For a Song

by Kathleen Scarth

  “I think she went somewhere with Willem. Do you need her?”

  “Well, I need someone. This hair is too much for me alone. I am to wear it loose for the feast, so I need to wash it right away, else it will not dry. Aunt Mechthild is nowhere to be seen.” She waggled her fingers in the air. “Besides that, my father is in some meeting with Uncle Einhard and Lord Otto and Gregor. I don’t know what is going on. I would have thought they’d have had everything settled by now.”

  Hilda seemed to be ignoring her perplexity. “Is the water ready?” she asked in her calm way.

  At her words Margarethe was brought back to her current quandary. “Oh, I asked for it last night to be sure they would bring it this morning.”

  “Then let me help,” Hilda offered. “You have such lovely hair that it would be a pleasure.”

  When her hair was thoroughly clean, Margarethe sat with her back to the window, her head in the direct sunlight. “Perhaps we should take the longest part of your hair and toss it out the window to dry the quicker,” Hilda suggested with a smile.

  “And if a bird chances upon it, we will have to start over. No. I think not, Hilda.”

  “You seem quite happy, Margarethe. You must have grown to love Lord Gregor very much.”

  A long look passed between them. “Let’s just say I am at peace. God’s in His heaven, and all is well.” How she knew such a thing mystified her, but she was confident that it was true.

  “I will be praying for you today. It is too bad that the peace treaty had to come at the same time as your betrothal announcement. It will not get as much attention as it deserves—as you deserve.”

  “I don’t mind.” Margarethe had never felt so certain of anything in her life. “It is peace that is the most important thing.”

  ❧

  Gregor was Margarethe’s dinner partner, a novelty only in that she had not seen him all morning. During the last course, he took her hand. “I want you to know that I truly admire you, my lady.”

  She narrowed her gaze in speculation. “Well, thank you, my lord. But I would find it rather odd if you found your future wife objectionable.”

  As soon as the tables were cleared, the herald quieted the hall for Lord Otto. Margarethe had never seen the man looking so jovial. Gone was the fierce, almost menacing countenance. He was actually smiling, which gave him a different appearance altogether.

  “As you know, after a long and valiant struggle, we are at peace.” He waited for the cheers to subside before outlining the terms of the peace agreement. “If all abide by these terms, we should enjoy many years of tranquility and prosperity within our borders.”

  Margarethe drummed her fingers on the table until Gregor covered her hand with his own. After-dinner speeches were so boring. Would her future father-in-law just conclude the business so they could get back to their musicmaking?

  “Now for the business at hand. There is one man in particular I wish to honor here this day. A man who never took up arms, but one whose skills and encouragement have led us to this moment.”

  To Margarethe’s surprise, Lord Otto turned to look at Willem, sitting at the end of the table. “Willem, will you honor this hall with the battle song that brought us victory?”

  Willem nodded, made his way to the front, and sang the stirring words that told of courageous deeds done in the name of love and loyalty, with the help of Almighty God.

  At the conclusion of the verses, the men joined in the chorus, their strong masculine voices filling the place with rich sound. Once more the herald was called to quiet the hall before Lord Otto could speak. “After due deliberation,” he began, “my sons and I have decided to reward this hero.

  A great shout went up as the fighting men confirmed the decision with their cheers, and Margarethe glanced at Gregor, whose eyes were moist.

  “The only reward our chief musician would accept was a small plot of land,” Lord Otto went on. “But in view of his unique contribution to our cause, we have decided that in addition to the land, he should be given a fitting dwelling as well.” Once again the hall erupted in shouts and cheers. When the applause had died down, he finished, “And so I give you Lord Willem of Waldbergen Castle!”

  Margarethe sat, stunned, as the fighting men of Lord Otto’s household stood to their feet and launched into another chorus of the battle song. Gregor, she observed, remained seated, too, leaning forward to make a comment. “He is a true nobleman—as gallant and brave as any knight.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She was happy for Willem, but his land had come too late. Her betrothal to Gregor was to be announced this very day. She could not dishonor Gregor when he had been nothing but kind to her.

  “Our announcement pales by comparison,” she said, bravely trying to meet his eye.

  He shook his head. “We need make no announcement, dear Greta.”

  She frowned, trying to understand. “But my parents have come all the way from the Schwarzwald for the occasion.”

  “They came for the announcement of your betrothal, my lady.”

  Was he mad? “That is what I just said, Gregor.”

  “No, you said something about our announcement.” When she continued to stare, uncomprehendingly, he said, “I care for you deeply, but are we not more like brother and sister? You deserve a man who truly loves you—and here he comes now.” He nodded toward Willem, who was walking toward them with that endearing bouncing gait. “And so I release you from our betrothal.”

  She turned to Willem as he bent to speak with her. “Your uncle and Gregor did battle for me, and your father and Lord Otto are agreed. All I need now is your consent, my lady. Do I have it? Will you marry me?”

  Through a veil of tears, she saw the dear face she had adored since she was but a girl of eleven. “I will, my lord.” She stepped into his arms, and he kissed her tenderly, to the great delight of the hall.

  Gregor, standing to the side, beamed his approval. “You both have my blessings,” he said. Then stepping back, he announced, “Now I have work to do, if you will excuse me.”

  Margarethe sat down again, with Willem at her side clasping her hand tightly. He sang softly in her ear:

  ’Til all our days shall pass,

  We’ll be together, you and me,

  As ever on the brook flows down

  Constant to the sea.

  As it’s renewed by snow and rain

  Our love’s fed from above.

  I always will be true to you—

  “Oh, Willem,” she cried, “and you’ll always be my love! Our prayer and our song have both come true, haven’t they?

  She turned to see Gregor, Albert, Jolan, and Aunt Mech-thild taking their places at the front of the dais, where they performed a merry piece Margarethe had never heard.

  “Our betrothal music,” Willem explained. “The inspiration came soon enough when I knew that I would be your betrothed.”

  “So that is why you’ve been so happy of late.” She gazed at him with wonder and admiration. “When did you write this music?”

  “A fortnight ago.”

  “So you have known all this time about your land?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. I learned about that only this morning.”

  “I still don’t understand. How did you know a fortnight ago that you would be my betrothed?”

  “That is when I began to thank God for what He was doing for us. He gave me such joy. Then these past few days I have seen the same joy shining in your eyes, and it gave me even more hope.”

  They sat smiling at each other as the song ended and the hall erupted in loud applause. “I will have to listen to that song sometime—when I can truly hear every word,” Margarethe murmured.

  Lord Otto stood to his feet to make the betrothal an-nouncement—quite different from the original one planned. Margarethe’s heart was full as she and Willem rose to acknowledge the good wishes of the audience—dear family and friends all.

  “So this was your prayer,” Hilda said when at last she
could make her way to the happy couple.

  “Yes,” they said in unison. “And God bless you for praying, Hilda.”

  “I thank you, too, for the story about the merchant,” Willem said, nestling Margarethe closer to his side.

  And then Gregor was back to hug each of them in turn. “I know of no two people who deserve greater happiness,” he said graciously. “You’re a fortunate man, my friend.”

  Safe in Willem’s embrace, Margarethe put her hand on Gregor’s arm and, cocking her head, said in a mischievous tone, “I have a little sister at home, my lord. And she’s nothing at all like me!”

  Gregor’s grin lit up the vast hall. “So your father tells me,” he said. “So your father tells me.”