A Melanie Dickerson Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  As the moon rose and shone eerily down on the white world, she got up and limped to the door of her chamber. Perhaps she would go visit Magdalen.

  She stood undecided. Hegatha no doubt would give Avelina her disdainful look. And soon Magdalen would leave to go down to the Great Hall for the evening meal. She might try to convince Avelina to go down with her, as she had for the midday meal, and Avelina simply could not bear to face anyone after what had happened. Besides that, no one would welcome her presence, especially Lord Thornbeck, who said he never wanted to see her again.

  A sound came from the corridor, muff led by her closed door. It sounded like someone scratching against her door. Avelina hobbled to the door and opened it. Endlein was standing in the corridor, calling for her daughter, Annlin.

  “The men.” Endlein motioned toward the west wing and looked worried and confused. “I think they did something with Annlin.”

  “Men?”

  She gestured for Avelina to come closer. Avelina limped into the corridor. “You seem kind,” Endlein said. “Come with me. You will help me, won’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Avelina followed Endlein—slowly and with the woman holding to her elbow and helping her along—through the corridor toward the west wing.

  Avelina heard footsteps and voices as they neared the chamber where Lord Thornbeck’s brother had died. Endlein placed a finger to her lips and led Avelina in through an open doorway. They stood listening as footsteps approached, passed the doorway, and entered the room near the end of the corridor.

  Avelina peeked out, and when she did not see anyone, she walked up to the door where the voices were coming from and placed her ear up to the keyhole.

  “I brought you all here,” a man’s voice said, “because I fear Lord Thornbeck’s mind is addled. He has chosen a . . . servant girl . . . for his wife instead of one of our daughters. And there is still the suspicion that he is the one who caused the death of the previous margrave so he might take his place as lord of this region.”

  Who was speaking? Who would dare say these things?

  “He also is responsible for the lack of game in the forests of Thornbeck, the king’s forests, allowing poaching of the king’s own deer. His chancellor actually married the notorious poacher who was killing all the deer in Thornbeck Forest.”

  What? Odette was a poacher? That couldn’t be true, although she had seen Odette and Jorgen just after the wolf attack, with a faint memory of Lord Thornbeck instructing them to go after the wolves.

  Other men’s voices murmured, but nothing she could make out. Who else was there? She stuck her eye up to the keyhole but could only see the men’s backs.

  Someone said, “What do you propose we do? All of these things are only gossip, hearsay.”

  “We will capture the margrave, subdue his guards, and look into this gossip, as you call it.”

  She could hear the sneer in his voice. Her heart started pounding. Wouldn’t someone protest? But there was only silence.

  “I have brought my guards, knights, and soldiers with me to assist. We cannot allow any dissention of this sort. We must uphold our alliance to each other and the king, and ensure the safety and security of the Holy Roman Empire. We cannot allow sedition and murder to abound in Thornbeck. This is an important border and must be guarded. A margrave who intends to marry a servant and appoints a chancellor who consorts with a poacher—it is a disgrace.”

  Avelina listened, but again, no one protested what he was saying. No one spoke on behalf of Lord Thornbeck—the traitors!

  She had to open the door and see who was there, who was speaking against Lord Thornbeck, and who was going along with it. She had to warn Lord Thornbeck.

  “All of you must pledge your loyalty to me. You must tell your guards to join with mine in the fight against Thornbeck. He must be stopped. If you are loyal to our king, you must join me in this fight.”

  How dare he say such things? She pulled the iron door handle, as carefully as possible, while the men were talking. She opened the door just a crack and put one eye up to it.

  Geitbart stood in the middle of the group. Several noblemen who had come to take their daughters home were there, probably seven or eight men, though she could not see very well through the tiny crack. Her heart was pounding. If she was caught . . .

  “We are all agreed, then.” Geitbart was turning in her direction.

  Avelina stood and darted down the corridor toward an open door, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She hurried silently in her stockinged feet into the next room, but she was not sure Endlein was following.

  Behind her, men’s footsteps entered the corridor.

  “What are you doing here?” The men must have encountered Endlein standing in the corridor.

  “It is only the lack-witted woman Lord Thornbeck lets roam the castle—another reason to doubt his sanity.”

  They seemed to be ignoring Endlein and walking on by, as Avelina plastered herself against the wall inside the room so they wouldn’t see her.

  The men were soon gone, their footsteps growing fainter.

  Where would Lord Thornbeck be at this time of day? “Please let him not be in the Great Hall.” She didn’t want to face all those people.

  Endlein was staring at her.

  “Don’t tell anyone about those men and what they said.” Avelina looked into her eyes to make sure she understood. Those men would kill her if they thought she might tell someone what they were plotting.

  “Very well.” Endlein stared back at her with that vacant look.

  Avelina turned and took two steps before pain shot from her ankle up her leg, reminding her to walk slower.

  She limped, her heart still pounding, heading toward the stairs. Perhaps she should tell Magdalen so she was not the only one who knew of this treachery. The two of them could split up and find Lord Thornbeck faster.

  She limp-hopped through the long, winding corridor, making her way from the west wing to Magdalen’s door and knocked. She waited. Then she pushed the door open and called softly, “Magdalen. Magdalen, are you here?”

  No one answered, and there was no sound.

  Avelina closed the door and hurried away as fast as she could, painfully making her way down the stairs, holding on to the railing and walking down sideways, leading with her good foot.

  First she would try Lord Thornbeck’s library. If he was not there, she’d try the Great Hall, then the chapel. Then she’d risk asking someone for help. But if Geitbart was able to take over Thornbeck, they were all doomed. Avelina—and Lord Thornbeck—would be at Fronicka’s mercy. There would be nowhere to turn for help, like staring down into a deep ravine from a balcony with only a broken railing to hold on to.

  22

  REINHART PULLED HIS chair away from his desk and sat staring out the window at the snow-covered forest. From this secluded alcove behind a curtain, he was all but hidden from the rest of the library, should anyone come in to look for him. He should be in the Great Hall, feasting with his guests, but he was not in a festive mood. Let them feast without him.

  Because of the snow, all of his guests were staying at least one more night, in the hopes that the sun would burn away the clouds and melt the snow. But when should he send Avelina home? Should he wait until her ankle was better enough that she could walk on it? Or should he send her home tomorrow on a cart?

  His chest still ached every time he thought about her. But when an arrow had struck a warrior, he did not wait to pull it out. He immediately took hold of it and yanked it out. Just so, it was not wise to keep her here. He should send her away as soon as possible. The longer he waited, the more painful it would be.

  He would never do what his brother had done—ask for the love of a servant who was obligated to do as she was told. Never. But he had to admit, even though he was still very angry with her, Avelina could be a temptation to him.

  He still wanted her.

  And he was no closer to choosing a bride than he h
ad ever been.

  A shuffling sound came from near the door, then moved closer. A rat, perhaps. He would have to have the servants set some traps for it.

  “Lord Thornbeck?” someone called softly.

  This was the problem with having guests. One could never get any peace with so many people around.

  Reinhart carefully pulled the curtain back a bit to see who was there.

  “Lord Thornbeck? Are you in here?” It sounded like Avelina’s voice.

  He pulled the curtain back some more. She was turning to leave, limping on her injured ankle.

  He should just let her leave. She was nearly to the door.

  “What do you want?”

  She turned around. “Lord Thornbeck, forgive me, but I must speak with you.” She was still talking in a hushed tone. She limped toward him. When a bit of light fell across her face, he saw the urgency of her expression—or perhaps it was pain from her ankle that made her face so tense.

  He stood. “What is so important that you would walk on your injured ankle?”

  “I overheard . . . Are we alone?” She glanced around the room.

  He went toward her, struck with the irony of how similar her gait now was to his. “What did you overhear?”

  She looked up at him. “The Duke of Geitbart,” she whispered, “was talking to several of the noblemen in the west wing. He plans to capture and take over Thornbeck Castle.”

  Hadn’t she claimed Geitbart planned to do the same thing to Plimmwald? “Why would he say that? And what were you doing in the west wing?”

  “Endlein led me there. I suppose Geitbart was looking for a place where no one was around and where you would not hear of their private conversation. But he was telling the other men that you . . . that your mind was addled because you had chosen a servant to marry.”

  Heat rose into his face. “Yes, I suppose he would.”

  She looked away from him, and he imagined she was blushing—he couldn’t tell in the dark room. But she set her jaw and went on.

  “I wanted to warn you. If you do not wish to hear how they plan to attack you, I will go.”

  So, she had not lost her spirit.

  “You may go on.”

  “Geitbart mentioned the rumor that you had killed your brother, that you did not stop some recent poaching, and you allowed your chancellor to marry a notorious poacher. He told the men if they were loyal to the king, they should pledge their allegiance to Geitbart and join with him in capturing you and subduing your guards.”

  So that’s how it was. He had to act, and quickly.

  “Do your guards outnumber Geitbart’s?”

  The only region wealthier than Thornbeck was Geitbart. It was very likely the duke’s guards did outnumber his. And no doubt he would have built up his force by hiring every mercenary and stray knight, baron, and thief he could find as he planned for this. Reinhart’s best hope was to send word to the king and ask for help. But what if Geitbart had already poisoned the king against him as well?

  Surely the duke’s influence did not reach that high. If it did, then Reinhart’s cause was already hopeless.

  Avelina was staring up at him, waiting. There was such a look of trust and belief on her face. He imagined reaching out and caressing her cheek.

  “Did anyone see you? Do they know you heard them?”

  “Only Endlein was there with me. I was listening through the keyhole.”

  They stood in the middle of the library, neither of them speaking for several moments. “Avelina, will you do something for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Go to the kitchen, ask for Frau Schwitzer, and tell her I need her to find Sir Klas right away and have him come here to the library. I will wait for him here.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “No, wait. You have an injured ankle. I need someone fast.”

  “I will be fast, and I shall send a boy from the kitchen, someone who can run, to fetch Sir Klas.”

  “Very well.” He had little choice. He dragged his chair back to his desk. “But do find someone to send as soon as you can to—”

  But she was already to the door, hobbling faster than he might have imagined.

  He had obviously grown too trusting and complacent. He should have known something like this would happen sooner or later. He had trained for battle, then was relegated to a diplomatic role as margrave and permanently injured on the same day. Still, he knew what to do—if he could keep from getting captured by Geitbart.

  Avelina hurried as fast as she could toward the Great Hall, beyond which was the kitchen where a lot of pages and squires would be serving and going back and forth.

  She swept around the last corner before reaching the Great Hall and nearly ran into a young squire.

  “I need your help,” she told him. He could move much faster than she could.

  She lowered her voice, forcing herself not to look around and thereby seem suspicious and draw attention. “Lord Thornbeck wishes for Sir Klas to come to him in the library at once.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Apparently he had not heard that she was not a lady anymore.

  “I shall wait for you here.”

  She sat on a bench in the dark corridor and he hurried away. Her ankle was throbbing, and she lifted it onto the bench, propping her shoulder against the wall. The bandage on her ankle was turning red in two different spots. All the walking must have reopened the wounds.

  While she waited, she covered her face with her hands and prayed.

  After what seemed a long time, the squire returned. “I’m sorry, my lady, but I could not find Sir Klas. I asked another guard and he said he had not seen him all day.”

  Perhaps they had already captured Lord Thornbeck’s captain.

  “Very well, then.” She tried to smile and look as if nothing was amiss. Should she ask the boy to fetch another guard? She was risking him finding a guard who was not loyal to the margrave, but Lord Thornbeck needed help.

  “Will you fetch one of Lord Thornbeck’s guards and tell him the margrave needs to speak to him in his library?”

  The boy stared at her a moment, then nodded and ran in the other direction.

  Avelina sighed. If only she didn’t have this frustrating injury. Perhaps she could help the margrave. She could spy for him and discover Geitbart’s devious plans. She could redeem herself in his eyes and he would not think entirely ill of her when she had to go away.

  She pushed herself up off the bench and started walking. Her ankle hurt more than ever, pain stabbing her like knives. She limped slowly, biting her lip as she shuffled toward the staircase. Painfully, she made her way up the steps and to Lord Thornbeck’s library.

  “Did you find Sir Klas?” He stood up from his desk. He was waving a letter in the air to dry the hot wax he’d just sealed it with.

  “No. I sent a squire to find him, and he said no one had seen him.”

  Lord Thornbeck grimaced.

  “But I told him to go fetch another guard and tell him you wanted to see him in the library. Was I right to do that?”

  He nodded, staring at the wall.

  Avelina found a stool and sat down. She would rest a moment and then go back to her room. Her ankle was throbbing terribly.

  A guard suddenly entered the room. “Lord Thornbeck.” He paused to bow.

  “Sheinlin. Take this missive to the king. It is very urgent that you not let anything deter you. This letter must find its way to King Karl.”

  “In Prague, my lord?”

  “Yes, as far as I know, the king is at his home. Here is some money. Change horses as often as you need to, but get this letter to the king as quickly as possible. And it is equally important that no one know of this. You must not even tell your fellow knights where you are going or what you are doing.”

  “Yes, my lord. I shall succeed.” The guard turned and strode quickly from the room, barely giving Avelina a glance as he passed.

  Lord Thornbeck stared down at the floor while leaning
on his cane. Avelina stood, planning to slip quietly out of the room. She was limping heavily now.

  “Wait.”

  She turned. Lord Thornbeck stared at her with brows drawn together in that severe look of his.

  “Sit down. I’ll find a servant or guard to carry you back to your bed.”

  “But first—is there anything else I can do?”

  He sighed. “I need to get word to Chancellor Jorgen. He will have to send letters to round up enough of my allies and soldiers from town and the outlying areas to fight.”

  “Perhaps I can go fetch him.” Avelina started to stand.

  “Sit.”

  She sat.

  He went into the hallway and called out to a servant. He came back in and said, “Let me see your ankle.”

  She gazed up at him. He did not look as if he’d accept any sort of argument, so she carefully inched her skirt up to reveal the bandage. She flinched at the amount of bright-red blood soaking her bandage.

  For a long moment Lord Thornbeck did not say anything. She glanced up at him.

  “I should not have allowed you to go down the stairs and back up again. I shall send for the healer.”

  “My lord, do not trouble yourself. All I need is a bandage change.”

  “I shall send Frau Schwitzer to see to it.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  A guard came into the room.

  “Carry her to her room, then ask Frau Schwitzer to see to her wounds.”

  The guard lifted her in his arms and carried her out.

  Lord Thornbeck did care for her a little or he would not have saved her from the wolves and looked so regretful when he saw her bloody bandage. But it only made her heart ache for what might have been, how much more he would have cared if she had been an earl’s daughter.

  “Avelina!” Someone called from behind. Magdalen hurried toward her to keep up with the fast-moving guard. “Why are you out of bed?”

  “I have to tell you something,” she said quietly, “when we get to my room.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence until they were in Avelina’s room and the guard had left.

  While Magdalen pulled a chair up to her bedside, Avelina told her what she’d heard Geitbart say.