The Fairest Beauty

  She handed the cup back to Bartel and helped Gabe lay back down, taking away some of the pillows so he could lie flat. His feverish eyes stared up at her, his eyelids drifting shut.

  “Sleep now and get well,” she said softly in a crooning voice. “You will feel better tomorrow.”

  Gabe squeezed her hand, then closed his eyes.

  She lightly stroked his forehead, watching his face relax and his chest rise and fall rhythmically. Relief swept over her at seeing him asleep and safe and comfortable.

  She turned and addressed Bartel. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for him.”

  Bartel, who was probably twenty years older than Sophie, nodded but wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  He stepped toward the door and Sophie followed him, closing the door silently behind her.

  When they were in the corridor outside Gabe’s room, where it was too dark for her to see his face, Bartel began to speak quietly. “I have treated his wound with some medicinal leaves. He simply needs to rest now. He is young, so the wound should heal quickly. If the fever goes away, he may be able to ride in two weeks.”

  Sophie felt oddly relieved that they wouldn’t be going to Hagenheim right away, and she didn’t want to ask herself why.

  “I see you have an injury to your arm. Take off the bandage, please, and come with me downstairs so that I may examine it.”

  Sophie swallowed, not relishing having a strange man look at the cut on her arm. But she turned to follow him downstairs while she undid the makeshift dressing.

  Sophie sat in a chair while all seven of the men, plus Walther, stared curiously at her. She felt herself blush from the sudden attention. Bartel came close and instructed Sophie to hold her arm near the candles beside her. After a few moments’ scrutiny, he said, “I can sew it up for you, or you can leave it as it is and hope it heals properly.”

  Sophie didn’t like the idea of this man touching her arm and certainly didn’t like the idea of him sewing her flesh.

  “I appreciate your offer, Bartel, but I think it will be well to let it heal on its own.”

  He didn’t say anything, only produced a linen bandage from his copious sleeve. He wrapped the bandage tightly around her arm, then tied it in place.

  “I will want to check it in the morning,” Bartel said.

  “Thank you.”

  After Bartel stood and excused himself from the room, each of the cottage men exchanged a playful look and nodded. Dominyk moved a drum from the corner and sat behind it, while Siggy reached for a lute very much like the one Gabe had had with him in Hohendorf. Gotfrid, meanwhile, sat with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a hat now partially covering the bald spot and massive scar on the side of his head. Heinric sat smiling with his entire face — his entire body, it seemed — as he squirmed in his seat and clapped his hands. Beside him, Dolf leaned forward, as if anticipating something wonderful but willing to wait patiently for it. Vincz sat in a chair, his head drooping to one side, obviously falling asleep with his mouth hanging open.

  Dominyk began beating the drum rhythmically with his hands, and after three beats, Siggy strummed the strings of the lute, causing Vincz to jolt upright and his eyes to open.

  As a song began to emerge, Dominyk looked over to Sophie. “The men asked if we could play something for you before dinner. I hope you enjoy it.”

  Walther motioned with his hand for Sophie to sit in the wood chair next to him. She did so, and smiled at Dominyk in thanks for the festivities, but worried that the men’s music might disturb Gabe. What Bartel had given him to drink would, she hoped, keep him asleep.

  Heinric erupted in happy gurgling noises and bounced up and down in his chair when Siggy began to sing. Siggy’s voice flowed effortlessly, even though he had hardly been able to string two words together without stuttering a few minutes before.

  Gotfrid continued sitting with his arms folded, a grumpy scowl still on his face. Sophie might be imagining it, but Gotfrid seemed to relax a bit when the music started. He seemed to be pretending to scowl, as if he didn’t want anyone to know he was enjoying himself.

  Vincz’s eyelids were almost closed again. Soon they fell shut and his head drifted down onto his shoulder as he fell asleep again.

  Dolf sat between the two music makers, one of his big hands on the back of each of their chairs. He was patting his foot in rhythm with Dominyk’s drumming.

  Walther was tapping his foot as well, a slight smile on his weathered face. She only wished Gabe were well enough to join the band. She would love to hear him play and sing along with these woodsmen. That was what she decided to call them for that was how they were dressed, in tough leather breeches and thick woolens.

  After the first song, Siggy and Dominyk stopped playing and Siggy stood up. He opened his mouth to say something, but — after obvious effort during which he looked like he was going to sneeze — he closed his mouth and hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the kitchen, looking sheepish. Then he turned and went through the kitchen door.

  Next, Heinric stood up, his face bright and smiling, as he made happy grunting sounds. He was staring right at Sophie, and he flung his arms out in front of him and started toward her. Immediately Dolf jumped up and met Heinric halfway across the floor. He shook his head at Heinric and blocked him forcefully with his body.

  Heinric’s grunts turned angry, but Dolf simply shook his head.

  “No, Heinric,” Dominyk said firmly. “No hugging. Don’t hug the girl. She does not know you.”

  Heinric’s face scrunched up like a child about to cry. “Girl!”

  “The girl does not want you to hug her.” Dominyk added, pronouncing the words carefully, “Girl, no hug.”

  “Girl … no hug,” Heinric whimpered.

  “Now go into the kitchen with Dolf.”

  Dolf was already herding Heinric toward the kitchen door, patting the giant man on the shoulder.

  Dominyk looked up at Sophie. “He may still try to hug you, but don’t let him. He doesn’t know his own strength.”

  Sophie nodded.

  Gotfrid nudged Vincz’s shoulder with his fist, waking him again, and they both followed Dolf and Heinric into the kitchen as well.

  Dominyk and Walther began discussing the weather. After exhausting that fascinating topic, Walther began to relay the events that led to Gabe getting shot. Sophie cringed as he told the part where Gabe jumped in front of her.

  “I saw him aiming straight for Little Sophie. Before I could place arrow to bowstring, he let his arrow fly. Gabe jumped in front of Sophie without hesitation, taking the arrow in the shoulder, or it would have hit her square in the chest. That villainous ruffian was getting ready to aim again when I managed to shoot him in the back. He tumbled forward into the river. I’m only sorry I hadn’t gotten there a few minutes sooner.”

  Sophie felt a bit dizzy and weak in the knees at the vivid reminder of what had occured, and how close both she and Gabe had come to being viciously slain. She was glad Walther and Dominyk weren’t paying attention to her at the moment. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, but she still couldn’t get Gabe out of her mind, his face tense with pain and pale from loss of blood.

  Had she thanked Gabe for saving her life? She wasn’t sure she had.

  She would check on him again the first chance she got. Would he be all right?

  The kitchen door burst open and Siggy stuck his head out. “S-s-s-s-s.” He stopped and tried again, closing his eyes and reopening them. “S-s-s-s … supper is-s-s … ready.”

  Sophie smiled at him, wanting to tell him that he was doing well, but she didn’t want to embarrass him. His face was already beet red.

  Walther and Dominyk let Sophie go first, and she walked into the kitchen. After they all sat down at the long, rough-hewn table, Dominyk commanded, “We shall all formally introduce ourselves to the lady.”

  They went around the table, nodding respectfully at her as they said their names.

  The last man, w
ith neat brown hair and a kind face, held up two fingers and drew them across his forehead and down his cheek.

  “Th-that means Dolf,” Siggy said, and repeated the action with his own hand.

  Sophie nodded back at them, smiling. “And I am Sophie. I am very happy to meet you all, and I thank you for your kindness and hospitality.”

  They nodded, several murmuring, “Bitte schöen.”

  Supper was venison stew, which didn’t taste bad, though it also didn’t taste as good as it could have. A few herbs and spices would have livened up the flavor considerably. The bread was also lacking, as it was doughy and flat. Glancing around at the dust and cobwebs in every nook and corner, the house didn’t look like it had had a good cleaning in months. Perhaps I can help the men with a few things before I leave.

  They started their meal in silence, as if the men were afraid of disturbing her. They all had good manners, much better than the servants Sophie was used to eating with. After a few minutes, some quiet conversation began. The men, including Walther, discussed the advantages and disadvantages of crossbows and longbows, which only caused Sophie’s thoughts to wander back to Gabe. Everyone spoke politely, except Heinric, who didn’t seem to follow the conversation at all but interrupted several times to ask for more food or drink. The others served him, and he smiled, even while he ate, chewing happily while bits of food fell from his overflowing mouth.

  Dolf’s hands and fingers moved in deliberate precision, accompanied by soft grunting noises, prompting Siggy or Bartel to speak aloud for him. Other than to interpret for Dolf, Bartel did not speak.

  Vincz kept nodding off to sleep. Sophie watched, fascinated, as his head sank toward the table and his half-eaten food. He would jerk his head up, but a few seconds later, it would start to fall forward, dipping lower and lower. Just as his forehead neared his plate, his head would come back up again, as if pulled by a puppeteer’s string.

  Gotfrid argued with almost everyone else’s opinions. But other than Gotfrid and his scowls, everyone seemed to be enjoying the camaraderie — even Walther, who joined in as if he’d always known the Seven.

  When everyone finished eating, Siggy and Dolf began clearing the table. Sophie stood and began to help them.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Vincz said, jumping up to help. Then they all starting helping, and in no time, the table was clean and everything had been put away.

  Sophie turned around and found all seven men, plus Walther, staring at her. She smiled at them. “Thank you. Thank you all for everything. If you will allow me, I would be happy to cook breakfast tomorrow. I learned to bake in the kitchen of Hohendorf Castle.”

  Their faces all lit up, except for Gotfrid’s. Sophie wasn’t sure Gotfrid was even capable of smiling. He seemed to wear a perpetual scowl to match the curved scar on the side of his head.

  “Can you make fried apple pies?” Vincz asked.

  “And p-p-plum c-c-custard?” Siggy said.

  Dolf made some motions with his hands and Vincz interpreted, “And stuffed dates fried in honey?”

  “I can make fried apple pies and plum custard. I’ve never made stuffed dates fried in honey, but I can certainly try.”

  The men shouted and danced around like little boys. Heinric came toward her with his arms outstretched again, but the men intercepted, and he ended up hugging them instead.

  Sophie laughed at their enthusiasm.

  They all made their way to the large hall at the front of the cottage, and Siggy again played the lute and sang while Dominyk played the drum. Sophie slipped away and hurried up the stairs to Gabe’s room. She opened the door to find Gabe still asleep. She tiptoed over to him and carefully laid her hand on his forehead. It didn’t seem as hot as the last time she was in here. She watched his chest rise and fall beneath the blanket. She longed to bend down and kiss his cheek, but she had better not.

  With a deep sigh, Sophie turned and left the room.

  Chapter 16

  Sophie awoke in a room by herself, though there were two more beds beside hers. She had obviously displaced three of the men from their normal sleeping quarters.

  The sun was still not up, but tentative rays of light were showing through the window. Sophie got out of bed and dressed in her new makeshift clothing, since she wasn’t sure what had happened to her old dress after her bath yesterday. She went downstairs and all was still and quiet, but someone had built a fire in the kitchen fireplace, so she set about mixing up the dough for a loaf of flatbread. While it was baking, she cooked some apples with some spices she found on a shelf and made several pie crusts. She began frying apple pies in a pot, then used lots of cream and dried plums to make a plum custard. Then she fried a large stack of ham.

  She’d had to shoo the occasional curious man out of the kitchen while she worked, but now she invited everyone to the table.

  “This is quite good, Sophie,” Dominyk exclaimed.

  “V-v-v-very g-good.”

  Vincz laughed. “Much better than what Gotfrid made last week. He tends to mix the salt up with the sugar.”

  Gotfrid scowled even deeper than usual and suddenly made a rough grab for Vincz’s shirt. Sophie didn’t dare breathe until Dominyk sat them both down with a stern look.

  Walther looked over at Sophie and winked. “Maybe you can make some labels for the jars.”

  The rest of breakfast continued on peacefully, though by the end of the meal Sophie was anxious to leave the table. She had gone to check on Gabe earlier, but Bartel wouldn’t let her in Gabe’s room, claiming Gabe wasn’t yet dressed. As the eight men promised to clean up after breakfast, Sophie put some food on a wooden tray and hurried up the stairs to see Gabe.

  Gabe felt as weak as a kitten, but at least his fever seemed to have lessened and his head no longer felt like a horse was kicking him in the back of his skull. His shoulder still hurt but not as sharply. He might actually live.

  Now that he felt better, he realized he was hungry. Bartel, the monk caring for him, had been giving him watered-down wine with herbs, and Gabe hoped his next course of treatment was food. Whatever was cooking downstairs smelled wonderful.

  Sophie had knocked on the door earlier, but Bartel was just helping him get up and dressed, meaning she needed to stay in the hallway. He hoped she would come back soon. He had a fuzzy memory of her sitting beside him the day before and telling him they were safe, and he was eager to see how she was doing now. He had been crazy with worry when he was too weak to go look for her, and he had called for her numerous times without her appearing. He kept remembering a room full of nothing but men when they’d arrived.

  Now, alone again, Gabe was tired of lying in bed. Bartel’s orders or not, he would go look for Sophie himself.

  As he sat on the edge of the mattress, the room began to spin. He blinked several times to clear his vision and stood up — and immediately had to brace himself with a hand on the wall, which caused a sharp pain to shoot through his shoulder.

  Clenching his teeth, he put one foot in front of the other, taking miniscule steps toward the door. He was almost to the threshold when a knock sounded.

  “Gabe?” Sophie’s voice came from the other side of the door.

  “Come in.”

  Sophie’s face peered in. When she saw him, a smile spread over her face. He’d never seen a more welcome sight.

  “Gabe! Should you be up? Are you feeling better?” She swept in wearing an oversized robe, her hair pulled back in a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. She was carrying a whole tray of baked delights.

  She set the tray down and came toward him, her brows slightly knotted. “Where were you going?”

  “I was coming to find you, to make sure you were all right.”

  She stood next to him and pulled his right hand over her shoulder, wrapping her arm around his back. “While I appreciate your worry, let’s get you back to bed.”

  He let her lead him. He sat down, and she swooped his legs up and onto the bed, surprising him with
her strength.

  “I’m not helpless, Sophie,” he teased, still happy to see her smiling. As she bent over him to pull up the covers, he caught a whiff of a different smell, like flowers, as if she’d taken a bath with the petals from a sun-kissed meadow.

  His head began to spin again, this time for a different reason.

  “So you’re better?” She was still bending over him, and she laid her small hand on his forehead. “Your fever is gone! Praise God.” She clasped her hand reverently to her chest as she gazed into his eyes.

  She abruptly straightened and went to fetch the tray of food.

  Bartel had propped Gabe’s pillows so he could sit up in bed. Sophie set the tray across his lap. “I made it all myself,” she said proudly, affecting a breezy, informal air.

  “You’re saving my life,” Gabe said, picking up a piece of bread and taking a bite. “I was about to starve to death.”

  She giggled. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. Our hosts downstairs have very good manners and will insist you not gobble your food.”

  “Well, they’re not here now, and this is the best food I’ve tasted … ever.” He took a huge bite of fried apple pie. The filling was just the perfect balance of tart and sweet, wonderful spices melding with the apple flavor.

  “Sophie, you are a wonderful cook,” he said between bites.

  She beamed at him, so he continued complimenting her.

  “Is this Lombardy custard?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s so much better than our cook’s at home that I almost didn’t recognize it.”

  She smiled more and even blushed, making her perfect, pale complexion light up with pink. She was so pretty he stopped eating to stare at her.

  She looked around, as though looking for something to do, but there was little of anything in the bare room. Finally, she started straightening the covers at the foot of his bed.

  He finished eating. She filled his cup from the flask on the small table beside him.