The Mercenary's Claim Read online

  “Farewell?” Her blurted question turned him from the door he was just about to pull open.

  “I can’t very well run Schoenfeld manor with an army of mercenaries roaming about. Varin’s been their military leader for years. He’ll take over in name as well as in reality. I’ll still help him from time to time, mostly with recruiting and inspiration. That’s always been my part. He isn’t exactly strong in the personality department, but he’s a heck of a strategist and dead loyal. He’ll do fine with the lads while I settle down to the life of a country gentleman. Can’t ask for more than that, can you? So, scoot! I’ll see you in a few days.”

  She stared after him, not sure whether to be disappointed or appalled, but one thing she had to admit: he had kept her mind thoroughly distracted. She stood to make sure her clothing was decently in place and then she realized her hair was totally uncovered and unbound. He had taken her scarf.

  * * *

  “And he wore it around his arm like a flag of honor or some royal colors,” Mitzi cried with a giggle to her friend Greta. When Kirsten cleared her throat to announce her presence in the kitchens, the serving girl gasped, “Oh, my Lady! I had no idea you was there! What brings you down, this time of day and all? Nothing wrong with the noon bread, I trust. Ever so nice to have decent food to cook again, ain’t it, Greta? I was just saying to Greta here, wasn’t I, Greta? ‘Good flour they did bring or I don’t know good from bad’ says you. ‘Good as gold,’ says I, and meant it.” The woman nodded like a judge pronouncing sentence.

  Kirsten, trying not to show her impatience at this delay, spoke quickly. “The bread was fine. What I need is your help in making that list my mother needs.” Opening her writing box, with pen, ink, and parchment scrap, she sat down at the table and set up. “Call the contents out to me clearly and precisely, if you please. Everything, mind you. Leave nothing out.” She wanted to finish correctly and quickly so she could sneak away, taking advantage of this time out of her mother’s sight to avoid at least a few of the jobs her mother had planned for her.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, my lady. With all my lord Ludolf has just brought in, it will take a while, that it will. Why, I shouldn’t wonder if—”

  “If it will take a while, then we’d better get started.”

  “Yes, my lady,” said Mitzi, sounding chastened.

  Kirsten felt guilty, taking out her bad mood on a harmless servant. Deciding to give the woman a thrill, she engaged in a bit of gossip while they worked. “Who were you talking about when I came in? Who wore what around his arm? One of the stable lads trying to woo a kitchen maid?”

  Mitzi laughed nervously at this. “No, no, my lady. I was talking about your new lord, the one what saved us. He had your scarf, the one as I saw on your very own head, wound around his neck sometimes, then on his arm, proud as punch, as even a blind man could see.” Mitzi lost her trepidation as she warmed to her story. “How he did shine that night. Handsome and heroic, and romantic too. Lucky, you are, that’s what I say. As I says to Greta, ‘She’s got herself a keeper,’ says I. A keeper indeed, that’s what.”

  “Hmmm. That’s where my scarf went. I should have known he’d want it to show off his noble wife.”

  Mitzi seemed not to notice her bitterness. “Yes, indeed, my lady. So much better than those men what don’t care one whit. You can tell ‘em, you can, soon as you see ‘em, so called noblemen. You know, the ones as marry a woman, take her money and never come home again till it’s spent on wars and other women, or gambling or ale. You’ll not face that, no, indeed, you won’t.”

  Kirsten paused to give that a thought. Every time she tried to be angry with this lout, whenever she criticized his behavior or looked for some sympathy, she was confronted with another, more decent interpretation that showed Gustav in a better light. Her mother and even her priest had made it sound like she was being unreasonable to feel sorry for herself. Her father was the only one who understood.

  “And all the servants feel the same?”

  “Well, there’s some as disagree, them what think your father could have got a better match for you at court, but like I always says, better the devil you know, eh? You could have went to court and got taken by some brigand or coveted by some old miserly courtier and the king might have put his foot down to make your father do the deal. Now, it’s done and you’ll soon be safe at Schoenfeld. Closer than that, you couldn’t want.”

  “Schoenfeld,” sighed Kirsten. “It’s so small. Not a castle even. Just a manor.”

  Mitzi laughed. “You’ll be glad of that when you try to replace the rushes all by yourself. Your new lord, he don’t have no servants yet, nor retainers, and precious few serfs to work the land. From what I hear, you’ll have your work cut out for you till first harvest.”

  “But! But! How am I supposed to run the manor on my own? It can’t be done!”

  “Needs must, as I always did say. You’ll find a way, my lady. Your lady mother always does.”

  As the days passed, Kirsten became more and more apprehensive about her future. Every day in between the spring rains that pelted down on the bailey, turning those areas not paved with stones into a muddy swamp, she paced the battlements, scanning the horizon for a messenger or even sight of Gustav himself. Every night she lay in her bed alone, trying not to relive those confusing moments in the wardrobe. Every morning, she awoke to the tiresome tasks her mother set her, wondering if she were ready to run her own household the way her mother did.

  Worry and self-doubt took their toll until at last she asked the herbalist for a powder to make a sleeping draught. The poor man looked flustered. “Such things there are, my lady, but tisn’t best for one such as yourself to use them.”

  “Such as myself?”

  “Young, I mean. Healthy. Not ailing. Could be in a family way, isn’t that so? Too early to tell. A nice tisane of chamomile is what you’d be needing, or a sip of red wine would do the trick, slip of a girl like you. That’d be what I’d recommend. All will be set right when your man comes to get you. He’ll keep you tired enough to sleep I’ll warrant; when he lets you sleep, that is.”

  The man gave a knowing chuckle and went about his work, leaving Kirsten to mumble to herself on the way out the door, “The thought of having his child leaves me less likely to sleep tonight than when I came into your shop.” With unconcealed sarcasm, she added, “Thank you so much for all your help taking care of the problem.”

  When she returned to the castle proper, no sooner had she entered the gate than she was met by a worried looking Greta. “We’ve been searching for you, my lady. Your lord has come and all! Hurry!”

  “And why should I hurry? No matter when I arrive, I’ll still be just as married. Let him wait.” Kirsten, thwarted in her errand and now confronted with what seemed to her like the executioner’s call at sunrise, stumped up the servants’ stairs to her quarters, causing two of the maids to drops their trays in surprise.

  Greta trailed behind her mistress, pleading with her all the while. “Come now, my lady. Whatever will Lord Gustav say if you make him wait? He’ll be ever so vexed with you. Please, hurry!”

  The sight of her mother waiting at her door soothed Kirsten not one bit. “Where have you been, my daughter?” Lady Helena demanded. “He’s come and wants to see you. I tried to persuade him to—”

  Kirsten pushed past her without pause. “I’ve been out, enjoying the last few minutes of my freedom before I’m to be buried alive in the countryside with that oaf. I would think you would understand that and not be after me every minute of the day with your requests. You have servants to do your bidding, unlike my pitiful household. I’ll be the serf soon enough, so quit bothering—”

  “Please excuse us, Lady Helena,” said a voice from inside her chamber. A moment later, Gustav put his head out from behind a curtain on her bed where to her chagrin he had obviously made himself comfortable. “I’ll bring my new bride down to dinner shortly.” His face sported that maddening grin, but his eyes gave
her pause.

  When her mother had escaped in what Kirsten considered a particularly cowardly manner, Gustav continued. “Greetings, wife. I trust you’ve had a pleasant fortnight. You will now tell me what you rudely wouldn’t tell her. Where have you been?”

  “To the glovers in town. I thought I had better make sure I had plenty, since there will be no one within twenty miles to make a decent glove once we remove ourselves to the back of beyond.”

  “The glovers, indeed. Then where are your purchases? And with what gold did you make them? I never gave you any. You’ll have to stop wasting money I don’t have.”

  She started to protest. “I ordered them on my father’s account. He can provide me with the necessities of life. If you cannot—”

  Gustav spoke over her without hearing a word she said. “And you’ll have to stop lying to me. I know where you went and why you went there. You went to buy a potion to make sure my seed would not take root inside you.”

  “I did no such thing! I only wanted a sleeping draught!”

  “My man heard you in the street,” Gustav growled. “He said, in your defense, that he hadn’t heard you well and that you held nothing in your hands, nor does he think such a potion exists. I only want you to remember, your job is to bring me social status and produce me heirs.”

  “Of course, my lord. I know my duty. And I like children. I want them, certainly. I was just… vexed, is all. I would never try to keep from having a child.”

  “Even my child?”

  His anger was cooling. She could hear it in his voice. Confident that he believed her, she was grateful for his sense of justice. What he had suspected her of was a serious matter, sobering her into recalling the power he now wielded over her life. “You are my lawful husband and will be the father of my children. I accept this.”

  He nodded, but the jovial grin did not appear. “That’s all well and good, but if you accept me as your husband, why do you lie to me?”

  “Lie to you?”

  “The glover?”

  She saw the trap he had set for her. “You knew all along where I had been. Why did you try to trick me?”

  “Trick you? I only tested you and you failed miserably, dear wife.” She hadn’t expected sarcasm from him and it stung.

  “I – I – you had no call to deceive me so. Why should I be expected to account to you for my every movement?”

  “Because, as you so astutely observed, I am your husband. You will account to me even now.” So saying, he took her wrist and pulled her unceremoniously to him. She had never been handled so firmly in all her memory. Not knowing how to react, she went limp as he yanked her over his lap when he sat on the bed. He made short work of her skirts, pushing them up over her waist to bare her rump. “This is what will happen to you,” he declared, “every time you dare to lie to me.” He brought his hand down, hard and fast, all over her naked bottom cheeks. Covering first one side, then the other, he laid down a stinging rain of heat.

  Kirsten, woken from her stupor by the unexpected pain, began to struggle. “Let me go! Let me go!”

  “I’ll let you go when I’m good and ready. You will learn to tell the truth, at all times and in all places. Do you understand me?” Back and forth he spanked, first high then low then back again.

  “Ow! Ow! Stop! Stop!”

  “Hush! Do you want the whole castle to hear you being punished, like the willful little liar that you are?”

  “You beast! You may be a c-commoner, but – but – I am not! Oh, ouch! No nobleman would – ouch! ever dare treat his lady thus!”

  “Well, maybe they should,” he replied tersely, applying three particularly hard swats down low, where the tender flesh of her buttocks met her soft, sensitive thigh.

  She yelped at the contact. “Ay! You stop that now!”

  “Oh, no, my lady!” he said, laying down three more such hard swats to her other cheek. “Whatever other skills I may learn from you, one of them will not be the art of being lied to! You will tell me the truth or face my justice.” He stopped suddenly and loosened his grip.

  She jumped up and whirled to face him. “This isn’t justice! This is barbarism! Common vulgarity!”

  “What’s all the commotion?” It was her father, come to rescue her. She heard that blessed voice through the door and could have wept in relief.

  Gustav stood silently while Kirsten ran to the door and threw it open. “Vatti, he hurt me!” she wailed.

  Ludolf stepped through, staring at the calm, patient face of her husband. “Well, did you hurt her?”

  “He beat me.”

  “I spanked her bottom.”

  “Oh.” There was a wealth of meaning in that one syllable.

  To Kirsten, it brought disappointment and outrage. “Father! He hit me!”

  “She lied to me.”

  “He spanked you and you deserved it,” corrected Ludolf. “A husband has to correct a wayward wife upon occasion. Don’t be too hard on her just yet, eh? She’s young and needs a firm hand is all. If she’s a bit spoiled, it’s her mother’s fault. These intelligent women! Get round a man. You’ll see.”

  “I’ll give her another chance, if it will please you, sir.” His voice was diffident but dignified.

  “Do that,” Ludolf said with a nod. “And you, my daughter. I’d leave off the lying if I were you. Look at those hands. I wouldn’t think you’d be eager to get another spanking any time soon. You’ve been taught better than that. Lying. Huh!”

  And with that her father quit the room, closing the door behind him. Kirsten could detect the mild disgust in his voice as he pronounced the final accusation. It brought the blush of shame to her cheeks as surely as Gustav’s spanking had brought the fire to her backside. The conversation with her father, though brief, had given her a chance to reconsider. How was her behavior reflecting on her family? Not a very fine showing for a noblewoman, she had to admit.

  “Perhaps I… I was in the wrong.”

  “No perhaps about it.”

  “All right. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Go stand by the fire and wait. I’ll take you down to dinner in a moment.”

  She moved to the chest thinking to get out her hairbrush and re-arrange her hair but he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “Where are you going?”

  “To get my brush.” She moved again, but he held her back.

  “I told you to wait by the fire.”

  “I’m not cold.”

  “That’s not the point. You were given instructions. You did not follow them. Do you want me to turn you over my knee again so soon?”

  “No! What does it matter to you where I wait for you?”

  “Just take my word for it. It matters. Go wait by the fire.”

  She looked at him in confusion but complied.

  “Stand with your hands on the mantel.”

  Feeling silly and embarrassed, she did as she was told. He came up behind her and tucked the hem of her skirt into her belt, exposing her burning bare backside to his gaze.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  “Examining my handiwork to see if it was thorough enough. A job done right doesn’t have to be done again, isn’t that the way of it?”

  She blew out a breath, but held her tongue, knowing without having to be told that if she did not obey, he would most likely spank her again. She never wanted to experience another such session in her life, so she held still. After a few minutes, Gustav came up behind her and lowered her skirts.

  “No more lies, Kirsten. Your purpose in all this is to make me look like a nobleman not a fool.”

  With that he put out his arm for her, whether in offer or in challenge she didn’t know. Her pride was stung just enough so that, overcoming her anger and frustration at his treatment of her, she took it, blank-faced, frozen. If he meant to spank her to remind her of her duty, she would make sure that she would never fail in her duty again.

  Chapter Three

 
No failure of duty could be put down to her account over the next few days. Kirsten meticulously performed every chore asked of her, every courtesy required. Unsmiling, unyielding, she went through her hours like a puppet in a parade. As they made ready for their trip to Schoenfeld, Kirsten packed and checked, then re-checked and packed again, wondering if the pitiful collection of household items she saw on the wagons were going to be enough to live on.

  The journey to Schoenfeld lasted two days slow going, part of the way in the rain. To Kirsten it seemed like two years, but at last they arrived. The manor house itself, while not large, looked warm and inviting to her eyes. The spring weather had turned nasty and chilly again, as if winter wanted to personally bid her one final farewell at the castle and had come just a little too late. She rushed from the her father’s carriage to the front door, slumping there to wait on Gustav or one of his guards to come open the wide oak door carved with all sorts of strange animals and figures.

  Expecting to find the interior cold and cheerless, Kirsten was pleasantly surprised to follow Gustav’s man, Wern, into the entrance hall and feel a warm glow. She heard rustling as if someone were walking briskly over the rushes on the flagstone, and then around the corner appeared a woman Kirsten had not seen before. Tall and solid-looking, she had curly hair that hung down to her waist, tied back with a scarf. “This is Neslin, my wife. Neslin, this is Lady Kirsten, the new wife of Sir Gustav,” announced Wern.

  “Sir Gustav, is it now? Well, there’s a wonder and no mistake. A house and a title and a wife. My, my! Welcome, my lady!” Neslin shook her head with a good-natured smile on her face. She made an awkward courtesy to Kirsten, but then went on about her work, not waiting to be dismissed as would have been proper.