PRAISE FOR MELANIE DICKERSON
“When it comes to happily-ever-afters, Melanie Dickerson is the undisputed queen of fairy-tale romance, and all I can say is—long live the queen! From start to finish The Beautiful Pretender is yet another brilliant gem in her crown, spinning a medieval love story that will steal you away—heart, soul, and sleep!”
—JULIE LESSMAN, AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE DAUGHTERS OF BOSTON, WINDS OF CHANGE, AND HEART OF SAN FRANCISCO SERIES
“I couldn’t stop reading! Melanie has done what so many other historical novelists have tried and failed: she’s created a heroine that is at once both smart and self-assured without seeming modern. A woman so fixed in her time and place that she is able to speak to ours as well.”
—SIRI MITCHELL, AUTHOR OF FLIRTATION WALK AND CHATEAU OF ECHOES, ON THE BEAUTIFUL PRETENDER
“Readers will find themselves supporting the romance between the sweet yet determined Odette and the insecure but hardworking Jorgen from the beginning. Dickerson spins a retelling of Robin Hood with emotionally compelling characters, offering hope that love may indeed conquer all as they unite in a shared desire to serve both the Lord and those in need.”
—RT BOOK REVIEWS, 4½ STARS, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST
“I’m always amazed at the way Melanie Dickerson creates a world. Her writing is as fresh and unique as anyone I know, and I am always pulled into the story and taken far away on a wonderful, romantic, and action-packed journey.”
—MARY CONNEALY, AUTHOR OF NOW AND FOREVER, BOOK TWO OF THE WILD AT HEART SERIES, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST
“Melanie Dickerson does it again! Full of danger, intrigue, and romance, this beautifully crafted story will transport you to another place and time.”
—SARAH E. LADD, AUTHOR OF THE CURIOSITY KEEPER AND THE WHISPERS ON THE MOORS SERIES, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST
“Melanie Dickerson’s The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest is a lovely, romantic read set during one of the most fascinating time periods. Featuring a feisty, big-hearted heroine and a hero to root for, this sweet medieval tale is wrapped in a beautiful journey of faith that had me flipping pages well after my bedtime. Delightful!”
—TAMARA LEIGH, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF BARON OF GODSMERE
“Melanie Dickerson weaves a tantalizing Robin Hood plot in a medieval setting in The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest. She pits a brave heroine with unique talents against a strong, gentle hero whose occupation makes it dangerous to know him. Add the moral dilemma and this tale makes a compelling read for any age.”
—RUTH AXTELL, AUTHOR OF SHE SHALL BE PRAISED AND THE ROGUE’S REDEMPTION
“The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest is a wonderful romantic tale filled with love, betrayal, and forgiveness. I loved this book and highly recommend it for readers of all ages.”
—CARA LYNN JAMES, AUTHOR OF A PATH TOWARD LOVE
“The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest reminds me of why adults should read fairy tales. Author Melanie Dickerson shoots straight to the heart with a cast of compelling characters, an enchanting story world, and romance and suspense in spades. Reaching The End was regrettable—but oh, what an ending!”
—LAURA FRANTZ, AUTHOR OF THE MISTRESS OF TALL ACRE
“For stories laden with relatable heroines, romantically adventurous plots, once-upon-a-time settings, and engaging writing, Melanie Dickerson is your go-to author. Her books are on my never-to-be-missed list.”
—KIM VOGEL SAWYER, AUTHOR OF WHEN MERCY RAINS, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST
“Ms. Dickerson deftly captures the flavor of life in medieval Germany in a sweet tale filled with interesting characters that will surely capture readers’ hearts.”
—KATHLEEN MORGAN, AUTHOR OF THESE HIGHLAND HILLS SERIES, EMBRACE THE DAWN, AND CONSUMING FIRE, ON THE HUNTRESS OF THORNBECK FOREST
OTHER BOOKS BY MELANIE DICKERSON
THE MEDIEVAL FAIRY TALE NOVELS
The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
The Beautiful Pretender
YOUNG ADULT
The Princess Spy
The Captive Maiden
The Fairest Beauty
The Merchant’s Daughter
The Healer’s Apprentice
The Golden Braid
© 2016 by Melanie Dickerson
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.
Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail
[email protected].
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®
Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-7180-2658-5 (eBook)
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Dickerson, Melanie, author.
Title: The silent songbird / Melanie Dickerson.
Description: Nashville, Tennessee: Thomas Nelson, 2016. | Summary: In 1384 England, seventeen-year-old Evangeline, ward and cousin of King Richard II, tries to escape from an arranged marriage, dreaming of a life outside Berkhamsted Castle, where she might be free to marry for love and not politics, but when she runs away and joins a small band of servants on their way back to their home village, she finds herself embroiled in a tangled web that threatens England’s monarch.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016022313 | ISBN 9780718026318 (hardback)
Subjects: | CYAC: Love--Fiction. | Arranged marriage--Fiction. | Social classes--Fiction. | Middle Ages--Fiction. | Great Britain--History--Richard II, 1377-1399--Fiction. | Christian life--Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.D5575 Si 2016 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016022313
16 17 18 19 20 RRD 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Acknowledgments
Discussion Questions
An Excerpt from The Golden Braid
Chapter One
About the Author
Chapter One
&
nbsp; Summer 1384. Berkhamsted Castle, Hertfordshire, England.
“Servants may marry whomever they want, but a king’s ward has no freedom at all.”
Evangeline broke off the song she was singing. A lump rose in her throat. Through her open window facing the castle bailey she watched the servants talking and laughing and milling about, finishing their morning chores.
A kitchen maid was drawing a bucket of water at the well in the center of the bailey. A young man approached her.
Alma gave him the dipper, and he lifted it to his lips.
The stranger’s hair was brown and fell over his brow at an angle. He was tall, and even from Evangeline’s bedchamber window on the third level of the castle, she could see he was handsome, with a strong chin and a sturdy stance.
He passed the water around to the other men who had followed him to the well. Evangeline leaned out the window to try to catch what they were saying.
“Thank you,” the man said as he handed the dipper back to the servant. He wore the clothing of a peasant—a leather mantle over his long linen tunic.
“Where are you from?” Alma asked.
“Glynval, a little village north . . . brought . . . to sell . . . and wheat flour . . .” Evangeline couldn’t make out all the words.
The man wasn’t like most peasants. Not that she had seen very many. But this man held himself upright with an air of confidence and ease she had rarely seen before.
Evangeline leaned out a little farther, hanging on to the casement. The man was moving on as the cart started forward, Alma still staring after him. He turned to say something to the other men and suddenly looked up at Evangeline.
“Evangeline!”
She jumped backward, her heart crashing against her chest.
“What are you doing, hanging out the window like a common—? Don’t you know better than to behave that way?” Muriel hurried to the open window and peered out, then closed it and clamped her hands on her hips.
“Am I not allowed to look out the window? I’m no better than the prisoners in the dungeon. You know, I feel much pity for them. I daydream sometimes about releasing them and running away with them.” She tipped her face to the ceiling as if turning her face to the sun and closed her eyes. “How good it would feel, walking free through the fields of wildflowers I read about in a poem once, breathing the fresh air, free to go wherever I want.”
“You think your jests are amusing,” Muriel said, “but when the king of England is your guardian and is planning your wedding to a wealthy nobleman, you should not expect pity. Envy is more likely.”
“Wedding? What do you mean?” Evangeline’s heart seemed to stop beating. “What do you know?”
“It is only gossip, but it is said that the king has promised you to one of his closest advisors.”
“Who?”
“The Earl of Shiveley.”
Evangeline reached out and placed a hand on the stone wall as the room seemed to teeter from side to side. How could the king betroth her to him? Lord Shiveley was old—almost forty—and Evangeline was barely seventeen. She had only seen Lord Shiveley a few times when he had accompanied the king to Berkhamsted Castle. He stared at her in a way that made her stomach sick, and he always managed to put a hand on her—on her shoulder or her back, and even once at her waist. She would always writhe inwardly and step away from him as quickly as she could.
Besides that, it was rumored that Lord Shiveley’s first wife had died under mysterious circumstances.
Evangeline shuddered.
“The king and Lord Shiveley will arrive tonight, and you must be ready to greet them.” Muriel bustled over to the wardrobe where Evangeline’s best dresses were kept. She opened it and rummaged through her clothing. “You should wash your hair. I have ordered your bath sent up, and I shall—”
“Muriel, stop!” Evangeline stared at the woman who had been her closest companion and confidant for ten years. Though Muriel was nearly old enough to be her mother, she could not be so daft.
Muriel stared back at her with a bland expression. “What is it?”
“Surely you must see that I cannot marry that man.” Her voice was a breathy whisper.
“My dear,” Muriel said, not unkindly, “you know, you have always known, you must marry whomever the king wishes you to.”
Evangeline’s throat constricted. “The king does not care a whit about my feelings.”
“Careful.” Muriel’s gaze darted about the room. “You mustn’t risk speaking against the king. You never know who might betray you.”
“I shall tell the king to his face when he arrives that I shall not marry Lord Shiveley, and it is cruel to ask it of me.”
“You know you shall do no such thi—”
“I shall! I shall tell him!”
“Evangeline. You are too old to get in such a passion. Sit down and calm yourself. Breathe.”
Evangeline crossed her arms over her chest and ignored Muriel’s order. She had to think of some way to escape. Women often married men they did not particularly want to marry, but she could not marry Lord Shiveley. She was not like other women. They might accept unfair treatment, but Evangeline would fight, argue, rebel against injustice. Other women conformed to what was expected of them. Perhaps they did not dream of freedom and a different life.
“You must listen to reason,” Muriel said. “Lord Shiveley is rich and can give you your own home. You will finally have the freedom to do whatever you wish. You will have servants and your own gardens and even your own horse. Many ladies enjoy falconry and hunting. You can have as many dresses and as much jewelry, or anything else your heart desires.”
Only if her husband allowed it.
Muriel knew her well enough to know what might sway her. But a husband did not give freedom. A husband made rules. He took away his wife’s control and replaced it with his own. A wealthy, powerful husband could order his wife around, beat her, do whatever he wished to her, and she could do naught.
Peasants, if they were not married and were free men and women, might be poor, but was it not a hundred times better to be free than to have fancy clothes and expensive food and servants to do everything for you? Freedom and independence were worth more than all the gold a castle could hold. Freedom to choose whom to marry, freedom to walk about the countryside unhindered, to drink from a cool, clear stream and gaze up into the trees, to ride a horse and eat while standing up. To bathe in the river and laugh and sing at the top of her voice—that was freedom.
And now King Richard was about to force her to marry an old, disgusting man.
“But you said it was gossip.” Evangeline began to breathe easier. “Perhaps it was only idle talk.”
Or if it was true, once she was able to talk to King Richard, he would understand. They’d been friends since they were very young, being cousins and only six months apart in age. Although she had not seen much of Richard in the past few years, surely he would listen to her pleas.
Her stomach sank. She was fooling herself. Richard would not listen to her if he had made up his mind. His loyalty to his advisors came before any childhood friendship he might still feel for Evangeline.
“At least Lord Shiveley is taller than you are.” Muriel arched her brows.
“Just because I am taller than half the men I’ve ever met doesn’t mean I want to marry this man.” Evangeline turned away from Muriel and sat on the bench by the window, placing her head in her hands. Perhaps if she were able to cry, it would relieve this terrible ache in her chest.
“There now.” Muriel sat beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do not fret about something that may not even be true. We shall wait until the king arrives and let him tell you why he’s here and if he has aught to say to you.”
But the gentle warmth of Muriel’s hand did not feel comforting. Muriel was fifteen years older than Evangeline, but they were both illegitimate daughters of important men—Evangeline’s father was the king’s uncle, while Muriel’s father was an
archbishop. Both of them were dependent on the kindness of King Richard.
Fortunately for Muriel, she was not valued as a pawn in the king’s political maneuverings, to be married off to a man the king wanted to please or bribe. It was easy for Muriel to tell Evangeline not to fret about marrying a repulsive man.
A knock came at the door. Muriel opened it to a man wearing the livery of the king.
“A message for Evangeline, ward of the king, daughter of Lionel of Antwerp, Duke of Clarence.”
Evangeline stood. Muriel brought her the missive, which had been sealed in dark-red wax with the king’s signet ring. She tore it open. The words leapt off the page at her:
Evangeline, I and the Earl of Shiveley would enjoy hearing you sing for us with that famous, incomparable voice of yours. I believe you are acquainted with my advisor, which is more than most noble brides can boast of their betrothed. He became quite enamored of you the last time he heard you sing.
Betrothed.
The note slipped from her hand and fluttered to the floor.
Muriel snatched it up while Evangeline’s whole body went cold. Would her blood congeal from horror? Would she fall to the floor dead? Her throat seemed to close and she was dizzy.
She could not allow herself to be overcome like other women she read about who fainted but then went to their fates like sheep with no compunction or will of their own.
Jesus, is that what You would wish me to do? Comply and submit and allow myself to be married off to someone who makes my stomach churn and my skin crawl? Jesus submitted to a terrible fate for the good of mankind, but Evangeline could not see any good that could come from marrying Lord Shiveley. Except that it would please King Richard.
“Now, my dear.” Muriel carefully laid the letter down on a shelf. “I know you think you do not wish to marry Lord Shiveley, but consider some other good things this will bring to you. You will win the king’s favor. Your husband may truly love you, and you may get children from the union. Indeed, there are many benefits that will come.”
“How can any of that be worth marrying someone I cannot abide? And you know what people say about his first wife.” Evangeline spun away from her. Muriel would refuse to listen or understand how Evangeline felt.