The Fairytale Keeper: Avenging the Queen (20 page)

I untie it and hand it to him. “We can’t go out Severin’s gate, but the Weier gate is usually manned. Are you all right?”

He starts coughing. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. What happened?”

He stops and swings me around. “For our safety, you must stop asking me that. I’ll tell you everything when we are out of the city. But for now, I need you to act as though nothing is wrong.”

I nod fearfully. The sky grows brighter and I wonder if the moon rises behind us, but we are racing through narrow streets and I can’t see much of the sky beyond the rooftops. Ivo wipes the soot from his hands on my cloak and pauses to wipe his face as well. It doesn’t make a great difference. It is dark though and the soot that covers him could easily be mistaken for dirt.

We reach the Weier gate and the guard sleeps. I cough to wake him without startle. He opens the gate without paying us much mind, heads back to his booth, and closes the gate behind us. We continue toward the creek.

“Can you smell the smoke on me?” Ivo asks. I don’t even have to stop to check for he reeks of smoke.

“Yes, it’s awful. What’s happening?”

“Turn around and see for yourself,” he replies.

I gasp. Flames, taller than any church spire in the city, lap at the night sky.

“Did you—” He nods before I can finish.

“The cathedral,” he says. “It’ll be nothing but cinders by morning.

Ivo has set the greatest church in Cologne ablaze, and with the fire raging as it is now, it shall surely burn to the ground. I am frozen from the shock.

He throws my cloak to me and jumps into the creek. “Turn around.” But I am still frozen. “Turn around, Addie,” he orders, and I do though I am dumfounded in my surprise as what he has done. His chainse and surcote land beside me. Still, it takes me a moment to realize that he is now naked in the creek. My stomach tenses. I find myself no longer thinking of the fire.

I have never seen a naked man before nor been so close to one. My heart pounds. I keep reminding myself not to turn around. I find myself ashamed to be so close, to want to look so badly.

“Scrub my clothes in the creek,” Ivo says, his teeth chattering. “We need to hurry. Soon it’ll be like daylight and people’ll come out of their huts to see the fire.”

What if he is caught? I rush to the creek bed keeping my back to him and scrub his clothes as fast as I can between two cobblestones, trying to remove the soot and the strong smell of smoke. No one can ever know he did this. He shall be hanged or burned at the stake or worse. I’ve heard of some German cities adopting English forms of torture. The English are the worst. They’ll half hang a man, stretch him, and then cut him from navel to nose. They’ll rip out his innards and burn them before his very eyes as he bleeds to death. It is the epitome of barbarism, if you ask me. I try not to think of it and scrub Ivo’s clothes harder and faster.

The soot appears to fade, but it is still dark and I cannot see all that well. He is a farmer’s son and his clothes should look a little ragged and dirty. It would probably be more suspicious if his clothes were too clean. I wring them out as best I can and smell them for heavy smoke. They smell no smokier than they would have had he slept beside a hearth so I hang them on a branch to dry.

“Toss your surcote behind you,” Ivo says. His teeth chatter harder. He shall need to wear something when we return to the city and it is smart of him to think to wear my surcote. I unfasten my belt quickly, nervously, and toss my surcote as far behind me as I can. Ivo swishes through the water and I hear his wet feet sink into the mud beside the creek.

I have never listened so closely to Ivo’s footsteps before, but they seem loud and slow to me now. Every footstep, every drop of water that falls from his bare skin echoes in the night. My belly grows deliciously warm and I realize I’m holding my breath.

Fabric shuffles as Ivo dresses. I am just about to ask him if I can turn when his hand touches my shoulder and I am startled. I turn to face him. I have never seen so much of his skin before. He has the pale skin and slight muscular curvature of the marble statues that adorn our churches. He shivers pitifully and I rush to wrap my cloak around his shoulders. My fingers find themselves running through his wet hair.

“Why?” I ask, looking into his eyes. Why would he burn down the cathedral?

He looks away. “That man doesn’t deserve a cathedral. I would have burned his palace if I could have gotten into it,” he chokes and shivers.

I peel open the cloak upon his shoulder and slide slowly into it. He looks down into my eyes as I press against him and run my hands up and down his arms and back trying to warm him. The burn in my belly grows. Ivo sighs and his chattering slows. He wraps his arms around me tightly and I feel I should never need anything else in my life as long as I can feel this way forever. He releases me with a disappointed sigh.

“It will be good for the gatekeeper to see us entering the city. Then we can’t be suspected of burning the cathedral for he can say he saw us outside the walls. Hand me my wet clothes. We’ll say I fell into the creek if anyone asks.”

“You’ll freeze if you put them back on!”

“I won’t wear them for long. Your house is abandoned now. We can go there and start a fire. I’ll change back into your surcote. It’s only for a short time.”

“Very well,” I say and fetch his clothes in a hurry so we can get to my house and warm him by the fire.

***

The flames are so wide and high now that Cologne is lit like the daytime and the streets are crowded as though it is the Christmastime market. A madman runs through the streets claiming it is the Rapture. Women and their frightened children cry. Villagers kneel in prayer as others look upon the flames with great awe.

Ivo and I aren’t even noticed. I could probably run through the streets naked and no one would give me a second look. I doubt I shall live to see a day like this again, a day when a city as grand as Cologne sinks into the scorching circles of Hell. Everyone shall remember what they were doing this day. It shall be the talk of taverns and in the tales we tell our grandchildren.

***

The door to my house is still ajar from a few days ago when Aldo broke it in. Ivo goes first to make sure no vagabonds have taken it over. It is empty. Father’s desk is there, but all his leather and tools are gone. We climb the stairs and the kitchen is empty with the exception of the table. I don’t dare enter my parent’s bedroom or climb the ladder to mine. I try to pretend that this is a stranger’s house and not the only home I had ever known, and that after this day may never see again. It brings the burning of tears to my eyes, but I have sworn to enjoy this last day in Cologne. Ivo has worked so hard to make it memorable, even in burning down the cathedral. If he isn’t caught, it shall be the greatest gift ever received. I can only imagine how the Archbishop squirms now. Wait until he realizes Aldo has disappeared. The patricians shall see the Archbishop as weak for sure. Perhaps, they shall strike like wolves on an injured stag. I cannot wait to hear of his disgrace.

“We will hang your clothes by the fire and you can have my surcote again,” I suggest. Ivo’s lips are blue from the cold. He nods and I start a fire in the hearth. I stand and turn my back again. I remove my surcote and toss it behind me, closer than before. He peels off his wet clothes and they drop heavily. He is naked again. I can feel the weight of his steps coming toward me. He is close enough that I could turn and touch him. I could.

I stand before the fire in my translucent chainse, knowing he can see the silhouette of my body. My cheeks flush with embarrassment and exhilaration.

He places a hand on my shoulder and brushes the hair from my neck. It tickles a little and I turn, grinning widely, almost giggling at the sensation. His face is so serious now.

“Beautiful,” he utters, looking down at me. His hand stays at my neck while the other finds its way to my hip and slides to the small of my back. He pulls me to him and I close my eyes.

His lips brush mine as my hands slide up his back to his shoulder blades. I slip my fingers beneath the surcote so I can feel the warmth of him. My fingers melt into his skin as I pull him closer, pressing my lips gently against his. His lips press harder, parting mine as he pulls me closer with a firm arm and weaves his fingers into my hair.

I turn and back up until I am sitting on the edge of the table. I try to look at him in an alluring way. I do not know if I even know how to look alluring, but he rushes toward me and we are kissing again. I lie back on the table. He lifts and pushes me back farther, climbing on top so that the full weight of his body is upon me. I can feel the tension of the muscles in his arms, stomach, and legs rise and fall through our clothing. The warmth in the pit of my belly spreads and Ivo slides his hand beneath my chainse, up my thigh. A moan slips from my lips and he jumps back.

“What? What’s wrong?” I cry, sitting up.

“I must to stop. We must to stop,” he pants.

“No... Why?” I know these are wanton words, but I do not care anymore.

“We are not married yet.”

“Oh.” I feel myself flush with embarrassment at his denying me. Then the weight of his words hit me and I smile. He said “we are not married
yet
.” We are practically betrothed now for I know he intends for us to marry soon.

I want to say that we are married in our own eyes, that it does not matter if a man like Soren or the Archbishop says we are wed before God. I want to beg him to let me stay with him, to live with his family as his wife. I can sell my shoes in the market while he finishes his apprenticeship. Then we can find a home of our own.

“I cannot marry you. Not until I’m an armorer and have my own shop,” he declares.

“But, why?”

“Because I don’t want you to be a poor farmer’s wife,” he says.

“There’s no worry of that. You’re nearly finished your apprenticeship and I’m nearly my father’s equal at cobbling. I’m ready for a stand of my own. All I need are the tools.” I reason.

“And how will we purchase the tools? We haven’t the coin to pay for them.” He says and then sighs.

I pout for he is right.

“Sit with me for a little while before we have to go back,” he says.

I walk toward the hearth and feel his clothes for dampness. They are warm and nearly dry. “You can put your clothes back on,” I say and toss him his chainse and surcote. “But that means I shall need my surcote back,” I add suggestively. I approach him and pull at the surcote, playing as though I shall peel it off him.

“Adelaide, how many times do you think I can say no?” he groans and I am kissing his neck, lifting at the surcote.

“You have said no once to me already tonight. I think you tried and that is all that matters,” I tease but he gently pushes me back.

“Turn around,” he sighs.

“Really?” I ask with a little pout.

“Yes,” he laughs. “Now turn around so I can dress.”

“Are you sure?” I add, half in jest.

“Adelaide!” he laughs. I fake a pout and turn. A few times, I pretend I shall turn around and peak at his nakedness. He warns and scolds me. As soon as he is dressed he pounces upon me, tickling my neck. I laugh and wriggle until we end up on the floor, kissing again until he makes me stop. For the rest of the night, I sit between his legs and lie with my back on his chest, telling him stories as he runs his fingers through my hair.

My last night in Cologne is almost perfect. Many who live long enough shall tell their children and grandchildren of this night: 25th of March, 1247, the night our great cathedral was burned to the ground. But the story of my night with Ivo, that is one story I shall keep for myself.

A strong grip on my arm pulls me from slumber and yanks me straight to my feet.

“You stupid, insolent slut!” my father screams. The sleep clears from my eyes just as his harsh slap hits my face.

I cry out and fall heavily to the floor. My head smacks the wood and the room seems to tilt for a moment. Ivo’s eyes are wild and I realize he is trapped in another night terror. Father looks at him strangely for a moment. Then he looks back at me. His face droops sadly for a moment, before he snarls at Ivo. I know what Father thinks. He thinks I’ve given myself to Ivo. Anger hardens his face as he heads toward Ivo, but I lunge between them.

“No!” I cry, and throw myself over Ivo in case Father decides to strike him.

Father pulls me back by my hair and I squeal. “Do you realize I have looked for you all night? That Erik has looked for Ivo? That we thought you both dead?”

“I… I’m sorry,” I lie, for I am not sorry at all. He pulls my hair so hard I must stand on my toes.

“What would your mother think?” he hisses before releasing my hair. I drop to my hands and knees. He means to hurt me with these words and his cruelty shocks me.

“What she would think of me? What do you think she would think of you? You’re the one who’s betrayed her!”

“I told you never to speak of that!” he roars and raises his arm to hit me. But Ivo has woken and stands between us with a poker in his hand.

“Do not touch her,” he growls, and holds his hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me up so that I stand beside him.

Father narrows his eyes at Ivo for a moment. “Did you lie with her?” he asks angrily with glassy eyes.

“No.”

“Do not lie to me, boy” he growls.

“He tells the truth,” I say, and Father looks to me with disbelief. “I would have given myself to him, but he will not have me, not until we are married, not until his apprenticeship is finished.”

Father looks at me with shock and disgust. I expect him to scream at me, to call me a whore, to disown me, but he just shakes his head and walks down the stairs with slumped shoulders. I hear him pull the chair out from his desk and sit down.

“Are you all right?” Ivo asks and examines the rapidly swelling bump on my head.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, though it smarts at his touch. “What about you? Your father must be furious.” I say, worried at the punishment he shall receive at his father’s hands.

He shrugs. “It was worth it.”

I anxiously bite my lip at the thought of the beating he’ll receive. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it gently. “Don’t worry.” He smiles. “I’m sure my father dragged Ansel from his room in the middle of the night for a last hurrah.  And my father’s beatings have little heart after a long night of ale and whores.” 

I sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel much better. Perhaps I can smuggle you away in the carriage and take you off to the whore’s castle.” I say with a smile.

He laughs. “I think you’re in enough trouble as it is.” He replies.

I look down the stairs into Father’s workshop. “He’ll never forgive me for this,” I sigh.

“He will,” Ivo says. “At least I hope so. I’d like a nice dowry for marrying you.” He smiles and I punch him playfully in the arm.

“I hope you like shoes.” I say smugly.

He shrugs. I know this is the last time I shall see him for a while. “I wish you could stay,” he says, stroking my cheek.

“Me too.” I bite my lip. “You could marry me now and keep me here.” I say, half jesting. He smiles, but does not answer. I swallow the rejection hard and change the subject. “Elias is going to visit you in the night and teach you to read,” I say. “Then we can at least write each other.”

“Elias? He’s sentenced to die in the stocks for heresy,” he replies and gives me a strange look.

“I set him free a few hours ago. He’s resting in my room at the White Stag.”

“Does your father know about that?” he whispers. I shake my head and smile devilishly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “Let me walk you to The Stag,” he offers, but I shake my head.

“I should wait for him.”  I say and look upon my Father, sitting sadly in his workshop. “Besides your family is worried for you.”

I place my other hand in his and tears pool upon my eyelids. I smile through my sadness and with a single blink, the tears stream down my face. Ivo leans down and we linger in our last kiss. I follow him down the stairs and watch as he walks out the door into the smoke-filled streets.

I turn to check on Father, intending to give a half-hearted apology.  I feel badly for hurting him, for worrying him, but, if given the chance, I would live this night again in exactly the same way.

“Leave me,” his voice cracks. “Go back to the room. We leave at the strike of seven, whether you are there or not.” I think I’d rather have him yell at me than look so terribly disappointed.

***

It is the dawn that lights the sky now for the cathedral fire has been quenched. Clouds of smoke hang heavily over the city and float through the streets. I hold my cloak to my nose so I can breathe easier. I think of Ivo as I head back to the White Stag, careful not to get lost in the dense fog. I hope he isn’t caught, though who would suspect him of burning the cathedral? As long as no one saw him light the fire, he should be safe. I shall pray for it every day until I can return to Cologne and we can be married.

I walk into the White Stag which is empty and up the stairs to my room. Elias sleeps on the bed. I sit on its edge and look over the city of Cologne. Artisans and merchants make their way through the cloudy market to set up their stands. Their faces are soulless masks. Unlike me, they aren’t happy to see our cathedral burned down. But they do not know the Archbishop for the scoundrel he is, that he doesn’t deserve a cathedral and the tithes that come with it.

It is half past six when Elias stirs, which is a good thing for I was just about to wake him.

“Is this a dream? Am I dead?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“You’re free. Remember last night?” I say and see the recollection in his face. He nods and I smile at him. He sighs.

I kneel beside him. “Elias, do you remember how I said that I needed you to live?”

“Yes,” he replies, though he looks a little afraid of what I am about to say next.

“I need you to do something for me,” I say and he nods. “There is a boy, named Ivo, son of Erik Bauer.”

“Yes, I know of him,” Elias says.

“I need you to teach him to read.”

“I cannot stay in Cologne. I’ll be killed!” Elias argues.

“There must be someone on the outside of the city who would house you.”

He shakes his head.

I pull out my purse and place it in his hand. It holds all the coins that I’d been saving so Ivo and I could run away together. “Here, pay someone to take you in. The people on the outside of the city do not know you’re an outlaw.”

He nods reluctantly. I take a few coins from the purse before he can change his mind and go down to the tavern. I purchase enough bread and wine to last him two days and another night in his room. I head back to the room and set the food on a small table.

“Once you are safe, find Ivo and figure something out,” I say and start to wrap my cloak around my shoulders before I realize Elias shall need it more than me. I set it on the edge of the bed for him. “Be careful Elias. The cathedral was burned to the ground last night. Cologne is a dangerous place now.”

I turn the door knob and step outside.

“Addie!” he calls and I turn.

“Thank you,” he says. Little does he know, he owes me nothing.   What I have done for him I have done for myself. I nod and close the door behind me.

***

The brown carriage horse paws at the ground, ready to head into the fields. I pet him on the nose and he snorts. I step into the carriage without bothering to hide my tears.

“Addie,” a voice calls and I see Levi running toward me carrying my mother’s tunic. “You almost forgot this.” I step out of the carriage and take the tunic. I place it to my nose and breathe in the lavender scent of my mother.

“Thank you,” I say, and he wraps his arms around me, squeezing me tightly.

“Oh, and Ivo wanted me to tell you something.”

“Is he all right?” I ask.

“
Vatti was going to beat him, but when he found out that Ivo was with you all night, he patted him on the back and said: ‘That’s my boy.’”

I roll my eyes. “So what did Ivo say?”

“Do not make me say it. It’s gross,” Levi sneers.

“Please,” I plead with a smile.

“He says that he loves you,” Levi huffs. “And that he’ll never ever say no to you again.”

I laugh. “Tell him that I’m going to make him write that down. Oh, and I love him too.”

“You two are gross,” Levi says with a sneer. He hugs me one more time, says goodbye, and runs home. I climb back into the carriage, put my head in my hands, and sob.

We depart Cologne before the sun has fully risen with Galadriel and only the clothes on our backs.

We say no departing words to our many friends.

I look out the window as we ride through the city that has been the only home I have ever known. I can feel my mother die again. I shall never walk the Christmas market with her. I shall never run into the house caked in mud, have her clean me up, and call me her “little Snow White.” The only item I have of hers is the tunic Ivo had rescued from our house before all of our things were destroyed. I hold it in my arms and smell it, wishing with all my heart that I had her comfort at this moment. But if I had her none of this would be happening at all.

It shall not be long, I tell myself. Galadriel and Father’s affair has begun to unravel already and I shall pull the strings until there is nothing between them but animosity. We shall be home in a month. Then Ivo and I shall be married and no one shall ever take me away from the people I love ever again.

It shall not be long.