The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(80)

What would Geitbart do if Reinhart escaped? He would kill his knights and guards.

He lay down on the wooden bench, remembering what Geitbart had said about Avelina. Would he truly throw her into the dungeon with him? To what purpose? Simply to torture Reinhart with the fact that she was being made to suffer because he had chosen her.

He closed his eyes. God, don’t let Avelina suffer because of me. Already she had suffered from being chosen by him, becoming the object of Fronicka and her father’s wrath, nearly killed twice. None of it was her fault. She had simply done what her lord had told her to do—forced her to do by threatening her.

God, protect her, please. She does not deserve to be punished any more. And if I die and I’m never able to protect her again, take care of her and her family. Don’t let her ever be mistreated . . . by anyone. His heart clenched.

What if his brother had never died? What if Reinhart had still been just a knight, a captain of his brother’s guard? He could have married Avelina. What would it have been like to love her? He could have fulfilled her dreams of being loved and cherished and valued.

Now that he was possibly about to die—Geitbart could not take the risk of sending him to Prague to be heard by the king—Reinhart couldn’t think of very many things he regretted in his life. But he should not have kissed Avelina. It was rather like making a promise that he could not keep. It had been unutterably sweet, but it had made him long for her even more.

His head ached. There seemed nothing left to do, so he kept his eyes closed. Lying on his side on the wooden bench, his head pillowed on his arm, he fell asleep.



Avelina stood just outside the back door of the castle on the cobblestone walkway between the castle and kitchen. Two of Geitbart’s guards emerged from the kitchen. Avelina ducked her head and walked toward them. They were carrying several loaves of bread in their arms.

Please don’t let them notice me. She was wearing the clothing brought to her after the wolf attack, so she looked like all the other servants at the castle.

The guards were talking to each other, their heads close together. They looked at her but passed right by. As soon as they went inside, she turned around and followed them back into the castle and down the stone stairs that led to the dairy-buttery where she and Gerhaws had churned butter. The dungeon, Gerhaws had told her, lay at the bottom of those same stairs.

Avelina crept down the steps behind the guards and ducked into the dairy as they continued down to the next level.

She stood in the doorway. The sound of metal grating on metal rose to her ears, as well as muted voices. Harsh, muttered curses also rose, then a shout of, “Quiet!”

The footsteps were coming back up the stairs. She hid herself in the dark dairy room as the guards passed by her, then quietly followed them back up to the ground level.

Avelina hurried to the chapel to find the priest. She looked all around the beautiful chapel, lighted by the sun shining through the colored glass. Finally, she opened a door to the right of the chancel. Inside was a room with white robes for the choir boys who sang the plainsong hymns every Sunday. There was also a priest’s black robe hanging on a hook by the door.

“Just what I need,” Avelina said softly, taking the dark robe down off its hook, folding it, and stuffing it under her arm. She quickly left the room.

Avelina hurried down the stairs and out to the kitchen.

Just as she was about to go inside, Odette came around the side of the building. “Avelina.” She stopped, then motioned for Avelina to follow her.

She followed Odette to a hidden area between two buildings. No one was around.

“Our scout has told us,” she whispered, “that the king is on his way here.”

“The king? Coming here?”

“He was visiting the Duke of Pomerania and was on his way back to Prague when a missive from Lord Thornbeck found him somehow.”

“God be praised,” Avelina whispered.

“Yes, but I fear Geitbart will hear of it and will kill Lord Thornbeck before the king arrives. He will claim it was an accident, or make up some other story, so Lord Thornbeck cannot tell the king what Geitbart has done. We need to get him out of the dungeon and somewhere safe to wait for the king to arrive.”

“I don’t know if he will be willing to do that. He doesn’t want Geitbart to kill his men, and he’s willing to sacrifice himself for them. But I do have an idea.” Avelina confided her idea to Odette, who went to get the things she would need.

When Odette came back, she had a big, round gourd and a large sack. “Is this too much for you to carry?”

“No.” Avelina took the things from Odette.

“And here is a flask of wine, in case they are not giving him anything to drink.”

“If my plan works, we may be out in less than an hour. But if things do not go as planned . . .”

“I shall be praying for you.” Odette squeezed her arm.

“Thank you.” Yes, that was a good reminder. She began to pray as she walked away and reentered the castle.

She went down the stone stairs to the cool, dark room where all the casks of wine and barrels of supplies were kept. However, this time the door was locked. Avelina pulled out of her pocket the small hooked rod and inserted it into the keyhole. After several moments the lock mechanism turned and the door opened. Avelina slipped inside with her bundles and closed the door most of the way.