Gisela stared openmouthed at Margaretha, then laughed. “Margaretha the Matchmaker.” Would Margaretha be able to work her matchmaking influence on Gisela and Valten? But that was too much to hope for.
Though this red dress was a hope builder. The enormous sleeves flared at the elbows and hung down in a point. The belt was of the same material and embroidery as the border, and the bodice looked like it might be too small.
“What if it doesn’t fit?”
“We’ll put it on you and see.”
Margaretha and the servant helped pull the elaborate dress over Gisela’s long white chemise, then adjusted it into place and laced it up in the back. “It fits perfectly!” she crowed. “I thought it would. I hope you don’t mind that it was made for my mother, but she declared that red wasn’t her color and gave it to me. Red is not my color any more than it is hers, but it looks as if it was made just for you, Gisela.” Margaretha beamed as she threw open the window shutters.
The light streamed in and made the beautiful fabric shimmer. Gisela smoothed her hands over her waist, amazed at how well the gown fit. It was by far the most beautiful and extravagant dress she’d ever worn. Mentally comparing this dress to the ones she wore every day at home made Gisela feel she had exchanged her servant rags for a princess’s ball gown.
“I shall be sure and return it to you.”
“Oh, no, it is my gift to you.” Margaretha looked her over from head to foot. “It has found its rightful owner.”
Gisela threw her arms around Valten’s sister. “Thank you.”
Margaretha hugged her tight. “But we must hurry and get ready. You are our tournament queen and you mustn’t be late. I’m not sure they can start the day’s bouts without you.”
Gisela submitted to the ministrations of a servant, who prepared her hair in loose curls and dressed it with small braids, ribbons, and a circlet and veil. She did the same for Margaretha, who dressed in a lovely pale green dress. As soon as the servants were finished with them, she grabbed Gisela’s arm and ran out of the chamber.
“Oh, I forgot something.” Margaretha ran back inside her chamber and came back out with a long red scarf the same color as Gisela’s dress. “Valten will want to wear this today.” She grinned at Gisela and together they ran down the steps.
What other delights would this day hold? Or would the next twenty-four hours be quite different from the last?
Valten and Sieger waited for their first challenger. Gisela’s red scarf dangled from where Margaretha had tied it around his arm. He liked it there.
And he liked looking up into the center of the south gallery and seeing Gisela sitting in her special place as the queen. She was there because he chose her, and every person at the tournament knew it.
He let his gaze stray to her again and again. The red of her dress seemed to emphasize her beauty. She was the most beautiful woman in Hagenheim.
Hagenheim? She was the most beautiful woman he’d seen anywhere. He looked forward to being able to talk to her again.
His first opponent came out onto the lists, a young knight from Burgundy who had distinguished himself in a few tournaments. He had chosen the sword as the weapon they would use. They waited until the marshal dropped his flag, then ambled their horses toward the middle of the empty field, holding their swords at the ready.
Both horses held steady as they neared each other. Valten nudged Sieger forward, closing the gap between them, then struck at the young knight, clashing blades with him.
The man fought well as Valten tested him, biding his time and hoping to wear him down. Valten would miss fighting—a little — but by stepping away from tournament life, he could do other things, and his mother and father would be happy.
Just then, the Burgundian knight landed two quick blows; the second one Valten wasn’t quite prepared for, and he was only able to block it partially. The tip of the blade struck Valten’s shoulder.
He’d let his mind wander, and he never did that.
Valten began to attack, careful to stay solidly in the saddle and turn his horse instead of his body. If he got off balance he could easily fall, and falling off one’s horse placed a man at a decided disadvantage. Armor was heavy and made it difficult to get up quickly, and a knight’s opponent could dismount, stand over him, and be declared the winner before he was even able to get to his feet.