The Maid of Chateau Winslow

by Pippa J Frost

  His praise sent a wave of warmth through me. “I’m a quick study.”

  “Then that makes me a good teacher.” A smug grin creased his face. His eyes gleamed blue against the backdrop of crystalline snow-covered branches and fallen brushwood.

  “I suppose it would.” I laughed, and the forest echoed my merriment. “What are you doing out here?”

  He tapped the bow and quiver strapped to his shoulder. “I stopped by your homestead to see if you’d join me on a hunt. Finding you absent, I noticed fresh tracks in the snow and followed you here.”

  “Has Orell returned?”

  Hardness crept into his eyes. “I saw no sign of him. Lucky for him.”

  “He’s been gone for a few days, and it leaves me to wonder what he is up to.”

  He studied me. “Surely you don’t long for his return.”

  “The cottage seems almost peaceful when he’s gone,” I said with more honesty than I should reveal, but somehow Nisse had always put me at ease.

  “Let’s not let Orell steal the joy of the day.” An ebullient smile broke over his face. “Let’s find meat for your table.”

  “I’m capable—”

  “I know. You’re capable of taking care of yourself. I can see that,” he said. “Tell me, Valentina, is it so absurd for people who care about you to want to help?”

  Care? My heart skipped a beat. “I appreciate your consideration,” I said.

  “You always were stubborn, even as a young girl.”

  “Stubbornness keeps me alive.” I poked him in the chest with the bow and walked past him.

  “There is truth in that, but it may be to your detriment, too.” I heard his footsteps breaking through the snow behind me.

  “Have you come to school me?” I turned to look at him. He didn’t stop until he was almost on top of me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the earthmen dart to find cover behind a cluster of young saplings. Nisse’s closeness put their presence far from my mind as he stood regarding me in a way I’d never seen him do before.

  His expression sober, he said, “There’s no child to school.”

  Goose pimples rose on my flesh as I searched his eyes for meaning. Did he see the woman I’d become? “If you intend to join me for the rest of the hunt, I suggest you try to keep up.” I pulled myself from his enchantment and trudged on.

  His chuckle lifted, and I smiled at the delightful sound.

  It was late afternoon by the time we sat down on a ridge to eat the bündnerfleisch, cheese, and bread he’d brought. Hunger knocked at my ribs, but I forced myself to savor each bite of the dried meat. Besides the hare and the squirrel on my tether, we had spotted no other signs of life.

  “I remember when these woods were filled with life.” Nisse jutted his chin at the meadow below.

  “Something has changed. It started after my parents disappeared. I found blood trails but no carcasses. Then seasons passed, and spring after spring, no new life was seen. With no signs of reproduction and the older animals being hunted for food, one comes to wonder if there’s truth in the villagers’ chatter.”

  “So you give heed to the tales?” he asked.

  “I recall a few years back when a hunter rode into the village, claiming to have seen the beast. He was terrified, and to this day, Signor Agosti refuses to enter these woodlands.” I remembered Signor Agosti’s face: eyes wide, sweat pearling his brow, teeth chattering from the shaking of his body as he recounted his story. “Animal life is disappearing. I haven’t seen a red deer in years, and sightings of brown bears and ibexes are rare.”

  “Vater wrote of his concerns and it’s the reason I’ve returned. Maybe it’s time we followed the others heading to North America to seek work. I saw an advertisement of steamship passage that will take people across the Atlantic from Le Havre.”

  My stomach clenched. “You would leave?”

  “What choice do families have? There’s no work, the hunting grounds are barren, and I have Vater to think of. Business is slow, and with his condition the doctor says a warmer climate may help.”

  The thought of never seeing him again carved a vast ache inside of me. “But the condition the council offers is enough reason to stay.” I’d heard talk of the emigration subsidy offered by the council, hoping to end the economic recession that had plagued our country for years. If a person took the subsidy, they agreed to never return to Europe, and if they returned, they had to reimburse the subsidy with added annual interest calculated from the day it was awarded.

  He twisted to look at me. “Do I sense you wouldn’t be pleased if we left?”

  “No.” I glanced down at the bread in my cold fingers. “What I mean to say is, you’d be missed. A friendly face is always welcome. Your vater has been good to me.” Coward, I rebuked myself. Say you’d miss him too.

  “We should go before our bodies turn to frozen statues on this ridge.” He stood and offered a hand to me. I took it, and he pulled me up. Our chests met, and we stood unmoving, my hand, small and insignificant, in his. He pressed our hands to his chest, then lifted his other and captured the side of my face with his palm. His thumb stroked my jaw, then slowly he lowered his face and kissed my cheek. Before he lifted his head to search my face with his eyes, a charming smile touched his lips. “Let us go, little one.”

  Weeks had passed since the day in the forest. I removed the iron pot of bündner gerstensuppe from the fireplace and placed it in the center of the small plank table. Pressing my palms on the table, I stared down into the steaming pot of meatless soup. My stomach rumbled and burned with hunger, but no meat would ease our need that night. I considered sneaking a spoonful before Orell returned home, but the pounding of horses’ hooves drew me to the window. Drunken laughter and singing pierced the quiet of the night and sent a tremor scurrying through me.

  Orell sat on a horse behind Helias, the son of a wealthy factory owner. Helias’s vater had never been particularly fond of his son’s choice in friends. And though I assumed other girls would consider Helias an excellent catch, even husband-worthy, I did not. He was an ogre to the highest degree, and I believed that was what forged Orell’s and his friendship.

  Orell’s usual companions, Maël and Lorik, arrived in a flatbed wagon. The lewd stares and vulgarity I had endured at the hands of these men knotted my stomach. I moved away from the window and picked up the blade lying on the table and tucked it into the pocket of my apron. I removed bowls from the shelf over the fireplace, the shaking of my hands making them rattle, and arranged them on the table for our guests. Inwardly I rebuked Orell for bringing his friends when we had scarcely enough to feed ourselves.

  The door swung open, and I pulled my shawl tighter against the bite of winter that swept through the cottage. Light poured over the hearthstone and cast the men’s silhouettes across the floor like dancing puppets. I tried to calm my mounting anxiety.

  “Aren’t you a lovely sight on this winter night?” Helias pushed by the men and strode into the room. Cloaked in exquisitely woven wool-silk garments, his dark hair trimmed and his face clean-shaven, he carried himself with unyielding pride. Unlike Orell, Helias could handle his liquor, but its effect gleamed in his wandering eyes.

  I turned and busied myself with gathering utensils. “Sit,” I said in the sternest tone I could muster.

  Arms grabbed me around the waist, and I screeched and whirled around. I stood facing Helias, who pressed me tight against his chest. I looked over his shoulder at Orell, imploring him with my eyes for help.

  “Valentina may be beautiful, but she’s a bore,” Orell said with a dismissive wave. “Always a do-gooder and responsible. Much too boring for a man of your taste.”

  Helias’s gaze lingered on my mouth, his desire evident in the way his breath caught. “A man requires a woman with all the qualities you possess. Women of the night will bring a man all the excitement he needs for the moment. But they don’t know the first thing about managing a home.” He stroked my cheek with the backs of his fin
gers. “So delicate, yet strong,” he said with a groan. “You will be pleased to know, my sweet, that I’ve offered your brother a handsome dowry for your hand in marriage.”

  “Shouldn’t Orell be paying you the dowry?” Maël interjected in his high-pitched voice, then crowed with laughter, neck bobbing, like a rooster.

  “He has nothing to give,” Lorik thundered, jiggling with merriment.

  Orell scowled at him and slapped him on the back of the head. “You about rattled my teeth down my throat,” Lorik whined.

  “Ain’t got much left to lose,” Orell said.

  “I will have Valentina, and Orell will ensure she does as she’s told,” Helias said.

  “I will not marry you, or any of you lot!” I pounded his chest with my fist and fought to escape his hold—which only intensified Helias’s lust. The men yelped, finding pleasure in my struggle. Again I looked to Orell, who stood with arms folded across his chest, reveling in his friends’ taunting.

  Helias tossed me at Lorik, who caught me and grasped two handfuls of my backside before sending me into the arms of Maël.

  “Let me have a go at her.” Maël licked his lips, smelling of sweat and alcohol, and lowered his head to sniff deeply at my throat. Fear paralyzed my limbs. A gleam of ecstasy surfaced in his beady eyes as he lifted his gaze to meet mine.

  “Give her here.” Helias’s tone dripped with agitation as he quickly grew bored with the game of cat and mouse.

  “Don’t go getting all up in arms. She’s fair game.” Maël twirled me out of his arms and shoved me forward. Helias snatched me possessively in his grip, leaving me gasping for air. He forced wet kisses on my cheeks, lips, and neck.

  No, stop, my mind screamed. I remembered the blade in the pocket of my apron and tried to free my arm to retrieve it, but Orell had become jaded with the lack of attention from his friends.

  “All right. Enough!” His bellow startled us all.

  Pain ricocheted in my skull, and my hand froze on the concealed weapon.

  “Let us eat,” Orell said with impatience. Dropping into a chair at the table, he gestured to the men. “Sit.”

  Lorik gulped as Maël closed his gaping mouth, and both hurried to comply.

  Helias leaned close, undeterred by Orell’s demands, and whispered in my ear, “You will be mine.” He stepped back with a smirk, his dark eyes confident, then pivoted and took a seat on the opposite end of the table from my brother.

  I was shaken to my core. I couldn’t do this anymore. The piece of parchment hidden under the straw mattress in my bedroom stroked my memory. What if…? I chewed on the inside of my mouth, not daring to look at my brother.

  “Woman, must we wait all night?” Orell smacked his palm on the table.

  Silently, I walked to his side and ladled soup into his bowl.

  He moved the contents around with his spoon. “What is this slop?”

  “There’s no meat,” I said. I was too scared to antagonize him, though everything within me wanted to smash his face into the hot broth.

  “Did you not make coin at the market?”

  “A little, but I had to buy feed for the animals.”

  “You foolish wench!” He struck me across the face.

  Dropping the ladle, I bit down hard to keep from crying out and lifted a hand to cradle my cheek.

  “We will dine on goat tomorrow. Now go. Feed my friends and apologize for the pitiful meal you serve.”

  I bristled as I moved around the table, filling each bowl as instructed.

  Soon the men’s conversation turned to the recent robberies. Helias’s vater would be outraged to hear of his son’s transgressions. The Rechisteiner family had more than enough money to satisfy Helias’s greatest desires. But the rogue in him couldn’t be satisfied with any amount of his vater’s wealth.

  As he ate each mouthful, his eyes followed me. After a few moments, he said, “Orell, I do not wish to wait.” The seriousness in his tone stopped the conversation, and all eyes turned to him. “You’ll see that she’s delivered to my household in the morning.”

  My hand froze in midair, and the pounding in my chest intensified as the men gawked at Helias.

  “But, your vater?” Orell sputtered, sending bits of soup across the table. “He won’t approve of such a lowly marriage. I do not seek to be the recipient of his vengeance.”

  “You let me handle him. I will have your sister and end the games she plays with me.”

  “What games? I’ve done nothing to gain your attention,” I said, tears constricting my throat.

  Helias’s eyes glittered with an unnerving desire. “The sashay of your hips and your coquettish, downcast eyes aren’t your ploy to be taken? Come now, Valentina. We’ve all witnessed your desire to be mounted.”

  “No! It isn’t true.” Tears tattered my voice at his vulgarity. I looked at my brother. “Orell, please, you must remove these men from our home. For my honor, you must—”

  “Silence!” Orell lifted a hand. “I grow tired of your whining, sister.”

  A quiet fell over the room.

  “What’s your offer?” Helias had captured Orell’s full attention. Greed flashed in my brother’s eyes.

  Helias rolled back his broad shoulders and rested a hand on his thigh. “Five horses, three cows, and a small chest of gold should be fitting for a woman of your sister’s beauty.”

  “That’s hardly suitable,” Orell said. “She’s my only sister and I’ve no more to wager.”

  “It will take me months to fatten her up. A heap of bones will hardly keep a man’s bed warm on these dreary winter nights. I will not give you an ounce more,” Helias said.

  Orell lowered his gaze to search for an answer in the bottom of his wooden bowl. I stood, pleading for him to look at me, but he did not. He regarded Helias with a hard stare. “Very well. I seek to be rid of her. I will deliver her to your estate by noon.”

  Helias grinned. “I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses. Go get the drink from the wagon,” he said to Lorik. “This arrangement requires a celebration.”

  Lorik scraped back his chair and sprang to his feet like a dog obeying his master. He disappeared outside and returned moments later with a keg of ale balanced on his shoulder.

  Orell rose and strode around the table and thrust an open hand toward Helias. “Let us drink, brother.”

  The men’s inebriated gaiety carried on long after I’d escaped to my room. Fully clothed, I lay under the covers on my bed with my eyes pinned to the door, too afraid to sleep. Like an animal in heat, Helias’s lust had evolved with each of our encounters, and I’d wondered how long I could evade him. But that was out of my hands now. Orell had seen to it. Offering me up as a wife to satisfy his greed, as if I were only property. I touched the tenderness on my cheekbone, and relentless tears cascaded from my eyes to sink into the burlap cloth of my mattress. Forced into a loveless marriage to Helias…I’d die first!

  When the men’s snores eventually rose and a chill crept throughout the cottage, I threw back the covers and retrieved my cape. I wrapped it around my shoulders and tied the ribbons before slipping my feet into fur moccasins. Then I removed the slip of parchment and a red ribbon that had belonged to my mutter from under my mattress, gently rubbing the strip of fabric between two fingers and kissing it before putting on my mittens, tucking the last piece of my mutter within the warmth of my hand and the wool. I folded the paper and placed it in the leather pocketbook strapped to my chest.

  Lifting the hood of my cape, I crept to the door and gripped the handle. I slowly pulled it open, halting when the hinges squeaked loudly and someone stirred in the main room. I peered anxiously through the narrow gap and my heart jumped into my throat when one man sat up and mumbled something inaudible. I pressed myself against the chamber wall, listening for footsteps. When none came, I peeked into the main room and saw the man again splayed out on the floor. I couldn’t risk waiting any longer. Treading lightly across the floor, I moved to the outer door and
reached for the handle.

  My hand rested there as I took one last look around the cottage, gathering the memories of my mutter and searing them into my mind. A sob swelled in my throat, but the dark, bulky form of Orell slumped over the table, his back to the low fire, squelched such emotion. There had been a time in my early childhood when I’d been enthused by everything my brother did. I’d loved him then. But the day in the meadow when he’d bound me to a tree and forced me to watch him torture an injured fawn had opened my eyes to what lay within him. When I told Mutter what I’d witnessed she’d tried to punish him, but he’d overpowered her. That was the first time I saw fear of Orell register in her eyes. Naively I’d thought it was after that day that we’d come to loathe each other, but now, at two and twenty, I understood that he’d hated me since the first day I drew breath.

  In the faint glow of the fire, his hair gleamed like threads of gold. He was all I had left in the world. With that knowledge I opened the door wide enough to squeeze through and slipped out, closing it silently behind me.

  Overhead the master of the night, a luminous globe of light, stood proudly with an army of knights adorned in twinkling armor stretching across the dark velvet sky. I’d count on their radiance to guide me. The need to be free of Orell pumped fiercely in my chest as I raced toward the barn with the moonlight chasing my back.

  Inside, I lit the lantern and hurried to bridle and saddle the horse. I swung onto the mare’s back, but as I was about to take off the cow let out a deep, pitiful bellow. I glanced at the open doors, feeling the need to escape as a palpable thing. I looked over my shoulder at the cow and grappled with the decision for a moment before dismounting and moving the horse over to the wagon. With the threat of Orell and his friends waking spurring me on, I hastily readied the wagon and hung a lantern on the lamppost.

  I entered the cow’s stall, looped a rope around her neck, and dug my heels in to pull and urge her out. After securing the cow to the back of the wagon, I returned for the goat and put her on the floor of the driver’s seat, then went back for the hens. I raced around the pen, cringing at the flurry of clucking that threatened to rouse the men from their slumber. I had to leave, and leave now. Snatching one hen at a time, I pushed them into a wire cage, lunging for the last elusive hen and catching her by the legs. She squawked and flapped her wings in sheer panic. “It’s for the best, Luzey, you’ll see,” I whispered, wrestling the ornery hen into the cage.