The Captive Maiden

Chapter



7





Evfemia and Irma stood talking with Rainhilda, their heads together as if they were trying to make sure no one else heard what they were saying.

While they were not looking her way, Gisela turned her back on them and hurried to get out of sight.

Sieger stood near other knights’ horses lined up on the other side of several large tented pavilions. Her stepmother and stepsisters would never go near such an area, so she headed toward him.

As she drew near, a boy who looked about twelve years old approached Sieger’s makeshift stall with a bag in his hand. He was glancing around nervously, holding the bag protectively against his body.

The boy’s odd behavior made Gisela stop and hide behind the first horse. What was he doing lurking near Valten’s destrier? Then, with a deliberate step, he approached Sieger, drew out some green leaves from his bag, and stuffed them into Sieger’s bucket. The boy turned and broke into a run, disappearing behind the horses’ stalls.

Sieger stuck his nose into the bucket, then pulled it out again, snuffling discontentedly.

Gisela hurried forward, holding up her hem so it didn’t get soiled. Once she reached Sieger, she spoke softly to him, rubbing his nose. He nickered, nodding his head, and nudged her neck. “Hey, boy. Let me see what’s in your feed.”

She bent down and pulled out the green leaves from inside his bucket of oats, and her blood went cold. They were the leaves of a water hemlock plant.

Another young boy, who appeared about the same age as the one who’d placed the water hemlock in Sieger’s bucket, walked toward her from Valten’s tent. “May I help you, fraulein?”

Gisela caught the boy by the arm. “Someone tried to poison Valt — your master’s horse. You must tell him with all haste.” She held up the offending leaves, her hands starting to shake. If Sieger had eaten them, he might have been dead in half an hour.

Without a word, the boy turned and ran to the tent. Valten came out moments later without his heavy armor, wearing only his shirt of mail, the white under-tunic, and leather breeches.

He saw her and stopped in midstride.

“Someone tried to poison Sieger.” Gisela held out the water hemlock.

Valten strode forward, his gaze seeming to move reluctantly from Gisela’s face to the green substance in her hand.

“Hugo!” he barked. The boy came running. “Take this and bury it in the ground. Bury it deep, understand?” There was a cold, dangerous look on his face that sent a chill through Gisela, but was somehow comforting at the same time. Valten would not let anyone get away with harming a horse — or a person — he loved.

The boy took the leaves carefully into his hands. She bent and made sure there was no more in Sieger’s bucket while Valten looked into the horse’s mouth.

After the boy hurried away, Valten said quietly, his voice so deep it rumbled, “Do you think he ate any of it?”

Her heart skipped a beat at his nearness. “I don’t think so.”

The dangerous glint vanished from his eyes. “I’m glad you came when you did.”

She nodded.

“And not just because you saved Sieger’s life.” He stopped rubbing his horse and turned his body toward her. Now she could see the cut over his eye. Someone had stitched it closed, but there was still a light smear of dried blood on his skin. His hair was damp — no doubt he’d had to wash the blood out of it — making it look brown instead of blond. Up close in his shirt of mail, his shoulders seemed even broader, his chest thicker, and he looked like a warrior — a very handsome warrior.


“Did you see the person who did this?”

She nodded. “A boy, about twelve years old.”

“Could you recognize him if you saw him again?”

“I think so.”

Valten motioned to his squire. “Guard Sieger and don’t let anyone near him.”

“Yes, my lord,” the boy said.

Valten looked at Gisela. “Come.” He strode behind the horse’s stall, taking such long strides that Gisela had to hurry to keep up. He stopped in front of Ruexner’s tent. A boy was lounging outside on the grass near the front.

“That’s him,” she whispered. “That’s the person who put the water hemlock in Sieger’s food.”

“You’re sure?” The fierce look was back on his face, his jawline looking like it was carved from stone.

“I’m sure.”

Valten took a step toward the tent and stopped. He turned back to Gisela, and the look in his gray-green eyes gentled instantly. His jaw relaxed, and her breath hitched in her throat at the sudden transformation. “Go back to Sieger’s stall and wait for me there.”

She nodded. Be careful. She wanted to say the words but was sure a man like Valten wouldn’t appreciate, or heed, them. She made her way back. What would Valten do?

While Gisela waited, she rubbed Sieger’s side and talked with Valten’s squire. He was a polite boy from the north near the sea, the third son of a wealthy earl. She asked him about his winters there and if he wanted to be a knight. The boy was rather talkative and answered her questions well, until his eyes grew big as he seemed to be staring over her shoulder. Before Gisela could turn around, she felt a tug at her neck as someone jerked her scarf.

“Well, if it isn’t the pretty little peasant from the streets.”

Gisela turned and glared into the ugly sneer of Friedric Ruexner.

He brought the blue scarf up to his face and held it against his cheek, an unpleasant smile on his bearded face.

As the scarf slipped away from her neck, Gisela grabbed the end of it. “Give it to me.” She pulled as hard as she could but could not break his hold.

Ruexner yanked as well. Gisela lost her balance and stumbled into him. She immediately jumped back but kept hold of the fabric.

“You want me to wear your colors, don’t you?” He grinned down at her.

“Not if I live to be a hundred years old.”

Ruexner laughed raucously. “I might not want to wear it if you were a hundred years old.”

“Give her the scarf.” Valten’s voice came from behind Ruexner.

Ruexner visibly stiffened, but he let go of the scarf. Gisela snatched it up before it fell to the ground.

Ruexner spun around and made a wild swing at Valten’s head with his fist. Valten sidestepped the blow, then landed one of his own on Ruexner’s chin. Ruexner bent over, clutching his face.

Ruexner’s hand slipped into his boot while Valten was looking at Gisela.

“Valten!” Gisela cried.

At her warning he jumped back. Ruexner’s hand flew up, and something shot across the three feet between him and Valten. A dagger, which struck a glancing blow across Valten’s chest but couldn’t penetrate his shirt of mail. It missed his chin by only a couple of inches and fell harmlessly to the ground.

Valten leaped forward and knocked Ruexner to the ground, wrapping his hands around the man’s neck. Ruexner tried to push Valten’s hands away.

“I should kill you now,” Valten growled. “Swear you will never bother this maiden again.” A moment’s silence, then he yelled, “Swear it!”

Ruexner made a strangled sound as his face grew red.

Valten seemed to loosen his hold on the man’s throat a fraction.

“I swear!”

“And if you ever send your servants to harm my horse —”

Valten tightened his hold again, making Ruexner’s eyes bulge and his mouth open and close like a fish on dry land.

His knee pressing against Ruexner’s chest, Valten let go of his strangle hold on Ruexner’s neck and pushed himself to his feet in one swift movement.

Ruexner gasped and rolled onto his side, clutching at his neck as he coughed and panted.

Valten motioned to Gisela to come to him. She hurried forward, and he pushed her behind him as he continued to watch Ruexner warily, his hands by his sides but extended slightly, as though readying for another attack.

“You almost killed me,” Ruexner rasped, still clutching his throat.

“You tried to kill me with your dagger,” Valten said calmly. “I can get you disqualified from this tournament.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, Ruexner pulled himself to his feet. Gisela watched over Valten’s shoulder as Ruexner glared dangerously at him. “I’ll see you in the lists.”

“Just remember. One word from me and you will be thrown in the dungeon for trying to poison my horse and then threatening my life.”

Ruexner’s face was unreadable. Then he sneered. “Are you afraid I will defeat you the way I did at Arcy? For this time, I will take that horse of yours instead of taking your coin.”

Valten didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he answered, “If I don’t report your evil deeds, it will be because I shall enjoy defeating you so much more.”

Ruexner snorted, then walked silently back to his own tent. Gisela watched him go and shuddered.

She focused instead on Valten. Even sweaty, with the dust of his tussle with Ruexner still clinging to his damp hair, he made her breathing shallow at being the object of his attention. His expression gradually relaxed.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Gisela realized she was still clutching her scarf. Valten too seemed to notice it.

He gave her a questioning lift of his eyebrows and held out his right arm. “May I? Wear your colors?”

She nodded and stepped forward. She hoped he didn’t notice the way her hands shook as she tied the blue scarf around his arm.

He looked into her eyes for a long moment, and neither of them spoke. Clearing his throat, he said, “I must go.”

Gisela wanted to say something. “Of course. Be careful.” Dumb. Of course he won’t be careful. He’s jousting.

One corner of his mouth went up. “Say a prayer for me.”

“I will.”

And he walked away, the ends of her scarf dancing around his forearm.