The Captive Maiden

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.

“I don’t know, Mother.” Valten crossed his arms and turned to face the window to the courtyard. “I haven’t decided.”

“We want you to be happy.” His father stepped forward. “Are you happy competing in the tournaments? You are very good at it, but you can’t do it forever, and you will be needed here in Hagenheim someday. It would be good to have you at my side, son. There is always something that needs our attention.”


“To confess the truth,” Valten said, turning to face them, “I don’t get much satisfaction from the tournaments anymore.”

They were looking at him as if waiting for him to go on.

“I feel restless.” Valten started pacing, talking to the floor. “I want to do something but I don’t know what it is. If there was a war going on I could go fight, to offer myself as a knight in the king’s service.” A tightness in his chest signaled the familiar frustration.

“Perhaps it is time you thought about taking a wife.” His father’s voice was firm but quiet, confidential. “You are twenty-four, the same age I was when I married your mother. It is a good time to settle here at the castle, with a wife. Your people will need you here, and I could use your help. You have an obligation to them to provide an heir, which will also provide stability. You’ve proven yourself on the tournament fields, and now it’s time to learn about governing and leading.”

Valten’s jaw clenched. His father was probably right. He wasn’t against finding a wife, but it was awkward to have his father tell him it was time. Just how did a man go about deciding on a wife anyway? How much easier to have your betrothed picked for you, brought to you, without having to court her. Or, as Gabe had done, to rescue your betrothed from some evil fate. That appealed to him. But he’d yet to find a damsel in distress, oppressed by evil and in need of rescue.

A few unkind thoughts about Gabe came to his mind.

He’d thought he might accept Rainhilda, Sir Edgar’s daughter. She was beautiful, after all, and seemed to get along well with his mother and sisters. But he hadn’t at all liked the way she looked at Gisela in the street a few days ago. It showed a haughtiness and meanspiritedness that she’d hidden from him. He was glad she hadn’t noticed him as he watched Gisela being treated badly by her family.

Gisela. She was beautiful, and easy to talk to. And unlike Rainhilda, she didn’t prattle on and on about things Valten didn’t care or know anything about. She talked about horses — a subject he was quite comfortable with. And he had always thought a love of horses was a sign of gentleness and good character. The way she had bonded with Sieger had quite awed him.

But … he didn’t understand why those people, her family, treated her so badly. She had stood up to Friedric Ruexner and practically spit in his eye. So why were those girls not afraid to laugh at her? She said the woman was her stepmother. Why was her stepmother dressed like a nobleman’s wife, and yet Gisela was dressed like a peasant? Something was wrong with that situation, and Valten hoped to find out what it was when he saw her at the tournament. Perhaps he would find her in the crowd and then send his squire to spy on her.

“You’re right, Father. Maybe it is time I think about getting married.”

His father cleared his throat. He was surprised, no doubt, at Valten’s easy acquiescence.

“That’s very mature of you, son.”

“We will have a banquet after the tournament.” Already his mother’s voice sounded happier—almost giddy, in fact. “And we can have a ball and invite eligible maidens of the region. Unless you wish me to invite the titled men of the Empire and their eligible daughters. But that will take more time …”

“The girls of Hagenheim will be sufficient, I believe.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, son. The restless feeling will go away in time. You are young, but you’ve seen and done more than most men twice your age.” He added softly, “God will give you a new purpose, if you ask him.”

Valten wished he had the confidence that his father always seemed to have when it came to the idea of God-given purpose. But Valten did believe that God had been with him many times in the lists and in his travels. Often he’d been saved from danger or injury by the thinnest of margins. He’d gathered quite a lot of followers as well — other knights who’d allied themselves with him, traveled with him, said that God’s favor rested on him and that God was watching over him. But Valten figured it was mostly superstition.

Most men who claimed allegiance to God were more afraid of the devil than they were of God, and were careful to do what they thought would appease evil spirits. They put money in the poor box and carried a splinter of the supposed holy cross of Jesus around in their saddlebag to ward off bad luck, but they would carry a witch’s charm or utter an old Druid spell just as readily. Many never set foot in a church, but they were quick to enter into debauchery.

The thought of God giving him a purpose, other than winning tournaments, was appealing, but asking God for something did not mean he would get it. Still, he should pray, and perhaps he would also ask the priest to ask God what his purpose was.

There must be more to life than tournaments.

He couldn’t believe he was saying this, but … “A ball is a good idea, Mother.”

“I will go make a list of who to invite.” His mother’s smile was as bright as the sun and almost as wide. “I’ll get Margaretha and Rainhilda to help.”

“Will you invite all the marriageable girls in the region?” It was important that she invited Gisela, but he still didn’t know who she was. After all, Gisela was a common name. There could be a hundred Giselas in Hagenheim.

“I can’t invite all the marriageable girls.” Mother raised her brows as she smiled at him. “They wouldn’t fit in the Great Hall.” She squeezed his arm. “I’ll invite as many as I can.”

He might need to enlist Rainhilda’s help in order to make sure Gisela attended this ball. She obviously knew Gisela’s family, though he didn’t think she would be happy to help him find her.

Otherwise, he would have to find Gisela at the tournament and invite her himself. Surely she would be there.

He was counting on it.