The Captive Maiden (12 page)

Hugo left quickly, closing the chamber door behind him.

Valten didn’t need more water, but he wanted to be alone for a few minutes. He sat down and began eating the breakfast that had been brought up to him. In spite of his unwelcome shyness toward Gisela, he felt oddly energized this morning after getting less rest than he liked before a day of combat. But Gisela had been worth losing sleep over. She danced as if nothing had ever made her so happy. She smiled as if it was only for him. He hoped those smiles meant she liked him, because he hoped to dance only with her at the ball tomorrow night.

But for today, he would ready himself for his battles. Above all, he must not injure himself too badly to dance. The time he had broken his leg had proved disastrous, as far as getting a wife.

Gisela made him not care about that, made him think it was for the best. But breaking his leg today would certainly
not
be something he’d be thankful for.

Friedric Ruexner would likely be his most dangerous opponent. That fiend would do anything to defeat Valten. He’d already tried to poison his horse, forcing Valten to post a guard to watch over Sieger day and night. But what else would Ruexner try? He had been eyeing Gisela during the banquet last night. Would he bother her today? Ruexner would despise her if he knew she had been the one to discover the water hemlock in Sieger’s food. But just the fact that she was the one Valten chose to be his Queen of Beauty and Love made her a target for Ruexner’s jealous wrath.

He would post a guard to watch over Gisela as well.

Hugo helped Valten dress, putting on his mail, then his armor. Soon he was ready for the day’s tournament activities. Valten closed his eyes and said his usual prayer at the beginning of a tournament day. He asked God to help him focus his mind on his task, to give him strength and skill, and to bless him with victory.

Valten crossed himself, then kissed the small iron cross around his neck. He stood and pulled his sword from its scabbard to hear the metallic
zing
, but it didn’t send the usual vibration of suppressed-but-eager energy through his limbs. He had been thinking for some weeks that this might be his final tournament. Was he ready to quit tourneying because he’d met Gisela and decided to pay court to her? Or had he decided to pay court to Gisela because he was quitting his tourneying?

He had no time to ponder it. He had a long string of knights to defeat, knights who would love nothing better than to beat him into the ground and make names for themselves by defeating the seldom-defeated Valten Gerstenberg.

Valten resheathed his sword. His whole body felt as taut as a bowstring. He was ready.

Gisela awoke wondering what she would wear. She had only the blue dress she’d worn the day before. Would she disgrace herself by wearing the same dress again?

The sun was peeking through the narrow window in Margaretha’s chamber as Gisela slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Valten’s sister. But as she stood, Margaretha rolled over and opened her eyes.

“Good morning, Gisela.” She stretched her arms over her head. “Oh, I’m so excited about today.” She pushed the blanket away and sprang out of bed. “Tournaments are wonderful, don’t
you think? The servant should be bringing us some breakfast soon.” A maid entered through a side door. “There she is now! It was as if my speaking about it made our breakfast appear.” Margaretha’s cheerfulness was so unique in Gisela’s limited experience of people, she found herself raptly anticipating her next exclamation of delight.

Adela and Kirstyn, who were sharing the chamber, awakened and sat up. When they saw the servants with the food, they climbed out of bed, rubbing their faces.

“Come, Gisela.” Margaretha motioned her toward the small table where their repast was being laid out. “Let us eat so we can be ready when the tournament begins. We mustn’t be late.”

While the three sisters chattered happily, Gisela tried to comply. But the buttery bread stuck in her throat. Must she wear her mother’s blue dress? What would people think of the Queen of Beauty and Love having only one suitable gown?

She let the girls draw her into their conversation as they ate the delicious pastries, stewed fruit, and cold meat.

Two maids entered the room and began helping Kirstyn and Adela with their dresses. Gisela glanced around but did not see her own dress.

“Your hair is so beautiful.” Margaretha stood up from the table. “May I brush it for you?” Gisela sat on a stool while Margaretha did just that — and talked.

The maids finished readying the two younger girls, then one said, “Miss Margaretha, are you ready to dress?”

“Oh! I almost forgot. Gisela, I can’t wait for Valten to see you wearing this dress.”

She hurried over to a corner of the room and gathered up a crimson dress that was draped over a trunk. “This color is perfect for you. The blue you wore yesterday was perfect too, but this red” — she held the gown up to Gisela’s chin —”goes wonderfully with your skin and hair.”

Still holding it up, Margaretha looked as satisfied as a mama cat with her kittens. “Do you like it?”

The dress was a deep red with intricate embroidery around the square neckline and the hem. “I can’t tell you how thankful I am.” Tears filled Gisela’s eyes.

Margaretha didn’t seem to notice. “We had a servant girl once who was in love with a cobbler’s son, but he never paid her any notice. So I dressed her up and taught her to dance, and at the next Midsummer’s Eve festival in the Marktplatz, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.” Margaretha smiled smugly. “They’re married now and expecting their first child in a few months.”

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.

Sieger nimbly maneuvered exactly where Valten needed him to go, and soon Valten had the upper hand, forcing his opponent to parry his every strike. The Burgundian knight was barely able to keep his blade between Valten’s sword and his own body armor. Soon, the young knight was leaning back in the saddle and his horse was backing up. Valten pressed harder until he
had his opponent twisted at an odd angle in his saddle. Quickly, Valten flipped his sword around the other knight’s blade, and though the Burgundian knight hung on to his weapon, he lost his balance and fell, landing on his side in the dirt and churned-up grass of the field.

This was a familiar position for Valten. He dismounted and stood over the young knight, crossing his sword with the downed knight’s before he could stand up. He didn’t have a chance and shouted his surrender, as the marshals were running toward them to halt the fight and declare Valten the victor.

Valten immediately backed off.

One bout finished, several more to go. And Gisela was smiling and clapping her hands and looking as lovely as she had the night before when he’d danced with her.

Gisela heaved a sigh of relief when Valten knocked his opponent off his horse. When he stood over him in triumph, she allowed herself to cheer and applaud with the rest of the crowd. The sight of him, looking valiant in his armor, his feet planted solidly, and her red scarf flying on his arm, made her heart soar, and she couldn’t have repressed her smile if she’d wanted to.