The Captive Maiden

Chapter



9





Valten’s mother and sisters took her into their care once they arrived at the castle, while Valten went to take a bath, or “to make himself more presentable,” as Lady Rose explained it.

Valten’s sisters, Margaretha and Kirstyn, were Irma and Contzel’s opposites. They were warm and friendly, smiling and kind from the moment they greeted her when she arrived in the Great Hall, which was still empty except for the duke and his family and the servants who were busy running to and fro.

Margaretha took her arm and led her to a prominent seat at the duke’s own table on the raised dais. “You must be tired and thirsty.” Margaretha was a lovely girl, and Gisela secretly hoped they would become friends, as Margaretha appeared to be only a little younger than Gisela.

Immediately, a servant stood at her elbow offering her a tankard.

“Thank you.” Gisela took a sip of something fruity and slightly sweet. She rarely drank anything except water, and the occasional water-and-wine at her neighbor Ava’s home. This was something different, but she liked it, and took a long drink.

She looked up from the rim of her cup to see Margaretha smiling at her. “Do you know that everyone is talking about you, saying how beautiful you are? And everyone is wondering who you are. No one seems to know your name. Does Valten know you? Are you and Valten sweethearts?”

“You shouldn’t ask so many questions.” Kirstyn frowned at Margaretha and moved closer. Valten’s second sister looked to be about fourteen years old, not as tall as Margaretha, and with lighter hair.

Kirstyn looked sympathetically at Gisela. “If you let her, Margaretha will talk you to death. But we love her anyway.”

Margaretha smiled. “I do talk too much. It’s my worst fault. At least, I hope it is, because I know sometimes we never realize our faults, while they’re glaringly obvious to everyone else.” She raised her eyebrows at Kirstyn, then turned back to Gisela. “Do you know what I mean?”

Gisela smiled back at her. “I do.”

“Shall we try to guess your name?” Margaretha went on. “Perhaps it is Gertrude. Or Elsa?”

“Close. It is Gisela.”

“That is a lovely name, and it suits you perfectly. I’m surprised I didn’t guess it.” Margaretha clasped her hands over her heart.

“Very lovely,” Kirstyn agreed.

After speaking to a couple of servants at the other end of the Great Hall, Lady Rose joined them. She laid a gentle hand on Gisela’s arm. “We are so pleased to have you join us tonight for the banquet. If there is anything you wish, anything at all, you have only to tell us. And tomorrow it will be the same.”

“Thank you.”

Valten’s mother smiled so kindly, Gisela felt a strange yearning in her heart, and a sudden panic that these people would not treat her so well if they knew who she truly was — a girl without family, and certainly not a wealthy noble, which was the only kind of bride Valten, as a future duke, would take. Perhaps she should go ahead and tell them to avoid any future disappointment.

The banquet guests began to enter the Great Hall. The room became noisy as the people took their seats.

Gisela saw the moment Evfemia, Irma, and Contzel entered through the door. Evfemia fixed her gaze on Gisela, her expression as sly and calculating as any fox. She and her two daughters sat where they’d have a clear view of Gisela, but at a lower table too far away for them to speak to her.

Gisela tried to ignore them. What might they do or say to try to destroy her night? She tried to believe they couldn’t do anything, but she’d made the mistake of underestimating them before. They had ruined friendships in the past, out of jealousy, and there was no knowing what they might do to ruin her in the eyes of Valten and his family.

Even worse than the cold anger and scheming looks of her stepmother and stepsisters was Rainhilda’s amused derision. The resplendently dressed knight’s daughter sat at the upper dais with her mother and a younger cousin, across the table, not far from Gisela. Rainhilda smirked until Gisela met her gaze. Then Rainhilda whispered in her cousin’s ear. They broke into raucous giggles, shooting glances first at Gisela, then turning around and catching Irma’s eye.

Gisela gritted her teeth and pretended not to notice them. She certainly wasn’t dressed as extravagantly as Rainhilda, but their treatment of her only made her lift her head higher and determine not to behave as though she was any less than any other maiden in the room. We shall see what is more important to Valten and his family, whether it be fine clothes and social status, or … what Gisela had. She wasn’t sure what that was, but if Valten valued sincerity over pride and malice, then Gisela wouldn’t have to behave haughtily to win Valten’s heart.


She refused to compare herself to Rainhilda. Gisela would enjoy this night, this banquet, sitting with Valten’s sisters, and being chosen by Valten. She would squeeze every bit of joy out of this banquet, because her stepmother would make her pay dearly for every moment of it as soon as she got her home.

Margaretha asked, “Have you and Valten met before today?”

Gisela didn’t mind telling Margaretha the story of Valten coming to her rescue in the street when Friedric Ruexner was harassing her. While Lady Rose and Kirstyn leaned in to listen, she told how they had gone to the stables and how much Gisela had enjoyed seeing the horses.

The subject of horses sent Margaretha on a long discourse on the animal. “Horses are very loyal, I have found, and they seem to have a sense about them, an understanding that tells them if a person is good or bad. They will shy away from an angry person, and yet they are drawn to a kind person. They never forget someone they love, and they will recognize people even after not seeing them for years. Did you know that?”

“Horses are intelligent creatures.”

“My youngest sister, Adela, is afraid of horses and won’t go near them, but I love my mare.”

Gisela and Margaretha continued talking about horses as the servants began bringing out the first course of the meal and filling all the guests’ goblets with wine, including an extra goblet beside Gisela.

Lady Rose seemed to notice her looking at the goblet. “That is for Valten. He will sit next to you and should be here soon. Actually, there he is.” Her face lit up as she focused on someone behind Gisela.

Gisela looked over her shoulder. Valten strode toward her, now dressed in a green doublet, white shirt, and black hose. He looked clean and a bit pale, making the black stitches over his eye more noticeable. He had not shaved, and the light brown stubble made him look even more rugged than usual.

She tried to appear regal and relaxed while refusing to look at Rainhilda. God, help me not to disgrace the one who has chosen me.

Valten stepped over the bench and sat down beside Gisela. He looked at her and almost smiled — that softening of his expression. Gisela smiled back.

Just then, Duke Wilhelm stood where he had been sitting at the head of the table. The room gradually grew quiet.

“Thank you all for accepting our invitation to this banquet. Lady Rose and I are happy to honor our brave knights who have taken part in the competition of this, our first Hagenheim tournament.”

The guests cheered almost as tumultuously as they had at the lists earlier in the day. At that moment, Gisela’s eye caught Friedric Ruexner’s, who was sitting at a lower table with several other knights. He was scowling at Valten in a way that sent a shiver down her back. His gaze then shifted to Gisela, and he gave her a lecherous leer, kissed his two fingers, then raised them in a sort of salute to her. She shuddered and quickly looked at Valten, not realizing she was leaning toward him until her shoulder touched his. He looked from his father to Gisela. She felt instantly safer.

Duke Wilhelm raised his hand to quiet the crowd. “Lift your cup in deference to our tournament sovereign, Gisela” — Duke Wilhelm lifted his goblet high in the air — “the Queen of Beauty and Love.” He reached out to her.

Gisela took his hand and stood.

She looked around at all the people raising their goblets to her. She tried not to appear as terrified as she felt, and forced herself to smile and nod, thankful she had the presence of mind to pick up her own goblet. A cheer arose, then they all took a drink.

Perhaps not all. From the corner of her eye she noticed her stepmother and Irma did not partake.

Gisela sank back down on her bench.

“And let us drink to our day’s champion and victor, my son, Valten Gerstenberg, Earl of Hamlin.”

Another clamor of cheering went up, seeming to fill the high ceilinged hall and Gisela’s ears.

Valten stood and gave a small bow. He looked completely at ease, as if this was an ordinary moment for him. The crowd drank. Someone cried out, “To Lord Hamlin’s health!”

“Hear, hear!” they all shouted. Another man cried out, “To his prosperity!” And another cried, “To his future wife. May they have many children!”

Valten lifted his cup at the man. “I thank you.” And drank the entire goblet of wine.

The crowd shouted yet louder, and did not begin to quiet down until Valten had taken his seat again.

While it was still quite noisy, Valten did not speak to her, but began to eat, and Gisela did the same. She ate slowly, imagining who might be staring at her, but she was determined not to look. She was grateful to have Margaretha’s constant chatter on one side to distract her, and Valten on the other, like a rampart of safety.

Margaretha said she had never had a suitor and often wondered who her father would find for her to marry. “But I’m in no hurry to leave home. Factually speaking, I haven’t decided yet if I will marry, which is why Father still has not made any effort to find someone suitable for me. The idea of marriage isn’t altogether appealing. Do you know what I mean, Gisela?”

Gisela nodded thoughtfully. “I do. But I think I should like to marry someone who loved me.”

For nearly the first time since she had sat down, Margaretha was silent. Her brow furrowed and she pursed her lips and stared down at the table with clouded eyes, as if unseeing. Gisela took a bite of roast pheasant as she waited for Margaretha to speak.

“My parents love me so much, it’s hard for me to imagine a man loving me as much as they do.”

Gisela couldn’t help the slight frown that tugged at her mouth. Margaretha’s life had been so different from Gisela’s. How similar might their lives have been if her parents had lived?

Gisela ate while glancing at Valten out of the corner of her eye. He systematically devoured his food and spoke briefly to his father or mother when they asked him a question about the joust. When he had eaten four courses, he stopped and told the servant he was finished. The servant cleared his place of his trencher and all traces of food, and refilled his goblet. Then he turned to Gisela.

“Are you enjoying the banquet?”

“Yes, I thank you.”

“I hope you don’t need to return home, because my mother plans for you to stay the night here at the castle, with Margaretha.”

“Oh.” Stay at the castle? That would solve her problem of how to avoid whatever dastardly punishment her stepmother had in mind for her if she were to go home tonight. “I-I don’t need to go home. That is, I believe I can stay.”

“You will need to be here tomorrow, to preside over the tournament as its queen.” His eyebrow twitched, as if his words were slightly amusing to him.

“And to watch you defeat all challengers again.” She lifted her brows at him now.

“If God wills.”

“You were impressive today.” She tried to sound matter of fact. “Your skill is evident, and no one was able to best you.”

He gave her a small bow. “God was with me.” He looked at her more intently and said, “Ruexner shouldn’t be bothering you anymore. As soon as the tournament is over, I will make sure he leaves town.”

“Thank you. I was happy you defeated him today.”

“And I was happy you stopped him from poisoning Sieger.”

Her heart skipped a few beats at the way he was looking at her. “Me too.”

“What will happen tomorrow?” She already had a good idea of what would take place, but she wanted to hear him speak.


“Tomorrow the challengers will make their choice of weapons, either sword, battle-ax, or mace, and we shall fight on horseback until someone is unhorsed. We shall then continue to battle on the ground until someone gives up or the marshals stop the fight.”

She hesitated, then asked, “Do you enjoy fighting? Is it thrilling for you?” She wanted to understand him, to understand why he had dedicated his life to jousting and tournaments and combat.

He was quiet, looking down at the table. Had she offended him with her question?

“I used to find it thrilling.” One corner of his mouth went down. “It seems pointless now, so much so that I wonder why I do it.” He looked her in the eye for a long moment before continuing. “There used to be something driving me, making me strive to be the best at everything. I wanted to prove myself. But now it sometimes seems like a waste of time.”

Gisela nodded. “I understand. Sometimes I feel like I should be doing something different. Sometimes I feel as if I will die if I don’t get away—from home.” She almost said, “from my stepmother.”

He tilted his head to the side as he stared at her. “Do you know what it is you want to do? Where would you go?”

“That is the problem. I can’t leave. I don’t want to leave my horses.”

She was afraid he would laugh at her, but he nodded gravely. At that moment, she was certain he understood, as no one else had, why she couldn’t leave her horses.

“But at the same time, I feel connected to my father’s home, to the place where I was born. I don’t want to give it up to anyone.” Especially Evfemia and her evil offspring.

“Do you have an older brother to inherit your home?”

“No, my stepmother is the heir. It isn’t my home at all.”

He stared into her eyes until she could no longer meet his gaze. He was feeling sorry for her, she was sure. In her experience men didn’t want to feel sorry for anyone, and she didn’t want him to pity her. She had to turn the conversation back toward him.

“So what will you do when you stop competing in tournaments?”

He smiled and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know. But I feel like I’m getting closer.”

In fact, he was getting closer. His head was bent toward her, in order for them to hear each other in the noisy Great Hall. But his undivided attention was doing strange things to her heartbeat, making it trip and stumble inside her. Perhaps she should keep talking, to distract herself from his beautiful eyes.

“Your sisters and parents are so kind. I like them very much.”

A lock of her hair had fallen across her cheek. It brought to mind the fact that her hair didn’t look like the other maidens around her. Their locks were either arranged in perfect stiff curls, or were covered by their elaborate headdresses. She must look like a poor peasant in comparison.

His hand came up and his fingers brushed the strand of hair from her cheek. “I don’t like your stepmother treating you badly.” His voice was brusque, as if he were talking about a battle maneuver.

His unexpected words caught her off her guard. “I … I take care of myself.” Unable to meet his eye, she found herself staring at his big, brawny hand, which rested on the table.

The minstrels, who had been playing softly while they ate, began to play a much louder, much livelier tune.

“Come. Dance with me.” Valten swiftly turned around, lifting his legs over the bench, and he grabbed her hand. She turned around too, pulling her skirt over the bench with her legs. Then he stood and pulled her up.

Gisela let him lead her to an empty space at one side of the Great Hall, away from the tables. The entire hall of people was watching them.

A terrifying thought overcame her. “Wait! Please.” Gisela pulled on his hand to get his attention.

He lowered his brows in question.

Her cheeks started to heat, but she had to tell him the truth. She couldn’t look like a fool in front of all these people. “I-I only know the country dances that the servants and farmers dance. I don’t know any others.” Now he would surely think her completely unsuitable and would forget about her.

His hard, masculine features softened even more. His eyelids lowered as he bent his head near hers. His lips were so close, his breath brushed her cheek when he spoke. “Don’t worry. I know those dances too.” Giving her that intense, almost-smile of his, he started dancing the reigen.

Gisela nearly laughed in relief, as she knew the dance well.

They danced, and though a whole crowd followed their every move, she felt as if she and Valten were the only two people in the world. The music carried them over the floor. She was mesmerized at being the object of this man’s attention — this very tall, very powerful tournament champion. He was looking at her. He was dancing with her. He was giving his almost-smile to her. It was an even headier feeling than racing Kaeleb over the countryside, his powerful legs pumping beneath her and the wind whipping her hair out behind her.

She felt free on Kaeleb’s back, free from her stepmother’s and stepsisters’ spite. Just as at this moment. They couldn’t hurt her now, not while she was dancing with Valten. She wished he would dance with her forever.

But she had a strange feeling that her stepmother would still haunt her somehow, as if she had some strange hold over her that wouldn’t be broken no matter what.

She pushed the unwelcome thought away as she gazed up at Valten’s chiseled face. He should have been frightening with the scars, the stitches over his eye, and the day’s growth of stubble darkening the lower half of his face.

But he wasn’t. At all.

When the dance was over, the musicians immediately began another lively tune, an estampie, and the two of them were joined by several guests, who linked hands with them and lifted them high, stamping in time to the music, shouting at regular intervals as they released hands to spin around, then clasped hands again to sway and stamp in their human, breathing circle of life.

Gisela had never felt so alive, so pretty, and so accepted.

Even when Rainhilda joined the dance, it didn’t dampen Gisela’s spirits, as Valten never seemed to look at her once. Even Irma and Contzel eventually joined a few dances as well. Every time Gisela glanced their way, Contzel was staring at her as if in amazement, and Irma looked at her with contempt to rival even Rainhilda.

Valten danced every song with her. She sighed inwardly with joy every time his hand held hers, or they brushed shoulders, or they stepped so near their faces were only inches apart. Valten never seemed to grow tired, and though Gisela still wished the night wouldn’t end, she was becoming so exhausted she was afraid she would stumble.

Standing and getting everyone’s attention, Duke Wilhelm called a halt to the festivities by thanking everyone for coming and dismissing the guests.

While his father was speaking, Valten took her by the arm and turned her to face him. His hands wrapped around her upper arms, holding her gently. “You are even more beautiful when you dance.”

“Thank you.” She sounded breathless.

“I will look for you tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“But I may not be able to talk to you at the tournament. You will come to the ball?”

He meant the ball the duke was giving on the third night of the tournament — the ball which would end the festivities. “I will try.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her hand.


When he lifted his head, Margaretha was walking toward her.

“I will leave you with my sister. Good night.” He released her and walked away.

Gisela’s knees went weak but she forced herself to stand upright and look at Margaretha, who was smiling from one ear to the other. “Did you enjoy yourself? What am I talking about? Of course you did. Your joy was all over your face. And with my brother! My serious brother, Valten, who hardly even looks at girls, and never asks one to dance — at a banquet, no less.”

Before Gisela had time to ask her what she meant, Margaretha took Gisela’s arm and steered her toward the staircase, where several other people were ascending.

“So, do you like Valten?”

Gisela laughed at the directness of the question.

“Kirstyn would be embarrassed at me asking you that. Forgive me, but I am always saying too much and asking too many questions.” Margaretha clasped her hands and her eyes rolled as if in ecstatic joy. “We will not speak of anything too embarrassing,” she went on, lowering her voice. “But I must say that I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you tonight. And he was once betrothed — but that was a strange situation, and I don’t have time to tell you about that. It was only for a short time. At least, she was only here for about two days before we found out that she was in love with my other brother—but you don’t want to hear about that. Anyway, you must be completely exhausted. I confess I’m quite tired myself, and I didn’t dance for two hours! You will sleep in my chamber with me. Kirstyn and Adela will probably already be asleep when we get there, so we should be quiet. I have a nightdress for you to sleep in.”

Gisela did her best to keep up with what Margaretha was saying as they climbed the steps and made their way to Margaretha’s chamber. She got ready for bed and gratefully slipped in beside Valten’s sister, who was soon breathing evenly.

Gisela lay awake reliving the banquet. She closed her eyes, seeing Valten’s face hovering above her, the way he’d looked at her when they danced, and the way his lips felt on her hand. She let out a long breath, a tear of happiness squeezing from the corner of her eye. What a wonderful night. To think that Valten would choose her as the Queen of Beauty and Love. It was all too wonderful: the dancing, the looks, and the kiss. And tomorrow she would see him again, even if it was only from afar.

His words echoed in her memory, the way he had talked to her at the banquet, asking her where she would go and whether she had a brother, telling her he didn’t like the way Evfemia treated her. His face was etched on her eyelids as she drifted to sleep.