“Yes, Your Grace. Let it be as you wish.” His blood felt cold in his veins as he realized she knew he was lying. Why else would she be so quick to have him sleep at the castle?
She stared at him, unblinking. He had the distinct urge to squirm under her gaze, but forced himself to remain perfectly still.
“Where are you from?” she demanded.
“Hungary, but I have been a wanderer most of my life.” That was true enough. He’d wandered all over the Hagenheim region.
“Play something for me.”
“It shall be my pleasure to play for you.” Gabe took the large leather bag from where he’d slung it over his back and carefully unwrapped his lute. His hands shook a bit, but he felt confident. After all, things were going just as he’d hoped; he was here with the duchess and she was asking him to play.
He began to play a lively tune his father had taught him, one his father had played for Gabe’s mother before they were married, when she was giving a dance lesson for their friends Gunther and Hildy.
Now Gabe was playing it for the Wicked Witch of Bavaria, with her creepy white face and hawkish talons.
Gabe concentrated on getting all the notes right, keeping his eyes on the strings of the lute. When he finished the song, the duchess was staring at him coldly, as if completely unmoved by the music.
“You play very well,” she said slowly, her eyes half closed. “Play another song.”
Gabe began another dance tune, longer than the one before, and then decided to play another, to keep playing until she stopped him. After the third song, she said, “That is enough.” She steepled her fingers again, clicking her nails together. “It is my wish that you stay the night and play for me again this evening. But you must stay here, on the castle mount, and not go into the village. Guards, take him to his room.”
The guards didn’t put their hands on him this time, merely waited for him to precede them out of the room.
When he reached the door, he turned and bowed to Duchess Ermengard. “Until tonight.”
She nodded, the eerie smile returning to her face.
After exploring his room, which was adequate though by no means luxurious, he set out to write a song for the duchess. He tried to think of words to praise her beauty, but nothing came to mind. When he finally started writing on a piece of parchment from his bag, scratching with a quill and ink he found in the room, the words flowed through his mind and onto the page as if by magic. Only after the third line did he realize he wasn’t thinking about the duchess at all, but about Sophie. Her black hair, her beautiful skin, thick lashes, and blue eyes pierced his consciousness like a sword of inspiration. He would have to be careful to make it sound like he was writing and singing about the duchess. He couldn’t let her know his song was actually in praise of her servant.
Did the duchess hate Sophie because she was so beautiful? Or was it because Sophie was the daughter of her dead husband, Duke Baldewin, and the rightful heir of Hohendorf Castle and all its demesne, and thus the perfect toy to torment?
He continued to pour out the song. Then he took up his lute and picked out a tune fit to accompany the words.
Sophie’d had to stop dipping candles to help Petra prepare the evening meal. After two additional maids had come in to help, Sophie and Petra were no longer able to speak about Sophie’s true identity, or about the fact that Sophie was betrothed to Gabe’s brother. Nor were they able to talk about Gabe’s chances of getting away from the duchess. Sophie prayed for him while she continued with her work. Had he been taken to the dungeon?
As she walked down the cool corridor toward the entrance to the inner courtyard in order to draw water for cooking, Sophie heard the faint sounds of music. She stopped and listened. It was coming from one of the rarely used guest chambers farther down the corridor. But it sounded like someone who was just learning to play, the way the song stopped, then started, over and over.
Or maybe it was someone learning a new song. Or writing one. It had to be Gabe. But was the duchess truly allowing him to stay in the castle?
At least he hadn’t been sent to the dungeon. Not yet, anyway.
That night, as the servants were eating in the kitchen, Sophie sat between Petra and Roslind and talked quietly about the stranger.
“He has such kind eyes,” Petra said. “Even if he is the son of a nobleman, I like him.”
“Yes,” Roslind said, taking a bite of her stewed apples. “He seems very kind. And very handsome too. Don’t you think so, Sophie? He might even be a brother.” Roslind’s eyes grew wide with excitement, clearly believing Gabe was nice enough to join their servant “family.”
“I don’t think we know him well enough for that, Roslind.” Sophie thought how pitiful she and Roslind were, so desperate for love they created imaginary kinships. The longing to belong had haunted Sophie all her life. She wasn’t sure how she would ever be able to stop looking for those kindships, or that she even wished to. It soothed the ache in her heart to call Roslind sister and Petra mama.
Her thoughts went back to what Gabe had said earlier, that he had come here to help Sophie because Pinnosa had said she was in danger. He must have been telling her the truth after all. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but the thought that he had come here just for her gave her a thrill of hope. Hope that she was not worthless. Hope that someone might love her enough to want to save her from this dark place.
And Gabe had said she was betrothed to his brother. Betrothed. The very word meant she belonged to someone. And if she married his brother, then Gabe would be her brother. It was a beautiful thought.
Sophie looked up and found herself staring into Gabe’s brown eyes.
Petra jumped up from the bench and insisted Gabe sit down in her place, opposite Sophie. She quickly put some stewed pork and vegetables on a trencher and placed it before him.
“Thank you,” he said politely, then winked at Sophie. “The duchess said I could eat with the servants.”
Sophie nodded and gave him a half smile. With all his bravado and ease at playing a traveler, he seemed too good to be true, as did his story about his brother being her betrothed. Or maybe Gabe’s brother was so hideously ugly — rabbit teeth, hairy moles all over his face, and a nose like a hooked beak — that his family had been happy to foist him off on anyone, even a girl who knew more about how to wash a pot than eat at a duke’s table.
“I’ve been writing a song for her. I hope she will let me perform it for her tonight.”
“Good.” Sophie nodded again.
All the servants stood and began to leave. Sophie looked around her, appalled to see them all glancing slyly at her and Gabe. What were they thinking?
“Will you stay and talk with me?” Gabe asked, placing his hand over hers on the rough wooden table.
A pleasant tingle crept from her hand up her arm. She stared down at his hand on hers, unable to look him in the eye.
“Of course,” she said gruffly, then cleared her throat and moved her hand away from his.
Gabe began to eat as everyone disappeared, leaving the two of them alone. “Were you able to talk to Petra?” he said softly.
“Yes,” Sophie whispered back. The seriousness of their conversation and all its consequences seemed to fall heavily on her shoulders.
“What did she say?” His eyes were wide as he met her gaze.
“She says …” Sophie glanced around the room. “She says I am Duke Baldewin’s daughter. She apologized for not telling me sooner.”
Gabe stared at her a moment longer, then went back to eating. “I will come up with a plan to get you out of here,” he said between bites.
“You won’t be leaving if the duchess finds out why you’re here.”
He swallowed and winked at her. “Stop worrying.”
Sophie slowly shook her head at him.
When he had almost finished his food, he said, “Tell me about your childhood.”
“Are you sure you want to know about my childhood???
?
He nodded.
She might as well tell him. “I have vague memories of feeling happy. I remember the priest teaching me to read. I can read.” She may not know anything about how a noblewoman behaved, but she was very happy that she could at least boast that much knowledge. “I remember the priest telling me things about God. I have a memory of standing in an open meadow with the sun on my face … but I’m not sure if that’s a memory or a dream.”
“You mean you’ve never been outside the forest?”
Sophie felt uncomfortable at his obvious horror. “Is that so unusual? This is Bavaria. We — we are a heavily forested land. Everyone knows that.”
“Go on. Tell me more.”
“My memory is nearly blank for a few years,” she continued to whisper. “Duchess Ermengard forced the priest to leave — at least I hope he left, instead of meeting a worse fate at her hands — and she attempted to burn down the chapel. I don’t remember very much after that.” Sophie felt uncomfortable again. The things that she did remember were so painful she didn’t want to share them with Gabe … with anyone.
He was nearly finished eating, having wolfed down his food while she talked. He picked up his tankard and tipped it back.
A longing rose up inside her to hear about a loving family. What had it been like to grow up with two parents, with brothers and sisters? Surprising herself with how much she wanted to know, she asked him, “Will you tell me about your childhood? About your family?”
“My mother and father are wonderful, truly. They punished us if we misbehaved, but they talked to us, helped us, read to us. We would sit around the fire at night and my father would play the lute and sing, and my brothers and sisters and I would dance and play games like shatranj, blind man’s buff, and backgammon. Sometimes my mother would read to us or tell us stories that she made up. She was brilliant at inventing stories.”
Sophie’s heart beat faster as she tried to imagine the scene. When Gabe paused, she urged him on. “Tell me more. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“I have three brothers and three sisters. I had four sisters, but … one of them died.” He paused to clear his throat. “I am the second oldest, and my brother Valten, your betrothed, is the oldest.”
“Are you and your brother Valten great friends?”
“No,” he seemed to say reluctantly.
“Why ever not?” she cried, then wished she hadn’t sounded so horrified, as a sheepish look came over Gabe’s face.
“You know how boys are.”
She didn’t.
He began to turn the empty tankard around, twisting it on the wooden table. “We were always competing with each other. I wanted to be stronger and faster and better than my brother, but unfortunately he bested me in nearly everything. Although I am better looking than he is.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “I remember once” — he chuckled — “I was helping Valten practice for the tourneys. He knocked me from my horse, his lance grazed my head, and I hit the ground and was unconscious for a few minutes.” He laughed again, as though he were telling a funny joke instead of relating a terrible accident. “That’s how I got this scar.” He brushed his hair back, and she saw a pale line on his forehead next to his hairline.
She gasped in horror. “But you are his younger brother. How could he treat you so carelessly?”
“It was only an accident.”
“Is he bigger than you?”
“A bit.”
“He sounds like a bully.” And I am meant to marry him.
“No, no. Valten is a good man and will be a good husband. We haven’t always gotten along, but …” He rubbed his chin. “We’re older now and better friends than we were. But I’m sure my brother is quite angry with me right now.” He didn’t seem sorry. In fact, he seemed rather to relish the idea.
“Why is that?”
“I defied him and my father when I came here to find you.”
“Did they not want you to find me?” Was she not wanted after all?
“They wanted to come themselves. Valten was greatly frustrated because he couldn’t come right away himself to find you.”
Her heart lifted.
“He broke his leg in a recent tourney. Our healer won’t allow him out of bed for at least four weeks.”
He had told her that already. What Sophie really wanted to know was, Do you think your brother will like me? Instead, she asked, “Do you think your … parents … will approve of me?”
“They will love you. My mother will smother you with hugs and kisses. She’ll make such a fuss over you, you’ll wish you had stayed away.”
Sophie’s heart seemed to swell inside her chest as she imagined Gabe’s mother embracing and kissing her. The longing inside her was so great, she was sure Gabe could see it on her face. To belong to Gabe’s family … to have a mother who would show her true affection … the thought was complete joy. How could Gabe possibly think she would not want that? Would wish to stay away? She was ready to go home with him this very moment!
He glanced around the kitchen before whispering, “I wish we could leave tonight,” as though he had read her mind.
She almost leaped at his words.
“But the duchess probably wouldn’t let us get far. She’s expecting me to play for her tonight.”
“No.” Sophie came back down to earth. “She wouldn’t let us get far.” She’d send her guards to haul them both back to the castle and lock them in the dungeon or kill them. Besides, the woods were full of wolves that hunted in packs at night.
Perhaps she shouldn’t trust him enough to run away with him. But what if Gabe was her only chance to get away and find out what it was like to be loved?
“Tell me more about your family. What do you do at Christmastime? Who taught you to play the lute? Does your family eat dinner together?”
She was asking about his family again. Gabe noticed that she got a strange look on her face, a look of longing, as if she enjoyed imagining what it was like.
Soon, as soon as he was able to plan their escape, he would take her to his family, and she’d be accepted and loved like she never had before.
“My father is a good musician, and we’re all great singers. Except Valten. He sings like a crow.” He laughed, then sobered. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say bad things about your betrothed. Anyway, we sometimes sit around the fire and sing until the little ones fall asleep in our laps. My little sister Adela always wants to sit with me. I’ve put her to bed more times than I can count.”
“What does she look like?”
“Blue eyes and blonde hair, although it’s starting to turn brown now. And dimples in her cheeks. She’s two. I have another sister, Margaretha, who’s fifteen, and Kirstyn is twelve. Besides Valten and me, there’s Steffan, who’s ten, and Wolfhart, who’s seven. It’s always noisy. Someone’s always laughing — or singing.”
Sophie, who was staring at the table as though she were watching a miracle play, suddenly sighed.
He couldn’t wait to take her home.
Just then, the huntsman strode in. He looked first at Sophie, then at Gabe. His jaw twitched, as though he were clenching his teeth. Then his face relaxed as he focused on Sophie. “Go for a walk with me?”
He actually said it politely, and Gabe held his breath as he and Lorencz both waited for her answer.
“No, I’m sorry. I don’t take walks after dark.” She folded her hands primly on the rough table.
The huntsman clenched his teeth, then composed himself again, making his voice smooth. “I won’t let any harm come to you, Sophie. You are safe with me.” He smiled, reminding Gabe of a fox eyeing a mouse.
“I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not? Sophie, please come with me.” His voice was more commanding now. He stepped toward her.
“She doesn’t wish to go with you.” Gabe rose to his feet and looked Lorencz in the eye. “Stop harassing her.”
“I’m not harassing her, and it’s none of your business
. Sophie” — he turned back to her now, leaning over the table — “you aren’t letting this fellow influence you, are you? Come. Take a walk with me.”
“Gabe is not influencing me. I told you earlier that I wouldn’t take a walk with you, and I have not changed my mind.”
Gabe stifled a cheer.
“If you don’t go,” Lorencz said, his voice quiet but with a menacing undertone, “I may just find someone else to walk with me.”
“As I told you before, I think that is a splendid idea.”
Gabe waited tensely, watching the huntsman as he glared at Sophie. Finally, Lorencz straightened and then strode out of the room, his boots clomping loudly on the stone floor.
Sophie exhaled. “You should go. The duchess is probably waiting for you. Good night, Gabe.”
“Good night, Sophie.”
Sophie was helping Petra in the kitchen the next morning when Darla walked in with a big smirk on her face. Sophie always did her best not to detest the maid and prayed for her whenever she thought about the times Darla’s tale-telling had gotten Sophie sent to the dungeon.
“Guten Morgen, Sophie,” Darla said, lifting her nose into the air and breaking into an outright grin.
“Guten Morgen, Darla.”
Darla sat down on a stool and crossed her legs, staring down at her fingernails. “Guess who asked me to go for a walk with him last night.”
Sophie forced herself not to look up from the bread dough she was kneading. “I’m sure I don’t know, but you are very popular, Darla, so it could have been anyone.” Sophie airily turned away from her as she placed the dough on a flat board and shoved it into the crackling oven.
“Lorencz the huntsman.”
“Is that so? I’m so glad he finally found someone to walk with him.”
Sophie chanced a glimpse at Darla, who squinted her eyes a moment before breaking out in another sly grin. “We had a very good time.”
“I’m sure you did. Walking helps balance the humors.”
“We weren’t walking the whole time. And we had a very … good time.” She raised her eyebrows and smoothed her hands suggestively down her hips.