The Captive Maiden

  Gisela took his hand and stood.

  She looked around at all the people raising their goblets to her. She tried not to appear as terrified as she felt, and forced herself to smile and nod, thankful she had the presence of mind to pick up her own goblet. A cheer arose, then they all took a drink.

  Perhaps not all. From the corner of her eye she noticed her stepmother and Irma did not partake.

  Gisela sank back down on her bench.

  “And let us drink to our day’s champion and victor, my son, Valten Gerstenberg, Earl of Hamlin.”

  Another clamor of cheering went up, seeming to fill the high ceilinged hall and Gisela’s ears.

  Valten stood and gave a small bow. He looked completely at ease, as if this was an ordinary moment for him. The crowd drank. Someone cried out, “To Lord Hamlin’s health!”

  “Hear, hear!” they all shouted. Another man cried out, “To his prosperity!” And another cried, “To his future wife. May they have many children!”

  Valten lifted his cup at the man. “I thank you.” And drank the entire goblet of wine.

  The crowd shouted yet louder, and did not begin to quiet down until Valten had taken his seat again.

  While it was still quite noisy, Valten did not speak to her, but began to eat, and Gisela did the same. She ate slowly, imagining who might be staring at her, but she was determined not to look. She was grateful to have Margaretha’s constant chatter on one side to distract her, and Valten on the other, like a rampart of safety.

  Margaretha said she had never had a suitor and often wondered who her father would find for her to marry. “But I’m in no hurry to leave home. Factually speaking, I haven’t decided yet if I will marry, which is why Father still has not made any effort to find someone suitable for me. The idea of marriage isn’t altogether appealing. Do you know what I mean, Gisela?”

  Gisela nodded thoughtfully. “I do. But I think I should like to marry someone who loved me.”

  For nearly the first time since she had sat down, Margaretha was silent. Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips and stared down at the table with clouded eyes, as if unseeing. Gisela took a bite of roast pheasant as she waited for Margaretha to speak.

  “My parents love me so much, it’s hard for me to imagine a man loving me as much as they do.”

  Gisela couldn’t help the slight frown that tugged at her mouth. Margaretha’s life had been so different from Gisela’s. How similar might their lives have been if her parents had lived?

  Gisela ate while glancing at Valten out of the corner of her eye. He systematically devoured his food and spoke briefly to his father or mother when they asked him a question about the joust. When he had eaten four courses, he stopped and told the servant he was finished. The servant cleared his place of his trencher and all traces of food, and refilled his goblet. Then he turned to Gisela.

  “Are you enjoying the banquet?”

  “Yes, I thank you.”

  “I hope you don’t need to return home, because my mother plans for you to stay the night here at the castle, with Margaretha.”

  “Oh.” Stay at the castle? That would solve her problem of how to avoid whatever dastardly punishment her stepmother had in mind for her if she were to go home tonight. “I-I don’t need to go home. That is, I believe I can stay.”

  “You will need to be here tomorrow, to preside over the tournament as its queen.” His eyebrow twitched, as if his words were slightly amusing to him.

  “And to watch you defeat all challengers again.” She lifted her brows at him now.

  “If God wills.”

  “You were impressive today.” She tried to sound matter of fact. “Your skill is evident, and no one was able to best you.”

  He gave her a small bow. “God was with me.” He looked at her more intently and said, “Ruexner shouldn’t be bothering you anymore. As soon as the tournament is over, I will make sure he leaves town.”

  “Thank you. I was happy you defeated him today.”

  “And I was happy you stopped him from poisoning Sieger.”

  Her heart skipped a few beats at the way he was looking at her. “Me too.”

  “What will happen tomorrow?” She already had a good idea of what would take place, but she wanted to hear him speak.

  “Tomorrow the challengers will make their choice of weapons, either sword, battle-ax, or mace, and we shall fight on horseback until someone is unhorsed. We shall then continue to battle on the ground until someone gives up or the marshals stop the fight.”

  She hesitated, then asked, “Do you enjoy fighting? Is it thrilling for you?” She wanted to understand him, to understand why he had dedicated his life to jousting and tournaments and combat.

  He was quiet, looking down at the table. Had she offended him with her question?

  “I used to find it thrilling.” One corner of his mouth went down. “It seems pointless now, so much so that I wonder why I do it.” He looked her in the eye for a long moment before continuing. “There used to be something driving me, making me strive to be the best at everything. I wanted to prove myself. But now it sometimes seems like a waste of time.”

  Gisela nodded. “I understand. Sometimes I feel like I should be doing something different. Sometimes I feel as if I will die if I don’t get away—from home.” She almost said, “from my stepmother.”

  He tilted his head to the side as he stared at her. “Do you know what it is you want to do? Where would you go?”

  “That is the problem. I can’t leave. I don’t want to leave my horses.”

  She was afraid he would laugh at her, but he nodded gravely. At that moment, she was certain he understood, as no one else had, why she couldn’t leave her horses.

  “But at the same time, I feel connected to my father’s home, to the place where I was born. I don’t want to give it up to anyone.” Especially Evfemia and her evil offspring.

  “Do you have an older brother to inherit your home?”

  “No, my stepmother is the heir. It isn’t my home at all.”

  He stared into her eyes until she could no longer meet his gaze. He was feeling sorry for her, she was sure. In her experience men didn’t want to feel sorry for anyone, and she didn’t want him to pity her. She had to turn the conversation back toward him.

  “So what will you do when you stop competing in tournaments?”

  He smiled and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know. But I feel like I’m getting closer.”

  In fact, he was getting closer. His head was bent toward her, in order for them to hear each other in the noisy Great Hall. But his undivided attention was doing strange things to her heartbeat, making it trip and stumble inside her. Perhaps she should keep talking, to distract herself from his beautiful eyes.

  “Your sisters and parents are so kind. I like them very much.”

  A lock of her hair had fallen across her cheek. It brought to mind the fact that her hair didn’t look like the other maidens around her. Their locks were either arranged in perfect stiff curls, or were covered by their elaborate headdresses. She must look like a poor peasant in comparison.

  His hand came up and his fingers brushed the strand of hair from her cheek. “I don’t like your stepmother treating you badly.” His voice was brusque, as if he were talking about a battle maneuver.

  His unexpected words caught her off her guard. “I … I take care of myself.” Unable to meet his eye, she found herself staring at his big, brawny hand, which rested on the table.

  The minstrels, who had been playing softly while they ate, began to play a much louder, much livelier tune.

  “Come. Dance with me.” Valten swiftly turned around, lifting his legs over the bench, and he grabbed her hand. She turned around too, pulling her skirt over the bench with her legs. Then he stood and pulled her up.

  Gisela let him lead her to an empty space at one side of the Great Hall, away from the tables. The entire hall of people was watching them.

  A terrifying
thought overcame her. “Wait! Please.” Gisela pulled on his hand to get his attention.

  He lowered his brows in question.

  Her cheeks started to heat, but she had to tell him the truth. She couldn’t look like a fool in front of all these people. “I-I only know the country dances that the servants and farmers dance. I don’t know any others.” Now he would surely think her completely unsuitable and would forget about her.

  His hard, masculine features softened even more. His eyelids lowered as he bent his head near hers. His lips were so close, his breath brushed her cheek when he spoke. “Don’t worry. I know those dances too.” Giving her that intense, almost-smile of his, he started dancing the reigen.

  Gisela nearly laughed in relief, as she knew the dance well.

  They danced, and though a whole crowd followed their every move, she felt as if she and Valten were the only two people in the world. The music carried them over the floor. She was mesmerized at being the object of this man’s attention — this very tall, very powerful tournament champion. He was looking at her. He was dancing with her. He was giving his almost-smile to her. It was an even headier feeling than racing Kaeleb over the countryside, his powerful legs pumping beneath her and the wind whipping her hair out behind her.

  She felt free on Kaeleb’s back, free from her stepmother’s and stepsisters’ spite. Just as at this moment. They couldn’t hurt her now, not while she was dancing with Valten. She wished he would dance with her forever.

  But she had a strange feeling that her stepmother would still haunt her somehow, as if she had some strange hold over her that wouldn’t be broken no matter what.

  She pushed the unwelcome thought away as she gazed up at Valten’s chiseled face. He should have been frightening with the scars, the stitches over his eye, and the day’s growth of stubble darkening the lower half of his face.

  But he wasn’t. At all.

  When the dance was over, the musicians immediately began another lively tune, an estampie, and the two of them were joined by several guests, who linked hands with them and lifted them high, stamping in time to the music, shouting at regular intervals as they released hands to spin around, then clasped hands again to sway and stamp in their human, breathing circle of life.

  Gisela had never felt so alive, so pretty, and so accepted.

  Even when Rainhilda joined the dance, it didn’t dampen Gisela’s spirits, as Valten never seemed to look at her once. Even Irma and Contzel eventually joined a few dances as well. Every time Gisela glanced their way, Contzel was staring at her as if in amazement, and Irma looked at her with contempt to rival even Rainhilda.

  Valten danced every song with her. She sighed inwardly with joy every time his hand held hers, or they brushed shoulders, or they stepped so near their faces were only inches apart. Valten never seemed to grow tired, and though Gisela still wished the night wouldn’t end, she was becoming so exhausted she was afraid she would stumble.

  Standing and getting everyone’s attention, Duke Wilhelm called a halt to the festivities by thanking everyone for coming and dismissing the guests.

  While his father was speaking, Valten took her by the arm and turned her to face him. His hands wrapped around her upper arms, holding her gently. “You are even more beautiful when you dance.”

  “Thank you.” She sounded breathless.

  “I will look for you tomorrow.”

  “Oh.”

  “But I may not be able to talk to you at the tournament. You will come to the ball?”

  He meant the ball the duke was giving on the third night of the tournament — the ball which would end the festivities. “I will try.”

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to her hand.

  When he lifted his head, Margaretha was walking toward her.

  “I will leave you with my sister. Good night.” He released her and walked away.

  Gisela’s knees went weak but she forced herself to stand upright and look at Margaretha, who was smiling from one ear to the other. “Did you enjoy yourself? What am I talking about? Of course you did. Your joy was all over your face. And with my brother! My serious brother, Valten, who hardly even looks at girls, and never asks one to dance — at a banquet, no less.”

  Before Gisela had time to ask her what she meant, Margaretha took Gisela’s arm and steered her toward the staircase, where several other people were ascending.

  “So, do you like Valten?”

  Gisela laughed at the directness of the question.

  “Kirstyn would be embarrassed at me asking you that. Forgive me, but I am always saying too much and asking too many questions.” Margaretha clasped her hands and her eyes rolled as if in ecstatic joy. “We will not speak of anything too embarrassing,” she went on, lowering her voice. “But I must say that I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you tonight. And he was once betrothed — but that was a strange situation, and I don’t have time to tell you about that. It was only for a short time. At least, she was only here for about two days before we found out that she was in love with my other brother—but you don’t want to hear about that. Anyway, you must be completely exhausted. I confess I’m quite tired myself, and I didn’t dance for two hours! You will sleep in my chamber with me. Kirstyn and Adela will probably already be asleep when we get there, so we should be quiet. I have a nightdress for you to sleep in.”

  Gisela did her best to keep up with what Margaretha was saying as they climbed the steps and made their way to Margaretha’s chamber. She got ready for bed and gratefully slipped in beside Valten’s sister, who was soon breathing evenly.

  Gisela lay awake reliving the banquet. She closed her eyes, seeing Valten’s face hovering above her, the way he’d looked at her when they danced, and the way his lips felt on her hand. She let out a long breath, a tear of happiness squeezing from the corner of her eye. What a wonderful night. To think that Valten would choose her as the Queen of Beauty and Love. It was all too wonderful: the dancing, the looks, and the kiss. And tomorrow she would see him again, even if it was only from afar.

  His words echoed in her memory, the way he had talked to her at the banquet, asking her where she would go and whether she had a brother, telling her he didn’t like the way Evfemia treated her. His face was etched on her eyelids as she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter

  10

  Valten had never enjoyed a banquet so much in his life. As he readied himself the next morning, instead of meditating on the day’s tournament battles, his mind kept going back to Gisela.

  He had surprised himself again at how much he liked talking with her. He may not be as smooth-tongued as his brother Gabe, but Gisela also seemed to like talking to him. The night was full of surprises, as he had not expected to ask her to dance, or, when it was time to say good night, to kiss her hand.

  Her skin was so soft and her smile so sweet. Even surrounded by such a great crowd of people, he’d considered giving her a real kiss.

  Strange that he could be thinking such a thing when he had only spoken to her once before yesterday. Either he was going daft, or there was something special about her. She seemed to understand how he felt about wanting to do something that mattered.

  He wished he had made her promise to come to the ball and be his partner, even if he lost today.

  He was no good with women. He never knew what was proper. If he was able to talk to her at the tournament, and if she talked to him at the ball tomorrow night, would it be too soon to kiss her on the cheek? At the banquet, had he exhausted her too much with all that dancing? Would she rather have sat and talked? He was so inexperienced it made him unsure of himself, which was irritating. He was never unsure of himself.

  Valten was desperate enough to wish Gabe was here so he could ask his advice.

  He grunted, making his squire hurry over. “What do you need, my lord?”

  “Fetch me some fresh water.”

  Hugo left quickly, closing the chamber door behind him.

 
Valten didn’t need more water, but he wanted to be alone for a few minutes. He sat down and began eating the breakfast that had been brought up to him. In spite of his unwelcome shyness toward Gisela, he felt oddly energized this morning after getting less rest than he liked before a day of combat. But Gisela had been worth losing sleep over. She danced as if nothing had ever made her so happy. She smiled as if it was only for him. He hoped those smiles meant she liked him, because he hoped to dance only with her at the ball tomorrow night.

  But for today, he would ready himself for his battles. Above all, he must not injure himself too badly to dance. The time he had broken his leg had proved disastrous, as far as getting a wife.

  Gisela made him not care about that, made him think it was for the best. But breaking his leg today would certainly not be something he’d be thankful for.

  Friedric Ruexner would likely be his most dangerous opponent. That fiend would do anything to defeat Valten. He’d already tried to poison his horse, forcing Valten to post a guard to watch over Sieger day and night. But what else would Ruexner try? He had been eyeing Gisela during the banquet last night. Would he bother her today? Ruexner would despise her if he knew she had been the one to discover the water hemlock in Sieger’s food. But just the fact that she was the one Valten chose to be his Queen of Beauty and Love made her a target for Ruexner’s jealous wrath.

  He would post a guard to watch over Gisela as well.

  Hugo helped Valten dress, putting on his mail, then his armor. Soon he was ready for the day’s tournament activities. Valten closed his eyes and said his usual prayer at the beginning of a tournament day. He asked God to help him focus his mind on his task, to give him strength and skill, and to bless him with victory.

  Valten crossed himself, then kissed the small iron cross around his neck. He stood and pulled his sword from its scabbard to hear the metallic zing, but it didn’t send the usual vibration of suppressed-but-eager energy through his limbs. He had been thinking for some weeks that this might be his final tournament. Was he ready to quit tourneying because he’d met Gisela and decided to pay court to her? Or had he decided to pay court to Gisela because he was quitting his tourneying?