The Fairest Beauty

by Melanie Dickerson

  She helped him set out the food — more than Sophie ate in three whole days — and was careful not to let even her fingers touch his as he handed her the cheese, loaf of bread, dried fruit, fried pies, cold meat, and wine skin.

  Sophie’s stomach growled.

  Lorencz laughed. “Hungry?” He gave her a wolfish smile.

  She blushed but didn’t say anything.

  He lifted the hunk of bread toward his mouth.

  “Stop!” She’d uttered it automatically and could feel her blush deepen.

  He halted, his mouth open, just as he was about to bite.

  “We must first thank God for the food.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her and frowned.

  Ignoring him, Sophie bowed her head and clasped her hands. “We thank you, O Lord, for this food, and we bless it for your name’s sake. Grant that all who partake of it may obtain health of body and safety of soul. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

  When she looked up, Lorencz was staring at her with a slightly bemused look.

  “Don’t you pray?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Her distaste must have shown on her face, because he cleared his throat and said, “But I have never known how. Perhaps you could teach me.”

  His words and sly stare didn’t exactly evoke any belief in his sincerity. She wanted to believe she could trust the man … unfortunately, she could not summon any.

  But he was asking her to teach him. It would be wrong to refuse, even if he wasn’t earnest.

  “Praying is simple.” Faintly, she remembered the words of the young priest who had taught her so many years ago. “You must do four things. You must tell God that you are thankful, ask his blessing, acknowledge that he is God, and pray through Jesus.”

  “And say ‘amen’ at the end?”

  Sophie nodded.

  “Sounds easy enough.” He smiled at her and once again raised the piece of bread to his lips. His eyes never left her face.

  Sophie bit into her bread and chewed. She had missed breakfast that morning, since she had slept late after her long night of nursing, but it was hard to eat with Lorencz staring at her. O God, what are his intentions? Would he help me get away from here? She stared back at him, trying to read his thoughts and his character.

  Lorencz offered her more food, giving her portions of everything he had brought. Before she had even tasted it all, her stomach was full.

  “Try this,” he urged. “You’re too thin. You need to eat more.”

  Sophie shook her head and ignored the way he was pointing at the food in front of her. She didn’t like him saying she was too thin. No man wanted a skinny wife. Will the stranger’s brother think I am too skinny?

  She was being silly. He probably didn’t even have a brother.

  She let down her guard a bit and stretched her arm behind her, leaning back on her hand. Her eyelids were heavy. If she closed her eyes she would go right to sleep.

  “Tired?”

  She snapped her eyes open. “I am well.” What came over me? She had to keep herself alert.

  “You’re a very beautiful young woman, Sophie.” Lorencz had moved closer to her while her eyes had been closed. Now he sat close enough to put his arm around her.

  Sophie sat up straight, smoothing her skirt and making sure her ankles were covered. Her thin shoes had slipped off her feet, and she fumbled to put them back on again. When she looked up, Lorencz was leaning so close his face was only a handbreadth away.

  Her heart thumped wildly at his nearness — not because she was excited to be near him, she realized, but because she was afraid of what he intended to do next. Please, God, don’t let him be about to try to take advantage of me. I would hate to have to cut him.

  His hand was suddenly touching her cheek. She scooted away, out of his reach, and he let his hand fall.

  “I don’t mean to frighten you.” He lifted his hand again. “You are so beautiful.”

  This time she slapped his hand away and stood up. The pained look on his face almost made her pity him. But that was a foolish sentiment that would get her in trouble. He’d only take advantage of her pity.

  “It’s time we were getting back.” Sophie shot him a warning glare. “I have my work to do, and you undoubtedly have yours.” She bent to pick up their picnic leavings from the blanket, tossing them into the basket.

  Lorencz took a step toward her, but Sophie looked him in the eye. “If you have impure ideas about me, Herr Huntsman, I’m afraid I shall be forced to frustrate you in your purpose.” She injected forceful coldness into her voice.

  “It is you who are mistaken, Fraulein Sophie. I have nothing but the utmost respect for you.”

  “If you respected me, you would keep your hands to yourself.” She gave him a piercing look before snatching up the blanket and quickly folding it.

  Instead of looking angry, he laughed. He picked up the basket as she was reaching for it, so Sophie let him have it, turning and heading back through the dense forest of evergreens and beech trees.

  They walked along in silence for a few moments. Then Lorencz said in a deep, low voice, “Sophie? Don’t you like me?” He walked so close to her side that his right arm brushed her left.

  Sophie drew back from the contact. “I hardly know you.”

  Lorencz said nothing. They were almost back to the castle, though still in the cover of the trees, when Lorencz grabbed her arm and spun her to face him, pulling her against his chest. Sophie clutched the blanket, which served as a shield between them.

  “I can take you away from this demesne. If we leave now, we might be able to get away from her.”

  “Why should I trust you?” She leaned her body as far away from him as she could, searching his eyes.

  “I will marry you. We’ll go so far away she’ll never find us.”

  He put his arms around her, pulling her more firmly against his torso — and the blanket.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Think about this when you’re deciding whether to believe me.” He kissed her so hard and so suddenly she didn’t have time to react.

  The moment he relaxed his hold on her, she stumbled backward and stared at him, still holding the blanket up in front of her. He stared back at her.

  Sophie’s cheeks heated. How dare he kiss me! “Try that again,” she said, her breath coming fast in her fury, “and you’ll get a bleeding even a barber cannot mend.”

  He’d forced a kiss on her, and she hadn’t even been able to reach for her knife. Was the large meal slowing her down and fogging her brain? She was still alert enough to wonder if he would truly marry her and take her away from here. Hadn’t she thought just last week, when he visited her in the dungeon, that if anyone could help her escape it was Lorencz? But could she trust him to marry her? Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

  And there was the stranger, Gabe. What if he was telling the truth? She had to talk to Petra.

  Lorencz smirked at her. “Meet me tonight, in the courtyard, and we’ll go for a walk.”

  “No.”

  “Then meet me tomorrow morning.”

  “I have work to do.”

  “Before breakfast, then, at daybreak.”

  “Why?”

  The skin around Lorencz’s scar turned a dark red. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Plenty of other maidens would eagerly accept the chance to walk with me tonight. If you don’t come, perhaps I will ask someone else.”

  “I think that’s a splendid idea.”

  “How will you ever learn to trust me if you don’t spend time with me?”

  “It is a problem, but it is not mine to solve.”

  Someone was nearby, and they both turned their heads toward the noise of rustling leaves and cracking twigs. The stranger, Gabe, emerged into view.

  “Pardon me,” he apologized. “Were you two conversing?”

  “What are you doing?” Lorencz asked irritably
.

  “Taking a walk.”

  Lorencz looked him up and down. “You say you are a pilgrim, but you don’t have the look of a pilgrim.” The huntsman’s voice was impatient. “Your boots are too fine, your hands too soft looking. You’d be wise to get yourself back to wherever you came from. Go back to your easy life.”

  “Whatever my life was before I came here is not your concern.” Gabe’s voice was quiet but thick with warning. “And I don’t take orders from huntsmen.”

  “Who do you take orders from, then? What is your business here?” Lorencz narrowed his eyes dangerously. Without giving Gabe a chance to answer, he went on. “See that you stay out of my way. This huntsman doesn’t play games with pilgrims.” He brushed past the stranger, knocking him sideways with his shoulder.

  Gabe watched him go, wishing he could punch that oaf for kissing Sophie.

  Gabe turned to Sophie. “You know that man is trying to seduce you, don’t you?”

  “I don’t answer to you. I have work—”

  “I thought you were going to help me plan what to say to Duchess Ermengard.”

  “I was.” Sophie moved past him on her way into the courtyard, and Gabe followed several feet behind.

  She hesitated as Lorencz came out of the kitchen, waiting until he walked away before dashing through the door he’d just exited. She came back minutes later without the blanket and glared at Gabe, as if he were to blame for all her life’s ills. He waited for her to speak, hoping he could convince her he was nothing like the huntsman and thus worthy of her trust.

  She crossed her arms and seemed to be looking him over and thinking. “You need to have a plan. If the duchess becomes aware of your presence, she’ll want to know what you’re doing here and why.” She frowned. “You must decide now what you will say.”

  “I’ll ask her if I can stay for a few days and play my lute for her.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll say I want to earn some money before going on with my pilgrimage.”

  “Oh no. That will not do.” Sophie clasped her hands together and stared at the ground. She whispered, “You have to make it sound like you’re doing something nice for her, that you admire her so deeply you can’t help but play music for her. And you certainly don’t expect payment.”

  “Very well. I can do that.” He tried not to smile at the extreme concern she was displaying.

  “Let her know you don’t expect her to provide your meal tonight or your bed. She doesn’t like it when unexpected visitors arrive and ask to bed down anywhere on the castle knoll, even in the stable or with the servants. Tell her you have a place to sleep in the village.”

  He nodded, although he was a little skeptical, after his cold reception, that he could find a place in the village to bed down. But perhaps, if he tried again, he could find people willing to speak about Sophie — or Duke Baldewin and his daughter.

  She went on, still whispering as she stoked up the fire under the large kettle in the center of the courtyard and added more wood. “Pay her several compliments. She expects it. But be tactful. And remember, you don’t expect any reward.” She paused a moment to stare vacantly into the trees.

  “And you probably shouldn’t say you’re a pilgrim.” She grabbed a long wooden spoon and began to stir the hot wax. “No, you’re a troubadour on your way to the fair. You heard of her beauty and wished to come and admire her and write songs about her. That should do it, as long as Lorencz and Walther don’t say anything to contradict you.” Her satisfied look changed into a frown. “But do take that ring off your finger. You’re trying to look poor, not like a rich man playing at being a vagabond.”

  Gabe wrenched the ring off, feeling foolish for having forgotten such an obvious thing, and thrust it into his pocket.

  She pointed at his feet. “And your shoes. They’re much too fine for a troubadour.”

  He bent down and smeared mud on his boots so that it was difficult to see what material they were made of, then he looked down at himself — he didn’t see anything else that would betray his true status. He thrust his hands, mud and all, into his hair and mussed it, rubbing the dirt into the strands until they were surely sticking out everywhere.

  “Yes, I think you might just live to tell the tale, if you keep a glib tongue in your head.” She glanced up at him and flashed a smile.

  Pinnosa hadn’t exaggerated her beauty. God, help me save her. Help me discover the truth.

  “If you’re still alive after you talk to the duchess, you are welcome to share the servants’ fare tonight. It isn’t fancy, but it’s filling. Or perhaps you can pay for your food in the village. Either way, your presence, wherever you go, will stir a lot of talk and interest. The people of Hohendorf aren’t used to strangers coming around.”

  That was an understatement, considering the way people had stared at him when he passed through the village.

  “When will you ask Petra what she knows about your identity?”

  She pursed her lips. “Tonight, when no one can overhear us.”

  As she continued with her task, a comfortable silence settled between them. He tried not to watch her, but his gaze flicked repeatedly in Sophie’s direction, especially as she rolled up her sleeves to her elbows, lifting her arms to hang each wick over the line. Though he’d observed her doing the very same task all morning, he couldn’t seem to stop noticing her graceful motions. A thought flitted through his mind that she would look beautiful dancing the bassadanza, moving to the music, her hair decorated with flowers and a silk skirt swishing around her ankles. Of course, to fit into the scene perfectly she would need to gain some flesh and not appear so emaciated. He imagined her arms slightly plump, the dark smudges gone from under her eyes, and a joyful smile on her face.

  He was enjoying the image a little too much.

  After several minutes of silence, Gabe said, “I know you think you can take care of yourself, but I do hope you will be wary of that huntsman. Men like him … they should be kept at a distance.”

  “I suppose you think I should keep you close instead.” Sophie humphed as she looked away from him. She continued with her task but looked ill at ease. He began to think she wasn’t going to say anything more.

  She sighed and peered up at him. “I believe your counsel is kindly meant. But I can take care of myself — it is something I’ve done all of my life. I am well aware that men are not to be trusted, whether they be huntsmen, servants, or … traveling noblemen.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. When he had followed her and Lorencz into the woods for their picnic and eavesdropped, he had seen and heard how well she dealt with the man’s forwardness. She was obviously a maiden of personal honor, but the huntsman possessed a smooth tongue. The only question seemed to be whether she would allow the huntsman to marry her in order to get away from the duchess. Or would she entrust her fate to Gabe?

  How alone she was. Sophie, whether she was Duke Baldewin’s daughter or not, was an orphan, without family connections, without any family at all. Brittola, on the other hand, had brothers and sisters. Her father and mother were still alive and in good health and lavished her with loving words and caresses. No man, whether wealthy or poor, would be allowed near Brittola, especially to try to win her affections, without the expressed permission of her father. But Sophie had no one but herself to prevent ill-intentioned men from taking advantage of her.

  The thought stirred something inside him. Even if she was only a poor maiden, she needed … someone.

  Gabe stood, picked up a stick, and started helping Sophie dip the endless row of candles into the hot cauldron of wax. She lifted her eyebrows at him quizzically.

  He shrugged. “I have nothing else to do.”

  She shook her head but said nothing.

  They worked together for a long while, until Gabe’s arms began to ache from the unaccustomed motion of lifting them over and over again to hang the candles on the line. He thought about Sophie lying asleep on the ground when he’d arrived
that morning. The cook had seemed very protective of her, and the guard also, once he found out it was Sophie and not some other maiden. He’d heard the cook say Sophie often spent nights in the dungeon at the duchess’s command. Surely the girl hadn’t done anything to deserve such punishment. And dungeons were generally filled with all manner of filth and vermin. If the duchess was as cruel as the rumors said she was, and if what Pinnosa had told him was true, Sophie had been mistreated like this all of her life.

  Sophie’s experiences were so different from any other woman’s he’d ever encountered. He tried to imagine his sisters enduring Duchess Ermengard’s treatment and shuddered.

  He wondered what his family was doing right now. His mother had started a school for poor children in the walled town of Hagenheim. Perhaps she and his sisters would go there today and bring sweet cakes and fruit for the children, or new books or other supplies. Valten was probably chafing at his own inactivity, lying in bed and cursing his brother because Gabe was out doing what Valten could not.

  That thought made Gabe smile.

  He turned around to dip more candles in the hot wax and found Sophie staring at him.

  “Thank you for your help … Gabe.” She seemed to find it amusing to speak his name. “Is it a custom of yours to search out scullery maids and help them with their work?”

  Gabe pretended not to notice her teasing tone. “Does it seem strange to you that I would help?”

  “I must admit, there have been times a man has offered to help me with my work, but they’ve always expected something in return.” She eyed him critically.

  “I assure you, Sophie,” Gabe said, gentling his voice and meeting her gaze, “I don’t expect anything from you.” No, that wasn’t exactly true. “I only hope to learn the truth of your identity and gain your trust.”

  “Trust is something that must be earned.” Her eyes widened slightly, and she quickly turned her back to him. “But I hope you will remember my advice about what to say to the duchess.