Loyal Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty #1) (10 page)

She and her father squeezed through the narrow arched doorway. He knelt at Brandt’s side.

“He can’t be dead,” she murmured, hovering behind, feeling useless. “He’s sweating.”

“He’s not dead,” her father replied.

She swayed with dizzying relief.

“Yet,” he added.

Her trembling legs failed and she fell to her knees beside Brandt. She had to do something, but what?

“What happened to him?” her father asked Vidar.

“Beaten,” the soldier replied.

“When?”

“Yestereve.”

Her father looked back at Vidar who had remained standing. “By whom?”

There was no hesitation. “Saxons. I bound his broken ribs, but I think it’s more serious.”

Sophia sensed her father’s anger, but he held it in check. She had to stop trembling, had to help in some way. But the sight of the dark, confident warrior lying helpless on the cold stone floor rendered her incapable of thought, her mind full of the words of the ballad.

My love, we’re like that vine and tree;

I’ll die without you, you without me.
 

“He rode to the wedding despite his injuries,” she whispered.

Her father came to his feet. “Courageous, if foolhardy. Determined to do his duty even if it killed him. A fever has him in its grip. I’ve seen this before on the battlefield. It’s possible a broken rib punctured a lung.”

The fog lifted. It became clear what they must do. “We’ll take him back to Wolfenberg,” she declared. “In the carriage.”

~~~

Sensing movement, Brandt peeled open one bleary eye. His long dead mother had told him tales of the spirits of his Viking ancestors being carried to Valhalla in a longboat. However, it seemed he was being delivered to his heavenly reward lying in some kind of wheeled contraption.

He hoped it wouldn’t be a long journey. He’d always understood death eased a man’s pain, which he could now attest was definitely a misconception on the Church’s part.
 

He’d a raging thirst. Perhaps one of the angels watching over him might provide comfort. “Water?” he rasped.

A tumbler was pressed to his lips. A hand lifted his head. He gulped greedily.

“Slowly,” a voice urged. “Take your time.”

The angel sounded like the
gräfin
, which was impossible. “I don’t have much time,” he replied as blessedly cool water dribbled down his chin to his neck. He licked the moisture from his cracked lips.

“Nonsense,” another voice insisted. “You’ll feel better once we get you to Wolfenberg.”

He opened both eyes. The second angel dabbed his chin, then his forehead. She sat next to him, her hip pressed to his. She wore a golden crown, but her robes were red. That was confusing. Angels didn’t wear red. Devils did. “I’m not going to Wolfenberg,” he whispered. “I’m bound for heaven.”

“Not if Sophia has anything to say about it,” the first angel said.

Sophia!

Longing and regret swept over him. “The honeysuckle and the vine,” he murmured.

He thought he might have heard a sob, then the angel took his hand and started to sing.

“My love, we’re like that vine and tree;

I’ll die without you, you without me.”

Feeling better, he closed his eyes, reassured that Death couldn’t be far off.

NEVER SAY NEVER

Her heart in her throat, Sophia clung to her mother as they watched six of Brandt’s men lift him from the carriage. Her father and Vidar kept a careful eye on the proceedings. Complaining loudly, Eugenia Halden stalked off, nose in the air. Her husband trailed behind her.

“It’s a mystery to me how the Haldens can have a daughter as lovely as Kristina,” Blythe muttered.

“I wanted to throttle her,” Sophia confessed, surprised to hear her mother utter criticism of anyone. “Did she expect us to leave the man to die in Naumburg? It’s not as though it’s her carriage.”

“I suppose she had looked forward to travelling home with the bride and groom.”

Sophia laughed, despite her anguish for Brandt. “It seemed to me Kristina was just as happy to ride with Johann.”

Her mother chuckled. “Even in her wedding gown!”

Sophia sighed at the amusing memory of a blushing Kristina hitching up the copious skirts and climbing into her new husband’s lap atop his horse, just as she had at the waterfall. “They’ll be very happy together,” she said, brushing away a tear that trickled down her cheek.

Her mother embraced her as the bearers disappeared into the manor house with their precious burden. “Don’t despair. He’s a strong man and has hopefully survived the worst. We’ll nurse him back to health. I have sent for Wendelin.”

Sophia had mixed feelings about the village healer. Some hailed her as a miracle worker while others whispered of witchcraft, but she had to remain hopeful. “When he recovers he’ll return to Franconia,” she replied. “I’ll never see him again.”

Her mother cradled her face in both hands and pecked a kiss on her nose. “Never say never. Now let’s see to our patient. Then we’ll worry about the wedding feast.”

Sophia watched her mother hurry away.
 

Many eligible young men had visited Wolfenberg for one reason or another in recent years. She’d enjoyed their affable company and admittedly flirted with one or two, but none had sparked a fire in her heart. She acknowledged that the wanton throbbing in intimate female places was exactly what her mother had foretold of. It had taken an enemy spy to ignite her female desires.

Hurrying into the house, she resolved to help Brandt heal, hoping that when he left she’d find someone to mend her broken heart.
 

As usual, her mother had taken competent charge of matters, unruffled despite the imminent arrival of dozens of banquet guests.

“They have taken Brandt to Kon’s chamber,” she explained. “Your brothers can share until he’s well.”

Sophia’s spirits lifted. Kon was a devout Christian who wouldn’t object to giving up his chamber. Whether Lute would be pleased at having to share with Kon was another matter, but she couldn’t worry about that. “I’ll go there now,” she said.

“Not a good idea,” her mother replied. “The servants are preparing him for the healer.”

Images of Brandt being stripped of his clothing danced behind Sophia’s eyes. It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest she help with the task, but her mother’s frown dissuaded her. “I need your help with the guests. You must change and be ready to greet them with the rest of the family.”

It was an abrupt reminder that her duty was to ensure the complete success of Johann and Kristina’s wedding celebrations. She’d allowed Brandt to distract her. Resolved to put him out of her mind, she straightened her shoulders and set off for her chamber.

~~~

Warmth seeped into Brandt’s ribs, but not the feverish heat he’d felt before…

…before
what
he couldn’t recall. All he remembered was that he’d died, helped on his way to heaven by an angel in red.

He opened his eyes and scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. It didn’t look like the heavenly bower he’d expected, more like the untidy chamber his mother had gently chastised him for as a youth.

There was laughter…and music, not far away.

It came to him he’d somehow been transported to the Wolfenberg house and the wedding celebrations were still ongoing. Yet they’d brought home a wounded stranger.

He thought again about the angel with the golden crown. Sophia?

Vidar drifted into his field of vision. He had his eye on a diminutive woman standing beside his bed whose wrinkled skin and wispy grey hair convinced him she was well over a hundred years old. She was evidently responsible for the soothing heat on his chest.

He wrinkled his nose. The place didn’t smell like heaven either. “What’s that odor?”

“Comfrey,” Vidar replied, looking uncertain, but before he could speak again, the crone interrupted. “Knitbone, I call it,” she croaked. “Best thing for broken bones.” She took her attention off the compresses and produced a small vial from a pocket. “Open,” she commanded.

Too confused to argue, he did as she bade, frowning when she poured a few drops of a nutty tasting liquid onto his tongue.

“Tincture of Solomon’s Seal,” she explained. “Also good for healing bones and lung problems. Swallow!”

He obeyed, but when she cupped his
hodensack
with surprising firmness
,
his heart did a peculiar somersault.

“Beneficial for male parts too,” she chortled with a wink. “Or so they say.”

It was then he realized he lay naked beneath the linen covering the lower part of his body. To his dismay, his shaft stirred of its own volition, eliciting another chuckle from the healer. “Never fails,” she teased.

Vidar coughed, his face redder than a winter beetroot. “Show respect, woman,” he said.

She eyed him as if he’d lost his wits. “Humor aids healing,” she cackled. “I mean no harm. He’s a mite too young for me.”

His body’s reaction was enough to convince Brandt he wasn’t dead, but he feared his chances of recovery were small if they depended on this crone.

Then she put a warm hand on his shoulder, peered into his eyes and whispered, “I turned over a rock on my way here, seeking an omen.”

Vidar took a step towards her. “Away,
hexe
, with your witchcraft.”

She ignored him, her dark gaze locked with Brandt’s.

“They say if creatures scurry beneath the rock, it’s a sign a dying man will live. If not…”

Despite his scorn for the superstitions of common folk, Brandt had to ask. “And?”

She grinned a toothless grin. “Teeming with earwigs.” She produced a filthy pouch from the copious folds of her tattered garments, and waved it before his eyes. “I gathered some up.”

His heart lifted. He was going to live. But he hoped he wouldn’t be expected to eat earwigs in order to survive.

WENDELIN

Sophia made a quick visit to the stable to check on Mut, then hurried to her chamber where a maidservant helped her dress in a less formal gown and repaired the damage to the bothersome coiffure. Breathless, heart pounding, she joined her family in the receiving line as guests began to arrive.
 

She ate and laughed and sang and danced along with everyone else at the banquet, but her thoughts were never far from the man who lay injured in a nearby chamber.

She didn’t understand why he had become important to her; she’d known him only a few days. It seemed she’d been afflicted with what her mother and father called
love at first sight
.

She’d always thought they exaggerated the depth of their feelings when they’d first met. Caught up in a maelstrom of fear, desire, and yearning, she now knew differently.

Her parents too had tried to deny their attraction to each other, but obviously that hadn’t been successful.

Of course, there was scant chance Brandt would have feelings for her, although she’d sensed he was attracted to her at the waterfall. However, they were on opposite sides of a sometimes deadly rivalry, and confident men of the world weren’t interested in silly girls who fretted over a lame horse.
 

The healer had earlier declared her belief that Brandt would survive his injuries. Anger replaced the initial overwhelming relief. She determined to find out who had beaten him, and why. Vidar claimed it was the work of Saxons, but she was a child born of a union between a Saxon and an Englishwoman who also had Anglo-Saxon blood. She’d never lived anywhere else but in Saxony and was certain none of her father’s men had perpetrated the assault. He too was angry the attack had taken place on Wolfenberg lands.

It was difficult to believe Duke Heinrich had issued the orders. What would he gain from disturbing the peaceful
status quo
? More likely a group of undisciplined soldiers were at fault, but ultimately such men were the duke’s responsibility.

Kon and Lute reappeared. She’d noticed they were missing some time ago. “Where have you been?” she asked as they came to sit either side of her on the bench.
 

“Mama sent us to get Kon’s belongings from his chamber,” Lute replied with a wry grin that led her to believe he’d been drinking wine, a rare occurrence.

She pouted. “I would have helped if you’d told me.”

Lute laughed, then hiccupped. “You just want to see the
Franken
.”

As the youngest child, and female, Sophia was used to being playfully teased by her brothers and usually rose to the bait, but this situation was too serious. She must react in a mature fashion. “It’s true I am concerned about him, as you both should be. We cannot allow visitors to be attacked and nearly beaten to death.”

The brothers looked at each other then burst out laughing. “You’re right,” Kon said, slapping his thigh. “She’s smitten with the man.”

Sophia tried to struggle to her feet, but they held her fast. “Let me go,” she wailed.

“We’re just teasing you,” Lute said softly. “It’s our duty as older brothers. Brandt Rödermark would be a fine catch for any woman.”