The Medieval Fairy Tale Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Lady Magdalen looks very pretty tonight,” she suddenly said.

  He caught sight of Lady Magdalen dancing with a young duke’s son. “Indeed.”

  Was she so unselfish that she would wish to draw his attention to another lady’s beauty? Perhaps she did not wish to marry him herself and that was why she was trying to make him think of Lady Magdalen.

  “Did you know that lady before you came here?”

  “No, we only just met, but I like her very much. She is kind. There is no pettiness or jealousy in her, and she is very openhearted. Those are very good qualities in a margrave’s wife, I think, to care about her people in such a way. She is also a good dancer.”

  “Indeed. And do you not also have those same characteristics, Lady Dorothea?”

  She looked up at him with wide eyes, her lips parted, as if his question had frightened her. “I . . . Me?”

  The dance ended and the musicians announced the next dance. Lady Magdalen was coming toward them.

  “Lady Dorothea, you know this dance,” Magdalen said, a little breathless. “You should dance.”

  Just then, one of the young noblemen asked Lady Dorothea to dance. “Yes, I thank you,” she said.

  She let the young man lead her to the group of dancers, leaving Lady Magdalen standing beside Reinhart.

  “I thought Lady Dorothea did not wish to dance.” He eyed Lady Magdalen.

  “I think she will enjoy this one.” Magdalen had a very placid look on her face as she watched the dancers.

  “Do you enjoy dancing?”

  “Yes, but I did not think she could have wanted to stand here all night. Oh, forgive me.” She turned to him with a sheepish look. “I did not mean to say that she would not have enjoyed talking with you.”

  He could not help a slight smile. “Do not distress yourself. I understand what you meant.”

  But his words did not seem to put Lady Magdalen at ease. Instead she turned a bit paler as she watched the dancers and chewed on her lip.

  They were silent until the song ended, at which time Fronicka hurried over and nudged Lady Magdalen out of the way to get close to him.

  “You must forgive us ladies for enjoying ourselves so much while we dance,” Fronicka said.

  The musicians announced another dance, but Fronicka turned so she was facing Reinhart, ignoring everyone else.

  “I shall stay by your side for this dance, my lord, even though I do enjoy dancing very much. I would much rather talk with you.”

  He looked down at her. “That is very sacrificial of you.”

  She blinked, looking as if she did not know how to respond to that. She was not nonplussed for long. “I do love this room. The floors are beautiful and I’ve never seen such a perfect room for dancing.”

  Fronicka continued to talk about the room and the castle as everyone else started to dance. Everyone, that is, except Lady Dorothea, who stood nearby, talking with one of the young noblemen, the Duke of Wolfberg. Did Lady Dorothea think him handsome? He was younger than Reinhart, and as a duke, his rank was higher. Besides that, he had two strong ankles, unlike him. Was Wolfberg complimenting her as she smiled and glanced down at her hands? Why were they not dancing?

  “What do you know of Lady Dorothea?” Fronicka suddenly asked. “There was some rumor I had heard about her from some travelers who came from Plimmwald. I’m sure it cannot be true.”

  “What rumor?” Reinhart purposely kept his tone bland.

  “Oh, I would never repeat it. Something about Lady Dorothea and one of her father’s knights, Sir Dietric. I am sure it cannot be true. People do gossip, especially the lower classes.”

  Reinhart forced himself not to react to her words. Calmly he said, “If you are sure it cannot be true, I am surprised you mention it.”

  Lady Fronicka opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. “I do not know why . . . I say whatever comes to my mind. It is my greatest fault. But I cannot help it if someone blurts out such gossip in my hearing. I would not wish to hurt Lady Dorothea with such false gossip, which I am sure is exactly what it was. After all, if she truly were with child, it would show. I am sure it must not be true.”

  He glanced at Lady Dorothea as she spoke to the Duke of Wolfberg. Her face had such a look of innocence and modesty. Was it false? Was she pregnant with the child of her father’s knight? Or was Fronicka only trying to make Lady Dorothea look bad? But the information was so detailed—she gave the name of the knight Lady Dorothea was supposed to be in love with.

  His stomach churned. He hated that he was even considering that this rumor might be true, especially about Lady Dorothea. But he also needed to know if it was true.

  11

  AVELINA STOOD WITH the Duke of Wolfberg. Even though she enjoyed talking with him, she reminded herself of the fact that he was not a stable boy or a manservant, but a handsome duke.

  She had made it through the one dance with the young baron’s son with the prominent front teeth. She only made two or three mistakes, including stepping on his foot. She’d been mortified, but he merely smiled and pretended not to notice. She never would have danced if not for wanting to give Lady Magdalen a chance to talk with Lord Thornbeck. He was so much less intimidating when one was speaking directly with him, with no one else around. She would almost say he was pleasant, and that there was gentleness, if one were able to get beneath his austere margrave facade. Perhaps Lady Magdalen would think so too if she had a chance to talk to him for a bit.

  Surely he would fall in love with Lady Magdalen and choose her to be his bride. Who could not love her, with her sweet smile and calm contentment? She was sophisticated yet friendly and welcoming. She was everything a noblewoman should be. Lord Thornbeck must see that, if he spoke with her for even the length of time it took to dance one dance.

  So Avelina had muddled through the dance. At least while she was dancing, Lady Fronicka had stopped trying to poison her with every hate-filled glance she threw her way while Avelina stood talking to Lord Thornbeck.

  But when the music began again, the baron’s son moved away and asked someone else, and the Duke of Wolfberg had asked her to dance. She begged off, admitting to him that she was afraid she did not know the steps very well and would disgrace herself. He smiled most kindly—everyone was ever so kind to the woman they thought was Lady Dorothea—and stood talking with her, while Lady Fronicka dominated Lord Thornbeck’s attention.

  “Were you glad to get Lord Thornbeck’s invitation to Thornbeck Castle?” the Duke of Wolfberg asked. “I was very glad to get away from home for a few days.”

  “Oh, I have been pleasantly surprised at how enjoyable it has been.”

  He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but a commotion seemed to be interrupting the musicians, who broke off their song on a discordant note.

  Avelina and the duke both turned their heads to see who was shouting. A woman, looking very out of place in her dull-gray woolen kirtle and a bedraggled wimple covering her hair, was shaking her finger at the musicians.

  “You should not be here,” she cried. “You were never here before. Annlin! Annlin!” She turned and cupped her mouth with her hands. “Annlin!” she called up the stairs.

  “The woman must surely be mad,” the duke said quietly, as everyone in the room was now staring at her.

  Lord Thornbeck, leaning on his cane, was walking toward her. Would he have her punished? Sent away with an angry rebuke for disturbing the ball?

  “You there!” Lord Thornbeck shouted at a manservant. “Who’s responsible for watching her tonight?”

  Jorgen appeared from the other end of the room and hurried toward them. The chancellor took the older woman’s elbow and nudged her toward the stairs. Lord Thornbeck said something near his ear, then turned and came back toward his guests.

  The woman was still mumbling as though confused, but she complied with Jorgen and let him walk her up the stairs and away from the guests.

  Lord Thornbeck nodded to th
e musicians as he rejoined Fronicka and several others at the perimeter of the room. The musicians soon announced another dance, but most of the guests remained clustered around Lord Thornbeck.

  “Go back to dancing,” he said. “We shall have our dinner soon, so make the most of the music.”

  “I wonder who that woman was,” the Duke of Wolfberg commented.

  The woman could not be his mother, since his mother was dead. He didn’t have any sisters that she knew of, and the woman looked too old to be his sister anyway. Besides, she was wearing the clothing of a peasant or servant. But it was very strange to see a servant behaving in such a way. Lord Plimmwald would never have tolerated it. A servant like that would have been summarily sent away and ordered never to return to the castle. But Lord Thornbeck’s chancellor escorted her upstairs.

  The ladies slowly rejoined the dance. It was the simplest type of dance, one of the two Magdalen had shown her and that she had practiced, so when the Duke of Wolfberg asked her, she accepted. She didn’t want to attract too much attention to herself, after all. If she only danced once, it might raise suspicions about her.

  She concentrated on stepping correctly, keeping the other dancers in the edges of her vision, making sure she was moving in the right direction.

  Lord Thornbeck was once again talking with Fronicka. Was he falling for her charming friendliness and big smiles?

  Avelina made it through the dance without stepping on the duke’s toes. For the next dance, the Duke of Wolfberg asked Magdalen—they made a very good-looking couple—while Avelina stood alone, trying not to hear what Fronicka was saying to Lord Thornbeck.

  However, she couldn’t help noticing the margrave glancing in her direction occasionally. Truly, she felt out of place just standing there, the only person who was neither dancing nor talking with anyone. Would she stand here alone for the rest of the night?

  When that song ended, Magdalen and the Duke of Wolfberg came toward her.

  “We are tired of dancing,” Magdalen said, “and decided we would come over and keep you company.”

  For the next dance, most of the young people wandered toward Lord Thornbeck and Fronicka, prompting the margrave to turn away from her and talk to some of his other guests. Only a few couples remained dancing. Fronicka’s expression was quite dark as she glared at whoever dared talk to Lord Thornbeck.

  Neither Magdalen nor the Duke of Wolfberg seemed to notice. They were near enough that Avelina could hear them talking about the time they had met each other as children, when his parents had come to Mallin. Magdalen’s father was still alive then.

  Lord Thornbeck was scowling and did not look pleased with having more than one person trying to talk to him at once. He signaled the musicians and they stopped playing. A few moments later a servant announced that it was time to move to the Great Hall for the meal.

  Some of the ladies were smiling and even laughing, talking with the young men as they all moved toward the doorway. Avelina fell back a bit behind Magdalen and the Duke of Wolfberg, when someone touched her elbow.

  “Lady Dorothea.” Lord Thornbeck spoke in a quiet voice. “Will you step into the gallery with me for a moment?”

  His face wore its usual brooding scowl, but there seemed to be something more than grumpiness in his eyes. What could he possibly want to say to her privately? Had he discovered that she was an imposter? How did he find out she was not Lady Dorothea?

  Her heart pounded in her throat as she turned aside into the gallery.

  His eyes bored into hers, but his expression was slack, as if he was trying to hide his thoughts. “Lady Fronicka said she heard a rumor that you were with child. I do not want to falsely accuse anyone or think of this rumor for one moment longer, so please tell me now if it is true or not, and I will accept your word.”

  “I—no! No, I . . . I am not with child.” She shook her head as she had when she was twelve and Lord Plimmwald had accused her of stealing a pair of Dorothea’s shoes. Avelina’s hands trembled as she held them down by her sides, hiding them in the folds of her dress. “I cannot imagine where Lady Fronicka may have heard such a thing. I—”

  “She said you were in love with one of your father’s knights. If this is true, you may tell me and I shall not judge you or tell anyone. I only want to know.”

  “No, I am not in love with my father’s knight.” But wasn’t she being deceptive? Everyone believed her to be Lady Dorothea, and if she were Dorothea, then what she was saying was a lie. But she was not. “I am not.” She shrugged and shook her head, feeling breathless.

  “She even gave me the name of the knight you were supposed to be in love with—a Sir Dietric.”

  “I—I have heard of him. He is one of my father’s best knights. But I have never so much as spoken five words with him. I assure you, I am not in love with him, and I certainly am not carrying anyone’s child.” A nervous laugh threatened to escape her throat, which would have been quite out of place in this serious moment.

  “Forgive me for asking and for bringing up such a thing. But she actually gave me the name of the knight.”

  “Yes, she must have heard someone speak of Sir Dietric, someone who had been to Plimmwald. Now that I think on it, I believe I heard my father say that Sir Dietric had gotten one of the maidens of Plimmwald with child. He was very displeased with his knight, as I remember. Someone must have overheard and thought they said Lady Dorothea was the maiden.”

  Avelina thought of how the real Lady Dorothea would react to this situation. She would be outraged—if she actually was not pregnant with Sir Dietric’s child. But instead of feeling outraged, Avelina had the strangest feeling of regret that Lord Thornbeck would think even for one moment that she had been with a knight named Sir Dietric and was carrying his child. She couldn’t bear to think she had disappointed him.

  “Rumors often get started with a half-truth,” he said. “Or a misunderstanding.”

  Was he thinking of the rumors that the Earl of Plimmwald had spread to the king himself about Lord Thornbeck murdering his brother?

  “Of course. Very true.” She should have told him she was in love with a knight, since that would have at least kept him from ever choosing her. But again, she could not bear to have him thinking ill of her. Besides, she was too afraid he would send her home in disgrace, and then Lord Plimmwald would certainly not reward her.

  “Come.” He held his arm out to her. “I shall escort you to the Great Hall before someone comes looking for us.”

  Her hands still shook a little from the shock of Lord Thornbeck asking her about Lady Dorothea’s secret baby. But at least Fronicka did not realize Avelina was her maidservant in disguise. Lord Thornbeck seemed to believe Avelina and to believe that Fronicka’s damning information about her was untrue. All was well as she managed to breathe evenly entering the Great Hall with the margrave. All the guests were already seated and talking amongst themselves.

  Fronicka sat at the right of the head of the table, the place where she could best command the margrave’s attention. All the places at that end of the table were taken. There was nowhere left for Avelina except at the other end of the table—which suited Avelina quite well, since Lady Magdalen and the Duke of Wolfberg were sitting there. The other ladies didn’t seem to realize who the Duke of Wolfberg was—that he was a wealthy man with a higher rank even than Lord Thornbeck.

  Avelina was not surprised that Lord Thornbeck began walking her toward that end. He halted beside Lady Magdalen, allowing Avelina to sit next to her. But then he sat at the very end of the table, with Avelina to his right and the Duke of Wolfberg to his left.

  Everyone else turned, with a few gasps, to stare at the margrave.

  “I hope my guests do not mind,” he said, “but I shall sit at this end of the table tonight.”

  A murmur went through the room. Avelina did not dare look down the table at Fronicka, but she could well imagine that lady’s face turning red.

  A servant came and filled Lord Thornbeck�
��s and Avelina’s goblets. The margrave stood and raised his goblet. “I wish to drink to the health of the noble ladies here tonight who have graciously come to Thornbeck Castle. I pray you all enjoy yourselves while you are here, and God will show me which worthy lady among you should be my bride.”

  Everyone smiled their approval of his words and they all drank, including Avelina. God, show him that Magdalen is the worthiest of all.

  At least now he might see Fronicka as a mean-spirited person who spread untrue rumors.

  The young squires served the food and the margrave talked to the Duke of Wolfberg about his uncle, who had taken over after the young duke’s father died.

  Magdalen leaned over and whispered, “Fronicka looks like she swallowed a burning Yule log.”

  Avelina laughed out loud but quickly covered her mouth and stifled the sound.

  “Perhaps you should sleep in my room tonight,” Magdalen whispered. “She may have one of her servants put a few snakes and spiders in your bed.”

  “I shall push some heavy trunks and chairs in front of all doorways so no one can get in.”

  When Avelina’s stomach settled enough that she could eat, the food was as delicious as always. She was reminded of Irma’s blissful moans the night before when speaking of the sweet fruit puddings she had eaten with the other servants in the kitchen. Truly, the margrave’s cooks had a gift for mixing just the right amount of spices and other ingredients into their dishes.

  “Are you enjoying the story of The Song of Roland?” Lord Thornbeck suddenly asked her, his gaze on her instead of the Duke of Wolfberg, who was now talking to Magdalen.

  She swallowed her bite of roasted pig. “I like it very much. I shall return it to your library tomorrow, since I finished it already.”

  No one else seemed to be listening, as those near enough to hear were having their own conversations.

  “Tell me about one of your stories.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear about my stories? I think you would find them silly.”