The Captive Maiden

by Melanie Dickerson

  As they made their way across the yard toward the stable, Gisela grew impatient with Valten’s slow stride, wanting to walk ahead of him as they drew near the dark building, where a horse was whinnying and two men were talking.

  The men bowed respectfully when Valten entered, then went back to cleaning stalls.

  Valten walked straight to the third stall on the right. A horse that looked almost identical to Kaeleb came and bobbed his head up and down over his stall door. He snuffled as Valten rubbed his cheek.

  “This is Sieger.”

  Gisela held her breath, wondering if the horse would remember her. She let him smell her hand. He held still as she rubbed his forehead. “Guten morgen, Sieger.”

  The big animal stretched his neck and sniffed her hair, then nickered. When he rubbed his head against her shoulder as if he had seen her only yesterday, her heart swelled inside her chest. She rubbed him behind his ear and he nickered again, wiggling his nose and searching her hand, no doubt looking for a carrot. He was remembering how she always fed him his favorite treat.

  Valten gazed at her out of the corner of his eye before patting his horse. Sieger ignored him and nudged Gisela’s shoulder again.

  “I’ve never seen him act this way with a stranger.”

  Gisela remembered the last day she’d seen this beautiful creature — a day when life was still happy, when she felt safe and loved, and she still had a father to protect her. Seeing Sieger made her remember all the other horses she’d said good-bye to over the years.

  “Perhaps he does know me.” She rubbed the destrier’s nose affectionately, breathing into his nostrils.

  She could feel Valten’s eyes on her. With a final pat, she reluctantly moved away from Sieger and turned to Valten. “Can you show me your other horses?”

  Valten stared a moment, then said, “Have you seen Sieger before?”

  Gisela smiled innocently. “How could I?”

  He frowned at her, then led her to the next stall, introducing her first to his courser, then to several other mounts, including the ponies and palfreys preferred by his three sisters. She got an idea about each sister’s personality as she got to know that girl’s horse, and as she listened to the small but pertinent information Valten gave about each one.

  “Margaretha’s favorite horse is this palfrey.” Valten led her to a horse with friendly eyes and a white blaze on her forehead. “Her horse loves to run, but she’s gentle and obedient.”

  They moved to the next stall. “Kirstyn’s horse is calm and easy to manage, but she doesn’t like crowds.”

  Gisela stopped to let the mare get a good look at her and sniff her hand before she rubbed the horse’s head.

  “And this is Adela’s pony. We call her Dizzy because she dances around a lot.”

  The pony was gray with white spots, a shaggy mane, and shy eyes. Gisela rubbed the pony and talked to him softly.

  As much as she enjoyed meeting his sisters’ favorite horses, she found herself wishing she could meet his sisters and also see Valten with them. She imagined the youngest one asking him to play. He would pretend to be impatient with her — at first. When she begged, she imagined him eventually giving in, patiently playing a game with them. He would give her a piggyback ride and let them bring out a playful side he didn’t show anyone else. Yes, she would very much enjoy seeing him with his family.

  But how was that ever to be? She would enjoy this hour with him, then savor it in her memory, tucking it beside the memory of him when he was fourteen. It would comfort her when she felt alone, along with the few memories she was still able to retain about her father.

  A groom, upon Valten’s request, returned with a few carrots. Valten handed half of them to Gisela. “Sieger likes carrots. They’re his favorite.”

  Gisela bit back a smile as she fed her carrots to Sieger while Valten distributed his carrots to the others.

  She watched Valten out of the corner of her eye, trying to burn his every feature in her memory. She took note of his clean-shaven jawline, the small hollow above the middle of his top lip … Staring at his lips made her heart skip a beat, so she shifted her gaze to his eyes. His lashes and brows were thick and darker than his hair.

  Afraid he might notice her staring, she ducked behind Sieger and gave the horse a final rub, pressing her cheek against his.

  She hated to spoil the moment with thoughts of her stepmother, but Evfemia would be finishing her shopping and would want Gisela to hitch Kaeleb back up to the carriage. She should hurry, since Evfemia wouldn’t hesitate to cause an embarrassing scene if she couldn’t find her stepdaughter. And if she knew Gisela had spent the last hour with the duke’s oldest son, it would be even worse. For years, the woman had been scheming a way for her daughter, Irma, to marry the future duke of Hagenheim, or to at least meet him and talk to him. She’d be jealous fit to die if she knew Gisela had done by accident something all her scheming had failed to do.

  “I should be getting back to the blacksmith’s.”

  “Let us go, then.”

  “You don’t have to escort me.” It was best for both of them if no one saw them together. Her stepmother and stepsisters would humiliate her in front of him.

  “With Ruexner prowling around, yes, I do.”

  She thought it better not to argue with a man who looked as determined and grim as Valten. His face was like chiseled stone. Best to just say, “Thank you” and pray they didn’t encounter her stepfamily.

  They walked along, discussing the horses and their different characteristics. But once they reached the Marktplatz, she remained alert, hoping they could get to the blacksmith’s shop before she saw her stepmother.

  Her eyes darted in every direction, Valten noted, as they made their way through the Marktplatz, as though she was looking for someone. And Valten didn’t think that person was Ruexner. She’d been confident when she’d encountered that rogue — now she seemed nervous.

  He couldn’t look at her without thinking how beautiful she was. Where did she come from? When would he see her again? He couldn’t let her go without finding out who she was. But the noise of the crowd made it momentarily impossible to ask her anything.

  A woman suddenly grabbed her by her arm and yanked, making her stumble. “Where have you been?” the woman screeched.

  Valten stepped up, getting between the extravagantly dressed woman and the girl. Startled, the woman took a step back but didn’t let go of her arm.

  “It’s all right.” The girl looked at him with pleading, desperate eyes. “Just let me go with her.”

  “Who is she?” he demanded, this woman who was dressed like a queen and would dare hurt her.

  “My stepmother.” She turned and walked away with the woman.

  The woman squawked, “Who is that man? What are you about?”

  They walked away and were quickly swallowed by the throng.

  Chapter

  3

  Gisela walked as quickly as possible as they squeezed their way through the crowded town square. Her stepmother’s grip was painful, but Gisela didn’t pull away, in case Valten was following. She didn’t want to cause a scene or slow her stepmother down, as then Valten would see how she was treated. Not that he would ever see her again.

  Her stepmother was still asking questions. “Who was that man?”

  “One of the duke’s knights.” It wasn’t a lie exactly. He was a knight, and he did belong to the duke.

  “What were you doing with him?”

  “He asked to escort me while my horse was at the blacksmith’s.” Gisela stumbled. She caught herself before she fell on her knees in the street, then she yanked loose from her stepmother’s grip.

  On the other side of the Marktplatz, they were joined by Irma and Contzel, who turned their haughty noses up at Gisela and began piling their packages and bags in her arms. Sir Edgar’s daughter, Rainhilda, stood beside Irma. Rainhilda closed her eyes and turned away, as if looking at Gisela upset her delicate constitution. She wore
an elaborate headdress, complete with a gauzy veil and exotic plumage, which made her as out of place at the Hagenheim Marktplatz as a peacock in a dovecote, and even more conspicuous.

  The townspeople gaped at Rainhilda, but not just because of her headdress. Her beauty was unrivaled, except perhaps by the duke’s daughters, and they were still a bit young. Her father had been rewarded by the king for service rendered, and next to Duke Wilhelm, Sir Edgar’s was one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in the region. A popular speculation of the people was that Rainhilda was hoping—expecting—Valten to designate her the Queen of Beauty and Love at the Hagenheim tournament in two weeks. The tournament champion, whom everyone believed would be Valten, would be allowed to choose one young maiden to sit on the throne for the final display of arms.

  Rainhilda looked coifed and pampered. From underneath her headdress her golden hair hung in perfect ringlets, like shavings from a woodworker’s planing blade. The precise folds of her veil and the vibrant pink of her flat, rolled turban accented her pale skin to great advantage.

  Irma had managed to endear herself to Rainhilda with gifts and flattery and gossip. Gisela had overheard her stepmother’s whispered counsel to her daughters to ingratiate themselves to Rainhilda in order to get closer to the duke’s family, and most particularly his oldest son. But how on earth Evfemia could think Valten would ever look twice at homely, sticklike Irma, Gisela couldn’t imagine.

  She hoped she never had to see Valten with Rainhilda, to witness her triumphant smirk as she flirted with confident abandon. It would only make it painfully clear how impossible it would be for someone like him to care for someone like Gisela. With her wild hair and ragged clothes, Gisela was certainly no Rainhilda.

  She walked to the carriage and dumped her stepmother’s and stepsisters’ purchases inside. She continued on to the blacksmith’s shop. Once there, she quickly thanked him and took Kaeleb’s reins.

  When she turned, Valten was striding toward her. She drew in a quick breath at the fierce protectiveness in his eyes.

  “Will you be at the tournament?” His question was almost a demand.

  “I … I will try.” She wanted to touch his arm, his hand, to feel a connection with him before she said good-bye. But that was foolish. He was the duke’s son and she was little more than a servant in her stepmother’s house.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  Gisela glanced over his shoulder. Irma, Contzel, and Evfemia were standing at the carriage, staring suspiciously at her. But at least Rainhilda wasn’t with them.

  “I can’t talk now.” She tried to walk past him.

  “Come to the tournament.” He touched her elbow. “Please.”

  The intensity in his eyes made it impossible to look away.

  “Cinders-ela!” Irma screeched, then laughed.

  “We are waiting for you, Cinders-ela!” Contzel added.

  Gisela’s cheeks burned. She brushed past Valten with Kaeleb, but Valten touched her arm again.

  “Gisela,” she said, looking into his eyes one last time. “My name is Gisela.” Then she turned and continued walking away from Valten.

  Chapter

  4

  Evfemia leveled a steely, dark glare at Gisela. No doubt she was thinking of some punishment for her. For what? For speaking to a man? Or for taking too long to get the horse hitched back up to the carriage? Likely both. But Gisela didn’t care. Not even her stepmother could ruin this day for her. She would remember it forever as the best day of her life.

  Gisela, as usual, drove them home sitting on the coachman’s box. Evfemia probably considered it another method of humiliation, but Gisela loved the arrangement. She could see everything, and she loved the bustling atmosphere of town. Besides, in the driver’s seat she was closer to the horses.

  When they arrived home, Gisela helped brush the animals down and get them fed. As she walked toward the house, thoughts of Valten paraded through her head. She wanted to hold on to everything he had said, envision every detail of his face, and recall the way he paid attention to his horses, which somehow reminded her of how she’d felt about her father. Valten had even noticed Sieger’s special reaction to her, how he had remembered her. Perhaps he —

  “Gisela!” Evfemia yelled through the open window.

  She saved the memories for later and went inside the house.

  Evfemia met her in the great room. “I suppose you’re going to turn out like most serving girls—lewd and brazen and offering yourself to men.”

  “You suppose wrong.” Gisela crossed her arms, facing her stepmother.

  “I don’t like your tone.” Evfemia infused her words with an icy chill. “In fact, I don’t like the way you’re looking at me, as if this was your house.” Her voice went from low and icy to loud and screechy. “I am mistress of this house. Everything here belongs to me. You belong to me.” She strode toward Gisela and didn’t stop until she was able to reach out and grab her.

  Evfemia pinched Gisela’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, her thumb digging into her flesh.

  Gisela wrenched away from her.

  “If you are consorting with men,” Evfemia hissed out between clenched teeth, “I’ll throw you out. You’ll never be welcome here again.”

  “Good. I can go wherever I want. You don’t control me.”

  “I’ll tell everyone what you have become.

  Gisela raised her eyebrows. “I don’t care.”

  Evfemia’s eyes flashed and her jaw hardened as she appeared to grind her teeth together. “I never loved your father. I only married him for his money.”

  Gisela looked up at the ceiling, as though infinitely bored. “So you’ve told me before.” Why did her stepmother still try to hurt her with that information? It no longer worked.

  “Who is that man you were with today?”

  “I told you, he is a knight.”

  “What is his name?”

  “He didn’t tell me his name.”

  Evfemia eyed her with suspicion. “Until you tell me who he is, you will scrub the entire house. You’ll start with the floors, then you’ll scrub the walls, then the ceilings. Then you’ll —”

  “I cannot help it if he did not want to be introduced to you.” She relished the fury on Evfemia’s face. How much more furious she would be if she knew it had been Valten, Lord Hamlin, paying special attention to her?

  Evfemia’s face turned red.

  “He’s kind and noble, so you wouldn’t like him.”

  Evfemia’s voice was raspy. “You are never to see him again.” Gisela shrugged, turned around, and started for the stairs.

  Evfemia sputtered, as though she couldn’t decide what to say, “You — go help Miep in the kitchen! And you are not to — go back to town with us ever again! Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Frau Evfemia.” Gisela started for the kitchen, laughing inside at Evfemia’s impotent rage.

  “Wait! Come here.”

  Gisela stopped and braced herself for whatever poisonous words Evfemia was about to spew.

  “You don’t care about anything, do you?” Evfemia studied her from narrowed eyes. “No, that’s not true, is it?”

  Would she truly take away the one thing Gisela couldn’t pretend she didn’t love? The dread was like a hollowness inside.

  “I intend to sell every one of those horses, do you hear me? I’ll sell them to the butcher, the tanner … and your favorite horse will be the first to go. I believe Kaeleb will make a fine meal for the duke’s falcons, and the leather workers will be able to use his hide to make quite a few bags and harnesses, and several pairs of boots …”

  Heat rose up the back of Gisela’s neck and into her head. She’s bluffing.

  “But if you stay away from this man … I might let you keep your precious horses.” Evfemia clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Although it is so hard to believe a knight would ever be caught talking to you.” She cackled, an ugly but gleeful sound that echoed off the walls. />
  Irma came running into the room to see what was going on, and Gisela hurried away before Evfemia could control herself enough to call her back.

  Gisela’s blood was still boiling as she joined Miep, their cook, in the kitchen and helped her prepare the bread. She pounded the dough Miep had started, kneading it blindly as anger blurred her vision. If only she could think of some way to stop Evfemia from threatening to sell the horses every time she wanted to force Gisela to do something. Her stepmother was certainly capable of making good on her threat. And although Kaeleb still had many good years before him, Evfemia was right that no one but the butcher, the falconer, or the tanner would want the older horses, to kill them for their meat and their hides. She couldn’t let that happen. But how could she stop her stepmother?

  Valten went into the library after breakfast. Duke Wilhelm walked in a few minutes later with Valten’s mother. Valten hugged her and gave her a peck on the cheek because he knew his mother liked that, and his father would scowl at him if he didn’t.

  “You wanted to speak to me?” He didn’t truly want to know what this was about and hoped it didn’t take long. He was a bit old for scoldings and lectures.

  His mother smiled, but it was a sad smile. His parents stood together and exchanged a brief glance. “We’ve been so happy to have you home, and were wondering what your plans are after the tournament next week.”

  Valten took his time as he thought about what to say.

  “I was hoping you would settle down here in Hagenheim,” his mother said, with a lift of her brows, “instead of leaving us again.”

  She seemed to try to sound nonchalant, but there was a glisten in her eyes that signaled she might be about to cry. Valten shifted his feet uncomfortably. He wasn’t afraid of much, but a crying woman made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.