Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “A-ha!” he yelled, then sagged forward.

  Margaretha grabbed his shoulders and pushed, to keep him from falling to the floor on his face. Once she had him more upright and balanced than not, she asked, “What is ‘a-ha’?”

  “You think I am not able to go to him . . . to speak to him.” He was huffing, as if it was taking all his strength simply to talk and breathe. “But I am . . . full able.”

  “Ja, klar. Of course, of course.” She pulled his arm over her shoulder, taking much of his weight upon herself, and slowly turned him back toward the bed. He seemed beyond protestations now.

  “What is happening here?” Frau Lena strode toward them. “He shouldn’t be out of bed.” The healer put her arm around him on the other side, and they helped him down onto the bed. Margaretha supported his shoulders as she laid his head on the pillow. Almost instantly, he was unconscious.

  His face was as pale as death. Even his lips were colorless. His eyes were closed, and his unusually long black eyelashes did not even flutter. “Is he very ill? Will he die?”

  “I don’t think so.” Frau Lena was smiling. “He is only weak from blood loss and going so long without food or water. Besides that, he took quite a beating and has a fever.”

  Together they stared down at him, his chest barely rising and falling. Then Margaretha noticed his clothing. “Wherever did he get such clothes?” Over a coarse woolen shirt, he wore a leather jerkin and leather breeches. That wasn’t so unusual, but the color was — bright green and mottled with greenish yellow spots.

  Frau Lena shook her head. “It was the only thing I could find that would fit him. I had to go to the laundress and beg for something, and she gave them to me. Apparently the tanner’s wife was experimenting with new dyes.”

  “The experiment was a failure.” Margaretha frowned at the strikingly ugly garments.

  “These clothes fit the laundress’s son, but he refused to wear them.” She pursed her lips, as though trying not to laugh.

  “Well, it’s cruel to force this poor foreigner to wear them.”

  “I didn’t force him to wear them.” They were whispering, watching him breathe. “He must have awakened this morning and found them by his bed and put them on. His other clothes were beyond mending, I’m afraid.”

  “I shall try to find him something better. He is determined to speak to the duke no matter if he does look like a . . . a giant frog.” Margaretha shook her head.

  “I imagine he will fill out his clothes better when he is able to eat more. For now, these will do. I don’t want him escaping here before he is completely well, and we can better track him while he’s wearing these . . . green clothes.”

  Margaretha could see the sense in that. Still, it was a shame anyone should have to wear such an outfit. It was almost as bad as Lord Claybrook’s ensembles.

  “Cook is preparing some special soup for him,” Frau Lena went on, “and I plan to feed him more today. Yesterday, he wasn’t able to eat much.”

  “I wish I could do something to help.”

  Frau Lena smiled, her freckles stretching across her cheeks. “Pray for him. He needs to get his strength back and stop being so frantic. I’m afraid his mind is still affected.”

  Margaretha embraced the healer. “That is what I shall do. Thank you for caring for him. Do you think you will need one of the maids to come and help?”

  “If I do, I shall ask them. Don’t worry.”

  Margaretha left her, feeling a strange urgency to pray for the poor young man who seemed so lost.

  Chapter

  5

  Margaretha managed to sneak away again the next day and go to Frau Lena’s chamber.

  She translated Frau Lena’s instructions to the stranger as he lay still on the bed. He may have looked tranquil, lying still and unmoving, but it was plain by the intense, rebellious gleam in his eyes that he was anything but.

  “You must rest, because that is the only way you can fully recover and get your strength back. You must eat what Frau Lena gives you, because it will keep you from getting sick, and you must not be pacing around the room, raving like a madman.” She surprised herself by remembering the English word “raving.”

  “If I do rave like a madman,” he said, sitting up and balling his hands into fists, “it is because there is a murderer out there, probably in this very castle, who is free to kill again. He is evil, and if I do not — ”

  “Please. Frau Lena says you must lie still and not excite yourself. You will bring on another fever.” Margaretha pushed gently on his shoulder, trying to get him to lie back down. “This is not good for you.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed, as though he was clenching his teeth. But he lay back and closed his eyes. “I am not so weak I can’t speak. Won’t anyone listen to me?” He lifted his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes, scraping his hands down his stubbly cheeks and chin.

  “Sei still.” What was that English phrase she’d used before to try to comfort him? “Hush now. Everything will be well. Why don’t you tell me what you want to tell Duke Wilhelm? I can write it down for you and give it to him myself.”

  “No, it is too dangerous to write it down.” A growling sound came from his throat.

  “Then just tell me. Why don’t you start with your name?”

  “You don’t understand.” He covered his face with his hands again. His voice was muffled as he said, “I probably shouldn’t tell even Duke Wilhelm, but I have no choice. We should find out what he plans to do, why he’s here. You could all be in danger.”

  “Who? Why who is here?”

  He lay still and quiet, and she thought perhaps he had fallen asleep. He finally let his hands fall away and looked at her. “I want you to teach me to speak some German.”

  So he wanted to change the subject. He was so adamant. “I shall try. But it would be helpful if you would tell me your name.”

  “Very well. I will tell you my given name if you will promise not to tell it to anyone.”

  “Oh.” She hesitated before saying, “I do tend to talk a lot, but when it is important to keep something a secret, I certainly will not babble on about it. My brothers tease me about talking too much, and I do sometimes say things before I think.”

  “Is there anyone else in Hagenheim who speaks English?” He fixed her with those dark blue eyes.

  “Oh. Well, no, no one who speaks it as well as I. My younger sisters studied it, but they do not like languages as much as I do. My brothers say it is because I like to talk so much, but little brothers always tease their sisters, my father says. It’s the way of siblings, and they were jealous when they often heard me speaking English with my tutor. Even my tutor said my English was very good for someone who had never been to England. But languages are so interesting, and I like to know the origins of words.”

  He was staring at her with narrowed eyes. She was annoying him.

  She cleared her throat. “I promise not to say anything you don’t want me to say, and if you only tell me your given name, I don’t see how that could put anyone in danger, especially if it is a common name.”

  “That is the problem. It is not a common name here. Perhaps you could call me . . . Otto.”

  “Oh, no. That name doesn’t suit you. You don’t look at all like an Otto. You are much too tall and handsome to be an Otto.”

  “Then you pick a name for me.” His voice sounded tired, or perhaps frustrated. At least he had ceased glaring at her.

  “Very well. It shall be as you wish. I shall call you . . .” What an odd thing — to name an adult. “Gawain.”

  “Gawain?” His upper lip curled on one side while one brow went up.

  “Yes. With your thick, wavy, dark hair and blue eyes, you look like a Gawain.” Very handsome, like a knight. Her heart skipped a little as she pictured him in her father’s armor.

  He sighed. “Very well. I am Gawain.”

  Colin’s head was spinning, partly from sitting up too abruptly a few moments before, and
partly from his maddening inability to convey to Lady Margaretha the danger they were all in. He couldn’t expect her to understand. She was a sheltered, wealthy duke’s daughter. What could she know of intrigues and murders and people who were not as they seemed? But the fact that she was the only person who could communicate with him, and he with her, made her the most valuable person in the world to him.

  And, he had to admit, he liked looking at her, even if her aimless chatter did give him a headache.

  She began his first German lesson, in which she taught him to say, “My name is Gawain. Mein Name ist Gawain. I speak a little of your language. Ich spreche ein bisschen von Ihrer Sprache.”

  She also told him all about her family and asked him about his. He was obliged to tell her he had a mother and father and several younger siblings, that he was the oldest child, and that he had left home abruptly a few months before, leaving word where he was going but not speaking to his family about his quest, since they would have forbidden him to go.

  Frau Lena came into the room. When the healer saw Margaretha sitting close to his bed, her forehead creased. She spoke softly — chidingly, if he understood her tone — probably about spending so much time at his bedside. The healer clearly thought him merely a lost beggar with a few eggs short of a dozen, but Lady Margaretha must have talked Frau Lena into letting her stay and teach him German. He hardly understood a word they were saying in that strange, guttural language of theirs, but he read a lot in their facial expressions and tone.

  Lady Margaretha turned back to him with a smile. “Now what else shall I teach you? Thank you is danke.”

  Frau Lena left through the doorway in the back of the room, which led to what looked like a storage area.

  Colin said, “Lady Margaretha, won’t you take me to see your father?”

  “I don’t believe you are well enough yet, and I don’t want you to become frantic. It is not good for you. You want to get your strength back, don’t you?”

  “Will you take me to see him tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know.” She bit her lip and her brows came together, forming a wrinkle above her nose. “I would have to ask Frau Lena.”

  “Oh, no you wouldn’t. You and I could sneak away when she was not watching us. It could easily be done.”

  “I wouldn’t want to anger Frau Lena. She knows what is best for you.”

  “If you will not take me to see him, then I shall go by myself.” Would she give in to him? She seemed a sweet, compliant sort of girl.

  But she only smiled and shook her head. “You would not be allowed to get anywhere near him. We have many guards, and a stranger like you would be noticed and escorted out of the castle.”

  He looked down at his hideous green clothes. She had a point.

  “Besides, my father knows very little English. You would have a difficult time communicating with him without me.”

  Had he really thought she was lovely? Sweet and compliant? That smug, knowing smile was making his headache worse. If only she wasn’t right.

  “If you will promise me that you will do everything Frau Lena says, I will try to get you a private audience with my father in a few days.”

  Perhaps that was the best he could hope for. “Very well, I promise — if you will promise to get me something to wear other than these hideous green clothes.”

  She smiled sweetly again. “I agree. You need proper clothing. I am sorry Frau Lena couldn’t find anything better. One of my brothers should have something. You are closest to my brother Gabe’s size, though you are thinner. I may be able to find some clothes he left here when he married Sophie and went to Hohendorf.”

  She didn’t have to remind him how thin he had become. He’d never been brawny, but he looked out-and-out puny since nearly getting beaten to death and left to die at the edge of nowhere. But he must be polite to her, as she was his only friend. Softly, he said, “If you can find me some clothes that don’t make me look ridiculous, I would be obliged to you.”

  “I shall. And when I bring them to you, you must say, “Danke für die Kleidung.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Thank you for the clothes.”

  “Danke für . . . what was it?”

  She repeated the phrase, and he said it after her.

  Frau Lena came back, bringing him a bowl of soup and a small loaf of bread. “Danke,” he told her, which made the fair, red-haired healer smile and say, “Sehr gut.”

  “That means, ‘very good.’ ” Margaretha reached out as though to take his bowl of soup.

  “Nein!” He already knew how to say no. “Why are you taking my soup?”

  “I only wanted to help you.”

  “To feed me? No, thank you. I’m not that helpless.” He held the bowl in his lap and picked up the spoon. Putting the first spoonful of soup in his mouth, he glanced up at her to make sure she wasn’t offended by his rebuff. He was not exactly behaving properly toward the daughter of a duke, but in his defense, she wasn’t behaving like any daughter of any duke he knew.

  She was smiling the way one might smile at a small child. Irritating.

  The soup was good, and he ate and listened to her talk about her family. They sounded like a jolly group, the many brothers and sisters, and she obviously loved her mother and father. He tried to think how he might get her to mention that fiend, if indeed he was in Hagenheim.

  Between bites, he interrupted her to ask, “What do you do every day?” He was just finishing the soup — he didn’t want to waste a drop — and started on his bread.

  “Oh, I like to ride my horse, Blüte, which is ‘Bloom’ in English. She is a sweet, gentle mare, but I would dearly love to ride my father’s new stallion. My father says no, that the horse is too wild for me, but I know he likes me. I always bring him a carrot or an apple, and he lets me pet him and never bites me. He bit my brother so hard he drew blood. But he likes me, so I’m sure there is no danger.

  “I also like to read and study languages. I like music too — we are a musical family. My father plays the lute and we all sing. Although some of my brothers sing badly. And for the last year, my father has been trying to find me a suitable husband.” She paused long enough to let out a sigh. “Until now, I haven’t liked any of my suitors. But I must marry, so that my younger sisters can get their chance to make a good match.”

  That she had not married yet was surprising. Her beauty should have attracted an abundance of eligible suitors, and she was the oldest daughter of one of the most powerful dukes in the German regions. Although the fact that she prattled on so often might have driven off a few.

  “But my current suitor seems very kind. He brings me gifts, and I could learn to like that. Also, he talks so much that I am learning to listen and not speak so much myself.” She sighed again. “My father says he would be a suitable husband, as he is an English earl, and he stands to inherit a second earldom not far away, a region adjoining Hagenheim.”

  Colin began to feel ill, and it wasn’t from overfilling his stomach.

  “My father says if I marry Lord Claybrook, I will be able to stay near — ”

  “Claybrook.” Colin ground his teeth. “Marry Claybrook.” He sat straight up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. His empty soup bowl and spoon clattered to the floor.

  Lady Margaretha jumped up from her stool and backed away.

  All he could see was red, like a film of blood over his eyes. That devil was here! He was here wooing Lady Margaretha. And she was considering marrying him! She had no idea what a cruel, heartless murderer he was, what danger she was in!

  He stood up and his head seemed to drift right off his shoulders. His vision started to go dark. He grabbed for the wall but missed and fell back onto the bed.

  “Frau Lena!” Margaretha came toward him and helped pull his feet onto the bed.

  He could barely see her for the darkness coming over him.

  “Curse this weakness!” he muttered. He put his hands on his head, trying to m
ake it stop spinning. If he were fully recovered, he’d go find Claybrook and fight it out with him once and for all. And probably get himself killed. For if he knew Claybrook, the man would have plenty of men around him to protect his worthless skin.

  But at least Colin knew Claybrook was here. And as soon as he was able, he would bring his enemy to justice. He couldn’t let him get away a second time. And he couldn’t let him hurt Margaretha or her family. If only he wasn’t so weak.

  Chapter

  6

  Margaretha called for Frau Lena, and she came hurrying down the stairs.

  “What is it?”

  “He became extremely agitated, jumped up, and nearly fainted.”

  Frau Lena approached the bed where Gawain lay mumbling and moaning, his hands on his head. Frau Lena felt his cheek. “He doesn’t seem to have a fever any longer. What was he so agitated about?” She bent down and picked up the bowl and spoon from the floor.

  Margaretha thought back to what he had said. “I was telling him about my new suitor, and when I said his name” — Margaretha mouthed the words “Lord Claybrook” so as not to send the young stranger into another frenzy — “he became extremely agitated and kept repeating it. His face turned red and he was clearly disturbed. What could have caused him to behave in such a way?”

  Frau Lena looked thoughtful, touching her finger to her chin. “Did he say anything else? Did he say only the name,” and Frau Lena whispered, “Lord Claybrook?”

  The stranger moaned again and Margaretha placed her finger to her lips. “He did say one other thing. He said, ‘Curse this weakness.’ What do you think it means?”

  Frau Lena shook her head slowly. “I can only think of one thing: He must be in love with you, and the mere thought of another suitor sends him into hysterics. He must regret he is too weak to challenge your suitor.”

  “Oh no.” Margaretha sighed. “I wish it were not so, but I’m afraid that is the only explanation for such a wild reaction. He was calm before I began talking of my new suitor.” Margaretha clicked her tongue against her teeth. “His mind seemed to be improving. He ate his soup and bread and seemed perfectly sane when he asked me to get him some clothes that didn’t make him look ridiculous.”