The Medieval Fairy Tale Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

“That is a sober expression for a woman who is dancing and enjoying herself.” Mathis broke into her thoughts as the dance was ending.

  “My mind tends to wander sometimes. It is a lively gathering, is it not? Do you see my friend Anna?” She looked around the room and spotted her standing next to her husband. She looked beautiful tonight.

  “Ah yes. She is Peter Voreken’s wife, is she not? I shall have to ask her to dance.” Mathis leaned close to Odette’s face, so close his breath brushed her cheek. “But first I would like to dance again with you, Odette.”

  A man approached them.

  “Mathis, won’t you introduce me to this beautiful young maiden?”

  Mathis gave her an apologetic smile. “Odette, this is Ulrich Schinkel, the margrave’s chancellor. Ulrich, this is Odette Menkels, the niece and ward of Rutger Menkels.”

  Without wasting any time, the stranger smirked and asked, “Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, fair maiden?”

  He was a prominent person so Rutger would be pleased. “I will.”

  She danced with Ulrich, but there was an arrogant self-consciousness in his expression that Odette didn’t like. When the dance was over, she said, “You may take me to my uncle. I am sure he would like to speak to you.”

  They made their way over to Rutger, who stood alone since Peter and Anna had gone to dance.

  Ulrich greeted Rutger, then said, “If I am not asking too much, would you please allow me to dance again with your fair niece? I do believe she is the most graceful and beautiful maiden in Thornbeck.”

  The fact that he asked her uncle if he could dance with her instead of asking her did not sit well with Odette. But Rutger smiled as though pleased and gave his consent. Odette allowed Ulrich to lead her back to the dance.

  The dance with Ulrich seemed to take a long time.

  When it was over, Ulrich opened his mouth, but Jorgen interrupted him. “Pardon me.” Jorgen stepped quite close to them. “I would like to dance with the birthday maiden.” He took her hand as if she had already accepted.

  Ulrich looked daggers at him, but Jorgen kept his gaze on Odette. She nodded and he swept her away. They joined the circle that was snaking around the entire first floor.

  “I am afraid that man, Ulrich, is angry with you.”

  Jorgen smiled. “He hasn’t liked me since we were boys. I never mind it.”

  Odette was pleased to have been rescued from Ulrich, and she let herself enjoy the dance, turning and clapping, sidestepping and turning again.

  She glanced around but didn’t see the chancellor. She pictured Jorgen and Ulrich getting into a fight, like in their boyhood days. They were grown men now, and she did not wish to invoke jealousy or contention between them.

  She couldn’t seem to stop staring at Jorgen and his blue-green eyes. He made her feel so safe and protected. She couldn’t ever remember feeling that way with anyone else. It seemed especially strange, considering his position.

  When the dance ended, she turned to Jorgen. He stood very close to her side in the crowded room, which made him seem even taller. She could see the stubble on his jaw and the small dent in the center of his chin. The tilt of his head as he bent to hear what she was saying made her heart alternately skip a beat and thump against her chest. “I will sit down for a while now.”

  “Are you well?”

  “Only a little tired.” She still had to go hunting tonight, and she needed to conserve her strength. “You may dance if you like while I rest.” She moved toward an unoccupied bench against the wall.

  Jorgen walked with her to the bench, then was called away by Rutger and a couple of other men who seemed to want to talk to him.

  Odette sat and watched as Peter whisked Anna onto the floor. Several other couples were taking advantage of the musicians and dancing every dance. Perhaps she should have continued dancing, for now she was watching everyone else enjoying themselves. Who could she talk to? She glanced around. Where was Jorgen?

  There. He was sitting with one of Rutger’s friends, a man with a bulbous nose who seemed to be telling Jorgen a story. His eyes were locked on Jorgen’s face, and he was leaning forward, hugging a goblet of wine to his chest.

  She caught Jorgen’s eye. He looked restless, and she motioned with her hand for him to come and sit with her.

  Just then, the older man who was talking to him sat back and yelled at a passing servant, thrusting his goblet at him. Jorgen took the opportunity to excuse himself and strode over to Odette.

  “Sit and talk with me. I’m rather tired of dancing. And now that I think about it . . .” She probably shouldn’t, but, “Would you accompany me to our little garden? It would be so much easier to talk out there, without the noise.”

  He held his arm out to her and she took it, allowing him to lead her out the back door. She hoped no one would gossip about them being alone in the garden together.

  7

  THE NIGHT SKY was clear, and the sun’s rays had not completely disappeared from overhead. Fortunately, they were not alone, as a few other people were strolling in the garden or sitting on one of the benches.

  “I hope you are enjoying your birthday.”

  “Oh ja, I am.” She walked over to the iron bench and sat down, leaving plenty of room for Jorgen. “It was so loud inside. I thought we could continue our conversation better out here.”

  He did not sit beside her but continued to stand.

  Perhaps this was a mistake. She had not thought this through. If she did not want to be alone with him—and she should not—or to make him think she was showing a preference for him, then she should not have asked him to come out to the garden.

  “Do you want to go back inside?” she asked.

  “Are you cold?”

  She shook her head.

  He sat down at the other side of the bench, leaving two feet between them. “Tell me about you. I know you like to teach the poor children to read and write. What else do you like to do?” A thick lock of his blond hair fell across his right eyebrow, and the dimple in his chin was accentuated by the shadows of the falling twilight.

  “I . . .” I like to hunt. She couldn’t tell him that. “I like to study.”

  “Your friend Anna mentioned that you like to study and that you have a tutor. What do you study?” He reached out and picked a leaf off the bush behind them and stared down at it in his hands.

  “Brother Philip mostly brings me theology books. We have some lively debates sometimes, but I don’t tell anyone about that.” She bit her lip. Would Jorgen disapprove? Her heart seemed to stop beating as she waited to see what he would say.

  He barely glanced up at her. “Why do you keep that a secret?”

  “Some people might not approve.”

  “I wouldn’t think you would care what some people think. Some people are lack wits and do not treat women very well, but I suppose you would not tolerate anyone like that for long.”

  They smiled at each other. “No, I do not suppose I would.”

  “I have a Psalter and two of the Gospel books,” he said.

  “You have the Gospel books? All your own?” Odette’s mouth fell open.

  “You can come and read them sometime, if you wish.”

  “I would love to own the entire holy Writ. I have a Psalter, and sometimes Brother Philip brings a copy of the Gospels and other books of the Bible for me to read. Do you read them often?”

  He nodded. “I like to read. I nearly have the book of Luke memorized.”

  “What else do you like to do?”

  He seemed about to say something, then halted and stared down at his leaf.

  “What? I told you my secret.” One of them. “Now you must tell me yours.”

  Jorgen expelled a breath as though he was laughing at himself. Then he turned and pointed a finger at her. “You must vow not to tell anyone.”

  “I will not reveal it. Tell me.” She leaned toward him, in case he wanted to whisper.

  “I like to write . . . th
ings.”

  “What kind of things?” She held her breath.

  “Many kinds of things.”

  “Tell me!”

  “Tales. Verses. Rhymes.” He still would not look at her.

  “Oh, I would love to read them! Won’t you show them to me?”

  “Some are for children. I have never let anyone read them.”

  “You should come and read them to my children! To the poor children who come to my classes, I mean.” She lowered her voice. “Truly, you must. They would love it above anything. I know they would.”

  He shrugged and turned his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You must. Tomorrow after midday, at the south wall. Please do, Jorgen.” She liked the sound of his name coming from her lips. It sounded friendly and familiar, as if they were old friends.

  He didn’t answer.

  “You aren’t afraid, are you?” Men hated anyone to think they were afraid.

  “Truthfully? Ja, I am afraid.”

  Odette laughed at his unexpected answer. “But why?”

  “Perhaps I will. As long as it is only children who are listening.”

  “Only children. And me.”

  “And only if you vow not to laugh.”

  “I would not laugh.”

  “You would if the rhymes were very bad.”

  “If they were very bad, I might laugh. But they won’t be bad.”

  “Now you have to tell me an embarrassing secret, since I told you one of mine.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, still cradling the leaf in his hands.

  “An embarrassing secret? I don’t know if it is embarrassing, but . . . since Mathis said what he did about your childhood, I can tell you that after my mother and father died, I was destitute. I was five years old and a neighbor took me in, but she made me sweep and scrub her floors and barely fed me. Four years went by before my uncle Rutger came to fetch me. And I was never allowed to go to school when I lived with them.”

  She decided not to tell him that she had spent a lot of her time scrounging for food, until a peasant boy around her own age had taken pity on her and showed her how to make a bow and some arrows. She’d taught herself how to shoot pheasants and discovered she was quite good at it. Being able to provide food for herself and some of the other poor orphans in town had made her feel powerful, and powerful was not something she had ever felt.

  After she went to live with her uncle, he gave her a lot of freedom, and she often amused herself by hunting. Once, when she was twelve, Jorgen’s father caught her killing pheasants in Thornbeck Forest. She had been terrified he would put her in the pillory or turn her over to the margrave. But he only scolded her—and offered her food if she was hungry and would come to his cottage. She ran away instead.

  But she could never tell Jorgen that story.

  “How did you learn to read?”

  “Uncle Rutger hired a tutor to teach me. He said a wealthy merchant’s wife must not be ignorant.” She blushed, realizing she had admitted to Jorgen that her uncle expected her to marry a wealthy merchant.

  But Jorgen didn’t seem to notice. “You are no ordinary maiden.”

  “Perhaps. But I am determined that you will not change your mind about tomorrow. You must come to read your verses and stories to the children.”

  He shook his head and chuckled, a deep, throaty sound, cascading over her like a warm waterfall. “Does anyone ever say no to you?”

  “Not often.”

  “But I cannot stay long.”

  “Why not? Are you so busy?”

  “I usually am not, but something has just happened that I must look into.”

  “Oh?” She sat up straighter. “What has happened?”

  “I believe someone is poaching deer in Thornbeck Forest.”

  “Why would you think that?” Her voice sounded breathless. She swallowed, trying to force her racing heart to calm down.

  “I found an arrow.”

  “Is it not the margrave’s arrow? He hunts there sometimes.”

  “Nein, it is not.”

  She was about to ask him how the arrow was different from the margrave’s. Such information would have been quite helpful, but he went on.

  “I should not be talking about that. You couldn’t possibly be interested in such a thing.”

  You would be surprised at how interested I am. “I hope the poacher will not cause you much difficulty. Perhaps it was only a child trying out a new bow and arrow his father made for him, for play.”

  “Perhaps. But some of the stags are missing.”

  “Stags are skilled at hiding themselves, are they not?”

  He stared at her. By now it was completely dark, except for the bit of light shining through the house windows and the partial moon in the sky.

  She shrugged. “Or so I have heard.” Wanting to change the subject, she crossed her arms and said, “I had asked you into the garden so I could hear more about you, but we have mostly talked about me. Didn’t you say you had a sister who died?”

  A strange look came over his face. If only she could see him better, could read his features. Once again he bent his head to stare down at the leaf.

  He nodded. “My adoptive parents never had children. Sometimes different boys would stay with us for a while, sleeping on a pallet on the floor. There were two brothers, older than I, who stayed for about two years before they started working in the margrave’s stables.”

  Even though she sensed he did not want to talk about his sister or his childhood before he was adopted by the gamekeeper and his wife, she felt that he had had a good life after he went to live with them. Gratitude toward his adoptive parents welled up inside her.

  “I always wished I had a sister,” Odette confessed. “I had an imaginary sister when I was very young. I think the family who took me in thought I was daft when I would talk to my sister, Sophie. I rather enjoyed shocking them.”

  “I could see that about you.” Jorgen nodded, an amused smile gracing his masculine lips.

  “Odette?” Rutger’s voice called to her. She stood quickly. Her uncle’s outline was lit by the open back door. “Are you out here?”

  “Ja, I am here.”

  “You must come and join the festivities. I want to introduce you to some people.”

  Jorgen stood, too, and escorted her to the house. “I hope you won’t be scolded,” he whispered to her.

  “Oh nein. Uncle Rutger never scolds me. I am an adult, after all.”

  “Ah, Jorgen. I see you are with my niece. Taking in the night air?”

  Odette interjected, “I couldn’t hear well inside, with the music, and asked him to come into the garden so we could speak without shouting.”

  “Of course.” Rutger smiled, but she saw the surprised look in his eyes—surprised she would be spending time talking to the forester.

  She was a little surprised herself.

  Once inside, Rutger introduced her to a man and his son—no doubt another marriage prospect for her—and then some other guests. One of them was an old man with saggy jowls who eyed her lecherously. He made sure to tell her his wife had died recently and he was looking for a new one. Odette cringed and excused herself from him as quickly as she could.

  “There you are!” Mathis caught her hand. “Come and dance with me.”

  A new song was beginning, and they joined the other dancers. But many people were beginning to leave, and the dance floor was less crowded than before. When the dance was over, she saw Jorgen was heading toward the front door. She started to go toward him, but Mathis pulled her back with a hand on her arm.

  “Odette, I think you are the fairest maiden in Thornbeck. What do you think of me?” A pleading look flared in his eyes.

  “I think you are . . . a very complimentary gentleman.” She laughed a little, hoping to lighten the moment and break away from him to say farewell to Jorgen. “I shall be back in a moment.”

  She pulled out of Mathis’s grasp and reached Jorgen just before h
e passed through the small entryway between the main room and the front door. Others were standing nearby, including Rutger, and she felt his eyes on her.

  As she rushed forward, Jorgen turned. She found herself face-to-face with him. “Don’t forget. The children and . . . the verses.” She hoped she had kept her words vague enough that she had not revealed their rendezvous to Rutger.

  He gazed intently into her eyes. “I won’t forget.” His crooked smile stole her breath.

  Rutger gave her a weighty look, but Anna and Peter were also waiting to say farewell. She embraced her friend, who whispered in her ear, “I shall come tomorrow. I want to know where you and Jorgen went.”

  Odette ignored Rutger’s look of suspicion and went back to Mathis. “Forgive me, but I am so exhausted. I do not wish to dance anymore.”

  He did not protest, probably because the minstrels were playing their last song and everyone was leaving.

  “Good night, my fair Odette.” Mathis kissed her hand.

  “Gute Nacht,” Odette answered, trying to look kind but not flirtatious. Thankfully, Rutger was standing nearby. She had a nervous feeling that Mathis might have told her he wished to marry her if her uncle had not been there.

  When all the guests were gone, Odette squeezed her uncle’s arm. “Thank you for the party.”

  “Did you have a pleasant birthday?”

  “Oh ja, very pleasant.”

  “It gives me joy to hear it.”

  Perhaps she didn’t thank him enough. Her conversation with Jorgen tonight had reminded her how her uncle had saved her from crushing lack, loneliness, and mistreatment at the hands of people who did not love her. She owed him so much.

  Tomorrow she would tell him about the arrow and about Jorgen’s realization that there was a poacher about, killing stags. For now she had to prepare herself for the hunt. She didn’t want anyone to go hungry tomorrow because she had danced too much and was too tired.

  And she had tomorrow afternoon with Jorgen and the children to look forward to.

  8

  ODETTE YAWNED AS she walked to the place outside the town wall on the south side where she taught the poorest children to read and write. Most of them lived in rickety shacks propped against the brick wall of the town. The little hovels were made of cast-off materials—wood, tree limbs, blankets, and whatever else they could find to keep out the wind and rain. Some of them were orphans and lived with older siblings, and some lived with parents who couldn’t work due to sickness or infirmity and couldn’t provide a better place to live.