by Tia Nevitt
His thoughts kept returning to the previous night. He still could not believe that Gretchen had sought him out. He couldn’t believe she’d said the things she did, and that she’d let him kiss her. Encouraged him, even.
He hardly knew what to think. She was an odd blend of maiden and woman. He could tell she knew a bit about the world, and he even suspected she was a few years older than he was. But she was clearly still an innocent, and he had been careful to not overwhelm her with too much passion.
But Lord, how he wanted to!
Lars had just lowered another sack when Rudolph entered the barn.
“What’s taking so long?” he yelled. “You too weak to hoist a sack?” He went over to Klaus, muscled him aside and looked up the rope. “The stump up there?”
On a whim, Lars gripped the rope and jumped down. He was only slightly heavier than the sack. He drifted down next to an openmouthed Rudolph.
“I’d like to see you hoist a sack that’s heavier than you are.” And with that, he gave the rope to Klaus, who took it and rode the rope back up into the loft. Rudolph had to dodge out of the way of the descending sack. Lars unhooked the sack and threw it into the wagon. Klaus pulled the rope back up. The entire maneuver was a polished routine.
“If it’s so heavy, then why were you up there doing the easy work?”
“He wanted to build up his strength.”
“Good. Maybe he’ll be as strong as a nine-year-old boy one day.”
“And maybe you’ll find some way to make yourself useful one day.”
Rudolph frowned. “You’re awful mouthy for a stump.”
“And you don’t have the brain of a stump,” he said. “So why don’t you get out of here?”
Rudolph gave him a shove, but Lars was ready for it and was just gratified to see him leave. He’d had to stand his ground more than one time in order to prove to Rudolph that he was not easily bullied, but it had the unfortunate effect of causing Rudolph to take it out on Klaus. Worse, Lars worried that Rudolph might be harassing Gretchen. At least he didn’t have to worry about Gunther. Now that Gunther was the supervisor, Rudolph treated him, at least, with a modicum of respect.
Dieter emerged from the empty horse stall. Lars stopped and stared at him in surprise.
“I, er, hoped that things had improved,” Dieter said in a low voice, “but I see that they have not.”
“I know his kind,” Lars said. “He’s been bullied all his life, and now he’s found people that, for once in his life, he can bully.” He paused. “Have you ever listened at the window of the bunkroom?”
“No, I can’t say it ever occurred to me.”
“Just listen tonight. He’s going to be annoyed that I got the better of him, and he’ll try to take it out on Klaus.”
Dieter nodded and walked away with compressed lips.
Chapter Eleven
Later that afternoon, Lars heard a familiar squawking in the main aisle, and he emerged from the oxen’s stall to find Gretchen once again trying to chase down that chicken that always seemed to get loose. He joined in as she tried to grab it, jumping in to intercept the troublesome creature until she finally grabbed hold of it. He followed her as she took it back to the coop and thrust it inside.
“I wish I knew how it kept getting loose,” she said as she barely shut the gate before it darted out again. “I do have my suspicions...”
“Suspicions?” Lars asked, instantly suspicious himself.
Gretchen pushed aside a wayward lock of hair and looked up at him. “These mishaps always seem to happen when Rudolph isn’t out working in the fields. They’re annoying things, like the chicken escaping, or a noise startling the cow, or him opening a door in my path while my arms are loaded with something.” She bit her lip. “Just now, before you started to help, he was standing there in that window.” She pointed to one of the low windows at the front of the house.
Fury tightened his gut. “You let me know if he does it again.”
“Oh, Lars. It’s just childish...antics.”
Through his anger, he felt a sudden elation that she no longer used formalities around him. How could he be so angry and delighted at once? “It may be now. But over time, it will get worse.”
She looked doubtful, but she thanked him with a smile before she turned back to her chores.
Lars decided it was time to have a talk with Rudolph. Then he remembered that Herr Dieter was to listen that night. Ordinarily he would have stayed away—let Rudolph get himself into his own trouble. But if he confronted Rudolph, maybe he could get him to admit that he had been pestering Gretchen as well.
And then maybe they’d be rid of him for good.
He made sure he was later than usual going to the bunkroom that night. He could have listened in the loft above the bunkroom, but he resisted the temptation and waited a good quarter hour after the other men had returned before he opened the door.
Things were tense. Gunther was not in the room either. Klaus sat on one of the bunks, arms wrapped around his knees. Rudolph was holding his boots. When Lars walked into the room, he tossed them toward his bunk.
“Rudolph, I wanted a word with you,” Lars said. “Gretchen thinks you’re the one who turned that chicken loose earlier this afternoon. Is she right?”
“It was just a joke.”
“What about opening the door in her face?”
“I’ve never hurt her. It was just—you know—an excuse to catch her if she falls.” He leered.
“And startling the cow?”
“That’s not my fault. That cow is entirely too jumpy.”
“Which means you need to use more care when you are around her.”
He scoffed. “What is she, a princess? Don’t we have enough of them around here?”
“She’s a lady.”
“She’s not a lady. She’s just a common-born milkmaid, no better than you or me.”
“You know what I mean. She deserves more respect than what you’ve shown her.”
“Like I said,” he said, throwing out one arm and bowing slightly, “it was a joke. I didn’t realize she was so humorless.”
* * *
Gretchen listened to the conversation in amazement. She had been sitting with Ange and Marta when Gunther had opened the door and hissed for her to come outside. The three of them crowded outside the bunkhouse window.
“I don’t believe it is a joke,” Lars was saying. “I think you are trying to intimidate her.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Why do you do anything you do? What were you doing with Klaus here before I came in? It looked to me like you were trying to get him to shine your shoes.”
“I was asking for a favor, only.”
“And what kind of favors are you expecting from Fräulein Gretchen?”
“None! What’s it to you, anyway?”
“She came here looking for others of her kind. It would be nice if, for once in her life, she could just belong without anyone trying to intimidate her or laugh at her.”
Gretchen’s breath caught in her throat. How did he know so exactly how she felt? They had never discussed it.
“How touching!” Rudolph scoffed. “The stump really is in love.”
“If I am in love,” Lars said, “You’d better use care in how to treat her. Or you’ll find out just how dirty a court fool can fight.”
The door opened and slammed shut.
“I guess we’
ve heard enough,” Dieter said to Gunther. He rumbled in response, and they left her there in the dark.
Gretchen sat for a long time out there in the dark. She heard while Dieter and Gunther confronted Rudolph. They made it clear that he was to leave on the morrow, and they dragged him out to sleep somewhere else that night. Afterward, the three farmhands had a conversation that was too low for her to follow. She decided not to try to listen. She went back into the farmhouse and sat in the kitchen, hoping that Lars would come back out. However, the door remained shut.
At length, she went upstairs to join Ange. She undressed and lay down in bed, her thoughts too full for speech.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Ange said.
“I...” She gulped. “I think Lars is in love with me.”
“And?”
“What do you mean, and? Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s been clear to me that he’s in love with you. You’re only just discovering this?”
“It’s not that. Rudolph accused him of being in love with me, and he didn’t deny it.”
Ange laughed. “You don’t deny such a thing like it’s a crime.”
Gretchen had no response and they were silent for a time. Her thoughts turned from herself as she suddenly wondered about the princess. She remembered what Ange had said a few weeks ago about not confiding in strangers.
Was Gretchen a stranger now?
“What about you?” she asked. “We’ve only been talking about me. How do you feel about this prince, who finds you fairest of all?”
A deep sigh came from the pallet. “He’s mostly a stranger to me. But when I was thirteen, we were at the same wedding, along many other unmarried royals and nobles. He did kiss me once, and I imagined I was in love. I found out the kiss was only part of some silly competition, and he spent the rest of his time chasing a foreign princess.” She paused. “However, that face I’ve observed in the mirror all this time...that was a very different creature.”
“How so?”
“All this time, I didn’t think it was a man in the mirror. It seemed like a spirit. Even his voice is different when spoken through the mirror, as if echoing across a great distance. But I always thought it must be a very valiant spirit because he never yielded—he always tried to find ways to resist my stepmother’s questioning. She soon learned not to ask him of the future or of people’s intentions, because he could never answer such questions. She used the mirror every day, morning and night. She would use it to ask about neighboring kingdoms, to spy on her rivals and, more recently, upon our people. And...and she would ask who is fairest of all. It made her very famous that he always said she was the fairest.”
“Was she not already famous as queen?”
“No, when she first came here, she was not a queen, but she used the fame of the mirror to win my father. I don’t know if she was even royalty, but she was at least of noble blood. She came in a wealthy carriage, the mirror tied to the back, and she told my father of its magic. She told him she would ask it three questions on his behalf. He had heard of the mirror, so the first question he asked was who was the fairest. The mirror pronounced that she was, and then—” she breathed a deep sigh, “—my father had to have her.”
She looked at Gretchen. “Is that what Prince Richard feels for me? He says he finds me the fairest. Does that mean he loves me, or does he merely want to possess me?”
Gretchen had no answer. For the first time in her life, she realized that beauty was not always something to be envied.
Ange shook her head. “It’s silly to speculate on it. Princesses rarely get to marry for love. They are lucky if they respect their husband.” She eyed Gretchen. “And a man who wants you only for your beauty is not a man worthy of respect.”
“There’s another way to look at it,” Gretchen said.
“What is that?”
“What if he loves you for your beauty, but only thinks you are beautiful because of his love?”
She laughed. “Go to sleep, Gretchen.”
* * *
When the cock crowed, Lars arose, as usual, and went to splash his face with water from his basin. As he toweled off, he remembered Rudolph.
And, he remembered that Gretchen would be in the stalls shortly to milk the cow. He pursed his lips. Better not take a chance on Rudolph being there when she arrived.
With a frown, he opened the door of the bunkroom and caught sight of the shovel just before it cracked into his forehead.
* * *
The huge sliding door to the farmhouse was open when Gretchen arrived, which meant some of the farmhands were already up. She hoped it was Lars, but she also found herself nervous about seeing him. He had as good as said that he loved her—how would she ever act around him?
The cow was looking at her over the low wall. Gretchen reached up, and the cow lowered its head to her. “Hello, Meine Madchen.” She laid her hand on the cow’s snout. “I can tell you’re glad to see me. I do believe we’ve become friends.” The cow huffed and mooed. “Ooh, I can also see you’re eager to be milked. We’ll just go ahead and get started, then.”
She lifted the latch of the stall.
A hand slammed down on hers, shoving the latch back in place. Gretchen spun her head around.
“Herr Rudolph! What—”
His hand clapped over her mouth and nose. For a moment, shock paralyzed her from head to toe. His other hand closed around the back of her neck and he yanked her toward him. She couldn’t get any breath. She tried to bite his fingers, but she couldn’t even open her jaw. He held her against his chest, dragging her across the barn.
“I’m going to have to leave here,” he breathed in her ear, “so I may as well take a little pleasure before I go. We’ll see if Lars still wants you afterward.”
He had to shift a hand to open the gate of a stall, and she tried to let out a shriek. But her lungs only had enough air for a voiced gasp. “Please—” she tried to say, but not even half the word escaped. He pushed her into the empty stall and shoved her down.
She gasped out another yelp, but it was not nearly loud enough.
Rudolph pulled out a large knife. Gretchen’s eyes widened. “You can’t get away with this,” she said. “This Einhaus is not that large. They’ll hear you—they’ll hear me!”
“Shout and I cut,” he said. “I’ll at least get one good cut in before they’re able to reach us. Now, spread those little legs of yours.”
She tried to scramble away. With a snarl, he grabbed her leg and reached for the other one.
Instead his eyes began to bulge. His hand flew to his throat. Then some force yanked him off her. Gretchen sat up and watched in astonishment as he apparently crawled backward out of the stall while on his back.
Then she realized there was a rope around his neck. He was being dragged.
She leaped to her feet and rushed out of the stall. Lars—his face running with blood—was dragging Rudolph into the kitchen, and up to the parlor door.
“Herr Dieter!” he yelled.
Rudolph was just struggling to his feet—murder in his eyes—when the door slammed open, catching him in the forehead.
“What is going on here?” Dieter asked.
“Rudolph attacked Fräulein Gretchen,” Lars said. He looked at Gretchen. “I’m sorry it took so long to get to you. He attacked me as well, and he tied my hands.”
She looked down at his hands. His wrists were raw and bleeding. “All that matters is
that you stopped him in time.” She looked at Rudolph and shuddered. What had happened to the young man who had been so eager to please her that first night?
Dieter scowled at Rudolph. “Klaus!” he yelled.
Klaus came running from the bunkroom. Gunther followed him.
“Go and get Rudolph’s things”
Rudolph looked like he might protest, but he kept silent with pressed lips. Dieter sent Marta upstairs with a few words, and she soon returned with a small pouch of coins.
Dieter held up the pouch. “Your pay for the past month.” He held it out to Gretchen. “I am giving it to her as restitution.”
Gretchen’s eyes flew wide. “Herr Dieter, no!”
“Take it, Fräulein.”
“I cannot. I will not!”
“Why not? He has wronged you—”
“I want nothing of his. Give it to him and have him be gone. Or keep it yourself.”
He narrowed his eyes at Rudolph as he handed it back to his wife. “You heard the lass. Go. If I see you again, I’ll put an arrow in you.”
“I want my pay.”
“You forfeited your pay. Now go.”
Klaus had returned, and he threw Rudolph’s pack at his feet. Rudolph picked it up, glowered at them all and set off without a word.
Lars stared after him. “We need to make sure he really does go.”
Dieter handed him a bow, which he kept by the side door, and a quiver full of arrows. “You and Klaus go after him. Escort him past the crossroads.”
Gretchen watched as they disappeared out the door, and she knew it was not the last she had seen of Rudolph.
Chapter Twelve
Richard gave in to temptation. After spending a night outdoors, he decided to stay in a Gasthaus. He tried to shake his feeling of disquiet. The queen had not summoned him at all yesterday. He could not remember the last time she had missed an opportunity to use the mirror.
