The Fairest Beauty (7 page)

“Yes, I think you might just live to tell the tale, if you keep a glib tongue in your head.” She glanced up at him and flashed a smile.

Pinnosa hadn’t exaggerated her beauty.
God, help me save her. Help me discover the truth
.

“If you’re still alive after you talk to the duchess, you are welcome to share the servants’ fare tonight. It isn’t fancy, but it’s filling. Or perhaps you can pay for your food in the village. Either way, your presence, wherever you go, will stir a lot of talk and interest. The people of Hohendorf aren’t used to strangers coming around.”

That was an understatement, considering the way people had stared at him when he passed through the village.

“When will you ask Petra what she knows about your identity?”

She pursed her lips. “Tonight, when no one can overhear us.”

As she continued with her task, a comfortable silence settled between them. He tried not to watch her, but his gaze flicked repeatedly in Sophie’s direction, especially as she rolled up her sleeves to her elbows, lifting her arms to hang each wick over the line. Though he’d observed her doing the very same task all morning, he couldn’t seem to stop noticing her graceful motions. A thought flitted through his mind that she would look beautiful dancing the bassadanza, moving to the music, her hair decorated with flowers and a silk skirt swishing around her ankles. Of course, to fit into the scene perfectly she would need to gain some flesh and not appear so emaciated. He imagined her arms slightly plump, the dark smudges gone from under her eyes, and a joyful smile on her face.

He was enjoying the image a little too much.

After several minutes of silence, Gabe said, “I know you think you can take care of yourself, but I do hope you will be wary of that huntsman. Men like him … they should be kept at a distance.”

“I suppose you think I should keep you close instead.” Sophie
humphed
as she looked away from him. She continued with her task but looked ill at ease. He began to think she wasn’t going to say anything more.

She sighed and peered up at him. “I believe your counsel is kindly meant. But I can take care of myself — it is something I’ve done all of my life. I am well aware that men are not to be trusted, whether they be huntsmen, servants, or … traveling noblemen.”

He couldn’t help but smile. When he had followed her and Lorencz into the woods for their picnic and eavesdropped, he had seen and heard how well she dealt with the man’s forwardness. She was obviously a maiden of personal honor, but the huntsman possessed a smooth tongue. The only question seemed to be whether she would allow the huntsman to marry her in order to get away from the duchess. Or would she entrust her fate to Gabe?

How alone she was. Sophie, whether she was Duke Baldewin’s daughter or not, was an orphan, without family connections, without any family at all. Brittola, on the other hand, had brothers and sisters. Her father and mother were still alive and in good health and lavished her with loving words and caresses. No man, whether wealthy or poor, would be allowed near Brittola, especially to try to win her affections, without the expressed permission of her father. But Sophie had no one but herself to prevent ill-intentioned men from taking advantage of her.

The thought stirred something inside him. Even if she was only a poor maiden, she needed … someone.

Gabe stood, picked up a stick, and started helping Sophie dip the endless row of candles into the hot cauldron of wax. She lifted her eyebrows at him quizzically.

He shrugged. “I have nothing else to do.”

She shook her head but said nothing.

They worked together for a long while, until Gabe’s arms began to ache from the unaccustomed motion of lifting them over and over again to hang the candles on the line. He thought about Sophie lying asleep on the ground when he’d arrived that morning. The cook had seemed very protective of her, and the guard also, once he found out it was Sophie and not some other maiden. He’d heard the cook say Sophie often spent nights in the dungeon at the duchess’s command. Surely the girl hadn’t done anything to deserve such punishment. And dungeons were
generally filled with all manner of filth and vermin. If the duchess was as cruel as the rumors said she was, and if what Pinnosa had told him was true, Sophie had been mistreated like this all of her life.

Sophie’s experiences were so different from any other woman’s he’d ever encountered. He tried to imagine his sisters enduring Duchess Ermengard’s treatment and shuddered.

He wondered what his family was doing right now. His mother had started a school for poor children in the walled town of Hagenheim. Perhaps she and his sisters would go there today and bring sweet cakes and fruit for the children, or new books or other supplies. Valten was probably chafing at his own inactivity, lying in bed and cursing his brother because Gabe was out doing what Valten could not.

That thought made Gabe smile.

He turned around to dip more candles in the hot wax and found Sophie staring at him.

“Thank you for your help … Gabe.” She seemed to find it amusing to speak his name. “Is it a custom of yours to search out scullery maids and help them with their work?”

Gabe pretended not to notice her teasing tone. “Does it seem strange to you that I would help?”

“I must admit, there have been times a man has offered to help me with my work, but they’ve always expected something in return.” She eyed him critically.

“I assure you, Sophie,” Gabe said, gentling his voice and meeting her gaze, “I don’t expect anything from you.” No, that wasn’t exactly true. “I only hope to learn the truth of your identity and gain your trust.”

“Trust is something that must be earned.” Her eyes widened slightly, and she quickly turned her back to him. “But I hope you will remember my advice about what to say to the duchess.

You have a kind face, and I would hate for you to become another of her victims.”

Suddenly, they were surrounded by guards, each one armed with a sword. Rough hands grabbed Gabe around the neck and by his upper arms and began dragging him toward the castle.

Sophie followed the guards who were dragging
Gabe away. Walther was with them, and she hurried to his side.

“What is amiss? Where are you taking him?” she demanded.

Walther frowned sympathetically. “Nothing for you to worry about, Sophie. The duchess got word of this stranger being here. We are fetching him on her orders. You’d best turn back before she asks what you have to do with this fellow.”

Gabe turned his head and looked at her, even though the guards had his hands pinned behind his back. “Don’t worry, Sophie. I’ll remember what you said.” Then he winked, a confident glint in his eyes. He grew more sober as he said, “Don’t forget to ask Petra.” One thing was sure: The man was brave. Or just plain foolish. Or he still didn’t realize what the duchess was capable of. Probably all three.

She grabbed Walther’s arm. “Don’t let her hurt him. Please.”

The burly guard looked suspicious. “Does he mean something to you?”

“I just don’t want him to get hurt.” She tempered her words cautiously. “He’s innocent, and … he has a family who will be asking questions if any harm comes to him. Make sure the duchess knows that.”

“Now how would I be making sure the duchess knows that? She doesn’t exactly ask me how she should conduct her affairs.”

Sophie must have looked as upset as she felt, because Walther’s voice softened and he said, “I’ll do my best.”

After they dragged Gabe away, Sophie collected herself and hurried to the kitchen. Inside she found Petra pulling some bread from the oven. Miraculously, no one else was around.

“Petra, I have something to ask you.”

“Yes, my dear?” Petra placed the bread on the wooden table and wiped her hands on her apron. “What is it?”

Sophie looked into the blue-gray eyes that were starting to crinkle at the outside corners. Mama Petra was still beautiful, with her kind face and pink cheeks. Could she have kept the truth from Sophie all these years?

“Mama Petra, you were here before Duke Baldewin died, weren’t you?”

“Yes, my dear.” A sober look came over her.

“You were here when Duke Baldewin’s baby daughter died?”

Petra’s mouth went slack but she didn’t speak.

“The stranger who came here this morning seems to think that I may be Duke Baldewin’s daughter, that she didn’t die after all.”

Petra expelled an audible breath and looked away.

“Mama Petra? Is it true?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It’s true. I wanted to tell you, but I wasn’t sure it would help for you to know. If the duchess found out you knew, she’d kill you. And she’d kill me as well.

“I’ve been trying for years to get word out to someone — I’ve sent word by a few visitors, but I don’t think they believed what I told them. Leastways, nothing ever came of it. So few people ever come here and even fewer leave. The duchess watches them all so closely that any letters I send will be read by her, I am certain. I have received a few letters from my brother, and the duchess reads those too. I haven’t yet risked telling anyone in writing. I was planning to tell this new stranger, to beg him to tell anyone he knew who could get word to the king. But now I hear he has
been taken away by the guards.” Petra bit her lip and grabbed Sophie’s hand. “Can you forgive me for not telling you?”

Sophie felt as if she’d fallen out of a tree and had the breath knocked out of her lungs. But seeing Petra’s stricken expression, she answered, “Of course I forgive you. But are you sure?”

“Yes, my dear. You are the whole reason I am still here. I knew you needed a person who cared about you, and I couldn’t bear to leave Duke Baldewin’s baby —” Petra’s words were cut short by a sudden sob. She quickly took a deep lungful of air and went on. “Forgive me. It is a relief to speak of it after all these years. Poor Pinnosa and I were the last ones who knew.”

“What happened to my father?”

“I don’t know. Most of the servants believe the duchess killed him. Either way, he is gone these fifteen years.” Petra lowered her voice even more.

“Why didn’t she kill me too?”

“I think she gets a perverse pleasure out of tormenting you, out of knowing that she’s turned the duke’s beloved daughter into a common scullery maid.”

The duke’s beloved daughter
. Sophie allowed herself to dwell on that. Her father, the duke, had loved her. She was loved. Once upon a time.

Gabe tried not to worry too much about what was about to happen. He’d charmed his way out of predicaments before; maybe none quite like this, but if he kept his head, all would turn out well. After all, what could the duchess do to him besides throw him in the dungeon? If she did, his father’s knights would eventually come for him.

Although he didn’t relish sitting in a dungeon for days and weeks, or even months.

That is, if the duchess didn’t have him killed.

The guards pulled him into the deep recesses of the castle, and if he had his bearings right, they were ascending the stairs of the center keep where the duchess’s private chambers would likely be, especially if she were as paranoid for her own safety as he’d heard.

The guards came to a door. They opened it and pushed him inside. Before Gabe could fully regain his balance, he heard the door close behind him and two of the guards moved to stand on either side of him, hands on their sword hilts.

A woman sat motionless on a huge thronelike chair in the back of the large chamber, her hands steepled in front of her. Her face was oddly pale, her lips painted red and her eyelids black, and her fingernails were so long they curled under. He’d never seen anyone so garish. He was no longer surprised at the rumors she was a witch. But she did possess a commanding type of beauty. She was tall, although it was hard to tell her exact height since she was sitting down. She had a long graceful neck and a curvaceous figure with a tiny waist.

“I have a trespasser, do I?” Her lips curled in a way that made his blood turn cold. “It isn’t often someone comes to visit me uninvited. You did come all this way to see me, I hope?” She lifted her thin, sculpted eyebrows.

“Yes, Your Grace. Whom else would I be coming to see?”

“I don’t know. You seemed to be talking a great deal to one of my scullery maids. What is it you want with her? Do you find her pretty?”

The look in her eyes sent a chill down Gabe’s spine. The only sound in the room was the
tick-tick-tick
of her inordinately long fingernails clicking against each other as she waited.

“I came to see you, Your Grace, to be inspired by your great beauty. I had heard of your loveliness and have now found that it was not exaggerated.” God,
forgive me for my lies
. The success of his quest, not to mention a young maiden’s life, was at stake.

The duchess eyed him in a way that made him think she didn’t believe him for one moment.

“I am but a humble troubadour, and it would be my privilege to play for you, to compose a song about your beauty and grace and … mercy.” He threw that last word in for his own sake. “Of course, I ask for nothing in return. It shall be enough that I have feasted upon your beauty. And I shall find my own place to sleep, in the village.”

“No,” she said quickly. “You shall sleep here, in the castle.” She grinned like a cat about to devour the prey within her claws, then crossed her arms, resting her long fingernails prominently on her velvet sleeves.

“Yes, Your Grace. Let it be as you wish.” His blood felt cold in his veins as he realized she knew he was lying. Why else would she be so quick to have him sleep at the castle?

She stared at him, unblinking. He had the distinct urge to squirm under her gaze, but forced himself to remain perfectly still.

“Where are you from?” she demanded.

“Hungary, but I have been a wanderer most of my life.” That was true enough. He’d wandered all over the Hagenheim region.

“Play something for me.”

“It shall be my pleasure to play for you.” Gabe took the large leather bag from where he’d slung it over his back and carefully unwrapped his lute. His hands shook a bit, but he felt confident. After all, things were going just as he’d hoped; he was here with the duchess and she was asking him to play.

He began to play a lively tune his father had taught him, one his father had played for Gabe’s mother before they were married, when she was giving a dance lesson for their friends Gunther and Hildy.

Now Gabe was playing it for the Wicked Witch of Bavaria, with her creepy white face and hawkish talons.

Gabe concentrated on getting all the notes right, keeping his eyes on the strings of the lute. When he finished the song, the duchess was staring at him coldly, as if completely unmoved by the music.

“You play very well,” she said slowly, her eyes half closed. “Play another song.”

Gabe began another dance tune, longer than the one before, and then decided to play another, to keep playing until she stopped him. After the third song, she said, “That is enough.” She steepled her fingers again, clicking her nails together. “It is my wish that you stay the night and play for me again this evening. But you must stay here, on the castle mount, and not go into the village. Guards, take him to his room.”

The guards didn’t put their hands on him this time, merely waited for him to precede them out of the room.

When he reached the door, he turned and bowed to Duchess Ermengard. “Until tonight.”

She nodded, the eerie smile returning to her face.

After exploring his room, which was adequate though by no means luxurious, he set out to write a song for the duchess. He tried to think of words to praise her beauty, but nothing came to mind. When he finally started writing on a piece of parchment from his bag, scratching with a quill and ink he found in the room, the words flowed through his mind and onto the page as if by magic. Only after the third line did he realize he wasn’t thinking about the duchess at all, but about Sophie. Her black hair, her beautiful skin, thick lashes, and blue eyes pierced his consciousness like a sword of inspiration. He would have to be careful to make it sound like he was writing and singing about the duchess. He couldn’t let her know his song was actually in praise of her servant.

Did the duchess hate Sophie because she was so beautiful? Or was it because Sophie was the daughter of her dead husband,
Duke Baldewin, and the rightful heir of Hohendorf Castle and all its demesne, and thus the perfect toy to torment?

He continued to pour out the song. Then he took up his lute and picked out a tune fit to accompany the words.

Sophie’d had to stop dipping candles to help Petra prepare the evening meal. After two additional maids had come in to help, Sophie and Petra were no longer able to speak about Sophie’s true identity, or about the fact that Sophie was betrothed to Gabe’s brother. Nor were they able to talk about Gabe’s chances of getting away from the duchess. Sophie prayed for him while she continued with her work. Had he been taken to the dungeon?

As she walked down the cool corridor toward the entrance to the inner courtyard in order to draw water for cooking, Sophie heard the faint sounds of music. She stopped and listened. It was coming from one of the rarely used guest chambers farther down the corridor. But it sounded like someone who was just learning to play, the way the song stopped, then started, over and over.

Or maybe it was someone learning a new song. Or writing one. It had to be Gabe. But was the duchess truly allowing him to stay in the castle?

At least he hadn’t been sent to the dungeon. Not yet, anyway.

That night, as the servants were eating in the kitchen, Sophie sat between Petra and Roslind and talked quietly about the stranger.

“He has such kind eyes,” Petra said. “Even if he is the son of a nobleman, I like him.”

“Yes,” Roslind said, taking a bite of her stewed apples. “He seems very kind. And very handsome too. Don’t you think so, Sophie? He might even be a brother.” Roslind’s eyes grew wide
with excitement, clearly believing Gabe was nice enough to join their servant “family.”

“I don’t think we know him well enough for
that
, Roslind.” Sophie thought how pitiful she and Roslind were, so desperate for love they created imaginary kinships. The longing to belong had haunted Sophie all her life. She wasn’t sure how she would ever be able to stop looking for those kindships, or that she even wished to. It soothed the ache in her heart to call Roslind
sister
and Petra
mama
.

Her thoughts went back to what Gabe had said earlier, that he had come here to help Sophie because Pinnosa had said she was in danger. He must have been telling her the truth after all. She hated to admit it, even to herself, but the thought that he had come here just for her gave her a thrill of hope. Hope that she was not worthless. Hope that someone might love her enough to want to save her from this dark place.

And Gabe had said she was betrothed to his brother.
Betrothed
. The very word meant she belonged to someone. And if she married his brother, then Gabe
would
be her brother. It was a beautiful thought.

Sophie looked up and found herself staring into Gabe’s brown eyes.

Petra jumped up from the bench and insisted Gabe sit down in her place, opposite Sophie. She quickly put some stewed pork and vegetables on a trencher and placed it before him.

“Thank you,” he said politely, then winked at Sophie. “The duchess said I could eat with the servants.”

Sophie nodded and gave him a half smile. With all his bravado and ease at playing a traveler, he seemed too good to be true, as did his story about his brother being her betrothed. Or maybe Gabe’s brother was so hideously ugly — rabbit teeth, hairy moles all over his face, and a nose like a hooked beak — that his family
had been happy to foist him off on anyone, even a girl who knew more about how to wash a pot than eat at a duke’s table.

“I’ve been writing a song for her. I hope she will let me perform it for her tonight.”

“Good.” Sophie nodded again.

All the servants stood and began to leave. Sophie looked around her, appalled to see them all glancing slyly at her and Gabe. What were they thinking?