Page 64 of Heart of Snow
“You needn’t worry, Baron,” I whispered. “Sir Lamberg must prove his strength for his pride, but your silence speaks volumes. There is no contest.”
He smiled as we wound through the confusion of nobles, pages, and horses in the stables. Before we entered the courtyard, before I joined the other ladies-of-honor, I took a last look back to find Friedrich, but he was gone.
Chapter 30
Friedrich
“Hurry up, Rowohlt,” the varletcalled over his shoulder, raking hay in the stalls. “Food’ll be on the tables, and we’ll get naught of it if you keep dallyin’.”
I polished the saddle faster, putting all my anger and humiliation into making the leather gleam. To have the countess speak to me that way, dismiss me like I was nobody...
I had expected to be unsettled by seeing her again. When the count had found me and requested that I come to Brussels, my greatest agitation was knowing I’d encounter Margaretha here. Eighteen months of working and sweating in the mining pits, of hiding away from Carrera, had not been enough to decide my feelings on the countess or her actions. At times my blood still burned with a bitter anger for all she’d taken from me, leaving me alone in a pitiless world and depriving me of my mother’s love. At other times, I pushed myself to see reason, telling myself the countess wasn’t truly to blame, that she’d been just a child.
But all thoughts of forgiveness fled the moment she’d danced into these stables with a man on each arm. A lifetime of my suffering was not enough to call her to repentance. The woman had learned nothing. She’d lied before, hurting others to meet her ends, and she was doing it still. Those men were dupes to her charms, hanging on her every word and brightening at each of her beautiful smiles. Deceitful smiles.
Finished with the saddle, I set it over the rack and raked out fresh hay for the stall. The day was warm, with only an occasional breeze surprising the stables and blowing over the beads of sweat trickling down my neck. When the breeze carried with it the loud laughter of boys, I put the rake aside and followed the sound, ready to go about my true purpose for coming to Brussels. Still lacking sufficient funds to paymy way into an apprenticeship, I was quick to agree to the count’s generous terms for this assignment. If seeing Margar—the countess again had been a second motive, it certainly wasn’t any longer. My only focus now would be fulfilling my small, but dangerous task, being the means of allowing the count to communicate with his imprisoned son.
Turning the corner of the stables, I came upon a quartet of page boys playing dice. Precisely what I needed.
The boys were too engrossed in their game to notice me at first, but when they did, they clawed the dice in their fists or scattered them into the dirt, trying to hide their game.
“You there.” I pointed to a boy with dice in his hands. “Come with me.”
I did my best to sound commanding, but turning on my heel and expecting him to follow was a gamble that paid off. His footsteps clomped on the cobblestones behind me.
When we were inside the dark stables, I faced him. “You seem like a man in need of a friend like me.”
He puffed his chest when I called him a man but still squinted a skeptical eye. “How so?”
“As I see it, you could either face three days’ imprisonment and the stocks for playing dice, or you could take this taler.” I set the silver coin in his hand, then rested a letter on top of it.
He poked his chin at the letter. “Who’s it for?”
“A prisoner.”
He whistled. “Goin’ to need a few more talers than that.” He pushed the letter back at me, but I put a hand out to stop him.
“There’ll be more when you have a letter to give me in return.”
He bit the taler, his eyes narrowing in thought, then spit in his hand and shoved it toward me. “Two talers now, four when the job’s done, an’ you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I eyed the dribble in his palm. “I’ll take your word.”
“A’righty.” He wiped his hand against his hose just as the varlet called for me to return to raking.
As I finished my work, I hoped the great hall would be cooler, but the heat that greeted us when we stepped through the arched doors was almost worse. The sun baking through the windows showed hot steam wafting up from hundreds of platters piled high with unfamiliar foods. I thought the count ate richly, but his meals were breadcrumbs next to this decadent feast.
The varlet pushed me from behind. “Stop gawkin’ and go sit with your people.”
I looked around for which people were “mine,” then spotted Ilsa, her fingers wriggling in the air to catch my attention.
Meeting her at the table, I swung my legs over the bench, sliding into place on the smooth, polished surface. “You don’t seem surprised to see me,” I said.
“Oh no. I knew all about your comin’ from Mistress Hatzfeld. Lady Belinda now, I suppose.”
“You keep in touch with the count’s wife?”
“Every so often. She wants reports on howyour ladyis doing.” She tossed a nod at the dais, most likely at the countess, but I didn’t dare look. Too afraid the countess would notice me. More afraid she wouldn’t.
