“I should think the arrangements regarding dower and inheritance were clear enough,” the baron responded curiously.
Sigismund looked uncomfortable. “We shall discuss it after the young people have left the table.”
Reinhardt’s lifted eyebrow stayed in place as he glanced over at Elisabeth. He began cautiously, “I imagine you wish to make something clear about the wedding night?”
Elisabeth was horrified. She could not withhold a squeak of shock. Covering her face with both hands, she leaped from her seat to run indecorously out of the hall.
As she crossed the floor, she heard her father sigh and say, “We have not discussed this with Elisabeth yet.”
IN THE courtyard, Elisabeth found it impossible to be comforted by her brother, who had followed her out of the hall. She would not speak to him. He looked relieved when Albrecht finally joined them where they sat on the mounting block.
“I think you will be pleased at what has been agreed upon, my lady,” Albrecht said reassuringly.
Elisabeth lifted her tearstained face. “What?”
Albrecht glanced at Elias and grinned. “Your mother and father will not permit the marriage to be consummated until the baron returns from Palestine.”
“They… they will not? And the baron agreed?” Elisabeth’s relief was evident.
“Well, he wasn’t happy, but it was your dower and inheritance about which he worried. He was afraid they would renege on the agreement. He made them promise to stipulate that the lack of consummation did not allow for annulment.”
“Why did they do it? My parents, I mean?” she asked.
“They said you were not ready to be a complete woman, and your mother said she did not want you burdened with his child not knowing if and when he would return.”
Elias inquired, “And he went along with it?”
“So long as it does not jeopardize the transfer of your dower and property to him.”
“That figures,” Elias said sardonically. Turning back to Elisabeth, he remarked irreverently, “Just think, you may be a widow before you are even deflowered.”
Elisabeth chastised, “Elias!” and the three made the sign of the cross. But then she smiled.
As Elisabeth, relieved, left the boys to go to her rest, Albrecht held Elias back, saying, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Elisabeth slowed her steps long enough to hear something about Reinhardt knowing the boys’ secret. She heard Elias exclaim, “How can he? Don’t be ridiculous. It is your imagining.”
OVER THE few days before the wedding, Elisabeth had ample time to observe the man she was about to marry. He spent his time talking with his knights and the commander of his foot soldiers and looking about the manor and its surrounding lands. He asked her father’s steward for a tour of the holdings. The only time she saw him smile was while in conversation with that same steward. The few times she caught him looking at her, she saw a mix of speculation and distaste on his thin lips. He sat stroking his pointed beard, which was just showing a tinge of gray in the black hairs under his lower lip, surveying her body, front and back.
“I am surprised he has not checked my teeth nor taken my ankle to examine my hoof,” she confided to Elias.
Her brother laughed. “Darling Liesl, he has done that, but to your lands, not your adorable person.”
She looked at him, questioning, though the affectionate name made her smile. “But he cannot expect to get Papa’s holdings! Those will go to you! You and your wife and children….” Her voice trailed off. She had seen his slight reddening and his quick glance in Albrecht’s direction.
He put on his usual cheery expression. “Ah, but I heard Father assuring him that you shall have the income from one third of the revenue from the estate.”
Elisabeth’s mouth hung open. “Really?”
He nodded. It was an unheard-of arrangement, making such a generous provision for a daughter.
Father Boniface, the household priest, conducted the mass and the bridal ceremony in the family’s small church. Elisabeth told her brother and Albrecht she felt like one of those overdressed dolls her mother had brought from her childhood home in Lombardy.
Elias took her in his arms and planted a kiss on her brow. “You are beautiful, sister. Simply beautiful. I even saw your betrothed giving you an appreciative look.”
She pushed him away roughly. “I am not beautiful. Do not even say that. I am plain. I look more like a boy than you do.” She saw his raised eyebrow and hurt look. “I don’t mean you are girlish, Elias. Just that I am not.”
His eyes grew serious. “Elisabeth, anyone who knows you knows you are beautiful in ways few women can boast. Your great heart, your wide smile and delighted laughter, your constancy, and your loving nature. And you have a cute little nose.”
She laughed and slapped at him. “Oh, stop!”
AT THE banquet following the ceremony, the baron presented his new wife with rich gifts. He gave her bolts of fine soft wool in rich colors he said came from Flanders. He leaned to clasp a necklace of pale matched pearls around her throat and paused to look into her eyes as he withdrew. Hesitating, he leaned in again and gave her a kiss. Elisabeth looked up at his eyes, her own round and disbelieving, while her fingers went to her lips.
He chuckled. “There will be many more and better to come, little wench. We have a dynasty to maintain.”
Their wedding night was a formality. The two were conducted to a bedchamber where they were toasted. The company put them to bed together, fully clothed. They were allowed to remain thus overnight, with a watchful maid and the candles burning. Elisabeth noted Reinhardt’s resentful glare at her father before Sigismund left them alone.
Not long after and in spite of their watcher, Reinhardt arose and took off all but his shirt and britches. He gave her a grim look. “I am not going to be miserable all night. You do as you please.”
She was frozen where she lay on the far side of the bed.
“Suit yourself.” Reinhardt shrugged. He slipped under the covers and rolled onto his side to look at her. His head propped on his arm, he said, “I hope you will not be this frigid when we can truly become man and wife.” He chuckled at her horrified look. “It does not matter. You are my wife, not my leman. You are for bearing children. You do not have to enjoy the act of begetting them. In fact, better you do not. I may like a wanton in my bed, but I do not want that wanton to be my wife.”
He reached out his other arm and put his hand on her breast. He stroked her up and down, all the way to her belly. She tensed and stared at him, afraid he was going to do what he wanted in spite of his promise to her parents. The fear gave an edge to another sensation. She felt tingly wherever he stroked. He chuckled as she started to fidget and laughed aloud when she made an incoherent protest and reached out to shove him roughly away with the heels of her palms.
“You swine!” she spat at him. “Marta, get my father!”
“If she goes to get your father, that will leave us alone. Are you sure you want that? Maybe you do.” He started to lean over her again.
Elisabeth managed an elbow into his solar plexus. He fell back with a gasp. “My God, you pack a punch, girl!”
Marta rose, making distressed noises, and turned to the door.
“Don’t bother, bitch,” Reinhardt said. “I’ll leave her alone.” He turned over and put his back to Elisabeth, then leaned to say over his shoulder, “For now.” He chuckled again, punched his pillow, and laid down his head.
Marta, wringing her hands, looked to Elisabeth. After a few moments, Elisabeth nodded. “It’s all right.” She felt under her own pillow for her eating knife. She would not sleep a wink that night, waiting for Reinhardt to try something else. She sat up, put the pillow behind her back, crossed her arms, and glared at her husband. Even when he was obviously asleep, she kept her watch.
“I AM sorry you are not leaving with my party as I invited,” the baron said flatly to Sigismund as he stepped onto the block,
then mounted his horse.
As the baron and his party rode out of the gates, Elisabeth raised her eyes to watch them disappear. Elias stepped up to her side and put his arm around her shoulders. He whispered, “I never thought I would say this, but if one Saracen gets through our lines with his sword, I hope he makes one Christian kill.”
Elisabeth let out a most unladylike snort.
Adalberta took to her bed that same night. She protested she was simply tired, but Sigismund’s eyes as he watched her revealed deep concern.
Elias and Albrecht also watched, as with each passing month, their chance to go on pilgrimage to Jerusalem was slipping away.
WHEN THE weakness did not abate and Adalberta found it harder and harder to hide that she was in pain, Sigismund’s eyes grew haunted.
The young people learned just how dire the situation was when Elisabeth happened to find her parents’ chamber door ajar as she went to see her mother one afternoon. She heard her father say, “If only I had left before. I could have been at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and praying for your recovery by now. It is my fault for delaying my departure that you are so ill.”
Elisabeth told her brother and Albrecht how her father’s voice was thick with tears as her mother lay and gasped with agony. “Mother is dying.” She shuddered at the memory and gratefully accepted when both boys put their arms around her.
Left to themselves, the twins and their constant companion Albrecht guiltily fled the manor to get away from the moans and cries and the helpless look on their father’s face. They redoubled their practice at arms, and Elias forced the weapon master to teach his sister what he had taught him. When the man protested to Sigismund, the distracted lord waved him away. “Do what the boy says. Just leave me alone.”
One morning, the three made their way to Magdalena’s isolated cottage, and Elisabeth begged her to come back to the manor and help her mother. She refused. “Oh, my dear one, you know I cannot. I made a solemn vow never to leave this place.”
Looking quickly at Elias, Elisabeth urged, “Can we not bring Mother here?”
Her brother, whose eyes showed the weariness of lack of hope, shook his head. “Do you really want her to go through the pain of being brought here?”
Seeing Albrecht reach to put his hand on Elias’s arm, Elisabeth’s desperation turned into anger and resentment. “Oh, you two! Can’t you keep your hands off each other?”
The shock showing on all three faces brought Elisabeth back to herself.
“Oh, my dears, I am so sorry. I just… I don’t know.” She stood, covering her mouth with her hand. With a sob, she stepped away.
But not so far that she did not overhear when Magdalena said, “Let her go.”
She heard her brother’s question, “Does she know? About Albrecht and me?” At the woman’s grave nod, he subsided. “How?” he asked.
“Does that matter?” Magdalena asked.
Elias shrugged. “What… how… does she feel? Does she hate me, us?”
“That is something you should speak with Elisabeth about, but I do not think so. She is confused. She feels like she has lost you, Elias.”
He looked up sharply. “My love for Albrecht does not lessen my love for her!” he said firmly. Elias slumped, his face growing miserable and tears starting to course down his cheeks. Albrecht put his arms tight around him. Elias started to sob as Albrecht held him.
Overwhelmed with emotion, Elisabeth came back and put her arms around them both.
Magdalena smiled wanly. “You need to remember you have each other, show each other your love. Especially now, with your mother dying.”
“Leave me with her, won’t you, my love?” Elias said quietly to Albrecht, who nodded and squeezed his arm. “You too, please,” he said to Magdalena, who put her arm around Albrecht’s shoulders and led him away.
Elias pressed Elisabeth’s face into his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. “Liesl, what I feel for Albrecht has nothing to do with how I feel for you. You are my sister, my twin. We are almost not two different people. You must know that.” She hesitantly nodded against the side of his neck. “I love you, Liesl, more than I can say.”
Her muffled words were nevertheless clear enough to him. “I love you too, Elias. I—I just do not understand. How did it happen?”
He sighed and shrugged. “I do not really know. It just did.”
Looking up from his shoulder with red and puffy eyes, she asked, “When?”
He wiped a tear from her cheek. “When what?”
“When did you know… about loving Albrecht, I mean?”
He shrugged again. “Almost as soon as he came to live here, I suppose. I did not understand what I was feeling at first. I think he knew before I did. It’s… I can’t explain. I don’t really want to explain.” His cheeks burned with embarrassment.
She put her palm to his reddening cheek. “Shhh, shhh,” she soothed. “You talked to Magdalena.”
Elias nodded. He gave a rough laugh. “I thought I was going to burn in hell for all eternity. She told us love is love, that God is love and all that. I couldn’t believe that the kind of love we have, the… well, the physical, cannot be what she meant. It’s one reason he and I wanted to go on the crusade. The Holy Father said that everyone who made it to Jerusalem would be forgiven all their sins, past, present, and future.”
She peered into his face, curious. “So you mean to keep… doing whatever with Albrecht, even afterward?”
The look in his eyes was poignant. “Liesl, I love him. I could never give him up. I would rather go to hell.” His lips twisted in pain.
“You are not going to hell. Or if you do, then I will go there with you and Albrecht. I could not stand a God who would punish my sweet, loving brother for just doing what feels right to him, what is right because he feels it.”
Her gaze was so fierce Elias could not help but grin and then laugh. “Oh, Liesl, you are such a termagant. I think they should send you on crusade. You would frighten the unbelief out of all the heathens!”
She looked outraged for a moment, and then her own face crumpled into laughter. “You go now and tell Albrecht that as far as I am concerned, I have two brothers.”
Elias feigned horror. “Oh no, that would be incest on top of sodomy!”
Elisabeth stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Good thing there will probably be more wars. You two are going to need it!”
Chapter Three
Liebestod
IT TOOK Adalberta over a year to die. Near the end of that hellish period, Sigismund stayed in their chamber, sleeping on the floor by their bed, terrified the last moment would come when he was out. When they were present to see it, the twins noted that a constant supply of strong drink went into the room. They heard not only their mother’s whimpering, but also their father’s frantic sobbing prayers.
Trying to ignore their feelings of guilt, the twins and Albrecht stayed away from the manor as much as they could manage, to grasp what they could of life together. It would come as a relief when the loving mother and beautiful woman they remembered was finally released from her pain and suffering. How Sigismund would take the apotheosis, they could not guess.
One chill evening, as they sat frozen both in body and spirit by the hall fire, the sounds abruptly stopped. The three young people exchanged frightened looks. Elias started to rise, but Elisabeth put her hand on his arm. Moments later they heard booted feet on the stairs.
Sigismund stood at the foot in the gloom. “I could not stand it anymore. She was in agony. I had to help her out of it. God forgive me, I had to do it.” He teetered backward, hitting the timber wall behind him.
The three jumped to their feet and went to him. He waved them aside. “No, leave me. She is with God now. I must go to church and try to make my peace with Him.” He stumbled to the door of the hall and clumsily pulled it open.
“Go watch him,” Elias said to Albrecht. “Make sure he doesn’t harm himself.”
Albrecht looked into Elias’s eyes. Glancing quickly at Elisabeth, he nodded, then stepped forward and put his arms around Elias. Elias stood still for a moment, then let his own arms go around Albrecht.
Elisabeth watched with envy, wishing she had someone to hold her. She could hear Albrecht’s weeping.
“Go,” Elias repeated softly, and Albrecht pulled himself away, spun, and went out the door after Sigismund.
The twins stood in the darkness, gazing mournfully into each other’s eyes. Elias went to Elisabeth, and at last she had the comforting embrace she needed. Arm in arm, they ascended the stairs to their parents’ chambers where their mother lay, a peaceful look on her face. Elisabeth and Elias knelt at the bedside to pray for their mother’s soul and for forgiveness for their father.
When he came back into the manor, Sigismund briskly went about arranging for his wife’s remains. He would not speak to anyone except to give instructions. Even after her body was removed to the church, he sat in a window embrasure, staring out into some middle distance. He continued to drink enormous amounts of wine, but when he emerged for any reason, he did not seem drunk.
Elisabeth and Elias could only wait and watch, wondering what their father would do. Would he closet himself in his chamber forever? Would he go mad and do violence to himself? “He is too strong a man just to give up on life,” Elias proclaimed. “He will do something, go somewhere, I don’t know.”
The household waited with them, knowing that, in one way or another, all their lives would soon be irrevocably altered.
Sigismund finally came out of his chamber one day and sent for his steward and the captain of his household knights and soldiers. Elisabeth stood in the corridor, her eyes wide, watching as he issued commands. He finally turned to her and put his arms out. She slowly moved forward, then flung herself into his arms. “I am going to Jerusalem,” her father said.
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