Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1)
Page 6
CAVALCADE
As servants trundled several iron chests out of Sophia’s chamber the next morning, Kristina yawned. “Such a fuss,” she complained. “It would have been much simpler for us to be married in the village church.”
Sophia hadn’t felt like yawning until her friend did so. They had chattered for half the night, too excited and nervous to sleep. “I agree, but a village church isn’t grand enough when you have imperial and ducal guests. A cathedral is the proper setting.”
Kristina sighed with resignation. “Now we have to travel twenty miles to the Naumburger Dom. I’m exhausted already.”
Sophia smiled. “Because we stayed up too late.”
Kristina returned the smile. “I know, but that’s part of the excitement of getting married, and I can’t think of a better companion than my best friend for my last night as a maid.”
It was a poignant reminder. After today, Kristina would live at Wolfenberg as her sister-by-marriage. They would never again share a chamber as two giggling maidens.
“I’d hoped you’d share more about your tryst with the Franken,” Kristina teased.
Perhaps if she’d revealed some of the turmoil in her heart…but her feelings for Brandt had fogged her brain. “It wasn’t a tryst,” she retorted. “I was simply being a good hostess.”
Kristina snorted, evidently not convinced, then returned her attention to the iron chests. “I hope our finery will survive the journey.”
“Mama has made sure our gowns are well packed,” Sophia replied, glad of a change of subject. “There will be lots of time to prepare once we get to Naumburg.”
“I wish we were traveling on horseback,” Kristina complained.
“As do I,” Sophia replied. “But the emperor wouldn’t consider it suitable for a bride to arrive on a horse, especially after he has provided an opulent carriage. Besides, I doubt if Mut is recovered enough to travel so far.”
“You haven’t heard?”
Sophia didn’t want to mention that Brandt Rödermark had said nothing about her horse the previous evening, hadn’t even said goodnight. “Perhaps we’ll have good news today,” she murmured, knowing in her heart there’d be scant opportunity to speak to Brandt. It was unlikely the Staufen envoy had been assigned a position in the cavalcade to Naumburg that was anywhere near the front.
Kristina’s reed-thin mother appeared at the door, looking more like she was about to attend the funeral of a loved one. “Hurry,” she hissed, her mouth a tight line. “The emperor is waiting.”
Not for the first time, Sophia offered a silent prayer of thanks she wasn’t Eugenia Halden’s daughter. “We’re coming, Frau Halden,” she said politely, since the woman hadn’t invited the use of the familiar tante. Not that she wanted to call her auntie.
She breathed more easily when her own mother popped her head in the door.
Kristina relaxed visibly. “We’re ready, tante Blythe,” she said.
Sophia’s mother kissed Kristina on both cheeks. “From today you must call me Mama. Now, your groom is waiting.”
Smiling broadly, the three linked arms and stepped jauntily from the chamber. Sophia glanced over her shoulder. Eugenia Halden trailed behind, her back ramrod straight, the sour expression on her face unchanged.
~~~
After a wretched night in sleepless agony, Brandt made his way in the pre-dawn darkness to the river, seeking relief in the chilly water. Vidar and Drogo struggled to keep him upright.
“This is madness, my lord,” Vidar declared.
Brandt gritted his teeth as Drogo cleansed the remnants of the poultice from his bruised flesh. “I refuse to attend a wedding stinking of mustard.”
Vidar repeated his protests all the way back to the pavilion but switched tactics while binding Brandt’s ribs with Drogo’s help. “You cannot be considering riding to Naumburg. You have at least one broken rib.”
“No choice,” Brandt replied, wondering vaguely where the resourceful Vidar had found the linen to bind him. “I’ll never hear the end of it from my father if I fail to represent Duke Conrad.”
“If you fall from your horse…”
“Löwe won’t let me fall, and if he does, you’ll catch me,” he replied. He attempted a wink, but even that small movement was painful.
Vidar harrumphed. “What about the lame palfrey?”
“How does Mut fare?”
“Well.”
He had more than looked forward to leading the horse back to Sophia and seeing her delight. But that was out of the question now.
“Send him back with Drogo. Once he has helped me dress and got me atop my horse, I won’t require him in Naumburg.” He looked his squire in the eye. “Tell them Mut needs rest for another sennight. Under no circumstances are you to inform anyone of my injuries.”
Drogo nodded.
Brandt didn’t recall much after that. Numbing the mind seemed to block the pain of dressing, walking, mounting. Eventually, he sat atop Löwe, grateful once again for a horse who always sensed his needs. The beast didn’t move a muscle, apparently aware his master should be in bed, not contemplating riding twenty miles to attend a wedding.
Vidar waited beside him. They’d been assigned a position far back in the convoy.
Brandt watched Drogo slowly weave his way between the pavilions and tents, leading the palfrey back to the stables.
Meanwhile an impressive cavalcade heading out into the valley kicked up a considerable amount of dust. The emperor, the count and the duke rode at the head of the column.
Vidar spat. “Wonder if Heinrich knows what his thugs have been up to?”
Brandt shifted slightly in the saddle and immediately wished he hadn’t when pain arrowed through his chest.
Directly behind the three nobleman came the Imperial Guard consisting of at least fifty mounted knights.
His adjutant snickered. “Your father would be cursing and swearing if he were here to witness this display of imperial might. Overkill for a wedding.”
Brandt chuckled inwardly. The man was right. “Small wonder Lothair’s rivals decided not to attend.”
Vidar spat again. “Hence your presence as Heinrich’s whipping boy. Here comes his militia now.”
The Saxons were smaller in number, but still an impressive sight. Among that swaggering bunch rode the men who’d attacked him. The desire to retaliate clogged his throat. The loss of the treasured dagger rankled.
His attention wandered back to the manor house. Johann von Wolfenberg was assisting his betrothed into a carriage whose splendid opulence suggested it had come from the emperor’s fleet. The two magnificent white horses were plumed and draped in imperial colors.
Johann then assisted his step-mother.
Brandt held his breath, disappointed when the next woman to board the carriage was an older woman he didn’t recognise; perhaps the bride’s mother.
But where was Sophia?
Relief surged when he caught sight of her, hurrying towards Drogo, blonde hair piled in an elaborate arrangement atop her head. He closed his eyes, conjuring a vision of her pledging herself to a husband at the door of the cathedral, a bride any man would be proud to take to wife. Intense longing washed over him.
He blinked rapidly, astonished to see she had thrown her arms around the palfrey’s neck and appeared to be kissing the animal.
“She loves that horse,” Vidar remarked with a smile.
Brandt lost himself in thoughts of Sophia loving him, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing away his hurt, his loneliness.
Then she waved.
His heart leapt into his throat. He glanced momentarily at Vidar. “Is she…?”
“Well,” his adjutant replied sardonically, “I doubt she’s waving at me, though it was I cured her horse.”
Uncharacteristic indecision crippled him. His heart wanted to return the gesture. But doing so might be misconstrued, and he anticipated the simple act would bring on excruciating pain. But if he didn’t wave…
But she’d already turned away.
~~~
Johann had worried for many years that he was tainted by his dead mother’s madness, but as Sophia journeyed to Naumburg she feared perhaps she might be the lunatic in the family.
She’d long known her half-brother and Kristina loved each other, even when they didn’t recognise the truth of the matter. Her dearest wish had been for her best friend to become her sister-by-marriage.
She’d relished every exciting moment of the wedding preparations with Kristina and looked forward to the honor to be visited on her family by the presence of the emperor and the duke. Learning the ceremony was to take place in the Naumburger Dom had been the icing on a delicious cake. The emperor’s provision of a magical carriage had rendered her speechless.
Yet as she rode in the selfsame carriage on the journey she had more than looked forward to, all she could think of was that Brandt Rödermark hadn’t returned her wave.
She reasoned that sophisticated men of the world didn’t wave to young girls. But he’d just sat on his horse like a statue. Would it have pained him to acknowledge her gesture? The bond she’d felt at the waterfall was obviously a figment of her imagination. He was simply arrogant. That’s why he hadn’t wished her goodnight. She was beneath him.
She fidgeted with her crucifix, wishing she hadn’t allowed her thoughts to wander in that direction. It conjured a vision of something her progressive mother had told her about the pleasure of lying beneath a man, in bed, naked.
The emperor should have provided an open carriage. It was much too stiflingly hot in this one. She was mortified when perspiration trickled down her spine, but her embarrassment only served to make her hotter.
“Are you unwell, Sophia?” her mother asked solicitously, putting a hand on her forehead. “You look feverish.”
“I’m simply nervous with excitement,” she answered hoarsely.
Eugenia Halden snorted and looked down her long nose. “Waving publicly at young men indeed. You must learn decorum.”
Kristina glared at her mother. “Rödermark obviously didn’t think it unsuitable behavior, Mama.”
Sophia’s head was spinning. “What do you mean?”
Kristina smiled conspiratorially. “He returned the gesture. But you’d already looked away.”
The fog lifted. Elation soared. Brandt had returned her wave. Why it mattered so very much, she wasn’t sure, but it did.
Kristina had obviously sensed her attraction. She toyed with the idea of asking her friend to trade places, so she’d be facing the way they’d come. Perhaps she’d catch a glimpse of him in the rearguard. Then Eugenia Halden would have something to say.
She chuckled inwardly. The feelings Brandt had stirred were folly, but it was a delicious madness that warmed every part of her body.
NAGGING QUESTIONS
Two questions nagged at Brandt as Naumburger Dom came into view. If only one rib was broken why did he feel as though every bone in his body had been shattered? Secondly, how in the name of all the saints was he going to survive days on horseback getting back to Franconia?
When Vidar grunted in response he realized he’d muttered his concerns out loud.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have attempted this,” he admitted.
“Too late now,” Vidar retorted.
Reluctant to dismount, he looked toward the cathedral entrance. The area had been cordoned off, only the carriage, the von Wolfenberg family and dignitaries allowed to enter. The remaining guests, as well as the soldiers in the various escorts, milled around the perimeter.
The women descended from the elaborate carriage. The emperor fussed over the bride, bestowing a kiss on her knuckles, putting his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her into the Dom.
But it was Sophia who held Brandt’s attention. The golden hair shone in the sunshine. She seemed happy, laughing and chattering with her brothers, though from time to time she stood on tiptoe, her gaze drifting in the direction of the crowd. Was she looking for someone? For him?
Duke Heinrich approached her and began a conversation. She curtseyed prettily. His spine stiffened and anger threatened to choke him. If the man put a hand on her…
Beside him, Vidar cleared his throat. His adjutant was savvy enough to know that an offer to help his master dismount would draw attention, but the loyal soldier stood ready to assist if requested.
Brandt’s mind was made up for him when he noticed the women had all entered the Dom and Graf von Wolfenberg was heading in his direction. He gritted his teeth and dismounted with as much dignity as possible. Löwe stood stock still, though he must be as thirsty as his rider.
He held on to the saddle when his feet touched the ground, waiting for the tremor of pain to subside, and swallowed the tickle brewing in his dry throat. Coughing would be disastrous.
He held his breath, let go and bent his head respectfully. “Graf von Wolfenberg, my congratulations. A fine day for a wedding.”
The count seemed out of sorts, perhaps missing the dogs who usually accompanied him everywhere. “The emperor expected you to pay your respects before we departed.”
Brandt grimaced inwardly. When he’d first risen from his bed he’d concentrated solely on surviving the walk to the river. “I apologise. The lame horse,” he lied.
The count adjusted his scabbard. “The ceremony won’t begin for an hour. The emperor and the duke are resting in one of the side chapels. It’s imperative for the maintenance of peaceful relations that Lothair not feel you’ve ignored him on purpose. We want to avoid another war between him and the Staufens. I’m confident your instructions were to act in the interest of peace.”
A hundred bees buzzed in Brandt’s head. It seemed to him he wasn’t the one who’d been avoiding an interview with the emperor and the only instructions he’d received were to pick up the ducal pavilion on the way to Wolfenberg. He considered reaching out for Löwe’s saddle again until he realized Vidar had led the horse away. Fighting off dizziness, he tried to summon a suitable response. “I will take this opportunity to extend my humble apologies, if you will do me the honor of making the introductions.”
Von Wolfenberg nodded, visibly relieved. He seemed ready to leave but then turned to face Brandt again. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter’s palfrey. She loves Mut. Now, come.”
The notion he’d done something to please Sophia was strangely comforting. He gripped the hilt of his sword, squared his shoulders and set off towards the Dom, keeping pace with the count though he feared he might crumple at the emperor’s feet once he arrived. Duke Conrad wouldn’t be pleased if he ignited another war.
~~~
Sophia tiptoed out of the vestry feeling very elegant in the red silk gown. The dress was somewhat heavy for the sweltering weather, but it wasn’t every day a girl served as attendant at her best friend’s wedding. However, she’d be glad when the pins came out of the elaborate arrangement that felt like a heavy confection balanced atop her head. She preferred to let her hair fall loose.
Word had come that her brother Johann and the bishop awaited Kristina at the door of the cathedral. Sophia had been dispatched by her mother to make sure the church was empty before the bride made her way to the entry.
She cringed when the heavy wooden door into the church creaked painfully, though she’d opened it only a crack. Apparently the noise was enough to draw the attention of Duke Heinrich who stood in a side chapel in conversation with the emperor and Brandt Rödermark. Sophia’s father was at Brandt’s side.
Judging by the ducal scowl Heinrich sent her way one would have thought the meeting was the prime reason for everyone being at the cathedral.
She smiled weakly. Heinrich always made her nervous. He couldn’t be more than thirty years old, but his white beard and bushy eyebrows made him look ancient. Anyone who hadn’t met the emperor might be forgiven for thinking that the man with the most ostentatious feathered
hat was the person who occupied the throne of the Holy Roman Empire.
It was no secret the Duke of Saxony expected to succeed Lothair. He was, after all, the emperor’s son-by-marriage. As a member of the powerful Guelph family he was probably the most likely candidate, though Brandt’s Duke of Franconia and his brother the Duke of Swabia would likely contest his election.
Though he wasn’t a young man, the energetic Lothair wasn’t likely to die any time soon, and for the moment peace reigned.
Heinrich’s son, also named Heinrich, seemed to accompany the duke wherever he went. It was surprising he hadn’t joined the hunt. The seven-year-old, who wore a miniature version of his father’s outrageous hat, sat crosslegged on the stone floor of the chapel, picking his nose, while his imperial grandfather looked on benignly.
She closed the door a hair, just enough so she could still see Brandt and her father. Both had their backs to her, but she sensed something was wrong. Though she’d seen a vulnerable side of Brandt at the waterfall, he struck her as a man very sure of himself, almost too sure. Now his broad shoulders were rounded, as if standing erect was painful. Her father gripped the hilt of his sword and kept glancing at him. Perhaps the meeting wasn’t going well. Lothair’s jocular voice echoed off the stone pillars, so evidently an argument wasn’t in progress.
That was a relief. It wouldn’t be a good omen if a political dispute were to erupt at Johann’s wedding, and Brandt likely wouldn’t leave Wolfenberg alive if it did. The prospect made her belly roil.
She breathed more easily when the men headed for the entryway, little Heinrich holding his grandfather’s hand, but became alarmed when she finally saw Brandt’s face. The beads of sweat on Brandt’s forehead spoke of fever. His pallor and the stern set of his jaw betrayed pain. It wasn’t the handsome face she’d seen turned to the sun at the waterfall. Clearly something was very wrong.
Heart pounding, she closed the door and hurried back to the vestry.