almost revitalizing, he had only dim memories of the night before. Footsteps were heard from the stairs, and to his surprise, it was Emil who entered. With his mouth full of porridge, he pointed with the spoon at the little chair, and Emil dragged it closer to the fireplace and sat down, taking his coat off. They sat silent for about a minute while Peter was eating, and Eva entered with two wooden pints of beer. She closed the door as she left. When Peter had finally finished his bowl, he took out his knife, cut the bread in half and threw one piece to Emil, immediately taking a bite of his own.
“So…” Peter finally said “What is it? You would not come to me for nothing”.
“No…” Emil said, staring at the floor, touching neither his bread or beer. Peter however drank greedily from his own pint. “Peter, I have wanted to say this to you for a long time now, but I have not had the courage to do so”. Emil was now looking into Peter’s eyes, and his face expressed great torment and anxiety.
“Say it, do not be shy” Peter said in a surprised voice, while he tried to keep merry as he saw that Emil was greatly troubled. “I promise not to laugh or be angry, or anything like that, in fact”.
“Do not promise that in advance” Emil said, now with subtle hint of anger in his voice. “I think… I think I know you from before the war. You grew up near Magdeburg, right?”
“Yes”. Now it was Peter who was getting anxious.
“It was you who did it, was it not? I saw you”.
For a brief moment, Peter stared in utter horror at Emil. He then reacted with the speed of an animal. He reached for his knife which he had placed on the bed and lunged at Emil, thrusting the blade into his chest. Emil sighed as he lost his breath and Peter then went on to stab him several times in the stomach. Emil fell silently from the chair. Peter dropped the knife and staggered backwards until his back was against the door. He then rushed over to his boots, put them on and took Emil’s coat and put that on also. Wherever he was going, he was sure he was going to need two outer coats. He then left the room, closing the door behind him. He rushed down the stairs and hurried out on street. He was on the run again.