The Fairest Beauty Read online

  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.

  Chapter 6

  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 re
main 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?

  “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?”