Sophie and the seven men loaded packs and bundles of food and supplies on Walther’s saddle in such abundance he claimed his horse would never be able to carry both him and the supplies. Then they bid him farewell and watched him ride away.
That afternoon it was raining too hard for the seven to do their usual work of cutting down trees, so Sophie discovered she had lots of help in performing several apparently overdue cleaning tasks around the cottage. She put Heinric and Vincz to work scrubbing the plaster walls, which were painted with brightly colored scenes of flowering meadows and trees and small animals — rabbits, birds, squirrels, fawns. A little soap and water uncovered the true beauty of the murals, eliminating layers of gray caused by years of dirt and soot. And as she scrubbed, she wondered who had painted the murals, and why. So she asked Vincz.
“It was Dolf and Siggy. See the animals? Siggy does those, and Dolf paints the background — the flowers, trees, and clouds.”
Sophie did notice a difference in style, now that he mentioned it, between the animals and the other elements of the murals.
“It is very beautiful. I should think everyone would want their houses decorated in such a way.”
“Dolf and Siggy spent a year in foreign lands east of here, painting these sorts of murals for people. Everyone there loves them, and it is very fashionable, Siggy says.”
“How did they end up here, at the Cottage of the Seven?”
Vincz shrugged. “The same way we all did. People become frightened of people who are different and then start rumors, accuse us of being demon-possessed or cursed.” He turned a sheepish smile on Sophie and shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter. We are happy here.”
Sophie smiled back. “No one who knows you could say such things. And I am happy that you’re here too.”
All the men were eager to help, so she put Siggy and Gotfrid to work mopping the floors. And Dolf and Dominyk were soon clearing the cobwebs from the massive wooden rafters. Dolf would pick up Dominyk, holding him over his head, and Dominyk would sweep the ceiling with his broom.
Bartel was out in a nearby chapel — his usual place, she was told — praying and meditating. She didn’t want to disturb him, but she thought it was a shame she didn’t have his help when Dolf’s arms got tired.
Sophie, in the meantime, began preparing their midday meal. She washed and peeled what fruit she could find — apples, plums, pears, and grapes — for custard, and used what was left of some recently harvested venison for mince pies. She chopped the meat until her hand was numb and her arm was aching. Then she added egg, lots of spices, a little red wine, cider vinegar, some currants, and dried grapes. She mixed it up with her hands, squishing it between her fingers like she’d seen Petra do, and placed it in stiff pastry shells. Then she covered it with another pastry and rubbed egg whites over it before putting it in the oven with some loaves of bread that had been rising all morning.
When Sophie came out of the kitchen to check on the men and their cleaning, they seemed to be making great progress. Most of the walls were clean and Heinric’s sleeves were soaked all the way up to his armpits. But he was smiling, and he waved at Sophie. Dolf and Dominyk were cleaning the thick glass window in the front of the cottage. Outside, the rain was still coming down, lending a pleasant, drowsy hum to the day.
The house was nothing like Hohendorf Castle. The cottage was snug and cozy and warm, while the castle had been drafty and cold and unwelcoming. And no one there had ever let her boss them around. Most of the servants liked her and were kind to her, but they also knew the duchess hated Sophie, so they treated her cautiously. She was just another servant.
But Gabe didn’t treat her that way. Although he had seen how she lived, seen how the duchess treated her, he treated her well. He treated her with kindness and respect, as if she were a member of his family. Which she nearly was.
She realized she was staring out the window at nothing, not even seeing the rain dripping down the pane. She hurried back into the kitchen to make sure nothing had burned and to finish her fruit custards.
Gabe joined them for their midday meal. Bartel didn’t even have to help him down the steps. He’d also shaved and looked more like the fresh-faced man she’d first met. Well, almost. When he looked at Sophie, there was a strange expression on his face, almost a look of sad longing or uncomfortable awareness. It made her feel … unsettled and confused. But she concentrated on how happy she was that he was strong enough to come downstairs.