“As do I,” he replied, hoping his sincerity rang true. “I assure you, all of you, I would never willingly hurt Sophia. I love her. I have explained about Dorothea Rittenhuis. If anything can be done about that situation I will do it.”
“What about the Staufens?” Johann asked.
He wished he could turn round and address the man directly, but that was more than his ribs would handle. He clamped his hands on his knees and replied to the count, aware his next words might cost him the woman he loved. “I am a vassal of Conrad Staufen. Whatever he decides to do with regard to Ruggero of Sicily, I owe him my loyalty and will follow his lead.”
A pulse thudded in his throat when a smile tugged at the corners of the count’s mouth. “My daughter has chosen well. I am glad to hear you are a man of honor. Now we must hope the emperor will persuade the Staufens to his side—with our help of course.”
Brandt doubted Duke Conrad would pay much heed to anything he had to say, but when the count rose and proffered his hand, he pushed himself out of the chair and accepted the gesture, trying not to sway too alarmingly.
The three Wolfenberg sons had moved to his side to shake his hand when Sophia burst into the solar. She grasped his arm and glared at her brothers. “What is the meaning of this?” she shouted.
He patted her hand. “Sophia…”
She tightened her grip. “I am ashamed of you. Jackals surrounding a wounded man who cannot fight for himself.”
The count grinned.
Sophia was red-faced and shaking. “Why are you laughing, Papa? This is cruel. I love Brandt…”
By now every male in the solar was laughing, though Brandt was content to chuckle, lest he damage his healing ribs.
“What?” Sophia exclaimed as he put an arm around her shoulders.
“We know you love him,” her father said. “And he loves you. We will work together to overcome the obstacle of the Staufens.”
Still panting, she grinned like an imbecile.
“However, Brandt will have to tackle the problem of Dorothea alone.”
The smile left her face, but she put her head on his chest and snaked her arms around his waist. “All shall be well,” she murmured.
It was the first time he’d been able to stand upright and hold her body against his. She was still trembling but her fear for him warmed his heart. A premonition that she was right filled his heart.
LATE ARRIVAL
To his surprise, Brandt was invited to join the Wolfenbergs for meals. “I appreciate your hospitality,” he told his hostess as he took his place at table.
Despite traces of grey in the gräfin’s hair, it was obvious to him where Sophia had inherited her blonde tresses and happy smile. “You are welcome,” she replied. “But you and Sophia are not permitted to sit together, and you cannot consider yourselves a betrothed couple.”
Sophia blushed and cast him a wide-eyed glance across the table that caused pleasant stirrings.
“Of course,” he replied with a wink he hoped no one noticed.
For two days he enjoyed the easy banter that went on despite the meeting of monumental importance that was to take place in their home. He enjoyed Sophia’s sense of humor, her blush, the easy rapport with her brothers.
It was a far cry from his own family circumstances and he relished every moment of it. Breathing became easier. Laughing didn’t hurt as much. His strength was returning.
When Wendelin pronounced him fit enough to ride for short periods, he and Sophia rode out in the meadow. Riding Löwe again was like spending time with an old friend after a long absence. The horse picked its way carefully without guidance from Brandt. Sophia was delighted with Mut’s progress.
As they rode a slow path to the river and back they talked of many things. He told her about his home, about Rödermark and the Main valley.
She shared the story of her parents’ unusual meeting, of her father’s role in the victories at Andernach and Welfesholz. Her eyes welled with tears when she told of his catastrophic first marriage. A shiver rushed up his spine. Though there’d never been any hint that Dorothea was mad, she was certainly difficult. Neither he nor Sophia ever spoke her name, but she was a constant presence.
He spent many hours in discussion with the count and his eldest son, relieved that they all sat while they talked. They’d never met the Staufens and were interested in Brandt’s opinions. “I barely know Friedrich,” he told them, “but if he’s like Conrad, he is ruled first and foremost by pride in his family ancestry.”
“Will they agree to honor their pledge to Lothair?” Johann asked.
Brandt had a momentary vision of his father’s explosive reaction to such a question. He considered his response, taking a measure of satisfaction from the sudden awareness that he wasn’t the stubborn and unreasonable man his father had tried to turn him into. “There is little doubt in my mind,” he replied, “that the Staufens have not abandoned hope of Conrad one day sitting on the imperial throne. They believe it was their birthright as nephews of Heinrich the Fifth to succeed him. It was he endowed them with Swabia and Franconia in the first place. They have never accepted Lothair’s election.”
The count tapped his chin.
Johann frowned.
“Losing the war against Lothair stung, and forced them to abandon their claims,” Brandt continued. “However, I personally do not believe they want history to remember them as men who broke a solemn oath.”
~~~
The family gathered as usual for the evening meal on the day the emperor and duke were scheduled to arrive. Their failure to appear had everyone on edge. It was apparent to Sophia no one had an appetite. Her mother looked uncharacteristically tired after hours spent with the cooks trying to preserve the copious amounts of extra food that had been prepared.
She and Kristina had helped, and it had been exhausting to keep up with the whirlwind that was Blythe von Wolfenberg once she got the bit between her teeth.
Johann seemed to have acquired the habit of drumming his fingers on the table. Kristina tensed every time he did it, but said nothing. Sophia supposed it was inevitable there were some things loving couples found irritating about each other, though she had yet to discover anything she didn’t like about Brandt.
Lute and Kon toyed with their food.
She looked across at her beloved. She’d thought his ribs were healing but now he sat ramrod straight as though every movement was agony. He didn’t return her tentative smile.
Only her father seemed relaxed. He tucked into his venison with relish. “Gut,” he exclaimed. “Enjoy! This is the buck the emperor brought down with his first arrow. A good omen.
“Too bad Lothair isn’t here to enjoy the feast,” he quipped, sipping his wine. “He’ll arrive on the morrow, I’m sure.”
Brandt fixed his gaze on her. “I well remember the day of the hunt,” he said softly, his eyes betraying that he too was thinking of the waterfall. It seemed a lifetime ago, but the memory gave her hope.
It was the family’s practice to linger at table after the meal, enjoying conversation about the day’s events, plans for the morrow. On this night the gräfin suggested they all retire early and get a good night’s sleep.
“I doubt that will happen,” Sophia said to Brandt when they were the only two left in the dining room. She rose and walked to stand behind him. Leaning against his back, she put her hands on his shoulders, pressing her thumbs into the tense muscles.
He let his head fall forward. “That feels good,” he rasped.
“I hope I’m not hurting you leaning against you like this.”
He shook his head and inhaled deeply. “I wish I could say I’ll always be there for you to lean on, Sophia, but until we resolve…”
“I know,” she interrupted. “Dorothea.”
He got to his feet, took her hand and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. “We mustn’t linger here together. It isn’t respectful of your parents’ wishes, and if you continue your ministrations I’ll be t
empted to kiss more than your hand.”
She nodded, seeing the same intense need in his eyes that coursed though her veins. “I long for you, Brandt, but you are right. Sleep well knowing that no matter what happens over the next few days I will always love you. I bid you gute nacht.”
~~~
Lying abed, Brandt stared up into the dark rafters. Sophia had wished him a good night’s rest, but he doubted he would sleep. Drogo snored by the hearth, probably the only person in the entire household who’d managed to fall asleep.
He guessed it was near midnight when a hubbub broke out in the hallway, loud enough to wake his sleeping squire. He rose and donned the bedrobe brought with the rest of his clothing from the pavilion. When he opened the door, Johann was about to knock. Servants scurried by, some still shrugging on tunics. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“They’ve arrived,” Johann replied breathlessly.
“In the middle of the night?”
“A delay of some sort. Get your boots. We must greet them.”
A bedrobe hardly seemed like suitable attire for greeting an emperor and a duke, but since Johann was similarly clad, he pulled on his boots with Drogo’s help and they followed Sophia’s brother.
The women of the household were gathered in the entryway. Sophia was clad in frilly white night attire that concealed every part of her body from chin to toe. Even her hair was tucked into a nightcap, yet the sight of her aroused him. When the gräfin noticed Johann and Brandt emerge from the house she quickly shooed Sophia and Kristina indoors. “They’ll need food,” she exclaimed.
Sophia pouted, but wiggled her fingers in a little wave he doubted her mother noticed.
Smiling inwardly, he turned his attention to the bucolic field he and Sophia had ridden across. It was a scene of chaos. Men were erecting pavilions and tents, corralling nervous horses and stubborn donkeys, relighting reluctant torches extinguished days before.
He caught sight of the emperor and Graf Dieter striding towards the house. Lothair looked agitated, but Brandt supposed that was understandable given the situation. There was no time to return to his chamber and dress, so he gritted his teeth, went down on one knee and bowed his head. “Your Highness,” he said, ignoring the twinges in his ribs.
“Get up, Rödermark,” the emperor replied. “Dieter tells me you’ve been injured.”
Brandt stood slowly, astonished that of all the important matters to be discussed Sophia’s father had mentioned his beating. “The Wolfenbergs have provided excellent care,” he replied. “I am on the mend.”
“Gut! I cannot allow important envoys to be attacked. Duke Heinrich will be informed, the culprits found and punished.”
Brandt nodded, taken aback by the notion the emperor considered him a person of importance. When Lothair turned his attention to Johann, Brandt scanned the hellish scene in the field, wondering where the duke was.
In the middle of the chaos Heinrich the Proud—fierce warrior, heir apparent to the imperial throne, one of the most powerful men in all Germany—stood with legs braced, holding his sleeping son close to his chest.
Perhaps the man did have a gentler side.
The emperor chuckled. “He’s none too pleased, however, that your pavilion is closer to the house than his.”
Brandt resolved to congratulate Vidar. Without intent his adjutant had succeeded in riling the arrogant duke.
A WAITING GAME
Sophia and Brandt continued their daily excursions on horseback, though they had to take a more roundabout route to the river. However, her mother had suggested Lute and Kon accompany them.
Though he was coming to trust her brothers, their presence made it difficult to discuss intimate feelings.
He could tell she was consumed with curiosity concerning the official meetings he’d been invited to attend since the emperor’s arrival three days earlier. “Are you going to tell me what you’ve been discussing?” she finally asked as their horses drank from the Elbe.
“We’d like to know too,” Lute said.
Brandt smiled. “I was wondering when you’d ask me,” he teased.
He considered his reply. It was difficult to be direct, because he wasn’t sure why the emperor was apparently very interested in his opinions regarding the proposed Italian campaign. Heinrich on the other hand had barely said a word to him, except to ask in almost unintelligible grunts about the men who’d attacked him. “We’ve discussed strategy,” he said.
“For Italy?” Kon asked.
“Ja. At first I admit I was reluctant to share my ideas. I don’t want the Staufens to think I’ve been aiding a potential enemy.”
“If they ever arrive,” Lute declared. “I don’t think they are coming.”
Brandt too had begun to wonder if his duke had decided not to attend the meetings. He and his brother were two days overdue. If they didn’t come it would mean only one thing. The Wolfenbergs and the Rödermarks would be on opposite sides of another bloody conflict. Sophia was adamant she believed he was her destiny, but he couldn’t allow her to leave her family for him, especially with the Rittenhuis question unresolved.
She pierced him with green eyes full of longing. “They’ll come,” she declared. “They have to.”
~~~
When they returned to the house, Brandt made his way to her father’s solar, having accepted Kon’s offer to take care of stabling Löwe. He bowed gallantly and brushed a warm kiss across her knuckles before taking his leave, and Sophia had to be content with that. She sensed even the slight bow had caused him discomfort.
She and Lute left the four horses with the ostler after Kon promised to make sure the fellow took proper care of their steeds. He grumbled constantly about being overworked, despite that the visiting nobles hadn’t brought their mounts to the stables.
Halfway to the house, her brother stopped. She turned, dismayed by the frowning uncertainty on his face. “What is it?”
He studied his dusty boots. “It seems unfair,” he said.
“What does?”
“You…and Brandt. He’s obviously an honorable man who would be a good husband.” He ground one heel into the gravel. “It’s also evident you care for him, and he for you, but…”
He looked up at her with such distress her heart broke. She put her hands on his shoulders. “No matter what happens, you are my brother, and I will always love you, and Kon and Johann.”
He clenched his jaw. “Even if one of us has to kill the man you love?”
“This looks serious,” Kon said breathlessly, catching up.
Sophia took her hands off her brother’s shoulders and clenched her fists.
Lute glared at his brother. “I thought you were tending to the horses.”
Kon’s nose twitched. “I was but Vidar came along so I left the job to him. The ostler is probably more afraid of him than he is of me.”
Sophia’s heart was already beating frantically after Lute’s unanswerable question, now it bled for the gentle Kon. Of all her brothers he was the one least suited to warfare. It flew in the face of everything he believed in.
“You’re discussing the campaign, aren’t you?” he said, his eyes darting from her to Lute and back again. Suddenly he smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ve prayed on it. Everything is going to be all right.”
He sauntered off, whistling jauntily.
“Let’s hope he’s right,” Lute muttered.
She linked her arm with his, amazed by her little brother’s apparent confidence in the future. “Perhaps he knows something we don’t.”
He shrugged, but suddenly tensed, shaded his eyes and looked towards the head of the valley. “Dust,” he observed, pointing to the hills. “A large group of mounted men. The Staufens have arrived.”
~~~
Sophia burst into the count’s solar, her cheeks flushed red. “They’re here,” she exclaimed breathlessly.
Her brothers followed not far behind. “Entering the valley,” Lute explained.
The
count, the emperor and the duke got to their feet. Brandt wasn’t sure his legs would sustain him if he made the attempt. Not a religious man, he’d nevertheless prayed fervently the Staufens would come, yet now they were here the day of reckoning was at hand.
Monumental decisions had to be made in the next few days, decisions that would effect not only him and Sophia, but their families and thousands of other people in Germany and Italy.
“Be calm,” the emperor said, though Brandt heard the strain in his voice. “We’ll greet them with the dignity they deserve.”
Heinrich snorted, dragged his wailing son away from the toys he’d been playing with and strode out.
The emperor followed.
Sophia’s father proffered his hand. “It’s up to us now, Brandt,” he said softly.
Wolfenberg had been chosen as the site for these meetings because Graf Dieter had a reputation as a diplomat, a peacemaker, but it had become evident in the last few days that Brandt would also be called upon to be a go-between, a voice for reconciliation.
His father would deem the notion ludicrous, might even consider him a traitor to the Staufens, but Brandt felt strangely confident. He’d learned a great deal in the few days he’d spent with Dieter von Wolfenberg. Things weren’t always black and white.
He accepted the offer of help to stand, but was almost bowled over when Sophia seemed to come out of the trance that had kept her hovering in the doorway and threw her arms around his neck.
“Sophia,” her father chided.
“I can’t help it, Papa. I’m so afraid.”
THE LETTER
As the Staufen brothers neared the house Graf Dieter suggested to the emperor that Brandt stand in the front row to greet them. “It will signal open-mindedness,” he said.
The emperor agreed, but Heinrich was clearly disgruntled with the idea, despite that he insisted his seven year old son be at his side.
As the dukes dismounted, Brandt took strength in knowing Sophia stood directly behind him. He wondered what her first impression was of the two richly dressed men who many referred to as The Peacock Brothers. Not to their face of course, and certainly not in front of Graf Gunther Rödermark.
Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1) Page 12