Avelina stood and waited for her mistress’s orders. Should she go to her and try to comfort her? Dorothea rarely welcomed any sort of affection from Avelina, though she had been her maidservant and confidant for the last eight years—since Dorothea was ten and Avelina was twelve.
“Whatever is the matter?” Avelina asked.
Dorothea continued to cry, but the sobbing sounded more angry than sad. She suddenly straightened and glared. “My father is sending me to Thornbeck Castle. He wants me to marry the margrave. But precisely what do you think the Margrave of Thornbeck will say if he were to suspect . . . ?” A defiant look came over her face. “I won’t go. I won’t.” She raised a fist, tossing her head and sending her blonde hair over her shoulders and cascading down her back, the ends dancing at her waist.
Avelina almost said, “But if you don’t go, they will suspect something is amiss.” She bit her lip and refrained, not wanting to risk a tongue-lashing. Dorothea’s green eyes were ablaze, even as they swam with tears.
“What did your father say?”
“He says I must go, that I can simply wear looser clothing.” She scrunched her nose and curled her lip. “Father says I can give the child to someone far away and forget about it after it’s born.” She folded her arms across her chest and stomped her foot. “But I want to marry Dietric.”
Avelina’s breath stilled. Would she defy her father?
“Get my things packed into some traveling bags.” Dorothea smeared the tears over her face with her fingers and hurried to one of her trunks. She started throwing clothing on the bed. “Pack these.”
“Will you leave right away? Should you not wait until morning, at the least?”
“I must go now. My father plans to send me to Thornbeck in the morning.” She set her jaw, closing her eyes for a moment. “If Dietric refuses to take me away, I’ll kill myself.”
She said those last words so calmly, a chill went through Avelina.
“Make haste, Ava! Don’t just stand there.”
Avelina ran and grabbed a traveling bag from another trunk and began rolling her mistress’s clothing into tight bundles to keep them from wrinkling, then stuffing them into the leather bag. But her heart was in her throat. If she helped Dorothea run away with Sir Dietric, what would the earl do to her? But if she didn’t help Dorothea, she might do violence to herself.
Avelina continued stuffing clothing into the bag until it was full and she had to retrieve another bag.
“Put that down for a moment,” Dorothea said suddenly, striding to the trunk against the far wall and opening it. “I need you to open a lock for me.” She bent and drew out two ornate ivory boxes that contained all of the family jewelry. Her father said he would give her the key when she got married. But Dorothea could never accept being locked out of anything. Consequently she had forced Avelina to learn a new skill.
Avelina retrieved her metal tool out of her woolen bag. She picked up the first box and went to work with the hooked end of the long, slim piece of metal she had gotten from the castle blacksmith. In a few moments she had opened the box, and a few moments after that, the second box lay open.
Dorothea barely gave the boxes a glance. “Put some into each bag so all of my jewels are not in one place.”
Avelina wrapped the bejeweled necklaces, bracelets, and rings inside various pieces of clothing. Soon she had nearly filled a second bag.
A noise came from outside. Dorothea ran to the narrow window and flung it open, letting in the cold, late-autumn air. She stuck her head out. “Dietric!” She gasped the name, then flung her arm out, obviously throwing something down, possibly a note. Then she stood still, her hand covering her mouth as she watched.
Avelina turned back to her task, lest Dorothea scold her, but she listened for signs of what was happening behind her at the window. After a few more moments Dorothea let out a cry of joy. “Make haste and give me the bags.”
Avelina tossed her a bag, and Dorothea pushed it through the small window and dropped it, then turned and held out her hands for the second bag and tossed it down as well.
Avelina approached the window as the end of a rope came sailing through. Dorothea caught it and tied it to the post of the solid oak bed.
She wanted to ask Dorothea if she was certain she was doing the correct thing but instead caught hold of her arm.
Dorothea’s cloudy green eyes barely met hers. “You should not try to stop me, Ava. I will not yield nor give Dietric up. Not for anyone. I don’t care what Father says.”
“I will not try to stop you.” She thought of hugging Dorothea, of telling her to be careful. But it wasn’t the sort of thing her mistress would stay still for.
Dorothea grabbed the rope. Avelina helped her up to a sitting position inside the window as Dorothea said, “Don’t go and marry some peasant farmer who can’t give you pretty things.”
Without another word or even a smile or glance, Dorothea quickly lowered herself out the window, hand over hand on the rope. Avelina hung her head out the window to see Sir Dietric standing below with outstretched arms. Dorothea made it to the bottom without losing her grip and was enveloped in her lover’s waiting arms. He helped her onto her horse, then mounted his own, and they disappeared into the dark night and thick fog.
“Fare well, Dorothea,” Avelina whispered. “You were sometimes cross and vindictive, but we were companions for many years, and I will miss you.”
What would her life be like without Dorothea? And what would happen to Avelina now that her mistress was gone?
If Avelina went and told the earl that his only daughter had run away with one of his knights, he might be able to send some men to intercept them and bring them back. But what if Sir Dietric was killed in the struggle or Dorothea’s father had him executed? Dorothea would never forgive her. Besides, if she was able to get away, Dorothea would obtain the one thing that Avelina had dreamed of, written stories about, and imagined in many a long hour—true romantic love—about which the troubadours sang, the subject of epic poems and tales.
No, out of loyalty to Dorothea and a hope that she would be happy and live a life of romance and adventure and love, Avelina would not tell Lord Plimmwald that his daughter had run off with Sir Dietric.
At least not until he realized his daughter was missing and sent for her maidservant to tell him where she had gone.
Avelina could not run away, as she must think of her two young siblings. Jacob was twelve and Brigitta was only six. Her father needed her to help care for them. Besides, she had never ridden a horse in her life, and there was no knight waiting below to carry her away to adventure and love.
Avelina was left to await the consequences of Dorothea’s actions alone.
2
AVELINA WAS AWAKENED by a shaft of sunlight across her face, pouring through the window where the shutter was slightly ajar. She jumped out of bed, nearly falling headfirst on the floor.
Why was she on Dorothea’s tall bed instead of her own narrow cot in the next room? Then it all flooded back to her—Dorothea’s flight, Avelina’s inability to sleep, how she had wandered into her mistress’s room and lay down on her soft feather bed. She’d been dreaming about being trapped in a gloomy, dark, half-ruined castle where there lived a beastly lord so hideous and animal-like that no one would go near him. The mood of the dream still enveloped her like a fog.
She fell back across the bed. For once in her life, there was nothing to do—no Dorothea to wait on, no hair to braid, no clothing to mend, no shoes to clean, no games to play to amuse her young mistress. So she lay thinking about her unsettling dream.
She could still see the castle, but its lord was a dark figure obscured by shadows. “He’s a beast,” a maidservant had whispered in her ear. Her skin tingled as she tried to get a better look at him. He suddenly growled at her and she jumped. That was when she woke up.
Avelina should be thinking about what she would say to Lord Plimmwald when he discovered that Dorothea was missing. Would
he know where she went? What would he do with Avelina? She needed this position as a maidservant to take care of her family. Her father could no longer work, and her younger brother and sister would starve without her pay.
A knock came at the door. That would be Dorothea’s breakfast.
“Come in.”
Hildegard entered with a tray of food. “Where is Lady Dorothea?”
“Uh . . . she, uh—”
Hildegard glanced up at the ceiling and frowned. “Never mind. Let her know her food is here so she can eat before it gets cold.” She slammed the door behind her.
That was easy. She didn’t even have to tell a lie.
Avelina ate Dorothea’s breakfast—or a small portion of it—before her stomach began to feel sick. What would the earl do when he found out his daughter had run away with a knight?
Avelina finally decided to work on a story she had been writing to amuse Dorothea. It was about the daughter of an earl who fell in love with a knight. Dorothea chose the premise of the story, but Avelina enjoyed making up all the details, of how the two fell in love against their parents’ wishes and were cast out of the kingdom, forced to run for their lives from various dangers and disasters. But always they were saved by the sacrifices they made for each other.
It was nearly noon and Avelina had been writing for hours when a sudden loud pounding came at the door. Avelina dropped her quill pen on the floor and jumped to her feet.
The door swung wide and one of Lord Plimmwald’s knights stood in the doorway. His eyes were cold as he looked at Avelina.
“The earl wishes to speak to Lady Dorothea’s maidservant.”
She preceded the knight out the door, then he led the way down the corridor to the Great Hall.
Though it was time for the midday meal, he was not eating. Instead the earl was sitting at his place on the dais with his head in his hands and his elbows on the trestle table. He must have heard the knight approaching, his sword clanging against his mail tunic, but Lord Plimmwald did not look up.
“I have retrieved the lady’s maidservant, my lord.” The knight spoke formally in an even tone, and Avelina sensed his cold disapproval.
She curtsied to her lord, although he still had not looked up at her. Would he order her punished and send her to the pillory to be humiliated, standing with her hands and head inserted in the wooden boards in the town square? She’d always had a horror of the indignity of the pillory. Perhaps if she pleaded with her lord he would punish her in some other less publicly humiliating way.
Lord Plimmwald finally lifted his head and caught sight of his knight standing beside Avelina. He waved him away with a languid flick of his wrist. The knight bowed and left the banqueting hall.
Avelina focused her eyes on the floor, but she couldn’t help taking furtive peeks at her lord. Dark bags sagged under his eyes, which were faintly shot through with blood.
“Avelina.” He finally looked at her, his bushy white eyebrows hanging low over his eyes. “As you know, the Duke of Geitbart is threatening to claim Plimmwald Castle for his own, since Plimmwald belonged to his ancestors, and I have no son or heir. Our allies have turned a blind eye to his aggression, and he has threatened to come and besiege our quiet, peaceful town and take Plimmwald Castle by force.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I had thought to seek the help of the Margrave of Thornbeck, and even hoped I might betroth Dorothea to him. But he has decided to hold a two-week party and choose a bride from the guests—all the eligible daughters of the noblemen of the northern regions of the Holy Roman Empire.”
He leaned forward, piercing her with his gray-green eyes. “Now my daughter has run off with my best knight, Sir Dietric. My hopes are dashed. All appears to be doomed for me and for the people of Plimmwald.”
He fixed her with a stern look. “You are my daughter’s closest servant and confidant. You must have known my daughter was sneaking away to go on secret trysts with Sir Dietric. But you did not warn me.” He slapped his hand down on the table. “And now she is with child. I would be justified in having you banished from Plimmwald.”
Avelina’s heart pounded sickeningly against her chest. It was true. She had known all along what was transpiring.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at her, his face a craggy stone and just as cold. “You knew what it would cost my daughter, and yet you never told me.”
“Please forgive me, my lord.” Avelina’s voice shook. None of her reasons would sound good enough to Lord Plimmwald. They seemed rather foolish now, even to her.
“The deed has been done, my daughter is gone, and there must have been many others who knew what was happening. I, the lord of the land, was the last to know.” Bitterness and anger infused his voice. He stared at the wall, then pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“Now, I have a task for you,” he said, finally looking at her again, “that is far beyond being a lady’s maidservant for my spoiled daughter. I only hope you will be able to succeed in it as well as you kept my daughter’s secrets.”
What could he mean?
“We need the favor of Lord Thornbeck. We need the margrave’s help to defend us from Geitbart. I have little hope of finding Dorothea and bringing her back, and the Margrave of Thornbeck has asked that she come to Thornbeck Castle for two weeks. You must take her place.”
Avelina stared into his wrinkled face. “Take her place? Do you mean, pretend to be Lady Dorothea?”
“Precisely. You are the only woman I know who is fair enough. My daughter was a renowned beauty, but with fine clothes and someone calling you ‘my lady’ and treating you like a noble-born woman, anyone might consider you as beautiful as my wayward daughter.”
Her thoughts spun around and she couldn’t quite catch hold of one. The earl was speaking again.
“You must not ever let Thornbeck realize that you are not Dorothea. He must never suspect. He must also not choose to marry you, but you must not offend him in any way. He is by far our most important ally and our best hope of defeating Geitbart. It is rumored that Thornbeck killed his own brother to become margrave.” He shook his finger at her face. “What do you think he would do if he realized he had been duped by us, that I had sent him a servant instead of an earl’s daughter?”
The blood drained from Avelina’s face, and she swayed on her feet. I must listen. No matter how dizzy his words made her.
“You must understand that you will be saving us all. Every person at the castle and in the town will be in danger. Geitbart will certainly kill at least some of the people when he takes control of Plimmwald. And though Dorothea has gone away with Sir Dietric to no-one-knows-where, the margrave must never know that.” The corners of the earl’s mouth dipped in a grim frown.
How would Avelina, the daughter of a crippled former stable master and a lady’s maidservant, ever fool the Margrave of Thornbeck and all his guests into believing she was an earl’s daughter?
“Cannot you simply write to the margrave and tell him that your daughter is sick?”
“No, I cannot, impertinent girl. I wrote a letter to the king complaining about Geitbart sending his men to scout out our land, and also advising the king about the rumors surrounding Thornbeck’s brother’s death. The king apparently told them both about the letter, and now I am certain Geitbart intends to attack us. Thornbeck will not be inclined to help since I accused him of murdering his brother. That is why you must go and try to make peace with the Margrave of Thornbeck.”
The earl sounded nothing like he did when he was speaking to Dorothea, the way he often pleaded with her to behave more like a lady. Instead he growled the words at Avelina.
“When he attacks, Geitbart will kill innocent people simply to prove that he is master and frighten the rest into submission. Your own family could be killed.”
The earl spoke in a cold, quiet tone.
“And now you must take the rest of Dorothea’s clothes and jewelry and prepare for the journey to Thornbeck. You will leave in two ho
urs.”
He was not asking her if she would do it; he was ordering her to.
She must think. She must be wise and ask something for herself. “If I do this, I will be deceiving one of the most powerful men in the Holy Roman Empire. I am risking my life.”
Unmoved, Lord Plimmwald stared back at her.
“If I succeed, you must give me a sum of money . . . enough to constitute a dowry so I can marry. And—and a goose and a side of pork every month for my family.”
“Very well. It shall be as you have asked.”
He agreed so quickly. She should have asked for more.
“But I warn you, if you should in any way destroy what little alliance I have with the margrave by being found out to be a servant instead of the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter, I will not spare either you or your family. I will banish you all. And you will have failed every person in Plimmwald.”
Avelina’s throat tightened at the cruelty in the earl’s voice, cruelty that would hurt her father as well as her little sister and brother. She swallowed past the constriction.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” She would not fail. She could not.
Somehow she had to convince a powerful margrave that she was the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter, and she must not allow herself to be chosen to be his bride.
The latter task would no doubt be easier than the former.
3
“LORD THORNBECK, SOME guests have arrived.”
Reinhart did not look up from the report he was reading. The servant cleared his throat. Finally, he lifted his head as two ladies swept into the room—his own personal library where he kept his important documents and letters, his private sanctuary.
“The Lady Fronicka, daughter of the Duke of Geitbart,” the servant announced, “and the Lady Applonia, daughter of the Earl of Hindenberg.”
Reinhart glared at the servant. Was it not clear that ladies were not to be ushered into his presence when they arrived? Bad enough that he had to make conversation with them at mealtimes in the Great Hall.
A Melanie Dickerson Collection Page 28