The earl spoke in a cold, quiet tone.
“And now you must take the rest of Dorothea’s clothes and jewelry and prepare for the journey to Thornbeck. You will leave in two hours.”
He was not asking her if she would do it; he was ordering her to.
She must think. She must be wise and ask something for herself. “If I do this, I will be deceiving one of the most powerful men in the Holy Roman Empire. I am risking my life.”
Unmoved, Lord Plimmwald stared back at her.
“If I succeed, you must give me a sum of money . . . enough to constitute a dowry so I can marry. And—and a goose and a side of pork every month for my family.”
“Very well. It shall be as you have asked.”
He agreed so quickly. She should have asked for more.
“But I warn you, if you should in any way destroy what little alliance I have with the margrave by being found out to be a servant instead of the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter, I will not spare either you or your family. I will banish you all. And you will have failed every person in Plimmwald.”
Avelina’s throat tightened at the cruelty in the earl’s voice, cruelty that would hurt her father as well as her little sister and brother. She swallowed past the constriction.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” She would not fail. She could not.
Somehow she had to convince a powerful margrave that she was the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter, and she must not allow herself to be chosen to be his bride.
The latter task would no doubt be easier than the former.
3
“LORD THORNBECK, SOME guests have arrived.”
Reinhart did not look up from the report he was reading. The servant cleared his throat. Finally, he lifted his head as two ladies swept into the room—his own personal library where he kept his important documents and letters, his private sanctuary.
“The Lady Fronicka, daughter of the Duke of Geitbart,” the servant announced, “and the Lady Applonia, daughter of the Earl of Hindenberg.”
Reinhart glared at the servant. Was it not clear that ladies were not to be ushered into his presence when they arrived? Bad enough that he had to make conversation with them at mealtimes in the Great Hall.
The two young ladies probably expected him to stand and bow politely. Instead, he grunted.
Lady Fronicka stepped forward. “My lord, you are so gracious to invite us to Thornbeck Castle for the next weeks’ festivities. I am very—”
“Lady Fronicka, I did not invite you to be gracious. I simply am following the king’s wishes that I marry a nobleman’s daughter, an alliance that will strengthen the Holy Roman Empire and the king’s authority in it. And now you and Lady Applonia may feel free to rest in your rooms after your long journey. I have work to do. The servants will see to your needs.”
Lady Fronicka raised her brows. Lady Applonia stared with her mouth slightly open.
Finally, Lady Fronicka smiled. “We shall look forward to seeing you, Lord Thornbeck, in the Great Hall.”
He nodded and they left. “Come here,” he ordered the manservant who was still skulking by the door.
“Yes, Lord Thornbeck?” The man eagerly strode forward.
“Your job is to make sure I am not disturbed unless something of vital importance occurs. You are not to show any ladies into this study. If it happens again, you shall be sent to feed the pigs. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my lord. Forgive me.” The man’s face turned red.
“Now go.”
Avelina made her way to her family’s home just beyond the castle courtyard, picking her way around the manure piles in the dirt streets.
Before she reached the door, a high-pitched voice called out, “Avelina!”
She turned to see the two little faces she loved more than any others in the world. “What are you both doing?”
“We were playing with Frau Clara’s new puppies,” Brigitta cried.
“We haven’t been gone very long, and we helped Father before we left,” Jacob said.
“Did you bring us sweets?”
“Come inside with me. No, Brigitta, I don’t have sweets. I have some news for you.”
Very little light entered the wattle-and-daub structure, as there were few windows and it was a cloudy, gray day. Avelina was able to make out her father’s still form sitting in his chair, which his friend, a carpenter, had made for him.
“Avelina.” Her father squinted up at her. “Why aren’t you at the castle?” Long pieces of hemp lay in his lap. He had obviously been braiding them into rope. Good. He was at least finding something to do. He was much less morose when his hands were busy.
Avelina knelt in front of him on the dirt floor, and he placed his massive hand on her head.
“Father, I have to go away for two weeks, perhaps three, but then I will return. Do you think you and Jacob and Brigitta will be able to manage while I’m gone?”
“Why are you going away?” Brigitta asked in a shrill voice. The little girl threw herself between Avelina and their father.
Father was staring hard at her, waiting for her to answer Brigitta’s question.
“The earl has asked me to go to Thornbeck Castle. Lady Dorothea has been invited there to meet Lord Thornbeck, who is trying to choose a wife from among the noble ladies of this part of the Holy Roman Empire. There has been some feuding, as you know, between the regions and their noblemen, and Lord Plimmwald explained to me that the king thinks if Lord Thornbeck marries the daughter of one of them, it will help restore peace and build alliances between the regions.”
“We shall pray he chooses Lady Dorothea, then,” her father said. “Lord Plimmwald has long been afraid of the Duke of Geitbart attacking and taking over.”
Her father would remember that from when he had been the earl’s stable master.
“There will be other noble ladies there,” Avelina said quickly, trying not to think about the fact that she was deceiving them, letting them believe she was only accompanying Lady Dorothea. “Lord Thornbeck might choose any of them. Nevertheless, I shall return before you start missing me very much, I should think.” She smiled into Brigitta’s upturned face.
“You shall not go away like Mother did, will you?” Brigitta’s lips were parted and fear darkened her six-year-old eyes.
“No, of course not.” Avelina’s smile fled. “Mother did not want to go away, darling. And we shall see her again in heaven.”
“Are you going to heaven?”
“Of course not, you daft girl.” Jacob frowned. “She’s only going to Thornbeck.”
“There’s no need to call her daft, Jacob.” Avelina gave him a warning look, then softened it with a half smile. “I expect you to be kind and watch after your sister while I’m gone.”
Father said very little on any given day, and today was no exception. He nodded to her. “God give you safe travels, Daughter.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Avelina hugged her little sister, then kissed her cheek. “You obey your father, yes?”
“I will. Bring me something pretty—a ribbon! Or a sweet!”
“If I am able.” Avelina turned and hugged her little brother. “Don’t mistreat your sister. Listen to Father.”
Jacob squirmed. “You treat me like a little boy.”
“Twelve years old is not too old to obey your older sister and your father.”
Jacob rolled his eyes, but he gave her a half smile. She smiled back. He was at the age of wanting to pull away and be like the other boys, but he had a good heart, and he’d fight to keep his little sister safe.
As Avelina turned to leave, she had the distinct feeling that her journey would be longer than she had anticipated.
Hardly two hours later, with help, Avelina mounted one of the earl’s gentlest mares. Two guards accompanied her as they started away from Plimmwald Castle and proceeded north. The day was gray and dreary, but even as the sky did not shed much light, it also
held back the rain.
Irma, who was being sent as Avelina’s maidservant, rode on the horse beside her. She was a plump kitchen servant with red, curly hair, a few years older than Avelina’s twenty.
“I have always wanted to go on a long trip.” Irma spoke not so much to Avelina as to herself. “And now I am a lady’s maidservant! I am sure to see the margrave, and so many ladies. Perhaps even dukes and duchesses.” Irma’s wide gray eyes and smile gave Avelina the sudden urge to laugh. But she managed to control her hysteria.
Regardless of how flippantly Irma viewed this situation, Avelina could only think of the dangers, and she was thankful to have the company of any familiar face.
She glanced over her shoulder at the traveling bag that had been secured to the back of her saddle. Avelina, who was nearly the same size as Lady Dorothea, had brought the clothing her mistress had left behind, not owning any clothing of her own that was suitable enough. The earl had also told her to take Dorothea’s jewelry, to help her look the part of the earl’s daughter, but Avelina had to inform him that Dorothea had taken the jewelry with her, along with many of her best dresses.
After her visit to her family, Avelina finished packing up the rest of Lady Dorothea’s dresses. The earl had also given her some of his dead wife’s cotehardies, which smelled stale from lying in a trunk for the last few years since her death. Several of them were made of silk. One in particular was a becoming shade of violet. The countess had been slightly plumper than Avelina and shorter, but the gown was made in an overly long style meant to be gathered and tucked into the belt around her waist. Avelina could simply wear it untucked.
The earl had also given her one of the countess’s necklaces—the only piece of her jewelry that had not been given to Dorothea. It was lovely, though a bit bulky, with dark-emerald stones surrounded by gold filigree. Lord Plimmwald told her, when they reached Thornbeck Castle in two or three days, she should put it on for the balls.
Irma held on to the reins and the pommel with both hands, and Avelina did the same. Neither of them was used to riding a horse, and riding sidesaddle required her to use muscles Avelina did not know she had in order to stay in the saddle. It was a long way to the ground, and she did not wish to fall and break a leg—although the thought of a broken leg was almost appealing. She would have a good excuse to go back home, but what if it did not grow back straight?
She only had to stay quiet—Lord Plimmwald had warned her not to talk much—and not to attract attention to herself. In two weeks the margrave would choose someone to be his wife, she could come home, and the earl would be happy with her and not punish her. And with the rewards the earl would give her, she would be free from the life of a servant—a life even more uncertain now that Lady Dorothea had gone away. Avelina might have had to work in the kitchen, a job more difficult than catering to Dorothea’s whims.
Gradually Avelina grew more comfortable with the steady pace of the horse and with holding herself in the saddle, and she sat tapping her chin with her finger, wondering what the two-week party would hold for her. Would she be able to fool them all into thinking she was an earl’s daughter?
“The earl did not give you very much time to get ready, did he?” Irma asked in a quiet voice, presumably so the guards would not hear, as the men rode in front of and behind them.
“No.”
“And he did not tell me exactly what he has asked of you. He only said you were going to Thornbeck and that I was to be your servant. He also said he would cut out my tongue and feed it to his falcon if I breathed a word to anyone that you are not Lady Dorothea.” But even with this dire pronouncement, her eyes did not lose their excited gleam.
“I must pretend to be Lady Dorothea, and I must not offend the margrave in any way. If he suspects that I am not Dorothea, bad things will happen.”
“Ach, ja, I suspected that was it. Your hair is more brown and not as light as Lady Dorothea’s, and your eyes are blue while hers are green, but with some pretty silk cotehardies and our departed lady’s necklace, you shall be just as beautiful. You should not look so worried. Besides, would it not be wonderful if the margrave should pick you to be his bride?”
Avelina turned wide eyes on Irma. “I cannot marry the margrave. You must not wish such a thing on me. But he surely would never pick me. He is looking for someone who can behave as a nobleman’s daughter would, a margrave’s wife, and I, of course, have no idea how to behave as a nobleman’s daughter.” Avelina muttered the last several words to herself. If her way of speaking did not give her away, her ignorance of the dances would.
She must try to speak and behave as Dorothea would. After all, she had been Dorothea’s servant for so many years, it should not be difficult. But she did not relish the thought of being rude and demanding.
The evening of the second day of their journey, Avelina felt bruised and sore beyond anything she had ever experienced before. The guards stopped to rest the horses and to inform them that they could reach Thornbeck Castle before midnight if they pressed on. Since the moon was full, there were no clouds to obscure the light, and they did not expect to see any bandits this close to Thornbeck, they would press on.
After stretching their legs, Irma and Avelina got back on their horses for the last few hours of the journey.
Avelina had slept little the night before, as they had been unable to find shelter and had lain on the ground on blankets. And even though she’d had two blankets to cover herself, her feet had felt like two blocks of ice long before morning came, and they had not thawed all day.
She had awakened several times, dreaming either of brigands attacking their horses or of wolves and wild boar snarling at them. She had overheard the guards, when they thought she was not listening, saying that there were wolves in Thornbeck Forest.
Darkness kept her from seeing very far ahead. Irma kept up an almost-constant chatter.
“What do you suppose they eat at the margrave’s table? Goose and suckling pig, no doubt. He probably never eats barley bread or porridge.”
Avelina wondered if Thornbeck still had cherries.
As the night wore on, she could barely force her eyes to stay open. When they stopped again to rest, she curled into a ball on the ground and fell asleep.
She awoke to someone shaking her shoulder.
“Get up, my lady.” Someone shook her again. “Lady Dorothea.”
Avelina startled, jerking away from her, then remembered. It was Irma, and she was only practicing calling Avelina “my lady” and “Lady Dorothea” before they reached Thornbeck Castle.
“How much farther?” Avelina asked as the guard helped her mount her horse. He boosted her up, and she had to cling to the horse’s mane to keep from falling off, as if exhaustion was making her so heavy it was pulling her back down to the ground.
“Another hour or two.”
They continued on their way. Irma had all but ceased talking, and when she did speak, it was usually to say something such as, “I can’t remember when I’ve ever been so tired. I may fall off this horse yet.”
When Avelina’s head bobbed forward, forcing her to jerk herself back upright, she started pinching her arms and then her cheeks to stay awake.
“I see something,” Irma said, the old excitement back in her voice. “Is it the castle? No, I think it’s the town.”
A walled town lay below them in a slight valley. They skirted around it, following the wall to the east of the town, then came around the south side. They started moving up a winding road, and that’s when Avelina saw the castle.
Thornbeck Castle stood high on a ridge that rose out of the forest. A single road led up to it, with tree-lined ravines all around. Several towers of varying sizes, some with pointed roofs and others flat and ringed with crenellations, stood out against the moonlit sky. She could see no other details in the dark, except that the terrain around it seemed steep and heavily forested. The castle itself stretched out along the ridge behind it, giving it a somewhat narrow facade, b
ut it appeared much larger than Plimmwald Castle.
A bend in the road blocked Thornbeck Castle from view. The air had been getting steadily colder since they’d left Plimmwald, and now a gust stirred the loose strands of hair around her face. She shivered. Finally, this exhausting journey would end. She had been dreading the moment she would reach the castle, but now she was all too thankful at the prospect of getting off this horse and out of the cold.
They drew close to the front of the castle. A guard and a stable boy came toward them, and Lord Plimmwald’s guards caught the harnesses and brought their horses to a halt.
I must remember I am not a servant. I must behave as Dorothea would . . . as the daughter of an earl.
She did not wait for someone to help her down. She slid off the saddle and handed the reins to the approaching stable boy. Her backside and thighs were so sore, it hurt to move, and exhaustion made her weave and list to one side as she walked.
She should be pretending perfect grace.
The guard announced her as Lady Dorothea, the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter. Irma allowed her, as the daughter of an earl, to go first. She put one foot in front of the other up the stone steps to the front door.
A white-haired middle-aged woman greeted her in the entrance hall. “I am Frau Schwitzer. Follow me and I shall take you and your maidservant to your room.”
Avelina followed her, with Irma just behind. They made their way down a long corridor, lit by wall sconces, and then up an enormous staircase, and finally arrived at a door. The servant opened it and motioned them inside.
“There is water in the pitcher. I shall bring a small repast from the kitchen. Is there anything in particular you require, Lady Dorothea?”
Avelina stared and blinked. “No, but thank you very much.”
She probably should not have thanked the servant. Dorothea certainly would not have thanked her.
The woman eyed her for a moment, then nodded and closed the door behind her.