The Captive Maiden

by Melanie Dickerson

  Chapter

  31

  She took a deep breath to keep the tears of joy from flowing. When had she become such a weepy person? Her stepmother had said horrible things to her, hurt her physically, and yet Gisela had rarely ever cried.

  Gisela was grateful to Valten’s brother too. “I shall have to remember to thank both Lord Gabehart and Lady Sophie.”

  Valten brushed his thumb over her cheek.

  She sat on the floor beside him, letting him gather her to his side, and rested her head against his chest. She’d never felt happier, but thoughts of her stepmother invaded, and even though she’d rather just keep kissing Valten, Bartel would probably be back at any moment.

  “What will become of my stepmother and stepsisters when we go back to Hagenheim?”

  “What do you want to become of them?” He squeezed her tighter.

  She thought for a moment. In spite of the fact that she had often hated them, especially her stepmother, she found she didn’t really like imagining her in the dungeon. It must be a terrible place. But she did hope her stepmother and Irma and Contzel were thinking about how badly they had treated her and were wishing they had been kinder. She hoped they had trouble sleeping at night. She hoped they shuddered at the thought of Gisela getting revenge on them, now that the duke’s son loved her and was marrying her—now that she had power over them.

  No, that was wrong. The priest had told her once, “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.” It was wrong for her to hate her stepmother and stepsisters, no matter what they had done to her.

  Gisela sighed. “I don’t want to get revenge on them. And I want to forgive them, but I don’t ever want to see them again.” She rubbed her cheek against his shirt. The men must have brought supplies, because his tunic was new, and he smelled better now that he was clean. “My father’s house rightfully belongs to my stepmother. But do you think it would be acceptable to move my father’s horses to Hagenheim Castle’s stables?”

  He gave her another squeeze. “Yes, I think that will be the least your stepmother can do. The horses shall be her wedding gift to you.”

  “Whether she likes it or not.” Gisela giggled. But she suppressed her delight in imagining Evfemia’s discomfiture. Don’t be vengeful. It was enough to know she would no longer be under her stepmother’s control, that she was finally loved. It was what she’d always longed for.

  Gisela was lying on the bench with her foot propped up per Bartel’s orders that night. Valten sat beside her, in a chair this time, with his hand again in a bucket of cold water for the second time that day, sneaking kisses from her whenever no one was looking. Three of the seven men were playing musical instruments, while the others tapped their feet or clapped their hands. A more pleasant night Gisela could hardly imagine.

  Bartel came toward them. He took Valten’s hand out of the bucket of water and dried it carefully, then took off the splint. After his hand had fully dried, he put on another splint and wrapped it tightly.

  “We shall repeat this twice a day while you are here.”

  As soon as Bartel left the room Roslind burst out, “Sophie and Gabe are here!”

  Gisela took her foot down from the bench and sat up straight. Valten stood too and sat down beside her on the bench.

  He whispered, “Now you’ll get to meet my brother and Sophie.”

  Gisela was too nervous to reply. She looked down at her dress. Roslind had washed her beautiful ball gown, but it still looked the worse for wear, reflecting the rough days and nights spent sleeping on the ground, in a cave, and hurrying through forests. Perhaps she could explain and Lady Sophie wouldn’t think too little of her. But she had heard that Valten’s former betrothed, though she was a duke’s daughter, had grown up with a cruel stepmother who made her work as a scullery maid — not so different from Gisela’s life. She was excited to meet her.

  The front door opened and two people swept in. The man was tall, although not as tall as Valten, and smiled as he took the cloak from the lady’s shoulders. His hair was darker than Valten’s, but from his profile, she did see a slight resemblance between them. His lady greeted the seven men, clasping the hands of each one and bidding them to rise, as they had all fallen to one knee in front of her. Her voice was high but pleasant, and she laughed good-naturedly. She stood with her back to Valten and Gisela. Valten rose and walked toward them. Gisela stood and waited.

  When Gabe caught sight of him, his smile grew wider. They embraced for a moment and clapped each other on the back. Valten politely took Sophie’s hand and bowed over it.

  “We didn’t expect to see you here.” Sophie’s voice was warm and kind, but without the least bit of flirtation. Her head was turned now so that Gisela could see her face. She was beautiful, with hair as black as night, and delicate but perfectly proportioned features. “Oh, what happened to you?” She pointed to Valten’s splinted and bandaged hand.

  “Just a minor tournament injury.”

  “How was the tournament?” Gabe asked.

  “I won.”

  “Of course you did.” Gabe clapped him on the back again and laughed.

  “I have someone I want you both to meet.” Valten turned and motioned Gisela forward with his hand.

  She tried not to limp as she walked forward. Her cheeks heated as they all turned their attention to her. Sophie was elegant, beautifully dressed, so easy and graceful. Gisela felt like a servant in her presence. And since Sophie was the daughter of a duke, Gisela curtsied.

  “This is Gisela Mueller, and she and I are to be married.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Sophie bent and clasped Gisela’s hand, drawing her up, then embracing her.

  “I am so happy for you.” Sophie pressed her cheek to Gisela’s, then pulled away and looked her in the eye. “You will be so happy, I am sure. Valten is a wonderful man, and you must be very special to have won his heart.” Her sincerity fairly glowed from her eyes.

  Gabe was congratulating Valten, saying something about how he didn’t need any help finding a beautiful wife. Then he turned to her and squeezed her hand. “Welcome to the family.”

  “Thank you.” Those unwelcome tears still weren’t finished embarrassing her, as they stung her eyes again at the truly warm and sincere looks Valten’s brother and his wife were giving her. “I am very happy to meet you both.”

  “And how wonderful that we have found you here!” Sophie was delightful in her enthusiasm. And Gisela now noticed that she also was looking a bit rounded in the middle; she was expecting a child. “Will you be able to accompany us to Hagenheim?”

  Valten nodded. “If Gisela’s ankle is well enough.”

  Sophie exclaimed over Gisela, and she had to explain that it wasn’t badly hurt, only a minor sprain. “Valten’s hand is much more seriously injured than my ankle.”

  That led to questions about how he hurt his hand at the tournament. So while Gabe and Sophie sat down to eat some cold meat, cheese, and bread after their long journey, they begged Valten and Gisela to sit with them and tell them about the events of the last few days.

  Had it only been a few days since Gisela was living at home with Evfemia, Irma, and Contzel, cleaning up after them and helping Wido tend to the horses? Valten was telling them about the jousts and battles, and of Gisela spying Ruexner’s squire putting poison hemlock in Sieger’s food.

  “And then Valten saved me from Ruexner.”

  Valten looked her in the eye, and she found she didn’t want to turn away.

  “That is just as it should be,” Sophie said.

  Valten winked at her, and Gisela blushed.

  Valten continued the story, telling of the kidnapping, and Gisela was relieved he didn’t tell them of her stepmother locking her in her chamber and making a deal with Ruexner to force Gisela to marry him. A stab of shame went through her at the thought of this beautiful, elegant lady knowing that Gisela’s family could treat her so despicably.

  “What happened then?” Sophie asked. “Did Valten go after y
ou and rescue you?”

  Gisela nodded. “He gave himself up to Ruexner and his men to save me.” She told the remainder of the story quickly.

  Gabe stared at her, openmouthed, while she talked. When she had finished her tale, he looked at Valten and said, “I am impressed, as always, big brother.”

  “Gisela must hear your story of rescuing Sophie from an evil duchess and her archer.”

  “Oh yes,” Sophie said, her face lively, as she reached over and squeezed Gisela’s arm. “I shall tell you all about that, and you shall have to tell me more about your adventure with Valten.”

  Valten placed his hand on Gisela’s back and stood. “But now I think the ladies need to get some sleep.”

  “I agree.” Gabe looked at Sophie with such loving concern in his eyes that it made Gisela sigh.

  Four weeks later, in Hagenheim Castle, Gisela stared into the looking glass Margaretha held up for her. The most blessed girl in the world, Gisela told her reflection. If her father and mother were here, would they be proud and happy for her? In her heart, she knew the answer was yes.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Margaretha gushed. “Your hair is the prettiest shade of blonde, so full and bouncy. And your eyes shimmer like a moonlit lake. Valten is so blessed. You have the sweetest disposition, but you’re not afraid to make my brother pay attention and talk to you. He’s not much for talking, as I’m sure you know. He’s just stubborn. But you are good for him. He won’t get away with ignoring you, I have a feeling.” She grinned. “I’d never before seen that look he gets on his face when he looks at you.”

  “He loves me.” The wonder of it was breathtaking.

  “Yes.” Margaretha sighed dramatically. “Come. You mustn’t be late.” Margaretha gave her a little push to turn her toward the stairs. “They’ll blame me and say I was talking too much.”

  Gisela hurried down the steps, her stomach quaking at facing all the people that had come to see the next duke of Hagenheim wed her, a little nobody with no claim to noble birth or wealth. What if everyone laughed at her? What if they were laughing at Valten even now, ridiculing him for not marrying at least a baron’s daughter?

  By the time she reached the bottom of the steps, her knees were shaking and she could barely stand. But when she looked up, Valten was holding his hand out to her. The fierce look on his face softened to the look he wore for no one but her.

  Her stomach settled to normal and her legs felt strong again as she placed her hand in his. Without a word, he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and started out the door.

  As they walked from the castle and through the town square and Marktplatz, down the street toward the cathedral, she caught glimpses of Evfemia. Her stepmother had Gisela to thank for her freedom, since Gisela had spoken to Duke Wilhelm and asked him to free her from the dungeon. But Rainhilda, Evfemia, Irma, and Contzel were formally reprimanded by Duke Wilhelm, in Gisela’s presence, for helping Ruexner to kidnap Gisela. The duke ordered them never to come near Gisela again without her expressed permission. Sir Edgar, Rainhilda’s father, was so angry with her, when he heard what she had done, that he sent her to live with relatives in the north, the land of frozen lakes.

  She had given her stepfamily permission to come to the wedding, but they were not allowed at the wedding feast afterward. Now as her stepsisters stood with the rest of the crowd, Irma scrunched her face into a sour grimace. Contzel poked out her tongue at her sister, then moved to the other side of her mother, away from Irma. Apparently, no one else wanted to be around Irma either, after what she and Evfemia had done to Gisela. It seemed wise to their former friends to distance themselves from the family that Duke Wilhelm had forbidden to go near the Earl of Hamlin’s beloved bride.

  Valten’s parents, Duke Wilhelm and Lady Rose, in contrast, were smiling and looking content and happy. Valten’s siblings — Margaretha, Kirstyn, Steffan, Wolfhart, Gabe with his wife, Sophie, and Adela — all smiled and waved from a few feet away. Valten gave them a half smile, but Gisela waved back. Gabe nodded and Sophie sent Gisela a tiny wave, then Sophie covered her mouth with her hand as her eyes filled with tears. Ava was always more prone to tears when she was pregnant too.

  Gisela took a deep breath and hugged Valten’s arm. He glanced down at her. She tilted her head up and he rewarded her with a brief kiss. He bent lower to whisper in her ear, “I love you, queen of beauty and love.”

  He smiled and faced forward again.

  For a man of action and few words, the ones he did say were quite lovely.

  ~ THE END ~

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, I want to thank all the wonderful people who make my books a reality, including everyone at Zondervan in all the various departments, many of whom I don’t know but I deeply appreciate. Thanks to Gwen Hendrickson, Sara Merritt, Chriscynethia Floyd, and Marcus Drenth, who work behind the scenes to get my books noticed; to Jaime Krupp and all the wonderful people in the sales department who get my books in stores; and to my talented editor, Jacque Alberta, who is able to look at the big picture and point out plot holes, repetitions, and missed opportunities.

  Thanks to Mike Heath of Magnus Creative for blessing me with another beautiful cover that I love. You always wow me!

  I want to thank my horse expert, Cory Kohl, who is always willing to answer my questions. If there are equine mistakes in the book, it’s solely my fault, because Cory knows horses.

  I want to thank my wonderful beta readers who help me so much more than they realize: Grace Dickerson, Joe Dickerson, Faith Dickerson, Carol Moncado, Debbie Lynne Costello, Linore Burkard, Regina Carbulon, Caren Fullerton, Jamie Driggers, and Suzy Parish.

  I also want to express my thanks to Sir Walter Scott for inventing the historical novel, and for writing Ivanhoe, which inspired the tournament scenes in The Captive Maiden.

  And in case anyone doubts Dan Doty when he says the character of Friar Daniel was named after him, it is true.

  Thanks to my family—Joe, Grace, and Faith — for being so supportive when I’m doing edits! I love you.

  And thanks again to my readers, who keep me writing and motivated and striving to make my stories the best I can. Thank you so much for your encouraging notes! God bless you.

  Want more? Check out this excerpt from

  The Fairest Beauty

  for a taste of Sophie’s story, then buy the book, in stores now!

  Prologue

  Pinnosa passed through the town square and the cobblestone Marktplatz. Hagenheim Castle loomed straight ahead. Once she passed the guard at the gatehouse, she would need to find her way to the young lord.

  A chill passed over her thin, old shoulders. This fever, brought on by rain and exhaustion, would probably kill her, but if she could only make it to the castle, could only tell them that Sophie was still alive, Pinnosa’s life would not have been in vain. Perhaps God would forgive her for helping the duchess perpetuate so many lies.

  She plodded forward, wanting to hurry, but she could only force her swollen feet to take slow, mincing steps. Sweat dripped from her eyebrows even as she shivered and fought the urge to drop to the ground, close her eyes, and sleep.

  “Who goes there?”

  Pinnosa stopped, then leaned her head back as far as she could. When she parted her cracked lips, no sound came out. The guard’s face began to blur, her knees trembled, and the ground quickly came up to meet her. Strange how she didn’t … even … feel it.

  Chapter

  1

  Sophie kept her head bowed as she waited for the duchess to speak. She started to clasp her hands together but stopped. Clasped hands presented an image of idleness, the duchess often said, and the gesture sent her into a rage every time. Sophie let her arms hang limply at her sides.

  Carefully, she peeked through her lashes at Duchess Ermengard. The woman’s skin was unnaturally white, her hair dyed ebony using black hickory hulls. Her lips were stained red from berries, and her teeth were so white they made Sophie want to shade
her eyes. Did the duchess ever think of anything besides beauty? The irony was that she was naturally beautiful and would look better without all the powder and dye.

  The duchess stood unmoving, not making a sound. The silence began to crowd against Sophie’s ears. Duchess Ermengard liked to draw out the waiting, knowing it only increased her victims’ apprehension. Having to stand and wait to hear what her punishment would be was perhaps the worst part.

  At long last, when the duchess addressed Sophie, her hoarse voice sent a chill down Sophie’s spine.

  “So this is how you repay my kindness to you? You, an orphan, and a girl at that. I could have let you starve by the roadside. Others would have done so in my place.”

  No one but you would be so cruel. Sophie’s breaths came faster—she was dangerously close to speaking—but she forced the words down.

  “How could you be so audacious as to think … when I rightfully punish one of my servants … No. No, I want you to confess what you have done. You seem to enjoy prayer. Surely you enjoy confession as well. Now confess.” Sophie’s skin crawled as the duchess’s voice lowered to a slow, quiet whisper. “What … did … you … do?”

  Sophie almost wished the duchess would scream instead. A dark feeling of oppression, of an evil presence in the room, came over her, as it often did when the duchess was interrogating her. Jesus, help me. Take away my anger.

  The oppressive feeling subsided.