The Fairest Beauty

by Melanie Dickerson

  Sophie patted her shoulder. Roslind had lain down on her bed and fallen asleep. No doubt they were both exhausted from their long, hard trip. But Sophie had to hear the rest of the story.

  “Pinnosa and I believed Ermengard must have given you a sleeping potion, hoping to convince Baldewin you were dead. You were only two years old … They went through the entire funeral rites. The priest assumed you were dead too. And immediately following the funeral, Baldewin … disappeared. No one knows what happened to him. I believe Ermengard poisoned him as well.

  “Ermengard must have recovered your body, however, because the next morning, you were found in your bed. That’s when a few of the household servants, including myself, realized you were alive. Ermengard got rid of all of them except Pinnosa and me. I don’t know why she kept us on. Maybe she thought because we worked in the kitchen we wouldn’t realize who you were. But the fact that you were alive never made it beyond the castle.”

  “Until Pinnosa told Gabe and his father.” Sophie’s heart was pounding.

  “Yes.”

  “But what happened to my father? How did she kill him so quickly?”

  “I don’t know. Ermengard told everyone he was dead, but there was no funeral, no body. I used to believe he was alive, but I didn’t know where he would have gone, and I didn’t know where to search for him, so I stayed at Hohendorf to protect you. With your father gone, you became my reason to stay.”

  “Do you think my father could still be alive?”

  “I don’t want to get your hopes up, Sophie … It’s been so long. I don’t think he is.”

  “But he could be,” Sophie said. And he thinks I’m dead.

  Petra touched her arm. “Perhaps I should have waited to tell you.”

  A heavy weight settled over Sophie, but she didn’t want Petra to see how sad her story had made her feel. “I am well. Thank you for telling me the truth.” She forced a smile. Petra, a lady, and in love with Sophie’s father. Somehow it didn’t seem so strange. It was almost as if she had always known.

  Petra settled down on her own bed and was soon asleep. Sophie lay awake, praying, “Please bring Gabe back tomorrow. And please let my father be alive.”

  Valten kept his head up and his eyes alert, scanning the surrounding forest while the horses drank from the slow-moving river.

  As soon as Walther had arrived in Hagenheim with Gabe’s letter, confirming that Walther had helped Gabe and would make an excellent addition to Duke Wilhelm’s guard, Valten and his father had extracted from him the entire story of how Gabe had escaped from Duchess Ermengard with a scullery maid named Sophie who was believed to be Duke Baldewin’s daughter. Since then Valten had only been able to think about one thing, and that was getting to Sophie and bringing her back to Hagenheim where she would be safe.

  Of course, Valten couldn’t be certain that this scullery maid was Sophia Breitenbach, the daughter of Duke Baldewin Breitenbach, but it seemed very likely.

  Father was concerned about Gabe. Walther had informed them that Gabe had been injured and was unable to ride, though he was being tended by a monk at a cottage of seven … rather uncommon men. But Valten believed that Gabe would be well. He was strong and young and should mend quickly. At least he had kept Sophie safe and unharmed. Valten wouldn’t admit it to his father, but he was impressed Gabe hadn’t gotten both himself and the girl killed. He should never have attempted such a dangerous rescue by himself, against their father’s advice. Sophie wasn’t his betrothed, after all. She belonged to Valten. And he would have gone after her in due time.

  He glanced down at his leg. The healer said the break wasn’t completely healed, but it seemed perfectly sound to him. He wore a splint because otherwise his father, on advice of the healer, would not have let him come on this errand to fetch Sophie and Gabe.

  It had become much too dark to ride, so tomorrow, Valten, his father, and six of their strongest knights would let Walther resume his lead as they rode at a hurried pace through the trees, continuing to follow a small path south.

  South to find the Cottage of the Seven, his reckless little brother, and his own betrothed — the beautiful Sophia.

  Tomorrow he would meet his bride.

  Chapter 26

  Sophie, Petra, and Roslind were washing clothes together behind the cottage. Birds were singing and the sun was shining warmly on their shoulders. Sophie and her two companions had risen early to make breakfast for everyone and had spent the time discussing the duchess and what had happened to her. The three of them spoke in hushed tones as they prepared the food. Petra told Sophie what had happened at the castle after Sophie had escaped — the duchess had locked herself in her chamber and screamed at anyone who tried to bring her food or clean her room.

  But during breakfast, they threw off the pall that had fallen over them from talking about the duchess, and now they laughed as they talked and stirred the clothes in the large black pot over the outdoor fire pit. They took some out to cool and to scrub some more before hanging them on the line.

  Petra lifted her head, as though to listen, and then Sophie heard it too. Was that thunder? But then Sophie realized it was not thunder, but horses’ hooves.

  Gabe!

  But as the sound drew nearer she realized it was a lot more than one or two horses. It sounded like a small army. She waited, her heart thumping inside her.

  Bartel came out of his chapel to stand beside the women as the riders broke through the dense wood and headed toward them, horses snorting and shifting their feet as they came to a halt a few feet away.

  Sophie immediately recognized Walther, and she knew. Gabe had not made it back before his father had come for her. She grabbed Petra’s arm for support.

  “Good day to you,” Bartel said, calmly nodding at the men.

  “Good day,” said a man with dark brown hair that was sprinkled with a small amount of gray. He sat straight and regal on his large black horse. From his familiar features, Sophie realized he must be Gabe’s father.

  “I am Duke Wilhelm of Hagenheim, and these are my men. We come in search of Gabehart Gerstenberg and a young lady, called Sophie, who was with him. We were told they were being sheltered in the Cottage of the Seven.”

  “Your Grace, you have come to the Cottage of the Seven. You are very welcome here,” Bartel said solemnly, then nodded his head at her. “This is Lady Sophia, daughter of Duke Baldewin. But your son, Lord Gabehart, is not here.”

  “Not here?” Duke Wilhelm sounded annoyed. The duke fixed Bartel with a fierce gaze.

  “No, Your Grace. He left for Gemeinhart Monastery several days ago and has not returned.”

  Gabe’s father seemed to control himself with effort as he gripped his saddle horn. “What business did he have at Gemeinhart Monastery?”

  “He —” Bartel looked at Sophie and hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  Bartel gave Sophie an apologetic look, then turned back to Duke Wilhelm. “He went there to find Duke Baldewin.”

  Sophie felt her knees go weak, and she held tighter to Petra’s arm. Then she noticed all the blood had drained from Petra’s face and she was swaying slightly. Sophie steadied Petra as best she could while trying not to let her own knees buckle. Why hadn’t Gabe told her?

  “Duke Baldewin is dead,” Duke Wilhelm said, but his tone sounded uncertain.

  “He was alive, Your Grace, when I left the monastery seven years ago.”

  Duke Wilhelm’s eyes conveyed calm acceptance as he nodded. Sophie thought she heard him murmur, “Praise God,” echoing her own thought.

  The duke dismounted, and the young man behind him followed his lead. Duke Wilhelm stepped toward her and sank to one knee. He grasped her hand and said, “My Lady Sophia, I am honored.” He bowed over her hand, then abruptly stood and backed away.

  The young man behind him immediately took his place in front of her. He also knelt before her and took her hand, and then he kissed it.

  His voice was gruff and his expression s
eemed carved from stone, and the several small scars on his face were like careless nicks from the sculptor’s chisel. “Lady Sophia,” he said. “I am Valten, your betrothed.”

  Gabe chafed at Duke Baldewin’s slowness. The man hadn’t been on a horse in fifteen years, but it seemed as though he would remember how to ride at some point on this supposed-to-be-two-days trip that threatened to stretch into a multiple-night journey. Gabe reminded himself, for the hundredth time since midday, that he couldn’t afford to lose his temper with Sophie’s father. He tried to distract himself with thoughts of how happy she would be to learn her father was alive and how she would react when he told her that her father had promised to help them to wed.

  As twilight began to set in, Gabe began worrying that he might go off the trail in the dark woods and get lost. He forced himself to slow his pace so as not to leave Duke Baldewin behind. Gingerbread picked his way through the dense trees and undergrowth until Gabe saw the cottage in the waning glow of the sky. He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you, God.”

  As his heart quickened, he couldn’t help urging his horse to walk faster. A woman came out the kitchen door and dumped a pan of dishwater on the ground, but her form wasn’t quite right to be Sophie. She was a little heavier and her hair was lighter. Had he come to the wrong house? But no, he was sure this was the cottage.

  The woman looked up and saw them coming. She stood perfectly still as she watched them draw closer. Finally, Gabe realized her gaze was focused not on him, but behind him, on Duke Baldewin. He turned in his saddle and saw that Baldewin’s eyes were wide as he stared back at her.

  The duke halted his horse, got off, and walked toward her, obviously forgetting his saddle sores. He strode toward her as if striding toward home.

  Such a strange thought. Duke Baldewin had never been to the Cottage of the Seven before, so it certainly wasn’t his home. And how could he know this woman? Who was she?

  The woman waited. She looked like Petra, the cook from Hohendorf, and it looked as if she was crying. When Baldewin had come within two feet of her, he stopped.

  Curious, Gabe nevertheless turned away from the pair and led his and Baldewin’s horses to the stable. He unsaddled them himself, anxious to see Sophie and tell her the good news, to see the reunion between father and daughter. He forked some hay to the animals in their stalls and then latched the barn door before hurrying to the house.

  Not bothering to knock, he burst into the large front room and found all seven of the men gathered around.

  Siggy, instead of playing his lute, sat smiling at a young woman about Sophie’s age who was smiling back at him, and for a moment it was as if Gabe were watching himself and Sophie. But this girl was not Sophie; Gabe recognized her from his first day at Hohendorf as Roslind.

  Where was Sophie? A quick glance around the room told him she wasn’t there.

  The men quickly noticed him standing there and jumped up to greet him.

  “Gabe!” Several of them came and grasped his shoulder or his hand, welcoming him back.

  “Is Sophie upstairs?”

  The men’s expressions immediately changed and their smiles fled. Only Bartel could look him in the eye. “She’s gone. Your father and Valten came earlier today. They set out immediately for Hagenheim Castle.”

  Gabe’s stomach sank to his toes. He’d missed them, missed being there to explain things to his brother and father. Sophie had had to face them alone. And now they were a full day ahead of him.

  Or, he should say, them — he and Baldewin. He couldn’t go to Hagenheim Castle without Duke Baldewin. More’s the pity. The man’s slowness would try the patience of Job.

  Where was Duke Baldewin anyway? If he didn’t know better, he’d say the man was trysting with that woman behind the kitchen.

  He rebuked himself for having such a thought about a monk.

  “Can I help you with your horse?” Vincz asked.

  “Thank you, but I already stabled them.” He looked back toward the kitchen. “I arrived here with Duke Baldewin. Have any of you seen him?”

  The men muttered, asking each other if they’d encountered the duke, already deciding to search for him and who should go where, when Baldewin and the woman entered the door from the kitchen.

  For a moment, no one said anything as they all stared at Baldewin and the woman, and the woman stared at the floor, her cheeks pink. Baldewin returned each stare with a leveled one of his own.

  “Everyone,” Gabe spoke up. “This is Duke Baldewin of Hohendorf. He is Sophie’s father.”

  They all bowed — all except Heinric, who grinned.

  Duke Baldewin nodded — Gabe had been half afraid he would take issue with being called a duke, as he had when Gabe had addressed him as such at the monastery. But instead, he stood to his full height, seeming to throw off the humble demeanor of a monk. He looked as majestic as any nobleman, though without a nobleman’s attire.

  “And this,” Baldewin said in his most kingly tone, “is Lady Petra, daughter of Baron Otto Kukelbrecht, a woman I’ve been wishing to talk with again for many years.”

  Valten was almost home; his bride was riding her own horse — the horse he had personally selected for her — safely in the center of his father’s knights. And he had hardly said two words to her. But the important thing was that she was safe. And it didn’t hurt that she was quite beautiful.

  He hoped Gabe wasn’t too disappointed that the attractive girl he had risked his life to rescue was marrying Valten, her rightful betrothed. He was surprised his brother wasn’t even there. Walther had made it sound as if his injury had been life-threatening, but when they’d arrived at the Cottage of the Seven, Gabe had apparently recovered and flitted off on a quest to find Duke Baldewin at the Gemeinhart Abbey. Which was fine; Gabe could do all the gallivanting he wanted while Valten escorted his betrothed back to Hagenheim.

  The problem was that Sophie, as they all called her, was lovely to look upon, but she didn’t seem the least interested in even acknowledging his presence. But to be honest, he’d only tried to converse with her once or twice. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was a bit intimidated by the cold look on her face and the way she seemed determined to avoid him, staying as far away from him as possible. Valten reassured himself there would be plenty of time for talking and courting before they wed. After they arrived home, they’d likely wait at least three weeks while they cried the banns before the wedding.

  Plenty of time.

  Still, he should probably start to at least greet her every day, make sure she wasn’t afraid of him.

  Many maidens seemed to react with fear to him. He was much larger than most men, true, and usually wore some armor and carried at least two weapons at all times. And he did have a few scars on his face that women seemed to have an aversion to, though he didn’t understand why. His scars were all small. It wasn’t as if he had a big, jagged scar all the way across his face or was missing an eye or anything like that.

  Perhaps his bride-to-be was simply timid around men. And she hadn’t known until recently that she was even betrothed. Though surely she must have been pleased to find out her betrothed was the future duke of Hagenheim and a tournament champion known all over the Holy Roman Empire and beyond. He straightened in his saddle and looked over at Sophie. She met him with the same cold stare she’d been giving him the entire time.

  He would make an effort to speak to her tonight. It would be the last night before they arrived in Hagenheim, after all.

  Sophie was so exhausted when they stopped at the inn — the first inn they’d stopped at since they left the Cottage of the Seven — that she sighed with relief. It would feel good to sleep on an actual mattress and with a roof over her head.

  Does Gabe have a roof over his head? Does he know I am on my way to Hagenheim with his brother and father? Does he even care?

  No, she wasn’t going to think like that. Gabe had asked her to trust him and she would. He had never given her a reason not to. Well,
until he’d left without telling her where he was going, without telling her her father was still alive.

  Trust, trust, trust.

  But I need you now, Gabe. I don’t know what to say, what to do. You’ve abandoned me with a very off-putting man, to whom I happen to be betrothed.

  Who had dismounted and was coming toward her that very minute.

  “Lady Sophia,” he said, reaching up to help her down off her horse.

  She accepted his help, as there was no way to refuse. His big hands reached around her waist and lifted her with apparent ease. His shoulders were as broad as Walther’s, and she felt small as he set her down beside him. Oh, Gabe, where are you?

  “We shall stay at this inn tonight.” His eyes stared into hers with complete openness, but without any affection. He didn’t even give her a slight smile.

  She supposed she should feel bad for him, as he thought she was to become his wife, when in fact she was in love with his brother. Somehow, though, the only emotion she could feel for him was aversion.

  He wasn’t Gabe.

  Sooner or later she would need to tell him that she couldn’t marry him. What would he say? Would he become angry?

  “You will have your own room, of course, and I will sleep outside your door.”

  “Oh.” He looked fierce, as if contemplating the ruffians he would relish defending her from. “Thank you, but that isn’t necessary. I can bar the door.”