by Kristen Reed
“The story is quite romantic,” she began with a wry grin. “He promised to leave Anselm in peace if I married him. Now, I’m engaged to a man from a strange land who I’ve barely had a full conversation with.”
“Then I guess we have something in common.”
“What?”
“Our fortunes were both decided by men who have more power than we do.”
♦ ♦ ♦
After Edmund, Ingrid, and Liesel ingested a meager breakfast of coffee and pears, which they picked from the surrounding woodland, Viggo called the count to his side once more to provide his insight. Much to her surprise, Ingrid too received a summons from her betrothed. Despite Ingrid’s invitation to accompany her and Edmund, Liesel elected to stay in the tent and spend the morning reading. Before receiving her freedom, she only had the privilege of reading at length when her master and mistress were in town and her chores were done. Thus, the count and his daughter met with the king without their new friend.
When they stepped inside the tent, Halvard turned his attention away from his brother and frowned at the sight of his future in-laws.
“Good morning, Your Majesty and Your Royal Highness,” Edmund said. “How can we be of service to you today?”
Viggo didn’t even look up from his documents when he answered the count.
“We need more information about Ansgar’s army.”
“And Ingrid?”
“My future wife needs to understand my duties and become accustomed to being by my side.”
Edmund glanced at his daughter, who thoughtfully chewed on her bottom lip. From what the young lady knew about other marriages, the men in her kingdom rarely involved their wives in more male dominated aspects of their lives or businesses. After all, their duty was to remain in the home and make sure their households ran without incident. Having a front row seat to a king planning the final phase of his invasion was strange and a bit unnerving. Judging by Halvard’s icy glower, Viggo’s decision was as abnormal to the Villriketians as it was to them.
Ingrid was raised during an era of relative peace in her homeland. What little she knew about war came from romanticized accounts of it in novels and the few censored anecdotes her father told her. Hearing how Viggo, Halvard, and her father planned the deadly deeds ahead wasn’t her idea of a fun morning … especially since the talk of death brought her soul a grave sadness she regularly experienced since her mother’s passing.
“Do you have any objections, Ingrid?” Edmund whispered.
“No!”
Ingrid’s unusually chirpy voice earned a concerned look from her father. She avoided his scrutiny by turning her gaze to the maps covering the table.
The men discussed guns, cannons, missiles, and explosives for the next hour while Ingrid watched their interaction. Edmund proved the most polite of the trio, Viggo barely passed as civil, and Halvard failed to display anything resembling grace or patience. As expected, the king’s bluntness and cantankerous disposition often added to his boorish image, but his brother was far worse. Throughout the meeting, the young prince made snide remarks and underhanded insults about Edmund and the people of Schlagefilde, which the count graciously ignored and Viggo failed to correct.
By the time Viggo was satisfied with their session, Ingrid’s stomach was rumbling rather loudly. Of course, she knew expecting or requesting her usual lunch or afternoon tea would’ve made her a laughing stock at the camp. Nevertheless, the count’s daughter hoped Viggo would provide some food to tide her over until supper. Sadly, she was forced to live with her nagging hunger until their evening meal.
To take her mind off her feral stomach, Ingrid walked on the outskirts of the camp with Liesel while Edmund hunted with a few soldiers. The Count of Anselm had the right to hunt anywhere in the county, so he allowed the men to do so providing that they didn’t kill more than they needed and bleed the area dry. Considering the pervasive tension haunting the men in anticipation of the upcoming battle, they would have been happy to hunt even if Edmund only permitted them to pluck a few rabbits from the countryside let alone a deer or boar.
“What did you do as your father’s secretary?” Ingrid asked.
“I wrote letters, helped manage his finances, purchased supplies, and whatever else he needed at the time.”
“Those are advantageous skills to possess. I hate that you gained them under such unpleasant circumstances, but they may help you find a well-paying job when the war is over.”
“Maybe. What does a count’s daughter do with her time?”
“Help run the household and learn how to become a respectable wife,” she answered, feeling silly as she explained her life of ease to Liesel. “My father spent a pretty penny on my governess, but I don’t have any artistic talent, and I don’t care to. Science is my passion. After she convinced my parents that my voice is tolerable at best and that I possess the drawing ability of a six year-old, Papa hired a tutor who could teach me about astronomy and physics. We even had the privilege of seeing William Parsons’ telescope on a trip to Ireland a few years ago.”
“What’s a telescope?”
Ingrid’s eyes lit up as a smile graced her rosy lips.
“A telescope is a large tube-shaped device that helps you see the stars! The Earl of Rosse’s telescope is six feet wide and over fifty feet long. We were able to see a spiral nebula Charles Messier categorized almost a century ago during our trip.”
“I don’t know what a spiral nebula is, but it sounds wonderful,” Liesel chuckled.
“Nothing stirs my affections for the Lord like gazing at or reading about the stars. Seeing how magnificently he created the universe and realizing that the same God who hung the stars and planets took the time to create and love us takes my breath away,” she sighed.
“That reminds me of Psalm 8. I usually feel the closest to God when I’m reading the psalms. In spite of the pain my master and mistress caused, I’m grateful he taught me how to read. Now, I can study scripture and experience God’s comfort for myself. My mother couldn’t read, so she heard the gospel through word of mouth. She only knew a few verses before I started reading the Bible to her.”
Liesel’s quiet voice cracked and tears filled her dark eyes, prompting Ingrid to place her arms around her new friend.
“She was very fortunate to have you, and she’ll be ecstatic to have you again once we’re all settled,” she said. “I’ll do everything I can to help you find her.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to! I understand how difficult being separated from your mother is. Even though I’ll never see mine again on this side of Heaven, I want to help you reunite with yours.”
“Thank you.”
The newly freed woman pulled away and wiped her eyes, which widened and promptly lowered when she noticed something behind her unlikely friend. Ingrid turned around and froze for a moment upon seeing Viggo standing several yards away. The count’s daughter dropped into a clumsy curtsy and wondered how long the king had been listening in on their intimate conversation.
“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” Ingrid greeted. “Can we be of some assistance?”
“You and I will be having a traditional Villriketian supper tonight in my cabin at seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”
Ingrid opened her mouth to respond, but the king turned and marched away before she could say a word. The young maiden frowned at his rudeness and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Liesel,” Ingrid said once Viggo walked out of earshot.
“I’m used to worse,” Liesel said with a half-smile. “Are you scared of him?”
“I can’t decide … I’m relying more on faith than sight now,” she joked. “On a lighter note, I think some rhubarb was growing back near the bottom of the hill. Come help me get some!”
Ingrid grabbed Liesel’s hand and took off in search of the desired shrub, earning a laugh from her companion as they ran through the woods with their guard only paces behind.
♦ ♦ ♦
Several minutes before seven o’clock, Ingrid and Johan crossed the camp to the mundane cabin the king called home. Edmund had scowled upon learning that Viggo extended his invitation without consulting him first and that he’d requested a private supper with his daughter. However, the count reluctantly consented to the meal when Johan pointed out that with the cook serving the meal and him guarding the pair, the king and his fiancée wouldn’t be alone.
Even with the young soldier’s assurances, Ingrid’s heart still hammered noisily in her ears and her mouth went dry when she reached the doorstep. The maiden had never shared an unsupervised meal with a man other than a relative before. The prospect of being alone with the grizzly king made her palms perspire in a most unladylike manner. Without Edmund there to act as a buffer, she would have no one to take the focus off her and anything she may say to offend Viggo.
Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer, she prayed, remembering a psalm she memorized after an argument with her father years before.
When the cook opened the door, Ingrid stepped inside the cabin. Her knuckles blanched as she clutched her dish and made eye contact with her betrothed. Viggo rose to his feet and remained standing until she sat across from him. A long minute of silence passed between the future husband and wife before Viggo finally spoke.
“What did you bring with you?”
Despite her brief prayer for courage, Ingrid’s voice was little louder than a whisper when she answered.
“I’m not quite sure what to call it, but my dish is something between rhubarb pie and summer pudding. You’ve probably had much better desserts in Villriket, but I saw some rhubarb on my walk today and thought you might enjoy having a sweet dish to eat tonight.”
“Well, anything is better than hard biscuits and salted meat.”
“I take it we’re having something different?”
“Yes, we are. Having a red meal before going off to face your enemy is good luck in our culture. They say the more red food you have in your belly, the less blood you’ll lose on the battlefield. I don’t know how much I believe the old wives’ tale, but I like having an excuse to eat real food,” the king explained, averting his eyes for a beat. “I wanted to share this meal with you.”
“Thank you for thinking of me. I guess it’s fitting that I made a dish with rhubarb.”
“Yes, it is,” he said, the corners of his lips turning up in a hint of a smile.
The cook filled their glasses with red wine and set plates of medium-rare steak, beets, and red cabbage before the king and his fiancée. When Viggo bowed his head and closed his eyes to pray over their supper, Ingrid’s jaw dropped. Fortunately, she recovered her wits and did the same as he said grace.
“Lord, thank you for this meal and for the loyal men you placed by my side during this war. Give them the strength, rest, and courage they need to stand against our enemy and be victorious on the battlefield tomorrow. I pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” Ingrid chorused, marveling at the ruler’s eloquent prayer as she began eating.
“I overheard some of your conversation with your new friend earlier,” Viggo said. “You like astronomy?”
A grin spread across Ingrid’s lightly freckled face.
“Yes, I find it so fascinating! What do you enjoy doing?”
“I joined the military when I was fifteen and became king when my parents were murdered five years later. With those two increases in responsibility, I haven’t had time to live for my own enjoyment in the past ten years.”
“Well, hasn’t something warmed your heart or made doing your duty less taxing.”
The king chewed on his steak, studying his future wife as he ruminated on her question.
“I took up painting as a child and spent some of my free time during the war against Aspasia sketching what I saw around me. The mountains between the coast and King Tresillian’s palace are quite splendid,” he confessed.
“Have you had much time to draw since becoming king?”
Viggo’s eyes darkened and he looked away, taking a swig of his wine.
“No, I have more pressing matters to tend to.”
“Well, you should make sketching or painting your first act of leisure after the war ends! The gardens at the palace in Bjartyra are exquisite. King Ansgar had flowers and shrubbery imported from all over the world and artisans sculpted them into a variety of shapes. A marble fountain with unbelievably realistic cherubs sits in the middle of the garden, and it’s hard not to imagine them giggling and playing their little harps!”
“You sound awfully familiar with Ansgar’s palace,” Viggo remarked coolly. “Your father gave me the impression that he and the king are on bad terms.”
“They are. Their convictions and opinions differ far too much for them to be friends as they were in their youth. We’ve only visited the palace as necessary to pay our respects to the king.”
“Lord Edmund told me one of Ansgar’s nephews wanted to court you. Are you two already acquainted?”
“Yes, Einar and I have met several times.”
“Under what circumstances?”
“Papa first introduced us at the king’s ball last year.”
“Did you dance with him at the ball?”
“A few times.”
“A few times,” he repeated, bristling with irritation. “It sounds like you were quite taken with each other.”
“Hardly,” Ingrid laughed. “Most unmarried men at the ball were at least twenty years older than me or insufferably pompous. While Einar was the most agreeable man my age, we never exchanged a single letter after that night, and he never called on me in Anselm.”
Viggo relaxed somewhat, and the young maiden realized he was jealous! While she knew men could be territorial at times, the concept of a man being wary of her past potential suitor was so foreign. After all, no man ever expressed interest in pursuing her. Yes, men praised her beauty, but they often found her tolerable at best and tiresome at worst.
To their dismay, she had no intention of amusing them with songs and delightfully shallow conversation. Rather, she wanted to discuss the stars or discover if they were abolitionists like her father and wanted Schlagefilde to follow the examples set by Villriket and Eusebia. Though no gentleman would dare tell her to her face, they likely found her too progressive and uncompromising to be a proper wife who valued the status quo.
But Viggo was different.
“Please don’t worry about my past. I never came close to giving my heart to him or anyone else,” Ingrid said. “You’re the only man who has had any interest in marrying me.”
“That’s ridiculous! A girl your age should have had some suitors or admirers by now.”
“My opinions are too strong and unpopular for most men in my social class to admire me.”
“Like your father.”
“Yes, I inherited his fair hair and fair ideas,” she chuckled.
“He’s an abolitionist, correct?”
Ingrid nodded as she chewed on her food.
“Hence you defending the girl last night.”
“Yes, but you’re doing far more for the slaves’ plight than I ever could. Your first act as King of Villriket was to abolish slavery.”
“My father began the work by changing the people’s hearts. I only had to change the law.”
“Well, you’re both more enlightened than King Ansgar. It took arm-twisting from twenty lords before he would consider reading a law granting freedmen the ability to own property. Even then, he refused to enact it. He said that he doesn’t see slaves as people and that letting them amass wealth and property is like throwing pearls before swine. His attitude disgusts me.”
Ingrid realized how tightly she clutched her fork and placed it on the table, taking a moment to calm herself as Viggo admired her refreshing compassion for their darker brothers and sisters.
“My
grandfather held the same twisted beliefs. His wife, God rest her soul, had enough of an influence to combat his narrow-mindedness and raise my father to be an unbiased man.”
“And her legacy is still living in you.”
“I suppose.”
As they continued their meal, Ingrid’s heart warmed upon finding she actually enjoyed Viggo’s company! The king came off as abrasive during their initial interactions, but he was gentler than his rough exterior and demeanor let on. However, as the maiden grew accustomed to meeting his steely blue eyes as opposed to casting her gaze downward in fear, she recognized a deep sadness in him. His quiet despondency matched the heartache she often struggled with, and she felt a strange kinship with the foreign king.
Their lives had both been touched by profound, life-changing loss.
The two grew more comfortable around one another with every passing minute. Though the king never laughed and his lips were seldom set in anything but a hard line, Ingrid sensed a new lightness in him. He even suggested venturing outside to watch the stars as they ate Ingrid’s crimson dessert.
“This is delicious,” Viggo praised. “What did you make it with?”
“Rhubarb, a little honey, and some of the hard biscuits we’ve been eating.”
“I never thought anyone could make that rock hard rubbish taste delicious,” he marveled. “Did your mother teach you how to cook?”
“No, but when I took over as the lady of the house, I spent some time shadowing the men and women my father employ. I wanted to learn what their duties were and how best to support them in their roles. The cook fascinated me the most, so I still help her from time to time. I think it’s because I can see the science behind baking and cooking.”
Viggo nodded, finishing off his dessert and savoring the last bite. After a long, contented exhale, he turned to his betrothed and spoke again.
“What advice do you have for me regarding tomorrow’s battle?”
“I don’t know. I’m not well-versed in war like you, your brother, or my father.”
“You may lack our strategic knowledge, but you’re a sensible, intelligent woman with a good heart. My father saw my mother as his equal and included her in his major decisions. I would be a fool not to treat you with the same respect.”
