The Fairest Beauty (14 page)

The man scowled, then shifted his gaze to Sophie and Gabe. His harsh demeanor softened as he stared at them. “Very well.” He stepped back. “You may come in.”

Gabe leaned heavily on Sophie as they walked
inside. Sophie breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the cheerful room and the roaring fire in the large stone fireplace.

Then she realized the room was positively filled with men of all heights, ranging from Dominyk’s, who stood only as tall as Sophie’s waist, to a shaggy-haired giant standing at the rear of the room with his mouth open.

The men all stared at them. Then Dominyk barked out, “Siggy, Vincz, take this man” —Dominyk pointed at Gabe — “to the west room and give him dry clothes and put him to bed.”

Two average-sized men came toward them and, nudging her out of the way, half carried Gabe, one on each side, up the stairs at the left end of the large room.

Sophie watched them go, taking a step as if to follow them, unsure what to do. “His left shoulder is injured,” she called after them. One of the men turned back and stared at her. Then he turned around and continued up the steps with Gabe.

Another man, who wore a rough woolen tunic that went all the way to his ankles, similar to a monk’s garb, bowed his head and followed after them. His gait seemed unusual, and when Sophie looked down at his feet, the sight almost didn’t make sense to her. His feet were bare and misshapen, turned inward in such a way that he had to walk on the sides of his feet as if
he were on stilts or clubs. He didn’t look up at her, and she was glad, since she was rudely staring.

“Bartel will see to his injury,” Dominyk said.

After the three men went upstairs with Gabe, the four that were left stood staring at Sophie and Walther. She sensed in her heart that these seven were good men and would treat Gabe kindly. Tears of relief and gratitude pricked her eyelids.
Thank you, God
.

Dominyk, who was obviously their leader, turned to a man with a massive scar on the side of his head where no hair grew. “Gotfrid. You and Dolf go and prepare a bath for the lady.” He made some hand signals to the young man with neat brown hair and a kind face, who hurried out of the room. Gotfrid, his scalp shining in the firelight, scowled and grumbled under his breath as he followed Dolf out of a door at the back of the room.

Sophie would be so thankful for a bath. She hadn’t had one since before she and Gabe had escaped from Hohendorf.
Was that only three days ago?
It seemed like months.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she was beginning to tremble with cold and fatigue. Now Sophie and Walther were alone with Dominyk and one last man — the shaggy-haired giant who was standing behind the much-smaller Dominyk. Dominyk turned to him.

“Heinric, go get some rags to clean up the water they’re dripping on the floor. Go. Rags.”

Smiling ear to ear, Heinric ran out the back doorway, then came running back in, his arms full of cloths.

Sophie looked down at her feet and saw that she and Walther were making a mess, dripping water on the floor. Heinric came toward them, grinning at her, and fell to his knees at her feet.

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Sophie said.

Heinric grinned up at her as he wiped up the water on the floor. Then he started wiping her feet. And she was sure he
would have gone on to wipe her legs too, but Dominyk said firmly, “That’s enough, Heinric.”

Heinric stopped and looked back at his short leader. “Enough?”

“Yes, Heinric, enough. Very good. Now wipe the floor — only the floor — at the man’s feet.”

Heinric moved over to Walther and began wiping the floor around his feet.

“I believe we have some clothes that will fit you,” Dominyk said, addressing Walther. “Go upstairs and into the first room on the right. You’ll find clean clothes and a basin to wash in. We will have supper in an hour, when you and the young maiden are ready.”

She and Walther exchanged glances, then Walther went upstairs, Heinric watching him go and saying, “
Bis bald. Bis bald
. Bye-bye. Bye-bye.”

Dominyk gestured to Sophie, as if he didn’t notice Heinric’s behavior was somewhat strange. “Come into the kitchen, my dear. Gotfrid and Dolf will have your bath ready.”

Sophie followed him meekly, not sure what to think about having strange men serve her in this way, but she sensed that these men were trustworthy. Besides, Petra wouldn’t have taken the time to tell all three of them — Sophie, Gabe, and Walther — to come here if she wasn’t absolutely sure it was a safe place.

“You seem to know Petra, but she hasn’t told me anything about you.”

Dominyk looked up at her from beneath bushy gray eyebrows that grew all the way across, like one giant, hairy caterpillar. “Petra and I must be careful what we say to and about each other. The duchess has ears and eyes everywhere.”

Before she could question what he meant by this, he went through the door into the smoky semidarkness of the stone kitchen. Gotfrid and Dolf were busy pouring water from a giant iron kettle into a large metal basin, large enough for Sophie to sit
in and be covered up to her shoulders. After pouring hot water into the basin from the steaming kettle, they poured cooler water in from a bucket on the floor. Then, after Dominyk instructed them to put up a blanket that hung from a rope to partition off the corner of the room, they left her.

Sophie checked to make sure the blanket was secure and the room was completely empty before taking off her clothes and the bandage on her arm. She sank into the warm water and could hardly believe how good it felt. Until the water touched the cut on her arm; she jerked her arm out at the burning sensation it caused.

A bar of soap lay on the side of the tub. She picked it up and sniffed it.
Heavenly!
Instead of the stinky soap she and the other servants made out of ashes and lard at the castle, this soap smelled of lavender and something else she couldn’t quite name, something fresh and clean and wonderful, like fresh air and flowers. Sophie quickly rubbed it all over herself, being careful to be gentle with the long cut on her arm, and then scrubbed herself with a cloth. She washed her hair as well, rubbing her scalp with her fingers, then dunking her head in the water.

She hated to leave the relaxing haven of the water, but she was also afraid to linger. It made her nervous to be so vulnerable, even if she did
mostly
trust the seven strange men. Besides, she wanted to check on Gabe, to see if the terrible shivering had stopped once he had gotten out of the wet clothes. She hoped that Bartel would know what to do to make him well.

Suddenly, she realized she had no dry clothes to put on, as what she had worn into the cottage was still soaked. She began drying herself with the towels the men had left for her while she debated what to do.

A knock at the door sent a jolt through her. She was safely behind the curtain, but she held the towel in front of her like a shield. The knock came again.

“Yes?” Sophie called.

“I am putting some dry clothes by the door,” Dominyk’s voice called out on the other side of the door. The door creaked open, then shut again.

Sophie cautiously peeked around the curtain and saw the pile of clothing. She grabbed them before retreating behind the curtain.

A long shirt, some hose, and a rope for a belt.
Men’s clothes
. Her heart sank. To wear men’s clothing in front of men? Petra would certainly disapprove.

She dressed quickly and then, after finding a pile of clean cloths nearby, rewrapped the ugly wound on her arm. She also paused long enough to stir the pot of stew that was bubbling over the fire.

As Sophie reentered the main room, two men were coming down the stairs. When they finished descending the stairs, they bowed respectfully. One of them came toward her.

Sophie nodded back. “
Guten Tag
. I am Sophie.”

“
G-g-guten … Tag
. I am … S-s-siggy,” the tall, slender, handsome blond man said.

“Hello, Siggy.” She smiled, grateful for a kind face.

The second man came toward her and bowed as well. “Fraulein Sophie, I am Vincz.” He was shorter than Siggy, with dark hair and dark eyes framed by droopy eyelids. “Bartel is still upstairs with Gabe. He wanted me to tell you that Gabe has been asking for you, and that he is well. The fever is probably caused by the wound, which is usually a bad sign —”

Sophie inhaled audibly and then pressed her lips together, hard.

“But he is well,” Vincz rushed on, obviously trying to reassure her. “His heart is strong and the wound is not in a life-threatening place. The arrow missed any vital parts of the body. As I said, the fever is sometimes a bad sign, but Bartel says he
sees no sign of sepsis in the wound. Perhaps now that Gabe is able to rest, the fever will go away.”

Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Is Bartel a healer?”

“He learned the healing arts from the brothers — he lived in a monastery.”

“May I see Gabe?”

Vincz and Siggy led her up the stairs and stopped in front of one of the doors.

At that moment, Sophie heard Gabe’s muffled voice calling her name from inside the room. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder as she quickly turned the knob.

The room was lit by a fire in a fireplace and a candle by the bedside. Bartel was leaning over Gabe, but he stepped back when Sophie entered the room.

Sophie hurried to the bed where Gabe lay with his head and shoulders propped up on pillows.

“Where’s Sophie?” Gabe’s eyes were closed as she approached the bed.

“I’m here, Gabe. It’s Sophie. I’m here.” She picked up his hand, which was lying on the blanket, and squeezed it gently.

His eyes flickered open and fastened on Sophie’s face. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“All is well. Don’t worry. We are safe here,” she said soothingly, bending low to look into his eyes. “These men are good. They will help you get well.” As she spoke, she laid her hand on his forehead to check his fever. Still warm.

Bartel held a cup of something toward her. “He needs to drink this. Healing herbs and wine.”

Sophie took the mixture from Bartel, and with his help, propped Gabe up straighter. When Sophie held the cup to his lips, Gabe drank it all in three swallows.

“Now he needs to sleep,” Bartel said quietly.

She handed the cup back to Bartel and helped Gabe lay back down, taking away some of the pillows so he could lie flat. His feverish eyes stared up at her, his eyelids drifting shut.

“Sleep now and get well,” she said softly in a crooning voice. “You will feel better tomorrow.”

Gabe squeezed her hand, then closed his eyes.

She lightly stroked his forehead, watching his face relax and his chest rise and fall rhythmically. Relief swept over her at seeing him asleep and safe and comfortable.

She turned and addressed Bartel. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for him.”

Bartel, who was probably twenty years older than Sophie, nodded but wouldn’t meet her gaze.

He stepped toward the door and Sophie followed him, closing the door silently behind her.

When they were in the corridor outside Gabe’s room, where it was too dark for her to see his face, Bartel began to speak quietly. “I have treated his wound with some medicinal leaves. He simply needs to rest now. He is young, so the wound should heal quickly. If the fever goes away, he may be able to ride in two weeks.”

Sophie felt oddly relieved that they wouldn’t be going to Hagenheim right away, and she didn’t want to ask herself why.

“I see you have an injury to your arm. Take off the bandage, please, and come with me downstairs so that I may examine it.”

Sophie swallowed, not relishing having a strange man look at the cut on her arm. But she turned to follow him downstairs while she undid the makeshift dressing.

Sophie sat in a chair while all seven of the men, plus Walther, stared curiously at her. She felt herself blush from the sudden attention. Bartel came close and instructed Sophie to hold her arm near the candles beside her. After a few moments’ scrutiny, he said, “I can sew it up for you, or you can leave it as it is and hope it heals properly.”

Sophie didn’t like the idea of this man touching her arm and certainly didn’t like the idea of him sewing her flesh.

“I appreciate your offer, Bartel, but I think it will be well to let it heal on its own.”

He didn’t say anything, only produced a linen bandage from his copious sleeve. He wrapped the bandage tightly around her arm, then tied it in place.

“I will want to check it in the morning,” Bartel said.

“Thank you.”

After Bartel stood and excused himself from the room, each of the cottage men exchanged a playful look and nodded. Dominyk moved a drum from the corner and sat behind it, while Siggy reached for a lute very much like the one Gabe had had with him in Hohendorf. Gotfrid, meanwhile, sat with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a hat now partially covering the bald spot and massive scar on the side of his head. Heinric sat smiling with his entire face — his entire body, it seemed — as he squirmed in his seat and clapped his hands. Beside him, Dolf leaned forward, as if anticipating something wonderful but willing to wait patiently for it. Vincz sat in a chair, his head drooping to one side, obviously falling asleep with his mouth hanging open.

Dominyk began beating the drum rhythmically with his hands, and after three beats, Siggy strummed the strings of the lute, causing Vincz to jolt upright and his eyes to open.

As a song began to emerge, Dominyk looked over to Sophie. “The men asked if we could play something for you before dinner. I hope you enjoy it.”

Walther motioned with his hand for Sophie to sit in the wood chair next to him. She did so, and smiled at Dominyk in thanks for the festivities, but worried that the men’s music might disturb Gabe. What Bartel had given him to drink would, she hoped, keep him asleep.

Heinric erupted in happy gurgling noises and bounced up and down in his chair when Siggy began to sing. Siggy’s voice flowed effortlessly, even though he had hardly been able to string two words together without stuttering a few minutes before.

Gotfrid continued sitting with his arms folded, a grumpy scowl still on his face. Sophie might be imagining it, but Gotfrid seemed to relax a bit when the music started. He seemed to be pretending to scowl, as if he didn’t want anyone to know he was enjoying himself.