The Fairest Beauty (8 page)

“Will you stay and talk with me?” Gabe asked, placing his hand over hers on the rough wooden table.

A pleasant tingle crept from her hand up her arm. She stared down at his hand on hers, unable to look him in the eye.

“Of course,” she said gruffly, then cleared her throat and moved her hand away from his.

Gabe began to eat as everyone disappeared, leaving the two of them alone. “Were you able to talk to Petra?” he said softly.

“Yes,” Sophie whispered back. The seriousness of their conversation and all its consequences seemed to fall heavily on her shoulders.

“What did she say?” His eyes were wide as he met her gaze.

“She says …” Sophie glanced around the room. “She says I am Duke Baldewin’s daughter. She apologized for not telling me sooner.”

Gabe stared at her a moment longer, then went back to eating. “I will come up with a plan to get you out of here,” he said between bites.

“
You
won’t be leaving if the duchess finds out why you’re here.”

He swallowed and winked at her. “Stop worrying.”

Sophie slowly shook her head at him.

When he had almost finished his food, he said, “Tell me about your childhood.”

“Are you sure you want to know about my childhood?”

He nodded.

She might as well tell him. “I have vague memories of feeling happy. I remember the priest teaching me to read. I can read.” She may not know anything about how a noblewoman behaved, but she was very happy that she could at least boast that much knowledge. “I remember the priest telling me things about God. I have a memory of standing in an open meadow with the sun on my face … but I’m not sure if that’s a memory or a dream.”

“You mean you’ve never been outside the forest?”

Sophie felt uncomfortable at his obvious horror. “Is that so unusual? This is Bavaria. We — we are a heavily forested land. Everyone knows that.”

“Go on. Tell me more.”

“My memory is nearly blank for a few years,” she continued to whisper. “Duchess Ermengard forced the priest to leave — at least I hope he left, instead of meeting a worse fate at her hands — and she attempted to burn down the chapel. I don’t remember very much after that.” Sophie felt uncomfortable again. The things that she did remember were so painful she didn’t want to share them with Gabe … with anyone.

He was nearly finished eating, having wolfed down his food while she talked. He picked up his tankard and tipped it back.

A longing rose up inside her to hear about a loving family. What had it been like to grow up with two parents, with brothers and sisters? Surprising herself with how much she wanted to know, she asked him, “Will you tell me about your childhood? About your family?”

“My mother and father are wonderful, truly. They punished us if we misbehaved, but they talked to us, helped us, read to us. We would sit around the fire at night and my father would play the lute and sing, and my brothers and sisters and I would dance and play games like shatranj, blind man’s buff, and backgammon. Sometimes my mother would read to us or tell us stories that she made up. She was brilliant at inventing stories.”

Sophie’s heart beat faster as she tried to imagine the scene. When Gabe paused, she urged him on. “Tell me more. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“I have three brothers and three sisters. I had four sisters, but … one of them died.” He paused to clear his throat. “I am the second oldest, and my brother Valten, your betrothed, is the oldest.”

“Are you and your brother Valten great friends?”

“No,” he seemed to say reluctantly.

“Why ever not?” she cried, then wished she hadn’t sounded so horrified, as a sheepish look came over Gabe’s face.

“You know how boys are.”

She didn’t.

He began to turn the empty tankard around, twisting it on the wooden table. “We were always competing with each other. I wanted to be stronger and faster and better than my brother, but unfortunately he bested me in nearly everything. Although I am better looking than he is.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “I remember once” — he chuckled — “I was helping Valten practice for the tourneys. He knocked me from my horse, his lance grazed my head, and I hit the ground and was unconscious for a few minutes.” He laughed again, as though he were telling a funny joke instead of relating a terrible accident. “That’s how I got this scar.” He brushed his hair back, and she saw a pale line on his forehead next to his hairline.

She gasped in horror. “But you are his younger brother. How could he treat you so carelessly?”

“It was only an accident.”

“Is he bigger than you?”

“A bit.”

“He sounds like a bully.”
And I am meant to marry him
.

“No, no. Valten is a good man and will be a good husband. We haven’t always gotten along, but …” He rubbed his chin.
“We’re older now and better friends than we were. But I’m sure my brother is quite angry with me right now.” He didn’t seem sorry. In fact, he seemed rather to relish the idea.

“Why is that?”

“I defied him and my father when I came here to find you.”

“Did they not want you to find me?” Was she not wanted after all?

“They wanted to come themselves. Valten was greatly frustrated because he couldn’t come right away himself to find you.”

Her heart lifted.

“He broke his leg in a recent tourney. Our healer won’t allow him out of bed for at least four weeks.”

He had told her that already. What Sophie really wanted to know was,
Do you think your brother will like me?
Instead, she asked, “Do you think your … parents … will approve of me?”

“They will love you. My mother will smother you with hugs and kisses. She’ll make such a fuss over you, you’ll wish you had stayed away.”

Sophie’s heart seemed to swell inside her chest as she imagined Gabe’s mother embracing and kissing her. The longing inside her was so great, she was sure Gabe could see it on her face. To belong to Gabe’s family … to have a mother who would show her true affection … the thought was complete joy. How could Gabe possibly think she would not want that? Would wish to stay away? She was ready to go home with him this very moment!

He glanced around the kitchen before whispering, “I wish we could leave tonight,” as though he had read her mind.

She almost leaped at his words.

“But the duchess probably wouldn’t let us get far. She’s expecting me to play for her tonight.”

“No.” Sophie came back down to earth. “She wouldn’t let us get far.” She’d send her guards to haul them both back to the
castle and lock them in the dungeon or kill them. Besides, the woods were full of wolves that hunted in packs at night.

Perhaps she shouldn’t trust him enough to run away with him. But what if Gabe was her only chance to get away and find out what it was like to be loved?

“Tell me more about your family. What do you do at Christmastime? Who taught you to play the lute? Does your family eat dinner together?”

She was asking about his family again. Gabe noticed that she got a strange look on her face, a look of longing, as if she enjoyed imagining what it was like.

Soon, as soon as he was able to plan their escape, he would take her to his family, and she’d be accepted and loved like she never had before.

“My father is a good musician, and we’re all great singers. Except Valten. He sings like a crow.” He laughed, then sobered. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say bad things about your betrothed. Anyway, we sometimes sit around the fire and sing until the little ones fall asleep in our laps. My little sister Adela always wants to sit with me. I’ve put her to bed more times than I can count.”

“What does she look like?”

“Blue eyes and blonde hair, although it’s starting to turn brown now. And dimples in her cheeks. She’s two. I have another sister, Margaretha, who’s fifteen, and Kirstyn is twelve. Besides Valten and me, there’s Steffan, who’s ten, and Wolfhart, who’s seven. It’s always noisy. Someone’s always laughing — or singing.”

Sophie, who was staring at the table as though she were watching a miracle play, suddenly sighed.

He couldn’t wait to take her home.

Just then, the huntsman strode in. He looked first at Sophie,
then at Gabe. His jaw twitched, as though he were clenching his teeth. Then his face relaxed as he focused on Sophie. “Go for a walk with me?”

He actually said it politely, and Gabe held his breath as he and Lorencz both waited for her answer.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t take walks after dark.” She folded her hands primly on the rough table.

The huntsman clenched his teeth, then composed himself again, making his voice smooth. “I won’t let any harm come to you, Sophie. You are safe with me.” He smiled, reminding Gabe of a fox eyeing a mouse.

“I cannot.”

“Cannot or will not? Sophie, please come with me.” His voice was more commanding now. He stepped toward her.

“She doesn’t wish to go with you.” Gabe rose to his feet and looked Lorencz in the eye. “Stop harassing her.”

“I’m not harassing her, and it’s none of your business. Sophie” — he turned back to her now, leaning over the table — “you aren’t letting this fellow influence you, are you? Come. Take a walk with me.”

“Gabe is not influencing me. I told you earlier that I wouldn’t take a walk with you, and I have not changed my mind.”

Gabe stifled a cheer.

“If you don’t go,” Lorencz said, his voice quiet but with a menacing undertone, “I may just find someone else to walk with me.”

“As I told you before, I think that is a splendid idea.”

Gabe waited tensely, watching the huntsman as he glared at Sophie. Finally, Lorencz straightened and then strode out of the room, his boots clomping loudly on the stone floor.

Sophie exhaled. “You should go. The duchess is probably waiting for you. Good night, Gabe.”

“Good night, Sophie.”

Sophie was helping Petra in the kitchen the next morning when Darla walked in with a big smirk on her face. Sophie always did her best not to detest the maid and prayed for her whenever she thought about the times Darla’s tale-telling had gotten Sophie sent to the dungeon.

“
Guten Morgen
, Sophie,” Darla said, lifting her nose into the air and breaking into an outright grin.

“
Guten Morgen
, Darla.”

Darla sat down on a stool and crossed her legs, staring down at her fingernails. “Guess who asked me to go for a walk with him last night.”

Sophie forced herself not to look up from the bread dough she was kneading. “I’m sure I don’t know, but you are very popular, Darla, so it could have been anyone.” Sophie airily turned away from her as she placed the dough on a flat board and shoved it into the crackling oven.

“Lorencz the huntsman.”

“Is that so? I’m so glad he finally found someone to walk with him.”

Sophie chanced a glimpse at Darla, who squinted her eyes a moment before breaking out in another sly grin. “We had a very good time.”

“I’m sure you did. Walking helps balance the humors.”

“We weren’t walking the whole time. And we had a very … good time.” She raised her eyebrows and smoothed her hands suggestively down her hips.

“Did you, now? I’m not surprised.” Sophie forced a smile at Darla. The girl was so bold. It gave Sophie a sick feeling, in spite of her efforts to remain indifferent. But Sophie was glad she hadn’t gone with Lorencz. She certainly would never trust him now.

“Lorencz said he asked you to stroll with him. But he says he won’t be asking you anymore. Only me from now on.”

“I’m so happy to hear it, Darla, because I can’t stand the man myself.”
The low, vile, stinking weasel
. “He is such a bore.” Sophie scolded herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but the look on Darla’s face was worth it.

“You’re the one who’s a
bore
, Sophie. You’re just scared and weak and … and … alone. And you’ll always be alone.”

Sophie held the bread dough she was kneading in both hands, her teeth clamping tighter as Darla went on.

“The duchess hates you, and you’ll never be anything but a sad, lowly scullery maid. You’ll probably never marry or bear chil —”

The ball of dough in Sophie’s hands hurtled through the air. It was almost as if she were watching someone else throw it. The floury dough hit Darla smack in the face, then it fell on the floor with a dull splat.

Darla’s face was smudged with flour. She let out a strangled cry and lunged toward Sophie. Sophie turned and ducked behind Petra’s slightly rotund body. Darla grabbed at Sophie’s hair, but Sophie slapped her hand back. Darla lunged again and Petra grabbed Darla’s face in a pinching grip.

“Get out of here with your disgusting boasts and mean talk.” Petra shoved Darla’s head backward, forcing her to stumble back.

In spite of the flour covering Darla’s face, Sophie could see she was turning red, her eyes glinting dangerously. She turned and stalked out of the room.

Sophie felt triumphant for a moment, but then tears pricked her eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. They seemed to be tears of pity. Perhaps Darla only behaved the way she did because, just like Sophie, she only wanted love. But the way she was going about it, she didn’t seem likely to get it.

Duchess Ermengard seemed very impressed
with the song Gabe had sung for her the previous night. He’d played his admiring troubadour role well, he knew, and it was now clear to him he had won her confidence with each warbled note.

Now he only had to figure out a way to steal Sophie away from the duchess. If he kept plying Sophie with stories of his family, she would surely go with him. But how could he keep the duchess from sending her guards once they’d escaped? Now that he’d seen the number of men she had and how powerful they were, he knew it was too risky to try to hold off the entire battalion by himself. He should go home, tell his father Sophie was the duke’s daughter, then come back with a contingent of his father’s soldiers to force Duchess Ermengard to let them take Sophie. But he just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, even for one day, much less for the two weeks it would take him to go to Hagenheim and return. What would stop the duchess from killing her stepdaughter and commanding all the other servants to deny there ever was a servant girl named Sophie?

Gabe walked down the stone corridor, having been summoned to play for the duchess yet again. He had been working on another song. It wasn’t finished, but he thought he would play a bit of it for her anyway.

He opened the door, and there she was, sitting on her imposing chair, flashing the same creepy smile. He gave her a few compliments as he took out his lute and prepared to play.
This ruse is becoming easier by the minute
.

He began singing the song he’d written late last night and into the morning. He extolled her silky black hair, red lips, and blue eyes and sang some verses about her virtue and generosity that he knew weren’t true, but he had been thinking about Sophie again when he wrote it.

When he glanced up, she was staring at him as though he had turned into an offensive bug and she was contemplating how to crush him. Her face had turned even whiter, if that were possible, or more of a grayish color, actually. Her lips had also turned bloodless under their red stain. What had he said?

Then it hit him.

The duchess had green eyes.

He was caught. The song he’d sung for her yesterday had extolled their emerald hue, so he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“Who is this song about?” she hissed.

“Why, y-you, of course. Of course, Your Grace.”
I’m a dead man
.

“You were talking with that scullery maid last night during the evening meal, were you not?”

He tried to swallow, but there seemed to be a ball of wool caught in his throat.
O God, save me. I’m doomed
.

He nodded.

She stood to her full height — at least as tall as Gabe — and walked across the room to the window. She simply stared out at the gloomy, half-lit forest. The only thing that moved was her lips as she pursed them tighter and tighter.

“Your Grace, forgive me for the oversight. I am still working on the song. Let me perfect it and play it for you tonight.” He
smiled, hoping he looked confident and casual, while inwardly he was flaying himself.

But she didn’t look as though she were listening to him, and her face became more and more thunderous, as though the cloud that was hanging over her was turning black before it unleashed its torrent.

She will murder me where I stand
.

Finally, she turned to him. That disturbing half smile, more frightening than her menacing grin, was on her face again as she took a step toward him. “You have come here to spy on me, haven’t you?”

Had he? No. He had come to rescue Sophie.

“No, Your Grace. Of course not.”

She took another step. He forced himself not to back away from her.

“Who are you?”

“I am Gabe, Your Grace.”

“Perhaps you think you know who Sophie is. Who told you?”

She stepped closer.

“Told me what, Your Grace?”

“That she is Duke Baldewin’s only daughter.”

The back of his neck tingled. If she was telling him this, she must have decided to kill him. “Everyone knows Duke Baldewin’s daughter is dead. Sophie is only a scullery maid.”

“Oh no,” Duchess Ermengard crooned in a silky, low voice as she slowly walked toward him. “She is Sophia Breitenbach, daughter of Baldewin Breitenbach, Duke of Hohendorf, and the fairest beauty in the Holy Roman Empire. Is she not?” She stopped only two feet in front of him, her white teeth glowing between her unnaturally red lips.

It was no good to lie. Besides, if he was going to die, he wanted to be right with God.

“Sophie is very beautiful, it is true.”

“The
most
beautiful. Admit it!” Her voice rose in both pitch and intensity. “You think she’s more beautiful than I am!”

Her eyes were two glowing green orbs. Her expression was one of outraged discovery.

“And you are no lowly peasant.” Her voice lowered once again and her eyes narrowed. “I do believe Duke Wilhelm had a son … a son named Gabehart. But Gabehart was not betrothed to a duke’s daughter. No, no. As I recall, his older brother, Valten, was to marry Duke Baldewin’s only child. So which one are you? Are you Valten, assuming your brother’s name? Or are you actually stupid enough to be Gabehart?”

Her evil catlike eyes seemed to bore into his soul, like a wild animal surveying her prey. Gabe shuddered.

“And if you are Gabehart, why did not Valten, Sophie’s betrothed, come to rescue her?”

Gabe cast about in his mind for a strategy, a way of escape from this room and this woman. But the windows were shut and bolted. He could possibly unbolt one and jump out the window, if he took everyone by complete surprise, although he was so high in her tower room he’d probably break something when he hit the ground. The only other option was to physically overpower her, which also appeared to be a gamble. For now, he would tell the truth in an effort to keep her from becoming enraged again. The moment she called for her guards, his lot was hopeless.

“I am Gabehart, second son of Duke Wilhelm of Hagenheim. You are right, Your Grace. I was wrong to try to fool you. Valten couldn’t come because of a broken leg. But I am here only to see if what an old woman said was true. About Sophie.” As he spoke, he tried to think of a way to overpower her. She was almost close enough that he could grab her. But perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary. Perhaps she would let him leave.

She stepped around him, getting between him and the door leading to the corridor.

Duchess Ermengard opened the door while keeping her eyes on Gabe. She screamed, “Guards!”

Gabe ran toward the window, but before he could even get it unbolted, guards rushed into the room, the sharp swish of their swords being drawn from their scabbards, their boots pounding on the flagstone floor. He struggled with the rusty bolt, and just as he shoved it free and threw open the window, two burly men grabbed Gabe’s shoulder. They threw him to the floor. He hit the flagstone with the side of his face. As the darkness started closing in on him, the last thing he heard was a crazed, high-pitched cackling.

When she saw that Gabe was unconscious, Duchess Ermengard pointed a finger at the closest guard. “Get Lorencz.”

As she waited, she envisioned ways she could dispose of the foolhardy boy laid out before her feet. The only question was how long to draw out his pain.

Once the huntsman arrived, Gabe was taken away to the dungeon on her order, leaving her alone with Lorencz.

He reached out to take her hand and kiss it, but his eyes gave away his fear. She ground her teeth. “How dare you think that girl is more beautiful than I am.”

“Your Grace, I —”

“Don’t speak! You have become enamored with her too.” That useful girl Darla had told her everything, from how Lorencz had failed to get Sophie to trust him enough to take a walk with him, to being so heartbroken he got drunk with Darla instead. “I shall kill this silly, interfering Gabehart of Hagenheim for thinking she is the fairest. Though what shall I do to you? I already asked you to kill her. Why haven’t you, pray tell?”

“Your Grace, I simply haven’t had many opportunities. In
fact, I was finally able to get her alone just yesterday, but that — that
boy
was skulking about, and even intruded upon us in the woods. You didn’t want any witnesses, as I recall.”

She gave Lorencz her coldest smile.

“Your Grace, you can’t think the girl means anything to me. The only woman with whom I am enamored is you.”

She detected fear in the way his scar turned pale. “Good. But your punishment for letting your eye wander is …” She leaned closer. “Why is it that everyone seems to like her?” She tapped her fingernail against her chin, deliberately drawing out the moment to see if he would squirm. Instead, he kept his face impassive. The only indication of his distress was the barely detectable rapid rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickened. He knew full well what she was capable of.

“She is an insipid little creature. I could break her in half with my bare hands. What do you see in her, dear huntsman?”

“Not me, Your Grace.” Lorencz smiled and shook his head, an attempt to look unconcerned. “She is nothing to me. You are the woman I think about, the one I dream about.”

“Very good.” She stepped forward and placed her hand under his chin, letting her fingernails glide along his skin, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “I am pleased to hear that. And now I have one thing I want you to do for me.”

“Anything, Your Grace.”

“As I told you before, I want you to kill Sophie. And I want you to do it
today
.”

He blinked several times, as if trying to hide his feelings and not look horrified, but she saw his repulsion.
Weakling
.

“Of course. How?”

She took her time answering him, savoring how his expression twisted with each moment. She had misjudged him. He had more of a conscience than she had given him credit for.

It was a pity.

There was no purpose in thinking up creative ways to kill the girl, as enjoyable as that would be. Now that it was time for Sophie to die, it would be done expediently.

“Take her into the woods. Tie her up and plunge a dagger into her heart. I don’t really care how you do it, just make sure it’s done without witnesses. Then bury her in the ground where no one can find her.” She poked him in the throat with her fingernail as she emphasized, “No one must find her.”

Lorencz’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”

She studied him, trying to see into his thoughts. She must have proof the girl was dead, but it had to be something no one else would recognize as belonging to Sophie. Duke Wilhelm would surely come digging around, and if he could find definitive proof of Gabe or the girl’s death, it would ruin everything.

She smiled at Lorencz and pressed all five fingernails of her right hand into his chest. “You will kill her … and you will bring back her heart … to me. If you fail me, you will die. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You may go.” She raised her brows and flicked her wrist at him.

Lorencz bowed his head and left.

Once she had evidence of the girl’s demise in her hands, she would taunt Gabe with it. Seeing how he was infatuated with her, it would be the perfect mode of torture, outdoing anything she’d previously imagined. Once he was sufficiently broken, she would poison him and let him die a slow, agonizing death as he realized the fairest beauty in the Holy Roman Empire, the girl he’d written songs about, was dead. And Duchess Ermengard would remind him it was because he’d thought Sophie was more beautiful than she. It was
all his fault
. Because he’d come snooping around when he should have stayed home.

She walked over to the mirror on the wall and stared at herself. She imagined Sophie standing beside her. The girl was younger, her skin was smoother, her smile more sincere, her eyes larger and brighter. Then she imagined Sophie’s eyes closed in death, her skin growing dark gray, then falling away until there was nothing left but a skull.

She laughed. No one could love the girl if she was dead — not Lorencz, not the servants, not even Duke Baldewin.

Sophie would no longer be the fairest.

As soon as Gabe woke up, he knew where he was. The smell of human waste and the damp, cold stone against his body made it quite clear.

His head throbbed. He touched his cheek and looked at his hand. Only a little blood. He pressed on his swollen cheekbone gingerly. He didn’t think the bone was broken.

He groaned as he sat up, resting his head in his hands. How would he get out of this?

God,
have I already ruined everything? I’ve barely been here a day and look at me
.

His mother always said his lack of caution would lead to trouble. It seemed she was more right than she knew. Sophie had warned him as well, but he’d thought she was overstating the duchess’s dangerous nature and volatility. After all, what reason did that woman have to imprison him?

Cruelty. Jealousy. She didn’t need a reason. She was insane.

The worst thing was that he could no longer help Sophie. How would he rescue her now?

He thought of his mother again and felt a stab of guilt, thinking about how sick with worry she must be. God,
please get me out of this
.

He was the irresponsible son, the one who sneaked away
with his friends when he was supposed to be studying. While Valten was practicing jousting and sword fighting, Gabe was pulling pranks on the old stable master, switching the horses in their stalls and painting white stars on all their foreheads. No wonder Valten’s gifts and standing so surpassed his own.
God, forgive me for grieving my mother
.

Guilt used to assault him every time his mother looked at him with concern — and sometimes disappointment — in her eyes. But he’d continued with his foolish behavior. The guilt hadn’t been enough to stop him.

He still remembered how devastated his mother had been when his sister Elsebeth drowned at three years old. They’d all been distraught, but his mother had cried for days without stopping. Her eyes, her whole face, became so puffy Gabe almost hadn’t recognized her. He’d been frightened by the depth of her grief, and he’d wondered if she would die too.