The Fairest Beauty

  “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.

  “Did you, now? I’m not surprised.” Sophie forced a smile at Darla. The girl was so bold. It gave Sophie a sick feeling, in spite of her efforts to remain indi
fferent. But Sophie was glad she hadn’t gone with Lorencz. She certainly would never trust him now.

  “Lorencz said he asked you to stroll with him. But he says he won’t be asking you anymore. Only me from now on.”

  “I’m so happy to hear it, Darla, because I can’t stand the man myself.” The low, vile, stinking weasel. “He is such a bore.” Sophie scolded herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but the look on Darla’s face was worth it.

  “You’re the one who’s a bore, Sophie. You’re just scared and weak and … and … alone. And you’ll always be alone.”

  Sophie held the bread dough she was kneading in both hands, her teeth clamping tighter as Darla went on.

  “The duchess hates you, and you’ll never be anything but a sad, lowly scullery maid. You’ll probably never marry or bear chil —”

  The ball of dough in Sophie’s hands hurtled through the air. It was almost as if she were watching someone else throw it. The floury dough hit Darla smack in the face, then it fell on the floor with a dull splat.

  Darla’s face was smudged with flour. She let out a strangled cry and lunged toward Sophie. Sophie turned and ducked behind Petra’s slightly rotund body. Darla grabbed at Sophie’s hair, but Sophie slapped her hand back. Darla lunged again and Petra grabbed Darla’s face in a pinching grip.

  “Get out of here with your disgusting boasts and mean talk.” Petra shoved Darla’s head backward, forcing her to stumble back.

  In spite of the flour covering Darla’s face, Sophie could see she was turning red, her eyes glinting dangerously. She turned and stalked out of the room.

  Sophie felt triumphant for a moment, but then tears pricked her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. They seemed to be tears of pity. Perhaps Darla only behaved the way she did because, just like Sophie, she only wanted love. But the way she was going about it, she didn’t seem likely to get it.

  Chapter 7

  Duchess Ermengard seemed very impressed with the song Gabe had sung for her the previous night. He’d played his admiring troubadour role well, he knew, and it was now clear to him he had won her confidence with each warbled note.

  Now he only had to figure out a way to steal Sophie away from the duchess. If he kept plying Sophie with stories of his family, she would surely go with him. But how could he keep the duchess from sending her guards once they’d escaped? Now that he’d seen the number of men she had and how powerful they were, he knew it was too risky to try to hold off the entire battalion by himself. He should go home, tell his father Sophie was the duke’s daughter, then come back with a contingent of his father’s soldiers to force Duchess Ermengard to let them take Sophie. But he just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, even for one day, much less for the two weeks it would take him to go to Hagenheim and return. What would stop the duchess from killing her stepdaughter and commanding all the other servants to deny there ever was a servant girl named Sophie?

  Gabe walked down the stone corridor, having been summoned to play for the duchess yet again. He had been working on another song. It wasn’t finished, but he thought he would play a bit of it for her anyway.

  He opened the door, and there she was, sitting on her imposing chair, flashing the same creepy smile. He gave her a few compliments as he took out his lute and prepared to play. This ruse is becoming easier by the minute.

  He began singing the song he’d written late last night and into the morning. He extolled her silky black hair, red lips, and blue eyes and sang some verses about her virtue and generosity that he knew weren’t true, but he had been thinking about Sophie again when he wrote it.

  When he glanced up, she was staring at him as though he had turned into an offensive bug and she was contemplating how to crush him. Her face had turned even whiter, if that were possible, or more of a grayish color, actually. Her lips had also turned bloodless under their red stain. What had he said?

  Then it hit him.

  The duchess had green eyes.

  He was caught. The song he’d sung for her yesterday had extolled their emerald hue, so he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed.

  “Who is this song about?” she hissed.

  “Why, y-you, of course. Of course, Your Grace.” I’m a dead man.

  “You were talking with that scullery maid last night during the evening meal, were you not?”

  He tried to swallow, but there seemed to be a ball of wool caught in his throat. O God, save me. I’m doomed.

  He nodded.

  She stood to her full height — at least as tall as Gabe — and walked across the room to the window. She simply stared out at the gloomy, half-lit forest. The only thing that moved was her lips as she pursed them tighter and tighter.

  “Your Grace, forgive me for the oversight. I am still working on the song. Let me perfect it and play it for you tonight.” He smiled, hoping he looked confident and casual, while inwardly he was flaying himself.

  But she didn’t look as though she were listening to him, and her face became more and more thunderous, as though the cloud that was hanging over her was turning black before it unleashed its torrent.

  She will murder me where I stand.

  Finally, she turned to him. That disturbing half smile, more frightening than her menacing grin, was on her face again as she took a step toward him. “You have come here to spy on me, haven’t you?”

  Had he? No. He had come to rescue Sophie.

  “No, Your Grace. Of course not.”

  She took another step. He forced himself not to back away from her.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Gabe, Your Grace.”

  “Perhaps you think you know who Sophie is. Who told you?”

  She stepped closer.

  “Told me what, Your Grace?”

  “That she is Duke Baldewin’s only daughter.”

  The back of his neck tingled. If she was telling him this, she must have decided to kill him. “Everyone knows Duke Baldewin’s daughter is dead. Sophie is only a scullery maid.”

  “Oh no,” Duchess Ermengard crooned in a silky, low voice as she slowly walked toward him. “She is Sophia Breitenbach, daughter of Baldewin Breitenbach, Duke of Hohendorf, and the fairest beauty in the Holy Roman Empire. Is she not?” She stopped only two feet in front of him, her white teeth glowing between her unnaturally red lips.

  It was no good to lie. Besides, if he was going to die, he wanted to be right with God.

  “Sophie is very beautiful, it is true.”

  “The most beautiful. Admit it!” Her voice rose in both pitch and intensity. “You think she’s more beautiful than I am!”

  Her eyes were two glowing green orbs. Her expression was one of outraged discovery.

  “And you are no lowly peasant.” Her voice lowered once again and her eyes narrowed. “I do believe Duke Wilhelm had a son … a son named Gabehart. But Gabehart was not betrothed to a duke’s daughter. No, no. As I recall, his older brother, Valten, was to marry Duke Baldewin’s only child. So which one are you? Are you Valten, assuming your brother’s name? Or are you actually stupid enough to be Gabehart?”

  Her evil catlike eyes seemed to bore into his soul, like a wild animal surveying her prey. Gabe shuddered.

  “And if you are Gabehart, why did not Valten, Sophie’s betrothed, come to rescue her?”

  Gabe cast about in his mind for a strategy, a way of escape from this room and this woman. But the windows were shut and bolted. He could possibly unbolt one and jump out the window, if he took everyone by complete surprise, although he was so high in her tower room he’d probably break something when he hit the ground. The only other option was to physically overpower her, which also appeared to be a gamble. For now, he would tell the truth in an effort to keep her from becoming enraged again. The moment she called for her guards, his lot was hopeless.

  “I am Gabehart, second son of Duke Wilhelm of Hagenheim. You are right, Your Grace. I was wrong to try to fool you. Valten couldn’t come because of a broken leg.
But I am here only to see if what an old woman said was true. About Sophie.” As he spoke, he tried to think of a way to overpower her. She was almost close enough that he could grab her. But perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary. Perhaps she would let him leave.

  She stepped around him, getting between him and the door leading to the corridor.

  Duchess Ermengard opened the door while keeping her eyes on Gabe. She screamed, “Guards!”

  Gabe ran toward the window, but before he could even get it unbolted, guards rushed into the room, the sharp swish of their swords being drawn from their scabbards, their boots pounding on the flagstone floor. He struggled with the rusty bolt, and just as he shoved it free and threw open the window, two burly men grabbed Gabe’s shoulder. They threw him to the floor. He hit the flagstone with the side of his face. As the darkness started closing in on him, the last thing he heard was a crazed, high-pitched cackling.

  When she saw that Gabe was unconscious, Duchess Ermengard pointed a finger at the closest guard. “Get Lorencz.”

  As she waited, she envisioned ways she could dispose of the foolhardy boy laid out before her feet. The only question was how long to draw out his pain.

  Once the huntsman arrived, Gabe was taken away to the dungeon on her order, leaving her alone with Lorencz.

  He reached out to take her hand and kiss it, but his eyes gave away his fear. She ground her teeth. “How dare you think that girl is more beautiful than I am.”

  “Your Grace, I —”

  “Don’t speak! You have become enamored with her too.” That useful girl Darla had told her everything, from how Lorencz had failed to get Sophie to trust him enough to take a walk with him, to being so heartbroken he got drunk with Darla instead. “I shall kill this silly, interfering Gabehart of Hagenheim for thinking she is the fairest. Though what shall I do to you? I already asked you to kill her. Why haven’t you, pray tell?”

  “Your Grace, I simply haven’t had many opportunities. In fact, I was finally able to get her alone just yesterday, but that — that boy was skulking about, and even intruded upon us in the woods. You didn’t want any witnesses, as I recall.”