Oh, his kisses were so wonderful, but she had no right, no right at all to enjoy them. She buried her face in his chest so she would not be tempted to let him kiss her again. She had to think. She had to be clearheaded.
An idea suddenly came to her.
“What if all your men were able to escape? Sir Klas and Jorgen and all the others? Then would you leave?”
“Yes, but—”
“As soon as the guards leave, I can unlock your cell and then you can go get the guards’ keys—hopefully they will leave them here—and we can both unlock all the cells and escape before they return.”
“Or at least I and my men who have been able to escape can overpower the guards and take their weapons.”
“Yes! It will work. I know it will.”
“You are wonderful, Avelina.” His brown eyes bored into hers, a strange look in them she couldn’t quite define. Suddenly he said, “You wanted me to marry Lady Magdalen.”
“What?”
“Do you still want me to marry Magdalen?” He seemed to be searching her thoughts, reading her face with those mesmerizing eyes.
Her mind seemed blank as her heart thumped wildly and she breathed in shallow gasps.
“It’s a simple question. Do you still want me to marry Lady Magdalen?”
What she wanted was for him to kiss her again. But they should not be kissing at all!
“I could not marry you. You are a margrave and I was . . . I thought . . . No, I don’t want you to marry Magdalen.” Her voice cracked and tears suddenly swam in her eyes. “I want you to marry me.”
She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “I should never have said that. I promised God.”
“You promised God what?”
“That I would not expect you to marry me, that I would not ask—Oh!” She turned her head, trying to hide her face from him. He pulled her in closer, and she buried her face in his shoulder.
29
REINHART PULLED HER close, his hand against the back of her head, holding her to his chest. His heart pounded against his ribs. “Shh,” he whispered against her ear. “Do not cry. My Liebling . . . my sweet. Don’t cry.”
He caressed her shoulder and her back and kissed her hair. His heart pounded in his chest at hearing her say she wanted him to marry her.
“If we get out of here, we will marry.”
“No, please, you mustn’t say that.” Her voice was still laden with tears and she kept her head down. “You must not . . . The king. He would never allow it.”
“What do I care about the king?”
“No, you must not talk like that. I should not have said what I did. I shouldn’t have said it.”
He rubbed his cheek against her soft hair, her intoxicating smell filling his senses.
She leaned away from him, wiping her face with her hands. He fought back the urge to lift her chin and kiss her again.
“I should unlock the door so we will be ready to escape when the guards leave again.” Her voice trembled.
Reinhart squeezed her hand as he allowed her to leave his arms. He leaned against the bars to look down the corridor and try to see if the guards were in sight, while Avelina took out the small instrument and stuck her hand through the bars. Her face was intent as she concentrated on her task. Reinhart kept watch.
After a few moments he heard a click. Avelina opened the door a crack and looked at him with a smile. Then she pocketed her tool.
“What are these things for?” He pointed under the bench.
“I planned to make up a form using the sack of straw and the priest’s cloak, and using the gourd for a head, so that when we leave, it looks like you are in here. The guards would not realize you had escaped. However, now that they have seen me in here, the plan doesn’t seem as likely to work.”
“It’s still a good plan.”
All he could think about was that kiss they had shared a few minutes before. And how much he wanted to kiss her again.
Avelina’s insides melted at the memory of their kiss. Her lips still tingled.
She moved to the bench and sat, trying to sort out her thoughts, which was impossible with him so near. She put her face in her hands, her eyes closed and head bowed, to shut out everything, especially Lord Thornbeck.
She should be thinking about what to do. What had she said? That she wanted him to marry her. Oh, foolish girl that she was. And what had he said? That they would marry.
It was impossible. She should not be telling him that she wanted him to marry her. Her stomach wrenched at the memory—especially since it was so true.
“Can you hear the guards? Are they still here?” She lifted her head. They needed to focus on escaping.
“I can hear them talking. In a few hours I will sneak down the corridor and watch for them to leave.”
There was nothing to do but wait. For hours. Alone with Lord Thornbeck. She was actually glad they were in a cold, smelly, dark, dank, dirty dungeon.
Reinhart tortured himself with all the terrible things that could happen to Avelina if she did not escape. Hours had passed since she had gotten herself trapped in his cell with him.
“I’m going to see what the guards are doing.”
Avelina turned from where she had been pacing back and forth. She did not say anything, only stared after him. It was as if she had reverted back to her old behavior when he thought she was Lady Dorothea, when she looked afraid to talk to or look at him too long. It must be because he had kissed her again and told her they would marry. He probably shouldn’t have, but he could not bring himself to regret it. She must feel guilty because of the promise she made to God. But she had not promised God she would not marry him, only that she would not expect him to marry her.
He pushed the door open just enough to slip through. It creaked. He waited, but the guards did not come. He slipped out and walked slowly and quietly down the corridor.
As he was passing the first cell, he saw Jorgen inside. Their eyes met and his chancellor gave him a nod. Reinhart nodded in return and kept going. At the second cell, one of his guards was pacing the floor and also acknowledged Reinhart with a silent nod. The same thing at the third and fourth cells.
When he reached the place where the three corridors intersected, he stopped and listened, his back against the wall.
Geitbart’s guards were hardly saying anything. They seemed to be playing a game, possibly backgammon. He could hear them rolling some dice and occasionally discussing their moves. It should be almost time for them to leave for the prisoners’ evening ration of bread and water.
He slipped back into the cell where Avelina was still pacing. She stepped closer when he began to whisper, “Can you unlock the other cells on this corridor?”
She nodded, pulling out her little tool. She moved quickly and quietly into the corridor and to the first cell. She worked at the lock for only a few moments before they heard the telltale click. The door opened with a tiny squeak.
They all froze, waiting for the guards to investigate. But nothing happened.
Avelina moved to the next cell door. Her hands weren’t even shaking as she worked at the lock. It took her a little longer this time, but the lock finally clicked. Reinhart stood by her and held the door so it would not swing open. The prisoner, one of his knights, took over holding the door as they moved on to the next door.
Just as Avelina inserted the little metal rod into the lock, a noise like a shout, then another and another, erupted outside. He and Avelina jumped and spun around. The guards must have had a similar reaction, because they both said together, “What? Who is that—?” Then there was a clatter, and he pictured them dropping their backgammon game pieces all over the floor.
Their footsteps scrambled up and away even as more shouts came and then a long trumpet blast. Was it all-out war going on above?
Avelina was back to frantically trying to unlock the door of the last cell on the corridor. His other three men were out of their cells.
Reinhart
peered around to where the guards had been sitting. They were gone. No one was there.
Avelina opened the last door and hurried into the next corridor and continued her task.
“Sir Klas? Are you here?”
“I am here, the last cell. Lord Thornbeck?”
“Ja. We are coming.”
Shouts continued above, but Reinhart could make out nothing that was happening.
“Here are the keys!” one of his knights cried. “They were hidden in the tinderbox.” He immediately started opening the doors in the third corridor.
Soon, all his knights and guards had been freed, a total of fourteen, and they surrounded Avelina and him.
“If you go above ground”—Reinhart met their gazes—“you could all be killed. Geitbart’s guards outnumber us, and we do not know what has become of the rest of our guards.”
“Then we shall die defending our lord and his castle.” Sir Klas raised his fist.
The men rushed toward the stairs, and Avelina appeared to be going with them. He caught her arm and pulled her back.
“I can help.” She gave him a defiant stare.
Reinhart stared at her, trying to think how he might keep her safe.
“We shall dedicate this battle to the woman who freed us.” Sir Klas turned from halfway up the stairs. “She is the bravest of us all.”
“Ja!” the other soldiers shouted. “She is our lioness! We shall fight for her!”
They all shouted their war cries as they scaled the stairs. None of them had weapons. Reinhart kept hold of Avelina’s arm as they made their way up behind them. “I want you to stay here,” he said quietly. “Stay out of the way of the fighting.”
“Are you going to go fight?”
“Of course. I am a trained knight, and I am the margrave.”
“Then I will fight too.”
“But I very well may die. We all may die.”
“If you die fighting, I want to die fighting with you.” Her eyes were so beautiful, shining up at him.
He knew her well enough to know he could not stop her. “Then stay behind me until I find you a weapon.” He would watch out for her and protect her, as would the rest of his men.
She smiled, so beguiling it made his heart stutter. He started up the stairs behind his men.
Avelina let Lord Thornbeck clasp her hand as he led her up the stairs. Truly, she was prepared to die for this man. All these men were prepared to die. Lord God, if I must die, take care of my precious brother and sister and my father.
Her knees trembled a bit, but Lord Thornbeck glanced back at her, concern in his eyes, then faced forward again. She could do this. She could fight for him, and die, if she must.
They emerged to a sudden cessation of shouting. All around, dozens of Geitbart’s men were kneeling and bowing toward a mounted figure. Lord Thornbeck’s men started dropping to their knees as well.
Lord Thornbeck whispered, “It’s the king.”
Avelina fell into a deep curtsy while Lord Thornbeck knelt and bowed his head.
All was silent. Avelina peeked up to see many horsemen behind the king. King Karl wore a tunic of hardened leather tiles, and sleeves and leggings of mail were visible underneath it. Something about the way he sat, so straight and tall, made him seem regal, even though he was actually wearing a mail hood instead of a crown.
As his gaze swung her way, she quickly averted her eyes to the ground.
The king said in a booming voice, “I require an audience with the Margrave of Thornbeck and the Duke of Geitbart. Is either of those men here?”
“Your Majesty, I am the Margrave of Thornbeck.”
“Very good. When I have quartered my horse in your stable, I shall join you in your Great Hall.”
Lord Thornbeck bowed his acquiescence. The king gave him a sharp, narrowed glance—perhaps wondering about his disheveled appearance—before gesturing with his hand. “You may all rise and go.”
Lord Thornbeck turned to Sir Klas. “Take Avelina to her room.”
He did not look back at her but walked slowly, limping slightly, toward the castle.
Sir Klas gestured for her to precede him, and they walked toward the castle.
In her room Avelina quickly changed her clothes and cleaned herself up. But what was happening with Lord Thornbeck?
A knock came at her door and a wide-eyed maidservant opened it. “His Majesty the king wishes to see you.”
Avelina stood, her heart pounding, and followed the servant down to the Great Hall. Several of the king’s guards stood surrounding the king, who sat on the raised dais in Lord Thornbeck’s large chair. Lord Thornbeck stood in front of the king several feet away. Thornbeck’s guards, many who had been locked in the dungeon, stood just behind their lord.
Lord Thornbeck’s face was stoic. Was he angry or pleased? She could not tell. But his expression changed when he saw her, and his throat moved as he swallowed.
A few feet from Lord Thornbeck, also facing the king, was the Duke of Geitbart. His jaw was rigid, and his black gaze darted from the king to her and back again.
Avelina fell into a deep curtsy before the king.
“Please rise,” the king said.
She did so and stood facing King Karl the Fourth, King of Bohemia, King of Italy, King of Germany, King of the Romans, and Holy Roman Emperor.
She should have been terrified. How could this be possible, that she should be standing before the king? It hardly seemed real. Perhaps that was why she was able to stay upright and conscious in his presence.
“I want to get a good look at the woman of whom I’ve heard so much.”
Was he speaking about her? There didn’t appear to be any other women in the room.
The king stroked his short, neatly trimmed, graying beard while he gazed sleepily out at them. His eyelids were so low over his eyes, she could not tell who he was looking at.
Finally, after many moments, he said, “First, I would like to hear your story, Geitbart, about why you had locked Thornbeck, his chancellor, and the captain of his guard in his own dungeon.”
Geitbart cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, I had just cause for my actions. Everyone knows Lord Thornbeck murdered his brother so he could take his place as margrave. And when—”
The king raised his hand, palm out, silencing the duke. “Everyone knows?” The king’s words were slow and deliberate. “Who is this everyone? And why should I care what everyone knows unless they show me proof? Lord Thornbeck is my margrave, and I do not allow unfounded accusations to be spoken against my noblemen. So what is your proof?”
Air rushed back into Avelina’s lungs. She wanted to glance back at Lord Thornbeck but resisted. Thankfully, she had a good view of the duke’s face, which was turning red.
Geitbart’s jaw twitched as he stared straight ahead at the king. He finally licked his lips and said, “I do not have any proof, Your Majesty.”
“And for what reason did you put your peer in the dungeon?” The king suddenly leaned forward in the chair, toward Geitbart.
“Your Majesty, I was trying to save and protect this region from a madman. He very likely murdered his brother, then allowed a woman poacher to unlawfully kill nearly all of the king’s deer from Thornbeck Forest. Then he made that poaching woman’s husband the chancellor and even has given that woman a place in his household, assisting in his bride-selection scheme. And in this selection, with several ladies here who were daughters of dukes and earls and barons, he actually selected a servant girl instead of one of them.”
Avelina’s insides trembled. No one spoke for several moments. Finally, the king leaned back against the chair.
“You are not telling me anything I didn’t know. None of it explains why you locked a margrave in his own dungeon.”
“Your Majesty, I would never want to do anything you would disapprove of. I simply was trying to make sure your interests were served in Thornbeck.”
“No. You were making sure your own interests were served. Had y
ou planned on taking over Thornbeck Castle all along? Or did you only decide to do it after the margrave did not choose your daughter? Guards, take him to the dungeon and lock him up.” He turned to the man standing nearest to him. “Send his own men home to Geitbart and tell his captain that for now, he is in charge of keeping order in Geitbart.”
The duke’s eyes were wide and he actually bared his teeth like an animal, his beard trembling. “I did nothing wrong! Your Majesty, you cannot—you must not do this.” When the king did not respond or even look at him, his voice rose. “Your Majesty!”
Avelina had to look away from the sight of someone so prideful being humbled to such an extent, led away by the king’s guards. But she could not pity him. He had Lord Thornbeck’s brother cruelly killed, along with his unborn child and the child’s mother.
“Lord Thornbeck, did you kill your brother?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“And did you allow a woman to poach deer in Thornbeck Forest?”
“No, Your Majesty, I did not allow it. When she was discovered poaching, she was punished. She has since turned from her lawlessness and is respectably married to my chancellor.”
“And as for Geitbart’s final accusation, did you choose to wife a maidservant over several young—and I imagine fair of face and form—ladies of this realm who were of noble birth?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I did.”
Would he not explain that he had thought she was the daughter of the Earl of Plimmwald?
“And now, I should like to hear from this young woman, Avelina of Plimmwald, is it? Lady Magdalen of Mallin seems to think very highly of you.”
Lady Magdalen. Of course. How else would the king have heard about her? Lady Magdalen and the king must have crossed paths on their journeys.
“Is it true that you pretended to be the earl’s daughter, Lady Dorothea? And that she ran away with a knight in her father’s service?”
“Y-yes, Your Majesty.” She could hardly lie to the king.
“And did you intend to marry Lord Thornbeck?”