The Conquered Brides Collection

by Renee Rose, Ashe Barker, Sue Lyndon, Korey Mae Johnson

  “What will happen? To Princess Susanna?”

  “She will be taken to Vienna, to the court of the holy Roman emperor. There she will stand trial.”

  “Trial? But why? She has committed no crime.”

  Lady Natalia appears distressed at the treatment meted out to her kinswoman. I have some sympathy with that as I surmise they may have been close, but I see no merit in encouraging my bride to consider matters to be less serious than they are. I am as certain as I may be of Princess Susanna’s eventual fate.

  “She had ample opportunity to comply with the commands of the emperor. And she was under no illusions regarding the actions necessary to stave off military enforcement. She chose to defy the emperor, and will now pay the price for that.”

  “What price? What will happen to her?”

  “That will be the emperor’s decision, but I think it likely she will pay for her misdeeds with her life.”

  “No! No, my lord. That cannot happen. It would be unfair, a gross injustice.”

  Lady Natalia’s distress is palpable. If nothing else, Princess Susanna of Hohenzollern inspired great loyalty among her ladies. I fear that loyalty is misplaced for the princess has been sorely derelict in her duties as a monarch.

  “I cannot agree, my lady. The injustice has been served on the landholders surrounding Hohenzollern who have suffered the ruination of their property, theft of their crops. The princess brought her fate upon herself.”

  “No, she did not. It was all Lord Eberhard’s doing. He was the one who controlled the knights, whose instructions were obeyed. Susanna had no influence.”

  “She was the ruler of Hohenzollern. It was her responsibility, hers alone, to curtail the excesses of her knights. She failed to do that.”

  “Susanna was bullied by Eberhard, intimidated, as we all were. She could not prevent what happened. If anyone should stand trial in Vienna, it is he.”

  “As indeed he will, when we capture him. But that will not absolve the princess of culpability in this matter.”

  “No, this cannot be. She…”

  I have heard enough. I raise my hand to halt the flow of words. “Princess Susanna’s fate is in the hands of the emperor. Her trial will be a fair one, and her fate dignified, as befits her rank.”

  “But…”

  “Enough, my lady. I must leave you now. Please remain here until I return. I bid you a good day, until later.”

  I make a small bow, nod to Karl, and leave them to become better acquainted.

  * * *

  “A bride? I had no notion you were considering remarrying, Stefan.” Gerhard makes no attempt to conceal his amusement as he hands me a glass of rich red wine. Gerhard has chosen to receive me not in his own personal tent, but instead in the headquarters tent where battle plans were drawn up in the preceding days. I find this odd, but I say nothing of it to him. “I hear you have selected a lady of some considerable experience. Twice widowed already, I gather. Do you not find this ominous at all?”

  News of my hasty marriage has preceded me. My commander was already aware of the broad facts of the matter but now seems intent on gaining the finer details from me. I know that Gerhard is just teasing, but I am in no mood to encourage my commander’s banter. I have to hope he will not take it amiss. Gerhard is my friend as well as my commander on this excursion and I would not normally be so taciturn. We have enjoyed many a frank exchange over several mugs of fine ale, but on this occasion I do not feel inclined to explain my sudden decision to claim Lady Natalia as mine—not that I would be able to summon much in the way of convincing explanation.

  I settle for something innocuous, hoping to be able to leave it at that. “She seems harmless, and compliant enough. Do you have further instructions for me or is our business here all but concluded?”

  My attempt to change the subject fails. Gerhard is not to be distracted.

  “You are keen to regain your hearth at Richtenholst? I cannot say I blame you, blessed as you are with a new bride and all. What did you say her name was?”

  “I did not. So—are we done here?”

  He chooses to ignore my unforthcoming response.

  “The widow of the count de Chapelle, I understand—I cannot say I am able to place the lady.”

  Gerhard is nothing if not persistent. And well-informed. I wonder who has brought him this detailed report of the recent changes to my domestic arrangements. They were certainly quick off the mark.

  He continues, his amusement at my discomfiture splitting his face in a wide grin. “Compliant, you say?”

  I sigh, resigned to the need to supply at least some details to satisfy my commander’s curiosity. I take a deep draught of my wine. “She seems agreeable enough, though I have only just met her. I am confident we will get along well enough together.”

  “Why marry her though? You know that you did not have to go so far.”

  “Your edict to the men was clear enough, Gerhard. I well know your preference for leadership by example. And we all bore witness to your promise to the princess. How fares she, anyway?” I seize on this opportunity to change the subject, or at least deflect Gerhard’s interest from my own domestic concerns.

  His brow furrows. He appears uncomfortable, ill at ease despite our resounding success in seizing this castle. “She does well enough, in the circumstances.”

  I recall the impassioned pleas of my bride-to-be. However wrong-headed, Natalia is convinced of the princess’s innocence. I reflect that there will be few others likely to raise a voice in her defence, and perhaps there may be some room for mitigation.

  “Natalia—Lady de Chapelle—is adamant that the princess bears little responsibility for the events here over recent years. She insists that Lord Eberhard is solely to blame, and that Princess Susanna is as much a victim of his tyranny as anyone else.”

  Gerhard pours himself another glass of wine and stares into its ruby depths before responding. “I find that hard to accept. Don’t you?”

  I shrug. “Mayhap. The trial should establish the truth of this matter though.”

  We exchange a glance. I suspect that neither of us can envisage any circumstance in which the princess will escape blame, however sympathetic her accusers. And they will not be sympathetic. Someone will be required to answer for the crimes of Hohenzollern, and as its ruler it will be she. And rightly so. Meanwhile, we have further work to do here.

  “I learned, also from Lady Natalia, that the children of the royal household had sought sanctuary in the castle chapel.”

  “I see. They are still there?”

  “No, not any longer. I have taken the liberty of removing them from the chapel and making arrangements for their safe transport to Vienna. I am intending that they join the convoy taking the prisoners to the imperial court.”

  “Good. The convoy will be well guarded so their safety should be assured.” Gerhard smiles, the matter settled. “Now, compliant you say, this Natalia of yours. I hope it is so. She should suit you very well then.”

  I groan. Despite my best efforts Gerhard was not to be deflected from the object of his interest for long. I need to make myself scarce, or be prepared to satisfy his curiosity. I down the remainder of my wine. “I have every expectation of her complete suitability. Now, if you will excuse me, sir, I will complete my duties. I am hoping to leave for Richtenholst in the morning.”

  My commander barely has a moment to nod his assent before a commotion in the entrance to the tent arrests our attention. There is a murmur of voices outside, growing louder. Karl enters. He looks uncommonly flustered. My heart sinks.

  “Your grace. It is Lady Natalia, she is gone.”

  Chapter Three

  The tent flap drops behind the duke of Richtenholst, leaving me alone with his hulking manservant. Despite his ferocious appearance the man—Karl—does indeed seem gentle enough. And polite. He offers me a bow, then follows his liege from the tent, to return a few minutes later with a tray of food. Simple fare, just bread and cheese, s
ome slices of cooked meat that I identify as rabbit, and a mug of ale. I had not realised I was hungry, would have refused the food had it been offered. But as soon as Karl sets down the tray and retires again to attend to whatever duties are calling him, I help myself to a slice of the cold meat.

  It is surprisingly good, and I have soon cleared the contents of the tray. Thus fortified, I begin to take in the details of my surroundings. The tent is rectangular in shape, quite large, and better furnished than I might have expected. Not that I can claim vast experience of the finer details of such accommodations. The first thing that I notice is that it is warm in here, courtesy of a pile of hot stones deposited in a small pit in the centre of the tent. These were replenished by Karl whilst I ate, encouraging me to remove my cloak. There is a bed, ample size for one but perhaps a little small for two. I prefer not to dwell on that detail. There is also the table that bears what is left of my repast, and two chairs, one of which I am presently occupying. A large bowl of clean water has been set on a stool in one corner, and beside it a jug. I assume these to be intended for the duke’s ablutions. There is no provision for what I might consider more private functions, but I daresay in the masculine environment of a military camp, such necessities are dealt with as and when they arise. There is a large chest against one of the walls, where I imagine the duke’s possessions are held secure.

  My own possessions, and those of the rest of my family I do not doubt, are by now in the hands of the soldiers who will have looted the defeated castle.

  Exhausted, I lie down on the bed to contemplate my new circumstances, and those of the people close to me.

  I fear for Princess Susanna but I know she is beyond my help. I can but hope that the duke will convey the information I supplied to those who are holding her, but I have little optimism on that matter. He did not believe me. He remained convinced of Susanna’s culpability, so why would he argue in her defence?

  That leaves Sophia, as far as I am aware still safely ensconced in the sanctuary offered by the chapel. Dear lord, I hope it is so. And I thank God that I was able to see her safe there before encountering the duke of Richtenholst. If he had seen her, identified her as the child of his old enemy… There is little in the way of family resemblance that I have ever discerned, but even so. The duke might be inclined to disregard my connection to the count de Chapelle, but he would not ignore Sophia, a direct descendent. He as good as said so. He told me that were he minded to seek revenge, he would direct his vengeance toward those more directly related to the dead count. I cannot but be convinced that his old enemy’s only surviving child would be the prime target.

  The duke seems to be a man of honour and as such should not harm an innocent child. But these are desperate, violent times, and husband or not I hardly know him. I will not take that risk.

  Thank the good lord that Sophia is safe. I have every confidence that Annis will take care of her to the best of her ability, and of the other little ones. Surely the imperial armies will respect their claim to the protection of the church.

  But what if they don’t? Will Annis be sufficiently assertive to establish their claim? Will she possess the required fortitude? Might she even desert her charges? I doubt that, but once the notion has occurred to me it takes root. My head is soon awhirl with any number of dire possibilities, a host of catastrophic outcomes. The upshot is, Sophia needs me. The children need me, and it is my duty to see to their safety if I am able.

  The duke instructed me to stay within his tent. If I knew he planned to return soon I would do so, and rely upon being able to convince him to use his authority to ensure the wellbeing of the children. I can protect Sophia’s identity, she could leave with the rest. He was not specific as to his movements, but I had the impression he would be gone for some time. I cannot risk waiting for him, especially as there is no guarantee he will aid me.

  That leaves but one course of action for me. I must return to the chapel to help press the claim for safe passage for the little ones. I have no doubt that the duke will find me there and he will be angry at my disobedience, but I might even be able to claim sanctuary myself. So much for his insistence upon becoming my third husband, and for that sham of a marriage ceremony.

  I roll from the bed, entertaining the very real hope that I may not be called upon to occupy it again. My aspiration to take the veil and live out my life in quiet seclusion might not after all be a forlorn one. If I can just elude Karl and the other troops surrounding the tent…

  I step to the entrance and peep out. Karl is just outside, no more than a few feet from me. He is supervising the labours of a young lad aged perhaps fourteen who is intent upon his task of polishing a pair of stout leather boots. Neither of them looks up. I duck back inside. There will be no escape by that route.

  I cross to the opposite side of the tent and drop to my knees. The canvas walls are firmly secured to the hard earth, pegged there by sharp iron stakes that have been driven into the earth, no doubt by the formidable Karl. There is sufficient gap beneath the edge of the canvas to slip my hand under and grasp the nearest stake. I take a firm grip, but cannot shift it so much as an inch.

  I sit back on my haunches, disappointed and frustrated, but my determination is undiminished. I will be free. I will return to see Sophia to safety.

  I recollect the remains of my meal, and in particular the small dagger which Karl supplied to enable me to cut up my bread and cheese. I scramble back across the tent and find the implement still on the table, discarded with the now empty trencher. I turn it over in my hand. The knife is far too tiny to be of much use as a weapon, but as a tool it will pass muster. I can carve out a slit in the canvas wall and slip out of the rear of the tent.

  Then what? I can’t just march through the enemy camp and back across the castle drawbridge. But there may be another way, a way that could work and gain me re-entry to the keep. Several escape tunnels lead from the castle in various directions, and I have a good idea where at least some of these emerge. More or less. It was common knowledge among the ladies of Hohenzollern that one of the tunnels exits into the thickly wooded area about half a mile to the north west of the castle walls and just a few hundred yards from where I now find myself. If I can escape from this tent without drawing any notice, and make my way out of the camp unseen, I will have ample opportunity to seek out the tunnel under cover of the trees. Then it will be a simple matter of making my way back through the underground passageway into the castle. By now all those fleeing will have made their way through. I should have the route to myself.

  It will be dark in there, but as far as I am aware there is just one straight tunnel leading to a storeroom under the stables. There is no maze of underground caverns in which to become lost. I can do this.

  My course decided, I waste no time. The dagger slices through the canvas with ease and I peer out of the hole to survey my escape route. For once this day luck seems to be on my side. The rear of the duke’s tent gives on to open countryside. There are no soldiers between me and the stand of trees where the tunnel entrance is concealed. If I remain low, crawling along the ground if necessary, the meadow grass will provide ample cover. I should not be spotted.

  But I must move quickly. Karl might return at any moment. My lord the duke could even decide to check up on me, though I doubt he will. He has other priorities. I pull my cloak around me, though in truth it is made of thin weave and offers little additional warmth. I tuck the dagger in a pocket in my cloak, draw in a deep breath, and wriggle through the opening I have fashioned.

  Outside, I lie still for a few moments, hardly daring to breathe. I await a shout, the flare of a torch, the pounding of running feet to indicate that I have been spotted. Nothing. Just silence. I lift my head to look around me. One or two soldiers can be seen scurrying about their business within the confines of the camp, but out here, beyond the perimeter, there is no one. Still, I am cautious as I make my way across the meadow behind the tent. I remain on my hands and knees, opting for sec
recy at the expense of speed. Even if my escape is discovered—when it is discovered—it will be assumed I have fled away from the castle, seeking to put distance between myself and the tender mercies of the imperial forces. That illusion will not last long. I will be discovered with the children in the chapel, but by then my mission will be completed. I will have done all I am able to secure the safety of my adopted daughter.

  After that my own fate is less certain, though despite my optimism as I formulated my plans I imagine the most likely outcome will be that the duke will reclaim me as his bride. My freedom will be curtailed thereafter. There will be no subsequent escape for me. Mercifully though the duke has given me no reason to suppose he will harm me. He will be angry, but I think not violent. At least I hope not.

  I reach the trees and at last I dare to stand up. I look back across the meadow, regretting the trail of flattened grass I have left, though that could not be helped. A few minutes of helpful rippling by the fresh early December winds will do much to eradicate my tracks. The longer it is before my escape is discovered, the more chance I have of eluding capture for long enough to achieve my aim.

  So far so good. I lift up the front of my heavy woollen skirts and head on into the cover of the trees.

  The trail I left provides me with the clue I need to help discover the tunnel quickly. The undergrowth in the wood is trampled, the vegetation battered by the pounding of feet as our people made their escape not many hours ago. I find it simple enough to follow the track back to its source, a dark cavern between two upright rocks. There is hardly enough space for one person to push through, and I am astonished that so many have succeeded in making their escape this way. The evidence is clear though in the path worn through the woodland.

  I peer into the entrance, and regret the lack of a torch. From just a few feet in I will have to find my way by touch alone. I estimate the length of the tunnel to be maybe half a mile, though of course that assumes a direct route. It will be slow going, in pitch dark, but the task will not improve for waiting. I grit my teeth and squeeze my body between the stones.