The hair on the back of Sophie’s neck prickled, she wasn’t sure why.
“Thank you.” Sophie held out her hand for the gift.
The abbot took the letter Gabe handed him, the letter Bartel had written, and read it. Then the abbot stared.
“So you are Gabehart Gerstenberg, second son of Duke Wilhelm of Hagenheim.”
Gabe nodded respectfully.
“I had the pleasure of meeting Duke Wilhelm once. He is a fine man and great leader.”
“Thank you for saying so. He is indeed.”
Gabe waited. The man stared down at the letter again. Finally, he rang a bell and a young monk entered the room through a side door.
“Go to Brother Baldewin and ask him to come. Have him wait in the anteroom.”
The young man bowed and walked away.
“You may wait here.” The abbot rose and left the room.
Gabe sat in the only chair available and waited. The monks had welcomed him and let him share their food. They had shown
him to a room with a small cot where he had stowed his things, assuring him he was welcome to rest after his long trek. But he could not sleep until he found Duke Baldewin.
Was Sophie the duke’s daughter? He found himself wishing more and more she wasn’t, not only to lessen his guilt, but also the number of other meetings he would need to orchestrate to make Sophie his bride.
He should soon find out. Unless the duke refused to see him.
Gabe tapped on the arm of his chair, humming a song and thinking the words in his head. He got up and paced around the bare room, counting the cracks in the walls. The floors were very clean, but a spider with furry legs was busily building a web in the corner. Gabe watched it, impressed with the creature’s structural techniques. Finally, he walked back to his chair and stared up at the ceiling. “How much longer, O Lord?” he asked aloud, just as the door opened.
“Brother Baldewin will see you now.” The abbot’s assistant stood in the door, his hands hidden in his robe.
Gabe crossed the room and followed the monk down a long corridor to a small chamber. Once he was inside, the abbot’s assistant closed the door, leaving Gabe alone with a still form. As his eyes adjusted to the light, or lack thereof, he saw the form was actually a man wearing the same brown robe as the monk who had brought him here. The man was kneeling at the back of the room facing a small crucifix on the wall, his head bowed over his clasped hands.
Was Duke Baldewin praying? Gabe wasn’t sure if he should interrupt, so he stood and waited, staring at the kneeling figure, willing him to look up and acknowledge his presence.
“You wished to speak to me?” The figure didn’t move.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Don’t call me ‘Your Grace.’ I have not been that person for fifteen years now. You may simply call me Brother Baldewin.”
The man still had not moved. His face and head were hidden by the cowl of his robe.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Brother Baldewin.” Speaking to a person’s back was a little uncomfortable, especially when what Gabe had to say was already difficult. But he was too anxious to have his questions answered to spend much time dwelling on how to broach the subject.
“I have come seeking information, and I believe I may have information of great interest to you as well.” Gabe hoped Baldewin would say something to make this easier. But there was only silence.
“My name is Gabehart Gerstenberg. Many years ago my brother, Valten, was betrothed to your only daughter, whom we believed to be dead. We were recently told by a servant woman named Pinnosa that your daughter was still alive and living at Hohendorf castle.”
Gabe wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but the man’s body seemed to become more and more tense and rigid the more Gabe talked. His head had inched up and his back had straightened ever so slightly.
“My daughter,” he rasped, his voice vastly changed, “is dead. I saw her body lying in a casket when she was but two years old. She died while I was away, but I saw her—” His voice cracked.
“Forgive me for bringing to mind such a painful memory.” Gabe shifted from one foot to the other, then rubbed his stubbly chin and cheek. He couldn’t stop now. He had to find out for sure, for everyone’s sake.
Gabe waited, and Baldewin finally sat back on his heels and rubbed his face with both hands. He lowered the cowl from his head, letting it lay in folds around his neck, and looked over his shoulder at Gabe.
“Pray, go on.” His voice was steadier.
Baldewin’s hair was a mix of gray and white; he had strong
features, but nothing that particularly reminded Gabe of Sophie. Perhaps Sophie wasn’t Baldewin’s daughter. Perhaps she truly was an orphan from nobody-knew-where.
But he had to find out for sure. Sophie — and Duke Baldewin — deserved to know the truth.
“Two or three weeks ago, I decided to go to Hohendorf Castle to investigate whether this story was true, whether Sophia, your daughter, was still alive. The old woman who told us this wild tale had said that the girl was in danger from Duchess Ermengard. When I arrived, I found that there was a young woman matching the old woman’s description — black hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and great beauty — serving at the castle as a scullery maid. This young woman knew nothing of her parents and had been told by the duchess that she was a poor orphan. The duchess kept her in servitude in the castle.”
The man turned and fixed his deep blue eyes on Gabe. Those eyes. They were quite similar in shape and color to Sophie’s.
“What you say rings somewhat true.” Baldewin stood slowly to his feet and faced Gabe. “I can easily imagine Duchess Ermengard doing such a thing to my daughter. But I saw Sophie’s body myself, laid out in her favorite dress, lying as still as a stone.” He turned away, staring back at the crucifix. “I had just returned from a trip to some holdings several miles to the east. I was only gone for a few days, but how I wish I had never gone … wish I’d done anything but left my little Sophie.”
The duke seemed overcome with grief and said no more. Gabe spoke softly.
“Pinnosa said that the child had been given a sleeping potion. Apparently, the duchess wanted everyone to think your daughter was dead.”
Slowly, slightly, Baldewin nodded his head. “I left as soon as I saw her lifeless body. I wanted nothing more to do with Hohendorf. I had lost my gentle wife and had married a fiend in
her place. Losing my little Sophie broke something inside me. I didn’t want to live, didn’t want my responsibilities. I simply left and never went back.”
“Are you aware,” Gabe said, feeling that he was closing in on the truth, “that the duchess has told everyone that you are dead as well? My father, Duke Wilhelm, believed you died with your daughter of the same fever that supposedly killed her fifteen years ago.”
His shoulders stooped, Baldewin stood still and silent. Finally, he shook his head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t care about anything when I came here, and I haven’t communicated with anyone since coming here. Here I’m known only as Brother Baldewin. Only a few brothers, including the abbot, know who I am or that I am even here.
“But it’s also possible,” Baldewin went on, “that Ermengard let poor, old Pinnosa believe a lie and that this Sophie isn’t my daughter at all. Ermengard enjoys” — he paused as he seemed to be searching for the right word —”twisting other people’s lives with her deceptions, so I can imagine her perpetrating a trick of that kind.”
“I thought of that as well.” Gabe took a step toward the duke. “But there is one thing that might prove, or disprove, that she is your daughter.” Gabe took a deep breath, concentrating on Baldewin’s reaction as he said the next words. “Was your daughter born with a small brown mark somewhere on her body?”
Baldewin got a faraway look in his eyes. Finally, he spoke, his voice cracking again. “On her neck, below her right ear. It looked like a five-petal flower.”
Gabe swallowed. “The very same as my Sophie.”
The apple is quite unnaturally red. The thought
seemed to drift through Sophie’s mind as though seeking somewhere to land. Why did this make her pull her hand away? It was only an apple. If it was redder than usual, what did that matter?
“Go on. Take it.” The old woman picked up the apple and held it out to Sophie. “An apple from my orchard. They’re the sweetest apples in the Empire.”
Sophie reached out her hand again and took the fruit, noticing again that the old woman’s hands didn’t look like the hands of an old woman. In fact, the hands looked familiar.
The old woman hid her hands in the folds of her shawl, as if she realized Sophie was staring at them. Sophie was frustrated about being unable to see her face, which was still mostly hidden underneath the cowl of her shawl.
“Go on. Take a bite,” the old woman encouraged.
Sophie stared at the fruit. It did look good. But something continued to nag at her. There was something almost sinister about the way the woman seemed so eager to give her the fruit. But sometimes people became addled in their old age. Sophie should humor her.
“What is your name, good mother? Perhaps I’ve heard of your orchard.”
The woman jerked her basket impatiently. “Oh, I don’t think so. I only share my fruit with a small number of people.”
Sophie waited for the woman to reveal her name. She was fidgeting with the basket, and Sophie had the urge to punch her hump to see if it was real. A strange thought. But Sophie was more determined than ever to find out the woman’s name and why she was so eager for Sophie to eat the apple. It reminded her of the story the priest often told from Scripture, of the serpent who tempted Eve to eat the forbidden fruit.
“My name? You want to know my name?” The old woman sounded agitated. Her voice wasn’t as raspy now as it had been before, and suddenly Sophie knew. This was no old woman. This was Duchess Ermengard.
Sophie’s hand began to tremble. Her knees went weak, and she took a step back. “I-I think I w-will eat the apple later.” She carefully set it down on the table beside her.
“Eat it now!” The woman stood to her feet, stood tall, no longer bent over, and allowed the shawl to fall from her head. The duchess’s face was without its white powder and was quickly turning red. Her lips twitched, and her eyes were wide and gleamed dangerously down at Sophie from her great height.
“Eat the apple,” she hissed. “I didn’t come all this way to fail now. Eat it, I say.” She picked up the apple and shoved it in Sophie’s face.
“No.” Sophie clenched her teeth and pursed her lips tightly, afraid the duchess would try to force it into her mouth. She backed up another step and the duchess followed her until Sophie’s back was pressed against the wooden counter.
“Stay away from me.” Sophie tried to think how she could defend herself against the duchess. Her stomach clenched in fear, but then anger arose inside her. “You have no right to hurt me. Get out of here.” Her legs trembled, but she would fight this
woman if she had to. She couldn’t allow her and Gabe’s efforts to escape the duchess end in tragedy. She had too much to live for.
I will not let you harm me
. Heat rose inside her as she stared at the duchess, rage so strong Sophie could barely focus her eyes.
But getting angry wouldn’t help her. She had to think clearly, to get the attention of Bartel and Dolf. She could scream, but Bartel probably wouldn’t hear her from inside the chapel, and Dolf couldn’t hear her at all, even though he was most likely nearby.
“I came all this way to get rid of you,” the duchess rasped, leaning closer, still holding the apple in Sophie’s face. “And I will not be denied.”
Sophie cast her gaze over the room. She would have to knock the duchess down, somehow get past her and to the door. She glanced at the counter but it was cleared off and there was nothing she could use as a weapon.
“Why do you hate me so much?” She would stall the duchess with talking. Meanwhile she hoped Dolf or Bartel would come into the kitchen, as unlikely as that seemed. God,
please help me! Send someone or something to help me or show me what to do
.
“You think you’re clever, trying to distract me.” The duchess’s lips curled into a sneer. “But I will tell you anyway. I hate you because you are younger, and everyone thinks you are more beautiful. I hate you most of all because your father loved you more than he loved me. He didn’t love me the way he loved you and your precious mother, no matter how I tried to gain his attention. I hate your dead mother, I hate you, and I hate Duke Baldewin. I drove him to despair by making him think you were dead, and it was one of the greatest moments of my life.” She smiled maliciously, her gaze unflinching as she stared into Sophie’s eyes.
Sophie thought again about trying to push the duchess down, about kicking her, fighting her, but the duchess was bigger and taller. How could she overpower her?
“I thought about poisoning you as I had been poisoning him, but I had to plan my greatest revenge out carefully.” Her lips puckered in a moue of pity. “I couldn’t allow the king to put me in his dungeon, could I?”
“Isn’t the apple poisoned?”
“Of course. But how will anyone prove I did it? You are so far away from Hohendorf, and everyone in the surrounding villages knows I never leave the castle. No one knows I am here now. I have new guards, you see, ones who will not become deserters and fail me, and they are under orders to tell anyone who comes to my chambers that I am ill. And I shall kill anyone who dares say I left Hohendorf’s grounds.”
“You don’t have to do this.” Sophie’s back ached from pressing against the counter behind her. “I won’t return to Hohendorf. You never have to see me again.” The duchess had no reason to know where she was planning to go or the life that awaited her in Hagenheim with Gabe.
“I can’t risk letting you live.” The duchess’s eyes were cold and black, and from the way the strands of white hair at her temple were trembling, her whole body must have been shaking. “I shouldn’t have kept you alive as long as I did. I simply enjoyed tormenting you too much and imagining how bad Baldewin would feel if he knew.” She cackled, a cruel laugh.
“I won’t tell anyone you were here if you go now.” Sophie kept her voice calm. Perhaps she could soothe the duchess into letting down her guard.
“I’m not leaving until you’re dead. Lorencz failed me, but I will see this through.”
She pushed the apple against Sophie’s lips so hard Sophie felt her teeth cut her lip, tasted blood as she turned her head. Sophie grabbed the apple, wrenched it out of the duchess’s hand, and threw it across the room.
A sharp slap resounded through the room. Sophie lifted her
arms to protect herself, her cheek stinging where the duchess had struck her. When she opened her eyes and focused, the duchess was smiling. In her hand, poised above her shoulder, gleaming in the room’s meager light, was a knife.
It was true, Gabe realized. Sophie was the duke’s daughter. Gabe was in love with Valten’s betrothed.
Duke Baldewin covered his face and fell to his knees, moaning. “I should have stayed instead of running away like a coward. I should have gone back. I should have protected my little girl.” He began weeping, his shoulders shaking.
Gabe ran his hand over his stubbly jaw.
Perhaps I should have broken the news to him more gently
.
The duke lifted his tear-stained face. “Is she safe? Is she well? Where is she?”
“Yes, she’s safe and well. I left her with Bartel at the Cottage of the Seven, two days’ ride west of here. I will take you to her as soon as you’re ready to leave.” The sooner the better, since his father would be arriving at the cottage any day now to take her to Hagenheim.
Baldewin groaned piteously, bowing his head to the stone floor. “How will she stand the sight of me after I left her with that witch?”
Gabe had never seen a grown man in such anguish of spirit — nor any man with more cause.
“It’s not your fault, Your Gra — Brother Baldewin. You couldn’t have known. You thought your daughter was dead.” Gabe stared down at him, wondering what else he could do or say to comfort the duke. “The duchess did this, not you. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
“I should have known. I should have felt in my spirit that she was still alive.” He groaned again.
This hadn’t been what Gabe had expected. He’d thought the duke would be happy that his daughter was alive, would joyfully grasp Gabe’s hand and grant his permission for Gabe to marry Sophie after learning how he’d saved her from the duchess. Gabe had imagined the duke being more than glad to go to Duke Wilhelm and Valten to ask them to break the betrothal so Gabe could marry the daughter Baldewin long thought dead but who was now alive. And perhaps she would be dead, if not for Gabe. Gabe would be sure to mention that.
But now … Gabe’s grand plans for a joyous reunion seemed to be dashed, or at least delayed. What could he say that would bring the duke to a point of action? Perhaps he should allow the duke some time to grieve. If only it wasn’t so urgent that they hurry.
Gabe sat on the floor a few feet away, leaning against the wall.
God, help Duke Baldewin forgive himself. Help him to know you forgive him as well
.
Gabe wasn’t sure how much time had gone by, maybe half an hour, when the duke lifted his head and said, “Can you leave me alone for a while? I need to pray.”
“Of course.” Gabe got up and went to the small cell where he would be staying. The sun would be setting soon, and he was tired. He hated to go to bed with things so unsettled, especially since he’d hoped the duke would agree to leave with him early in the morning to go back to Sophie. Suddenly, he was filled with uneasiness about leaving her and felt an urge to go back. But it was probably only because he’d seen Baldewin’s great regret at leaving her all those years ago, the great price Baldewin was paying for not realizing she was still alive. He’d missed his only child’s entire life.
Gabe lay down on his thin mattress. No use staying awake. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a needed nap.
Sophie screamed as she grabbed the duchess’s wrist. She forced the knife back as she squeezed the center of the duchess’s wrist in desperation, knowing she was sending sharp pain through the duchess’s hand. The duchess dropped the knife but yanked Sophie’s hair with her other hand, yanked it so hard Sophie screamed again. Then the duchess, still holding her hair, threw her down forcefully. Sophie’s head hit the edge of the kitchen table.
Everything went black. Sophie blinked hard, trying to ignore the pain in her head. When her eyes focused again, the duchess was again holding the knife. She plunged it toward Sophie.
Before Sophie could react, she felt the knife strike her chest hard.
She was surprised to find the pain in her head was actually worse than the pain in her chest. But she could not deny the knife was lodged in the middle of her chest.
I am going to die
. “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” Sophie whispered, then closed her eyes.
Duchess Ermengard had done it. She’d finally killed her.
She stared down at the blood that was pooling at the side of Sophie’s head and the knife sticking out of the girl’s chest. Then she leaned her head back and laughed hard and long, sucking in great draughts of air between the peals of laughter. “That will teach you to run away from me, you selfish, little ungrateful twit.”
Now to show those seven misfits and the rest of the world that they couldn’t defeat Ermengard, Duchess of Hohendorf. She stuck her hand in the kitchen fireplace and grabbed the unburned end of a piece of wood. Holding the burning end out in front of her, she carried it into the main part of the house. She looked around until she spied a basket with several articles of
clothing — obviously someone’s mending. She stuck the burning end of the wood into the basket. The fire caught the fabric and blazed up.
She turned to leave and found herself staring at a man, quite tall, with brown hair and a shocked expression on his suntanned face.
“Out of my way or I’ll kill you too.”
The man merely stared at her, a perplexed look coming over his face.
She pushed past him and hurried toward the door, the heavy peasant-style skirts slowing her down.
Suddenly, the man let out an animal-like sound that sent ice through the duchess’s veins. She didn’t turn around but ran out the door, hoping he was occupied with putting out the fire.
Sophie is dead. Sophie is dead
. The thought was so wonderful, she let it pound through her head over and over as she ran toward the river. If she could reach the bridge over the river, she could get to her horse on the other side and then Sophie’s little men would never catch her.
A bell started ringing loud and sharp behind her. She turned her head. The tall man was yanking on the string of a large bell at the side of the house, then he started running after her.
The duchess picked up her skirts and ran faster. A shout came from behind her, then another. It seemed all seven men must have been alerted and were shouting and getting closer to her. She kept running, laughing because Sophie was dead. But she couldn’t let them catch her. She couldn’t let them take her to the king. If King Sigismund found out what she’d done, he would certainly have her hanged.
She jumped over a dead tree trunk, surprised at her own speed and agility. Crouching to avoid a low tree branch, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that the men were getting closer, the tall brown-haired man closest.
No. She was so near the river now. But she would never make it to the bridge. The man was too fast. She was not a very good swimmer, but she had no choice. She ran to the bank and jumped into the rushing stream.
She sank, the coldness of it taking her breath away. Fighting her way to the surface was hard, too hard. She flung about, trying to loosen herself from whatever was dragging her to the bottom. Until she realized her impediment was her clothes. They were saturated with water and pulling her down.
She grabbed a root that was sticking out of the side of the bank and pulled with all her strength, drawing herself above the surface. Gasping for breath, she clung to the bank, mud sinking under her now broken fingernails.