7
AVELINA RAN, TRYING to get to Jacob and Brigitta. Plimmwald was burning, the entire village as well as Plimmwald Castle, and it was all her fault. Geitbart had attacked. People were screaming all around her. Geitbart’s soldiers were galloping about with swords drawn, striking down everyone they saw. And Avelina couldn’t find her siblings. She screamed their names.
Suddenly she was surrounded by the villagers, her fellow servants from the castle, and even Lord Plimmwald. They were all glaring at her with rage-filled eyes and smoke-stained faces.
“Forgive me. Please forgive me,” she kept saying. “I did my best. Help me find Jacob and Brigitta!”
But they pointed at her. Some spit at her. Others turned away in disgust.
Avelina sat up. The curtains were open, letting in the light from the fire in the fireplace.
Thornbeck. She was at the margrave’s castle, pretending to be Lady Dorothea. She sank back onto her pillow and squeezed her eyes closed, trying to shut out the awful dream.
“It was just a dream,” she whispered. Plimmwald was not burning. It was not being attacked. Her brother and sister were not in danger. No one blamed her for Geitbart attacking their town.
But it could happen. Perhaps the dream was a specter of the future. What was it the old women used to say? If you dreamed something three times it was bound to come true. Oh, Father God, please don’t let me dream it again.
Avelina and the other nine ladies bundled up in their warmest cloaks and various head coverings, left their maidservants behind, and went to the patch of ground in front of the stables where they were supposed to mount their horses and make their way down the castle mount to the walled town of Thornbeck, a short ride to the west.
As she walked beside Lady Magdalen, Avelina asked her if she was well.
“Very well. But will you laugh at me if I admit I miss my sisters and brother, and even my mother?”
“Of course not. If I had a mother, I should miss her, and I miss—” Avelina was about to say she missed her brother and sister too! Her face burned. Then she remembered—Lady Dorothea’s mother was also dead.
“Are you well?” Magdalen studied her.
“Oh yes.” Avelina laughed nervously. “I am very well.”
“Is there anyone you shall miss,” Lady Magdalen lowered her voice to a whisper, “should Lord Thornbeck choose to wed you?”
“I do not think he would ever choose me. But if I must wed someone far away, I suppose I would miss all the familiar faces of home.” She tried to think as Lady Dorothea would. “But I don’t suppose there is anyone I would miss enough to make me sad, as long as I was content with my husband.”
Magdalen looked thoughtful. “Lady Gertrudt has an older brother, the Duke of Wolfberg, who is unmarried and not betrothed to anyone.”
“Is he well looking?”
“We met once as children. I am looking forward to seeing him again at the first ball. He is coming so the ladies will have enough partners.”
As the stable boys were helping the other young ladies find their horses, Magdalen said, “May I tell you a secret? You must promise not to tell.”
“I will not tell.”
“Mother says if I don’t marry Lord Thornbeck, she may try to betroth me to the Duke of Wolfberg. His father died a few years ago and he is the only son. Although it is quite unlikely he would accept me, since I have no real fortune to bring to the marriage.”
Avelina did not have a chance to discuss the young man any further, because the stable boys approached with their two horses. The other young ladies were already mounted, and Lady Fronicka was talking to Lord Thornbeck. The margrave, who rode a large black horse, gave orders to four of his men, who were apparently accompanying them.
By the time Avelina and Magdalen had mounted their horses, most of the rest of the group had already started on the winding road that led down through the forest to the town.
Avelina’s horse suddenly began snorting and sidestepping.
“Is everything all right?” Magdalen asked.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” Avelina hung on to the reins and tried not to lose her balance. “I rode her all the way here from Plimmwald. She was very gentle.”
Wasn’t anyone noticing what was happening? The two guards who were supposed to bring up the rear were talking to each other and laughing. Should she call for help? Should she pull back on the reins or give the horse slack? What was wrong with her uncooperative horse?
Her horse screamed and raised her front legs in the air. Avelina clutched the mare’s mane, trying desperately not to fall off.
“Someone help!” Magdalen called. “Help us!”
Two stable boys ran toward them and tried to grab the reins, but Avelina’s horse pawed the air with her powerful hooves. The boys could not get close enough to reach the reins.
Avelina was losing her balance. Her grip on the horse was slipping, even as she was slipping from the saddle.
Suddenly Lord Thornbeck rode straight up beside her and grabbed the reins. “Hold on to me!”
While Lord Thornbeck forcefully pulled back on the reins and leaned on the horse’s neck, Avelina clutched Lord Thornbeck’s shoulders. His arm encircled her waist as he lifted her out of the saddle. He held her tight against his side until the stable workers were able to take the reins. Then he lowered her.
Her feet touched the ground and her knees crumpled.
8
MAGDALEN DISMOUNTED AND hurried to Avelina’s side. “Are you hurt?”
Avelina leaned on her arm. “No, I am well.” She was breathing hard and shaking.
“Hans,” Lord Thornbeck ordered, “check this horse. Check the bit and the bridle, then check the saddle. You”—he pointed to the second stable boy—“saddle the brown mare with the one white leg for Lady Dorothea.”
The margrave turned toward her. Their eyes met. His expression softened. But she was very fanciful, her father often told her. She was probably imagining it.
“My lord, here is the problem.” The stable boy, Hans, held up two large shards of pottery with sharp edges and points. “They were under the saddle.”
“How did those get there?” Lord Thornbeck’s expression was thunderous.
“I don’t know, my lord.”
“Someone knows. Who saddled this horse?” The margrave shouted, glaring at any stable boy who was foolish enough to meet his eye. “I demand to know who saddled this horse. When I find out who put these sharp pieces of pottery under this saddle, I shall have him beaten and placed in the pillory in the town square.”
An older man, possibly the stable master, came toward them.
“See that you find out who is responsible.” Lord Thornbeck held out his hand and the boy gave him the shards. “I will not tolerate such shoddy supervision. If I find you have been negligent, you shall be punished and sent away.”
The stable master looked quite ashamed as he bowed his head before Lord Thornbeck. “Forgive me, my lord. I shall do my best to discover who did this.”
Lord Thornbeck did not give the poor man another glance but placed the pottery shards in his leather saddlebag.
Avelina’s stomach felt sick, her heart beating hard and fast.
Meanwhile the other horse was saddled and a stable boy helped Avelina mount. She was still shaking after nearly being thrown from her horse. She closed her eyes for a moment and it flooded back to her—how Lord Thornbeck had rushed to save her, how he had pulled her off the horse with one arm, her body pressed against his as he carefully lowered her to the ground.
Instead of dwelling on that, she should be thinking about who might have placed those shards of pottery under her horse’s saddle. But why would anyone want to harm her?
Magdalen and Avelina set off, accompanied by Lord Thornbeck and the two guards.
Lord Thornbeck said, “Go on. I must speak with my guards, but I shall keep my eye on you.”
He slowed his horse and fell behind them. She hear
d his voice behind her.
“One of my guests was in danger,” he growled, “and you did not even look her way, talking and laughing as if you were at a wine festival. What do you have to say for your disgraceful behavior?”
The men mumbled something, then Lord Thornbeck warned them, “We shall speak of this later, and I shall expect a full explanation of what you were doing while someone was sabotaging a young lady’s horse with intent to do her harm.”
She imagined that angry scowl on his face as he rebuked his guards further, accusing them of nearly allowing an earl’s daughter’s death. The rumor that he had murdered his own brother darted through her thoughts.
They made their way down the castle mount on the road that led them through the thick forest. The trees were similar to the ones around Plimmwald, with oak, fir, and spruce, but this forest had more beech trees. It was late fall and a few of the trees still had their leaves, which were bright spots of color in the otherwise cloudy day.
After a quarter of an hour of riding, they came to the town gate.
When Avelina had passed by the gate on the way to the castle, it had been dark and she’d been too tired to even notice it. She stared up at it now. High and impressive, it was built into the brick-and-stone wall that surrounded the town. Two men stood guard, but they looked rather sleepy and dull—until they caught sight of Lord Thornbeck and his large party of about fifteen well-dressed guests riding toward them. They stood up straight and their eyes were suddenly alert.
Lord Thornbeck stopped to speak to them while the rest of the party moved through the gate and down the street.
Their guides were Chancellor Jorgen and his wife, Odette, who began telling the ladies the history of the town and of the margravate of Thornbeck. Fronicka and two others ignored her and talked among themselves, but the rest of the ladies seemed to be listening.
As it was not a market day, the streets were not very crowded or noisy, and there was no wind, so they could hear her quite well.
“This street is known as the Jewish section of town.”
One of Fronicka’s friends whispered rather loudly, “Jews? Did she say Jews live here?” She, Fronicka, and her friends wrinkled their noses and said, “Ach,” and “Let’s go faster.”
Being Jewish was a lot like being a servant. No one outside your work status, or in their case, outside their ethnicity, wanted to have anything to do with you. But there was one difference: From the looks of the four-story, half-timber houses, many of the Jews were quite wealthy.
A little boy was walking with a young woman down the street toward them. Though they were well dressed, they kept their eyes focused down and did not meet anyone’s gaze. Did Lord Thornbeck mistreat the Jews? Many towns had laws that prohibited Jews from belonging to any of the skilled workers’ guilds, thus preventing them from having any but certain types of jobs. Some towns, she had heard, had expelled entire populations of Jewish people, blaming them for plague, for poisoning the town well, or other disasters. Were the woman and boy, both of them obviously Jewish, afraid of the margrave?
Her heart constricted. She knew how it felt to have other people treat you as no one at all. It was a matter of course for a servant girl, the daughter of a crippled stable worker. But to be looked down on simply because you were born Jewish—that somehow seemed even more unjust.
Just then she caught Chancellor Jorgen writing something in a tiny book. Was he spying on them so he could report back to Lord Thornbeck? What was he looking for?
Magdalen was looking at Odette and the chancellor out of the corner of her eye. Was she also noticing that something was going on besides just a tour of the town?
Somehow Avelina had to figure out how to make Magdalen stand out in Lord Thornbeck’s eyes. But to do that, she needed to know what he valued, what he was searching for in a wife.
They passed on from the Jewish section of town and entered what Odette called the skilled workers’ section. “This street over here is where you will find many butchers’ shops.” The air smelled faintly of raw meat.
Most of the ladies wore bored expressions, and some even slightly resentful. Avelina imagined they were irritated that they were not being entertained. Taking a tour of the streets of this town, encountering ordinary people who did not even know that they were the daughters of dukes, earls, and barons, was not their idea of being treated as they deserved.
Odette took them down a side street. “We shall leave our horses at the town stable and walk the rest of the way.”
The ladies stared at each other with open mouths. One or two scowled and grumbled under their breath, but they all complied.
How would Lady Dorothea have reacted? No doubt she would have been as indignant as Fronicka and her friends appeared. Dorothea might have even protested, saying something like, “We are noble-born ladies. We are not accustomed to soiling our feet on the common streets of town.”
But no one complained loudly enough to be heard, and they all dismounted, including Lord Thornbeck, who was only a few feet away, observing them.
She supposed she could not blame him for watching them, for wanting to know the character of the woman he would marry, wanting to make the wisest choice. Still, it made her feel a bit like cattle, lined up and waiting for the farmer to choose who to kill for the king’s Christmas feast. But these ladies, especially the three or four who always had such passive expressions on their faces, were used to thinking of themselves as pawns to be married off to a powerful or wealthy man in order to benefit their fathers. They were well aware they had no say in the matter of who they wed. Therefore, they could have no say in how someone as powerful as the Margrave of Thornbeck chose his bride from among them.
Avelina had always imagined that someday she would be fortunate enough to marry someone who fell in love with her first. She had written about such a happening in many of her stories, imagining all the ways it might happen for her.
She was a poor servant girl. And even though it was unlikely she’d ever be wed to someone wealthy or powerful, no one was telling her who she must marry.
At least there was one blessing to being poor.
After handing off their horses to the stable workers, they set out on foot.
“It seems a pleasant town,” Magdalen said as they walked side by side.
“Yes, it does.” Avelina caught sight of Lord Thornbeck. She subtly tried to move Magdalen closer to him, hoping he would notice how pretty Magdalen looked today, with her pale, reddish-blonde hair only partially covered by her thin veil, wearing a silk dress that was a very attractive shade of light green.
Fronicka was at that moment calling out to the margrave, asking him to walk with her and tell her what to think of his quaint little town. “None of these buildings compare to Thornbeck Castle, of course, but you shall tell me the more favorable parts.”
The margrave replied in a voice too quiet for Avelina to hear. He must have begged off, for he walked toward Chancellor Jorgen and talked privately with him. Fronicka did not look pleased.
As they continued on, Odette said, “Bakers Street is just ahead, and you can probably already smell the fresh bread.”
Avelina took in a deep breath through her nose. The smell reminded her of the kitchen at Plimmwald Castle, and she felt a tiny pang of homesickness. What mischief were Jacob and Brigitta up to today? She hoped they stayed out of trouble and did not annoy Father too much.
Father should not be too cross with them. Surely they knew to go to their neighbors if they got hurt or needed anything. Father was not the most tender man. Since Mother died, there had been much less order in all of their lives, and there would have been even less if Avelina did not provide it.
But surely they could survive three weeks without her.
“. . . And this is the new Thornbeck Orphanage, which is in the old Menkels home. Our margrave has graciously established, with the help of the citizens of Thornbeck, a home for orphans who have no family to take them in.”
Most o
f the other ladies were talking among themselves, but Avelina was staring up at the beautiful brick-and-timber house. She could not even imagine Lord Plimmwald wanting to establish an orphanage. Lord Thornbeck must be at least somewhat kind to care enough about poor orphans to start an orphanage.
She looked over her shoulder at him. He was staring straight ahead but then took a couple of glances at the home.
Through the open upper-floor window, Avelina could hear children’s lively chatter. A laugh, then an exclamation, then more chatter.
She suddenly missed Jacob and Brigitta even more. Would they be proud of her for going to Thornbeck, for helping Plimmwald, for securing Lord Thornbeck’s protection over their town and everyone she knew and loved? She imagined her father telling her, “Good work, Ava. And quick thinking, asking for the pork and goose for our table and dowry money for you.”
Of course, that was assuming Lord Plimmwald made good on his promise. He might very well renege and pretend not to remember what he promised her. And it was not like her father to give her praise. Even so, she would have the satisfaction of knowing she had done something no other servant girl in Plimmwald had ever done.
A woman’s face appeared at a third-floor window of the orphanage, smiled as though she had been expecting them, then disappeared.
They moved on down the cobblestone street, attracting the attention of everyone who saw them. Some people even followed them, staring curiously. It probably was not every day that the margrave came to town and walked the streets, along with ten—or nine, as it was—noble ladies who hoped to marry said margrave.
“And this is called Merchant Street,” Odette went on, “because many of the people who live here are merchants and their families.”
The homes were the most beautiful she had seen yet, besides the orphanage. They were truly impressive in their beauty, size, and artistry, and Avelina could not stop staring. There were not nearly so many wealthy merchants in Plimmwald.
The Beautiful Pretender Page 7