Chapter 16
Friedrich
I tucked out of the bright street and into the harness maker’s shop, blinking against the sudden darkness. A worn man sat at a table holding an awl and leather strip as he squinted up at me.
“I’m here for the count’s harness and bridles.” I unfolded the paper in my hand, carrying it toward him.
The man looked over the list. “You’re not the usual boy. Ulrich’s got his own set of servants now, eh?” He chuckled and grunted out of his seat, moving to the back of the room to collect the items on Ulrich’s paper, then laying them out on the table for inspection. “The count is back, then?”
“Came back two days ago,” I muttered, looking over the tack. The harness and bridles went beyond basic usefulness, beautifully tooled with five-petal flowers dotting the leather on either side of the eight-pointed star of the counts of Waldeck. “These’ll do.”
He smiled and wrapped the items in a cloth sack just as the countess’s laugh wafted in through the window, riding the simmering air. Not her sweet, authentic laugh, but a practiced, sycophantic trill.
Giving the harness maker my thanks, I collected the sack and moved to the window, spotting the countess walking up the market street with a dark-haired man wearing a smug smile. Carrera.
The two meandered to a nearby stall, picking up some of the merchant’s wares while Mistress Hatzfeld trailed behind at a respectful distance.
The countess addressed Carrera, and he laughed.
I was grateful not to hear their words, especially when the Spaniard lowered his head and whispered something in the countess’s ear that sent a crimson swell up her cheeks.
Her responding chuckle wasn’t nearly as confident this time, shaking with a bit of nervousness as she discreetly shuffled back from him.
I’d done so well up to now at maintaining my usual demeanor toward the countess.
At our past few lessons, I’d been calm and unaffected, at times even charming in my efforts to conceal the anger still smoldering inside.
But now, seeing her already baiting her newest prey, the anger roared back to life.
And what a prey to have chosen. He was all predator, and I could watch no longer.
Drawing away from the window, I pressed my back against the wall, earning the curious stare of the harness maker.
I shot him an uncomfortable smile while I waited and finally peeked another glance to confirm that the countess and captain were nowhere in sight.
Touching my cap to bid the harness maker good day, I pulled open the shop door to realize Margar—the countess had not left but was tucked in a nearby stall, invisible from the harness maker’s window.
“Oh, Friedrich,” Hatzfeld called, somehow immediately spotting me. I froze, and the countess cast her lady a worried look, but Hatzfeld carried on. “We’ve invited the Spaniards to dinner and are struggling to agree on what to serve.”
Carrera would be dining at the castle? I tried not to meet his direct stare.
“What think you of the Brussels cabbage?” she continued.
“I’ve no experience and no opinion of it.” I gave my hasty response and was already leaving when the captain addressed me, stopping me short.
“What a shame. You should try one.” He tossed the leafy ball toward me as though hurtling a stone, and I reflexively snatched it out of the air.
That insufferable lazy smile tilted his lips as he sauntered toward me. “You have the build and reflexes of a fighter, perhaps even a Landsknecht. Ever thought of being a soldier?”
“If I ever fought, it wouldn’t be for anything as mercenary as money.
” I pushed the cabbage back into his hand.
“Good day.” Bowing to the ladies, I made a quick exit, abandoning the market for the cool shade of the church before I risked a glance behind me.
Carrera was again engrossed with the countess.
The two watched a colorful bunting hop across the branch of a nearby tree until it suddenly took flight, startling the countess.
She laughed at herself, and the captain joined in, basking in her glorious smiles and taking advantage of the moment by resting his hand far too low on her back.
She stiffened beneath his touch but did nothing more to discourage him.
The woman was completely out of her depth.
***
When the countess strode into the library late, I tried not to grind my teeth, keeping my nose in my book to avoid speaking to her. She stopped behind her chair, as if sensing my mood before she’d even sat down.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “You seem . . . out of sorts.”
I flipped the page of my book. “My temperament isn’t prone to much change. I am well, as always.”
“Good. Good.” She tapped her fist on the top of her chair. After an uncomfortable pause, she added, “I’m sorry about today. About Carrera. I’d no notion you would be at the market.”
“And if you had?” I lifted my chin, finally meeting her eyes. “Would that have stopped you from your deceitful performance?”
She reared her head back, and I instantly regretted the comment, the more for exposing my bitterness.
“I did not mean that,” I muttered, returning to my book.
“Of course. Friedrich.” She called my attention back to her before I could read a single word on my page.
“Please let me apologize once more. I was dishonest with you before, and for that I am still sorry, but I beg you to believe me when I say my feelings of friendship for you were at all times genuine. I hope we can remain friends.”
I had to unclench my jaw before answering, giving her a tight smile. “Of course. No harm done.”
She gave a hesitant nod and settled in her chair with a book, leaving me to my studies, though my distracted thoughts had me rereading the same sentence five times before I could even comprehend it.
The silence between us was thick enough that I actually jumped when the countess suddenly slammed her book shut.
Her face and neck were aflame and her eyes so wide that I found myself near to smiling, watching her shift uncomfortably in her chair.
What on earth could cause her such embarrassment?
Reminding myself it was none of my concern, I turned back to my French, but when the countess began fanning herself, I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What is it you’re reading today?”
“Nothing.” She pretended indifference as she bent to tuck the book beneath her chair, but I snatched it from her hand, flipping it right side up and thumbing through the pages.
“If you want to succeed in Brussels, you’ll have to school that blush of yours,” I said, my eyes skimming the text.
“It gives you away every time.” The first set of pages were all in French, giving me no sense of the book’s topic, but when I flipped to a well-worn page at the rear, I recognized the courtly love poem.
“Minnesang?” I glanced at her. “Does Mistress Hatzfeld still plot to entrap me?”
“I haven’t yet told her . . .”
“That I know the truth?”
She started another apology, but I raised a hand, stopping her. “No, no. It’s very clever.” I nodded. “While I read over poetry to learn the language, my unsuspecting, simple mind is set aflame with ideas of romantic passion.”
She puffed out an embarrassed laugh. “Yes, something like that.”
I let my eyes trail over words I’d already committed to memory.
How vain my deepest plaint of yearning.
No diviner, fairer form hath pleased my heart so well.
But, can my daily torture aid you?
E’en your demeanor hath forced my heart
It ever pierced me to the core.
“I’ve never much cared for Wolkenstein’s odes.” I closed the book. “In truth, I took to calling your brother a heartsick puppy whenever he received women’s letters filled with them.” Back before I had any understanding of tortured yearning or the “ill bargain ’twere to desire’” a woman’s love.
The countess’s head snapped up. “Samuel? Receiving letters of Minnesang?”
“Often. I think he fancied himself in love at one time, but it seemed that love had faded near the end of the war.”
“Samuel in love.” She twisted a golden curl around her finger, her brows furrowing as if she did not approve. “Did this poem find him any success?”
I pulled my eyes away from her twirling finger. “Unlikely. Love doesn’t bloom out of nothing just because one recites a few pretty words.”
“Would that it did,” she muttered. “It would ease my work in Brussels considerably. My greatest worry is my brother will never be freed when his sister is so miserably suited to the task.”
“That is your greatest worry?” I leaned toward her. “You’re not afraid for your life? If you’re discovered doing anything to aid your brother, you could be killed.”
“Well, I admit I do fear death.” She bowed her head, tracing a finger over her gown’s design. “There is too much left undone, too many wrongs to right. What if I don’t live long enough to right them?”
The slight woman—looking even smaller pressed into her father’s imposing chair—seemed ready to buckle under the weight of needing to do more. I was half tempted to take her hand and assure her she needn’t bear such a burden, but I fought the instinct.
“No doubt we are very different in that regard,” she said. “I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything after working in mines and going to war and wandering forests alone. With such a life, what could you possibly fear?”
Our eyes met, and I held her gaze, a slow swallow tugging my throat. “I assure you, I have fears enough.” My mind reeled with them just then, my head and heart a tangle of confusion regarding the countess.
“Such as?” Her voice was a whisper.
After everything she’d done, I had no reason to trust her, yet I felt that unfathomable pull to confide truth to her. It must have been the spell of her eyes on mine.
Dropping my gaze, I toyed with a string on my jerkin, letting a deep breath clear my thoughts. “I’ve never been too keen on spiders.”
“Spiders?” she asked incredulously.
“Hairy. Jumpy. Spindly little legs and an unnerving number of eyes. They’re terrifying.”
She laughed out loud, and I returned to my book, concealing the small grin that tilted my lips, but even that smile came with a cost. The ache in my chest reminded me how much it hurt to be near her, enjoying her presence.
It would be so much easier to hate her. If only I could shut out the good and remember her manipulation and lies, perhaps I could harden myself against the pain.
The reflection made me curious. “Countess, could I ask . . .”
“Yes?”
“It’s just, this new understanding of your schemes has me wondering. What exactly is it you’ve been doing these last few months to bait me?”
With a flush on her face, she studied the flowers of the rug.
“Do you refuse to tell me?”
Her eyes darted to mine before returning to the floor. “You would make me relive the discomfort over again? And to the very person who would find it most ridiculous?”
“You don’t have to answer if it causes you grief.” She most certainly needed to answer, considering the pain she’d caused me. “No doubt it was intentional having the two of us share a horse on our way to the mines.”
“We couldn’t very well take three horses without arousing suspicion.”
“What about helping Ernst? Or befriending the miners? And what of the tangle in the holly? Did you intend for that?”
Answering from behind the shield of a raised book, her voice was muffled. “You can rest assured that anything I did with intention, I didn’t do well.”
My eyes dropped back to my reading, and I muttered a quiet, “Well enough.”