The Captive Maiden Read online

  Perhaps he thought she was pretty. Many people had told her she was, and perhaps he liked talking about horses with her. He also seemed grateful that she had found the water hemlock in Sieger’s food. He’d said she saved his horse’s life. When he found out she was little more than a servant, however, he would realize his mistake in wearing her colors.

  The voice in her head taunted, “Perhaps he is only grateful to you for saving his horse. He feels sorry for you because he saw how badly your stepmother and stepsisters treat you. He’s being kind to you out of gratitude … and pity.”

  She wanted so much to believe that he had felt the same thing she felt when she was with him. His eyes softened when he looked at her. There was something in their interactions, a camaraderie that Gisela only felt with a few of her friends. But there was also an attraction, like a magnet drawing metal, creating a spark that she could feel in the air between them when he was near.

  Cristyne was looking back and forth, from Valten out on the lists to Gisela beside her. “Ohhh,” she sighed. “I am sitting beside the lady-love of Valten, Lord Hamlin, the next Duke of Hagenheim.”

  Gisela snorted — an unladylike sound — before she could stop herself. “He never called me his lady-love. I barely know him.”

  “We shall see.” Cristyne winked.

  Valten jousted with another young local who had been knighted only recently. In their first encounter, the other knight dropped his lance. Valten, in the spirit of chivalry, didn’t strike him, but held his lance aloft. In the second encounter, he missed Valten’s shield altogether, while Valten struck the young knight’s shield so solid a blow, he fell to the ground with a mighty crash.

  The crowd cheered both Valten’s skill and his gallantry.

  As Valten waited for his next opponent, Gisela heard the two maidens seated just below her talking in low voices. The curly haired brunette said, “Whose scarf do you think Lord Hamlin is wearing? Is it anyone we know?”

  “I’ve no notion who it could be,” the one with the horned headdress answered. She looked behind her friend and up at where Rainhilda was seated. “Sir Edgar’s daughter isn’t wearing blue.” They both began looking around, searching the section around the Queen of Beauty and Love’s throne. No doubt they were searching for someone dressed in the same sapphire shade.

  Many girls around Gisela and Cristyne were talking intently with their heads together, and a few were staring wonderingly at her. Gisela’s face heated again. She faced forward, keeping her gaze on Valten. Though she couldn’t see any part of his face, not even his eyes because of his helmet, his head was turned toward her as he sat on his horse.

  His final opponent came out, Sir John de Lacy from England. His armor was golden and etched with black designs. Sir John was renowned throughout the world as a great tournament champion. Even Gisela had heard of him. She clasped her hands in her lap, praying Valten would defeat him.

  The Englishman’s black horse snorted and stamped his feet from his place at the other end of the lists. Valten and Sieger waited in perfect stillness until the marshal dropped his flag. Both horses charged forward, and both lances struck the shield of the other knight and shattered into pieces. The black and gold knight didn’t waver in the saddle, but seemed to withstand the blow as if it were nothing.

  The knights’ squires brought them new blunt-tipped lances. Gisela clamped her hands over her mouth as she watched them ready themselves for their second encounter.

  When the two destriers charged forward, both knights aimed their lances at the other’s helmet. They both hit their mark. Valten’s head was knocked sharply to the side by the English knight’s lance, and Valten’s lance knocked Sir John backward, almost unhorsing him, but he kept his seat.

  The two knights went back to their places. The black and gold knight kept moving his head side to side, as if trying to shake something off. He called one of the marshals over, apparently to ask for some time. He spoke to his squire, who ran off and then came back with a new helmet. It took him several minutes to remove the earl’s helm and replace it with the new, identical one. Meanwhile, Valten and Sieger stood still and waited.

  Gisela’s fingers began to go numb from being clasped too tightly. She let go and pressed them hard against her lips as the marshal raised his flag. Squinting so she couldn’t see the marshal, she focused instead on Valten, praying fervently that he would emerge unscathed from the final encounter.

  He’d already faced so many knights. How could he win against them all? He was only human. Valten was surely tired by this time from the many jousts he’d fought, while this knight had only faced one other opponent all day.

  They all wanted to face Valten, looking to distinguish themselves by defeating the mighty Earl of Hamlin, the knight who had won more tournaments than any other.

  Finally, Valten and his horse—as if they were one being instead of two—leaped forward across the tournament field toward their opponent. Gisela forced herself to watch as they once again aimed their lances at the other’s helmet.

  The impact was ferocious. But Valten kept both his helmet and his saddle, and splintered his lance on Sir John’s helm. But that knight did not fare so well. He ended up on the ground, and he lay perfectly still.

  The crowd cheered. Valten’s victory was indisputable, as the black and gold knight’s attendants had to come and assist him off the field. Valten was undeniably the winner of the tournament and would be awarded the prize, as well as the honor of choosing the Queen of Beauty and Love, who would subsequently reign over tonight’s banquet and tomorrow’s tournament activities.

  The thought of watching Valten fighting hand to hand the next day with these other knights made her stomach churn. But this was what men did; they enjoyed the sport of pounding each other. And as long as they used blunted weapons and full body armor, it was less likely they would kill each other. Fighting a war would have been much more dangerous.

  There was a flourish of trumpets as the day’s tournament activities came to an end. Many of the other knights came back out on the field in full armor to wave their banners and be recognized. But Friedric Ruexner was conspicuously absent.

  After the parade of knights, Duke Wilhelm called for his son to come forth. Valten rode over to the opposite side of the lists from Gisela, where the duke and his family were seated in the north gallery.

  Duke Wilhelm stood and declared, “The victor of today’s jousting event is … Valten Gerstenberg, Earl of Hamlin.”

  Valten opened both his visor and bevor so that his face was visible as he listened to his father.

  “He has conducted himself with honor and valor, and succeeded in defeating all opponents,” Duke Wilhelm declared in a loud voice, his words clear and precise. “It is now time for the victor to exercise his rightful privilege of choosing for us our Queen of Beauty and Love, whom, for the duration of this tournament, we are duty bound to honor and obey.”

  With those words, he placed a circlet of vines and flowers on the end of Valten’s lance.

  Gisela’s stomach tied itself into a knot as Valten slowly walked his horse to the south gallery, where the fair maidens were sitting. A hush fell over the crowd, and Cristyne sat stiff and straight by her side, her mouth open slightly as she seemed to be holding her breath. Gisela concentrated on looking as calm and dignified as possible.

  Instead of pacing to and fro in front of the section of fair maidens, as he might have done, Valten guided his horse straight toward Gisela. Did he really mean to pick her? It felt like a dream, not real at all, as Valten made his way to her, lifted his lance over the barrier, and laid the circlet at Gisela’s feet.

  Every eye was on her, including her stepmother’s and stepsisters’, she thought absently. But Gisela only had eyes for Valten.

  Valten’s squire ran forward and took off his helmet, then took his lance. Valten dismounted — very nimbly for a man clad in so much armor—and made his way up the gallery steps. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. He fell
to one knee before Gisela, and it was as if they were the only two people at the tournament.

  Valten picked up the circlet and placed it on her head.

  Beads of sweat had tracked lines through the dust on his face. A new trickle of blood was seeping down his cheek from his left eye again, as his cut had reopened. But even in his disheveled state, she was sure she had never seen anyone more masculine and handsome. His gray-green eyes fixed her with a gaze that was for her alone.

  Her heart pounded. The tournament champion was supposed to give the Queen of Beauty and Love a kiss. Surely he wouldn’t truly kiss her, not on the lips. But the way he was looking at her, she was not sure at all.

  “My queen.” He bowed his head and took her hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

  He rose from his knee and held out his arm to her. She placed her hand on his forearm, on top of her own scarf, which was still tied there. Their eyes remained locked on each other.

  The crowd erupted in cheers and shouts, a roar that filled Gisela’s ears but didn’t make the moment feel any more real. She felt as if she was floating, as if the world around her was misty and indistinct. This moment was a dream, and though she stood, her feet didn’t touch the ground.

  Valten started down the steps, and somehow Gisela managed to walk down beside him. The next thing she knew, there was a horse in front of her, a beautiful white mare with flowers braided into her mane and a sidesaddle on her back. Valten placed his hands around Gisela’s waist and lifted her onto the horse as easily as if she were a child. He mounted his own horse, and they made their way toward the castle.

  The cheering crowds made way for them, parting and throwing flowers onto the road in front of them.

  She spent most of her time looking at Valten, and he didn’t seem to mind, since he was mostly looking at her, especially as they left the crowd behind and descended the gentle hill to the Hagenheim entry gate. But for one moment, maybe two, she wondered what her stepmother would think, and pictured the look on her face at seeing Valten crown Gisela the Queen of Beauty and Love.

  Chapter

  9

  Valten’s mother and sisters took her into their care once they arrived at the castle, while Valten went to take a bath, or “to make himself more presentable,” as Lady Rose explained it.

  Valten’s sisters, Margaretha and Kirstyn, were Irma and Contzel’s opposites. They were warm and friendly, smiling and kind from the moment they greeted her when she arrived in the Great Hall, which was still empty except for the duke and his family and the servants who were busy running to and fro.

  Margaretha took her arm and led her to a prominent seat at the duke’s own table on the raised dais. “You must be tired and thirsty.” Margaretha was a lovely girl, and Gisela secretly hoped they would become friends, as Margaretha appeared to be only a little younger than Gisela.

  Immediately, a servant stood at her elbow offering her a tankard.

  “Thank you.” Gisela took a sip of something fruity and slightly sweet. She rarely drank anything except water, and the occasional water-and-wine at her neighbor Ava’s home. This was something different, but she liked it, and took a long drink.

  She looked up from the rim of her cup to see Margaretha smiling at her. “Do you know that everyone is talking about you, saying how beautiful you are? And everyone is wondering who you are. No one seems to know your name. Does Valten know you? Are you and Valten sweethearts?”

  “You shouldn’t ask so many questions.” Kirstyn frowned at Margaretha and moved closer. Valten’s second sister looked to be about fourteen years old, not as tall as Margaretha, and with lighter hair.

  Kirstyn looked sympathetically at Gisela. “If you let her, Margaretha will talk you to death. But we love her anyway.”

  Margaretha smiled. “I do talk too much. It’s my worst fault. At least, I hope it is, because I know sometimes we never realize our faults, while they’re glaringly obvious to everyone else.” She raised her eyebrows at Kirstyn, then turned back to Gisela. “Do you know what I mean?”

  Gisela smiled back at her. “I do.”

  “Shall we try to guess your name?” Margaretha went on. “Perhaps it is Gertrude. Or Elsa?”

  “Close. It is Gisela.”

  “That is a lovely name, and it suits you perfectly. I’m surprised I didn’t guess it.” Margaretha clasped her hands over her heart.

  “Very lovely,” Kirstyn agreed.

  After speaking to a couple of servants at the other end of the Great Hall, Lady Rose joined them. She laid a gentle hand on Gisela’s arm. “We are so pleased to have you join us tonight for the banquet. If there is anything you wish, anything at all, you have only to tell us. And tomorrow it will be the same.”

  “Thank you.”

  Valten’s mother smiled so kindly, Gisela felt a strange yearning in her heart, and a sudden panic that these people would not treat her so well if they knew who she truly was — a girl without family, and certainly not a wealthy noble, which was the only kind of bride Valten, as a future duke, would take. Perhaps she should go ahead and tell them to avoid any future disappointment.

  The banquet guests began to enter the Great Hall. The room became noisy as the people took their seats.

  Gisela saw the moment Evfemia, Irma, and Contzel entered through the door. Evfemia fixed her gaze on Gisela, her expression as sly and calculating as any fox. She and her two daughters sat where they’d have a clear view of Gisela, but at a lower table too far away for them to speak to her.

  Gisela tried to ignore them. What might they do or say to try to destroy her night? She tried to believe they couldn’t do anything, but she’d made the mistake of underestimating them before. They had ruined friendships in the past, out of jealousy, and there was no knowing what they might do to ruin her in the eyes of Valten and his family.

  Even worse than the cold anger and scheming looks of her stepmother and stepsisters was Rainhilda’s amused derision. The resplendently dressed knight’s daughter sat at the upper dais with her mother and a younger cousin, across the table, not far from Gisela. Rainhilda smirked until Gisela met her gaze. Then Rainhilda whispered in her cousin’s ear. They broke into raucous giggles, shooting glances first at Gisela, then turning around and catching Irma’s eye.

  Gisela gritted her teeth and pretended not to notice them. She certainly wasn’t dressed as extravagantly as Rainhilda, but their treatment of her only made her lift her head higher and determine not to behave as though she was any less than any other maiden in the room. We shall see what is more important to Valten and his family, whether it be fine clothes and social status, or … what Gisela had. She wasn’t sure what that was, but if Valten valued sincerity over pride and malice, then Gisela wouldn’t have to behave haughtily to win Valten’s heart.

  She refused to compare herself to Rainhilda. Gisela would enjoy this night, this banquet, sitting with Valten’s sisters, and being chosen by Valten. She would squeeze every bit of joy out of this banquet, because her stepmother would make her pay dearly for every moment of it as soon as she got her home.

  Margaretha asked, “Have you and Valten met before today?”

  Gisela didn’t mind telling Margaretha the story of Valten coming to her rescue in the street when Friedric Ruexner was harassing her. While Lady Rose and Kirstyn leaned in to listen, she told how they had gone to the stables and how much Gisela had enjoyed seeing the horses.

  The subject of horses sent Margaretha on a long discourse on the animal. “Horses are very loyal, I have found, and they seem to have a sense about them, an understanding that tells them if a person is good or bad. They will shy away from an angry person, and yet they are drawn to a kind person. They never forget someone they love, and they will recognize people even after not seeing them for years. Did you know that?”

  “Horses are intelligent creatures.”

  “My youngest sister, Adela, is afraid of horses and won’t go near them, but I love my mare.”

  Gisela
and Margaretha continued talking about horses as the servants began bringing out the first course of the meal and filling all the guests’ goblets with wine, including an extra goblet beside Gisela.

  Lady Rose seemed to notice her looking at the goblet. “That is for Valten. He will sit next to you and should be here soon. Actually, there he is.” Her face lit up as she focused on someone behind Gisela.

  Gisela looked over her shoulder. Valten strode toward her, now dressed in a green doublet, white shirt, and black hose. He looked clean and a bit pale, making the black stitches over his eye more noticeable. He had not shaved, and the light brown stubble made him look even more rugged than usual.

  She tried to appear regal and relaxed while refusing to look at Rainhilda. God, help me not to disgrace the one who has chosen me.

  Valten stepped over the bench and sat down beside Gisela. He looked at her and almost smiled — that softening of his expression. Gisela smiled back.

  Just then, Duke Wilhelm stood where he had been sitting at the head of the table. The room gradually grew quiet.

  “Thank you all for accepting our invitation to this banquet. Lady Rose and I are happy to honor our brave knights who have taken part in the competition of this, our first Hagenheim tournament.”

  The guests cheered almost as tumultuously as they had at the lists earlier in the day. At that moment, Gisela’s eye caught Friedric Ruexner’s, who was sitting at a lower table with several other knights. He was scowling at Valten in a way that sent a shiver down her back. His gaze then shifted to Gisela, and he gave her a lecherous leer, kissed his two fingers, then raised them in a sort of salute to her. She shuddered and quickly looked at Valten, not realizing she was leaning toward him until her shoulder touched his. He looked from his father to Gisela. She felt instantly safer.

  Duke Wilhelm raised his hand to quiet the crowd. “Lift your cup in deference to our tournament sovereign, Gisela” — Duke Wilhelm lifted his goblet high in the air — “the Queen of Beauty and Love.” He reached out to her.