The Orphan's Wish

by Melanie Dickerson

  At the marketplace Kirstyn chose a cloak made of black wool and trimmed with colorful embroidery. “It is expensive, isn’t it? My father will pay you for it.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Aladdin smiled as he paid the seller from a small bag of money he carried on his belt.

  “I’ve never known what it was like to be in need and have no money and no one to help me. Until this year.”

  Aladdin squeezed her shoulder and drew close. His look was so sympathetic and interested, she went on.

  “I think it has taught me compassion for others.”

  “You were already compassionate.”

  “But now I understand more and can empathize.” Her throat tightened. She stared at Aladdin’s face. Had he always had such a masculine jawline?

  “I’m so sorry for what you went through.” His voice was soft and gravelly.

  “You are so brave, leaving Hagenheim and not knowing where you would go or what you would do. I can appreciate even more now just how courageous you were.”

  They turned and continued strolling, their arms linked. It felt a bit daring since they’d never done that before when her father’s guards used to accompany them on their walks. But he had carried her in his arms after she fainted the day before.

  “But at the time, I was a little angry with you for leaving me. Very selfish, wasn’t I? Only thinking of what I wanted instead of wanting you to achieve your dream.”

  “You were not selfish at all. You could have ordered me to stay or said any number of things to force me. But you let me go.”

  How kind he was. She gazed up at him, not paying attention to where they were going, trusting Aladdin to lead her. He had such a handsome face, such beautiful brown skin and thick black hair. If only it were permissible to kiss his cheek, or even his lips.

  But that was not the way she had planned to tell him she loved him. So many times she had imagined the words she would say to him as she lay awake in the dark with Michael’s rope around her wrist.

  Aladdin just seemed so much older and manlier now, in a way that made her stomach flip. It made her long to hear him say he wanted her to be his wife. But perhaps he only loved her as a friend. The new fear, which was becoming familiar, gripped her again. She might not be as important to him as he was to her.

  Being held against her will and failing to escape for so long had robbed her of her confidence. She knew this. So she had to force herself to stop feeling the fear. For now she would enjoy being in Aladdin’s company. Besides, they were on a public street. It was not the time to reveal her true feelings, or to ask him about his.

  “This is the saltworks.” Aladdin pointed to a high thick wall. “Herr Kaufmann is a salt master and owns the rights to four salt pans—a highly profitable position to be in.”

  “I’m sure it is. Salt is nearly as valuable as gold. And he trusts you to run his affairs?”

  “Yes, he . . . well, he has told me he will make me his heir since his son, Michael, turned out so badly. He has given Michael so many chances to redeem himself, but he always does something evil instead, such as what he did to you.”

  He stopped walking and faced her. “I can hardly bear to think of him harming you. It makes me want to kill him.” His voice was raspy. “Forgive me. After all you’ve been through, you shouldn’t have to hear me spew my anger.”

  “It feels rather . . . healing to hear you say that.”

  He let out a breath, and one side of his mouth went up. He touched her cheek with the back of his gloved hand. “We can go into St. John’s Church to get out of the cold for a few minutes.”

  He took her hand and pulled her in through the doors of the old church.

  Just as they always were in Hagenheim, people were kneeling in prayer at the chancel and the crucifix, in front of the burning candles at the other end of the nave.

  Aladdin and Kirstyn sat at the back of the church on a little bench. She rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and nestled her against his chest.

  Her heart pounded. Surely he loved her as more than a friend.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened to you?” he said softly, his breath teasing her hair on top of her head.

  “I will talk a little, and then you tell me about your life here.”

  He agreed. So she told him about the mind-numbing feeling of never being allowed to talk to anyone, of never seeing the sun, and of having her every movement controlled. She could do nothing without Michael’s permission. And while she spoke, Aladdin would sometimes make a sound in his throat or gently squeeze her shoulder.

  When she told him about the times she had tried to escape and how despair always gripped her when she didn’t succeed, that old feeling of helplessness crept over her again. She closed her eyes and reveled in the warmth of Aladdin’s chest against her side.

  “But now I want to hear about you.” She turned her body so she was looking up at him.

  He told her a little bit about his work on a typical day, then said, “But that is uninteresting. I shall tell you about Abu and how he came to live with us.”

  When he finished the tale, she said, “I’m so glad Abu has a family now. It reminds me of how my little brother Toby came to live with us.”

  Aladdin nodded. He knew the story, how her sister Margaretha had found Toby, a little orphan boy whose master mistreated him and didn’t even give him a proper place to sleep. She brought him home to Hagenheim, and her parents adopted him.

  While they had been talking, they had gotten warm, taken off their gloves, and laid them aside. No one had come into the church since they’d been sitting there, and it was very quiet. Aladdin picked up her hand and turned it over, as if examining it.

  “Do you remember the time you got your hand stuck in that knothole?” he whispered.

  “Yes. You said you might have to chop it off.”

  “I was only teasing you.” Aladdin smiled.

  “I like it when you smile. You were usually so solemn and thoughtful when we were children. Are you still so?”

  He let his eyes leave her hand to gaze into her eyes. “Most would probably say so. But I do try to make time to play with Abu. I taught him archery.”

  “Did he like that?”

  “Very much.” Aladdin smiled again at her hand, caressing her fingertips one at a time, skimming over the nails, which were broken and jagged from her last escape attempt.

  These kinds of caresses were not how friends related to one another, were they? But she tried not to let it show, how much his touch affected her.

  “I remember I was as good at hitting the target as you were,” Kirstyn said.

  “Yes, but only at a certain distance.”

  “It isn’t very chivalrous of you to remember that.” She playfully swatted at his arm with the hand he had not captured in his larger one. She was beginning to feel breathless again. But he was only holding her hand, playing with it in the most innocent way.

  “You must be getting hungry.” He let go of her hand and reached for their gloves. “We should probably head home. The town council could send for you.”

  As Kirstyn pulled on her gloves, her hands shook just a bit. Her cheeks heated, as she had hoped he would kiss her hand.

  The fact that they were in a church made her even more glad he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Aladdin was almost sorry he had suggested they go back. But he didn’t want her to get too tired. She needed rest and food to recover from her ordeal. She didn’t need a lovesick man keeping her talking until she fainted—a lovesick man who couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her. She had spoken about being selfish, but he was the selfish one.

  They were walking back toward Herr Kaufmann’s home when he caught a whiff of something that made his stomach rumble. A woman was sitting on a stool at the outskirts of the marketplace with a large basket covered with a linen cloth.

  “Sausage and rolls!” she called out to them.


  “May I have one?” Kirstyn’s eyes were bright as she turned to him.

  “Of course.” He paid the woman, and she gave him two long bread rolls and two sausages about the length of his hand. He gave one of each to Kirstyn.

  “How are you supposed to eat it?”

  “Any way you like, but I put them together, like this.” He pressed the sausage into the roll so when he took a bite, he bit through both of them.

  Kirstyn did the same with hers. “Mmm.” She closed her eyes and chewed. “That is very good. I can almost taste sauerkraut.”

  “That’s because sauerkraut’s cooked inside the bread.”

  She looked down at her roll. “That is tremendous! I must have our cooks make these.” She took another bite.

  They walked toward the fountain in front of the Rathous in the town center. By the time they reached it, they had eaten their sausages and rolls. Aladdin fetched a dipper and caught some water flowing through the fountain. He gave the first dipperful of cold water to Kirstyn, and they took turns taking a drink.

  “That was better than some five-course meals I’ve eaten.” Kirstyn laughed. The sound was as high and melodious as he remembered. When he was a child, he imagined angels had given her that sound.

  “Are you not cold?”

  “Not very. I have this new warm cloak and my—Grethel’s—gloves. And you? Are you cold?”

  He shook his head.

  They sat on the side of the fountain—a massive stone structure that reached as high as three men. It was even larger than the one in Hagenheim’s Marktplatz.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Her cheeks were red from the cold, but the rest of her face was pale. He hoped it was from lack of sun, not from ill health.

  “I feel well. But I’m glad to sit for a few minutes.” She leaned against his shoulder.

  He kept expecting someone to walk by and recognize him and ask who Kirstyn was, but so far no one had. They would no doubt wonder why he was sitting so close to another young woman besides Grethel. And yet his heart soared at having her so near.

  “Aladdin?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think the courier has made it to Hagenheim yet?”

  “He should be arriving tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Do you think my father will come to Lüneburg when he gets our letter?”

  “I think he will take only enough time to gather provisions for himself and his men and saddle the horses.”

  That made Kirstyn smile. It was good to see her familiar smile and white teeth. What was it Song of Solomon said? “Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.”

  “I am feeling a bit tired,” Kirstyn admitted.

  “We shall go, then.” He jumped down from the wall around the fountain and placed his hands on either side of her waist, the circumference so small his fingertips touched. She put her hands on his shoulders as he lifted her off the wall and set her feet on the ground.

  “I’m sorry to cut our outing short.” She kept her hands on his shoulders, gazing into his eyes. “I was enjoying spending the day with you . . . only the two of us.”

  His heart stuttered a few beats. “Kirstyn, I . . .”

  “Yes?”

  He swallowed. “The truth is, finding you and being able to be with you and talk to you and hold your hand—” He pulled her to his chest and whispered next to her ear, “These have been the best two days of my life.”

  She sniffed, and her hands tightened on his back.

  “But now I need to get you home.” He pulled away. “Are you well enough to walk?”

  “Yes.” She wiped her eyes with her hands, then held on to his arm. They walked through the marketplace and then the street toward Herr Kaufmann’s, and soon they were home.

  The town council had not sent for Kirstyn, so she went up to her room to rest, and Aladdin fell asleep in a chair.

  When it was time for the evening meal, Grethel was away. “Staying with her friend Sybel,” Herr Kaufmann said.

  Aladdin still needed to speak to Grethel, to explain, but he was relieved she was away from home. It did dampen his joy to see Herr Kaufmann looking so gloomy. The poor man had received a blow, learning that Aladdin and Grethel’s marriage, which he had hoped for and counted on, was not to be and learning of his son’s latest nefariousness, which would likely lead to his execution.

  Once Herr Kaufmann had finished eating, he excused himself and went to bed.

  Aladdin and Kirstyn sat together at the table for at least an hour, talking about their days as children. When they ceased hearing the servants at their work, they went up to their rooms.

  On the stairs Kirstyn said, “Sleep well, Aladdin. I shall see you in the morning.”

  The look on her face made him trip over his own feet. Perhaps he was just daft. But daft or not, he’d never been so full of joy.

  Kirstyn sat opposite Aladdin, watching as he moved his knight over and across the chessboard.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” She immediately captured his knight with her bishop.

  Aladdin sighed. “How did I miss that?”

  “I suppose I’m just too clever for you.” She grinned at him. But she had caught him staring at her instead of at the board. “You’re not concentrating on the game.”

  He lowered his brows at her, twisting his mouth in a half frown. “We shall see.”

  He studied the board and chess pieces while she studied him. His face was endearing, even when he was intently staring at a chess game. His cheekbones were high and chiseled, but not in a harsh way. She liked that he kept his hair slightly longer, curling in the most beguiling way against his neck. A tiny scar snaked up his shoulder from underneath his fine white linen shirt, the start of much worse scars he had acquired when he saved her from the mama bear.

  Finally he made his next move—setting out with his king.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” But Kirstyn didn’t wait for him to change his mind. She put his king in check with her knight.

  Aladdin slapped his hand to his forehead and made an unintelligible sound.

  Finally, after studying the board, he made a move.

  Kirstyn glanced down at the board, and suddenly it looked unfamiliar. Instead of gawking at Aladdin and letting her mind wander, perhaps she should have been planning her next move.

  She made a poor move, and Aladdin captured two of her pawns. Then he went on to capture her knight, her bishops, and finally her queen.

  “How did I let you win?” she moaned, but she knew how. She’d become distracted by him.

  “You were defeated by the master. No one has beaten me at chess the entire time I’ve been in Lüneburg.”

  “Just you wait. I shall defeat you yet.”

  Aladdin’s expression softened as he reached for her hand. “You defeat me every day just with your . . .” His gaze rested on her lips. “Your smile.”

  He leaned over the little chess table, his eyes capturing hers the way he’d captured her chess pieces.

  “Aladdin!” Hilde called from the kitchen.

  Aladdin let go of her hand as Hilde’s footsteps sounded on the stone floor, getting closer. She stuck her head in the doorway. “Herr Kaufmann said you were coming to his office later today to help him with some work. Would you and Kirstyn like to take him his midday meal?”

  “Of course,” Aladdin said, then looked at Kirstyn. “Do you feel well enough to go? You might have to wait for an hour or so while I work.”

  “I am well and I don’t mind. I want to get out in the sun every chance I can.”

  They retrieved the small basket, which contained enough food for all three of them, Hilde said, and set out.

  “I think it’s warmer today.” Kirstyn walked very close to Aladdin’s side, holding on to his arm.

  Aladdin told her little bits of town history as they walked. Was it her imagination, or did his
voice sound softer, more intimate than the day before as he leaned his head toward hers every time he spoke? Her eyes kept fastening on his lips. Her cheeks heated, even in the brisk winter air, at where her gaze—and thoughts—kept going.

  At the warehouse they greeted Herr Kaufmann. Was it her imagination, or was he sad to see her? It must have something to do with Grethel being in love with Aladdin. Perhaps Kirstyn should have stayed home instead of accompanying Aladdin here.

  They sat and ate together as the two men discussed business and numbers and those in their employ. Aladdin seemed so mature and intelligent. This was his domain. He was good at what he did. He had helped a wealthy man become even wealthier. Everything Aladdin did was successful. He never seemed to lose, and not just at chess. He’d even succeeded when he’d tangled with a bear. Though he did come away with some terrible scars, he’d survived.

  But when he looked at her, he still had a vulnerable glint in his eye. She could still see that orphan boy who was so determined to do well in life, yet well aware that he was not only a fatherless orphan but also a foreigner, maligned and pushed around, literally sometimes, because of his Arabic origin and dark skin.

  When they had finished eating, Herr Kaufmann called a man over.

  “Take Lady Kirstyn around the warehouse. Show her the new shipments that just arrived from the Orient and Flanders.”

  Kirstyn followed her guide, Otto, as he led her to bags and bundles of silk cloth, embroidered slippers, and pungent and beguiling spices. Kirstyn looked through them all. It wasn’t often that goods as fine as these came into Hagenheim. Though her people were well fed and content, she knew very few of them could afford luxury goods, except perhaps for the spices, which many considered essential.

  Kirstyn browsed among the wares, staying out of the way of the men who came and went, carrying things out to be sold. Everyone knew exactly where they were going and what they were doing. Everything was labeled with a number, and guards stood nearby, watching over it all.

  Aladdin came toward her. “Sorry I was so long.”

  “Has it been an hour already?” She had been looking through some mechanical clocks that fascinated her. She’d never seen one outside of a monastery, and before that she had examined bright silk scarves, picking out the prettiest ones.