His brother is less than impressed. “You are a baby. You should remain in the nursery with Clare, not totter around the lists, tripping everyone up.”
“Father, he lies! I…”
“Hush, is this any way to greet our new duchess?” Stefan crouches before the two lads, his expression stern. They go silent at once. “I will watch your practice in the morn and assess your progress for myself. Both of you.”
“Carrot soup indeed… That boy never thinks of anything but his stomach. Welcome home, my lord. And welcome to you too, my lady.” This last is delivered by a stout woman of middling years who has been hovering on the fringes of our small group.
Stefan rises to his full height again. “Thank you. May I present Lady Natalia, duchess of Richtenholst?”
The woman bobs a quick curtsy. Stefan continues. “Helena is our cook. Her husband, Otto, is my bailiff and between them they ensure our comfort here.”
As mistress of this household, however newly risen to that position, I expect I will have much to do with Helena and Otto, though my experience of running a large home and estate is limited indeed. I will be reliant upontheir assistance. And their goodwill. I step forward to offer my hand.
“I am delighted to meet you, Mistress Helena. Perhaps you will have time to talk with me soon, to advise me on how matters are run here. I have much to learn about Richtenholst.” I have much to learn about everything, in truth, but I see no point in expanding on that.
Helena’s beaming smile seems genuine enough. “Of course, my lady, as soon as you are settled and rested. And fed.” She turns to my husband again. “Sir, we have prepared a feast in readiness for your return. If you would like to take your ease inside, food will be served in the great hall.”
“Thank you, Helena. We are more than ready for that.” He takes a couple of paces in the direction of the front steps, then stops. He turns to me, his hand outstretched.
“Come, Tally. I would show you your new home.”
I take his hand, but he just uses the contact to tug me to his side. There he loops his arm across my shoulders and drops a kiss on the top of my head. The careless gesture seems artless, but I know better. He has embraced me, kissed me in full view of his entire household, making clear the affection he has for me. My position here is assured.
Together we ascend the short flight of stone steps leading into the castle. I gasp at my first sight of the great hall, the vaulted ceiling soaring above us and the walls hung with thick tapestries. The stone has been rendered and lime washed to reflect light and increase the impression of space. The wall hangings lend colour and vibrancy, but the exposed walls are brightly painted in the reds, browns, and yellows of ochre. A huge fire roars in the grate on the far wall, the warmest spots around it already claimed by several large hunting hounds. The room is moderately warm despite its size and the inclement weather outside.
A table is set on a small raised dais at the end of the hall, and eight seats are arranged along it. The rest of the hall is furnished simply, a long table running the entire length, flanked by low benches on both sides. Servants are scurrying to and fro laden with dishes, plates, steaming bowls of food. They deposit these on the tables and rush off for more.
Much of the floor is covered in rushes, clean I note, apart from the end where the top table is situated, where clay tiles have been used. The room is amply lit by torches set into recesses in the walls. The overall effect is one of cosiness, a bustling, friendly home where all are busy, all are welcome, all are cared for.
Stefan leads me in the direction of the dais, nodding and smiling at the servants we pass, greeting each by name and accepting their smiles of welcome. Fabian and Alexander are hopping alongside us, each bursting with excitement at the return of their father, vying for his attention. He answers their eager questions, confirming that yes, Gerhard is at least seven feet tall, the moat at Hohenzollern was filled with ferocious beasts with huge teeth,and the imperial army was beset on all sides by fearsome foes. Even so, Gerhard, Stefan, and their brave armies prevailed, and have returned safe to their loved ones to feast on carrot soup.
At the mention of loved ones, Stefan halts. He steps onto the dais and scans the room as his sons seat themselves in the chairs which I assume they normally occupy. At a brief word from Stefan they move along one seat, to make space for me beside their father I assume. Stefan is still peering about, looking for something. Or someone.
His eyes light on the bottom steps of a spiral staircase opening into the hall at the far end. I follow his gaze to see a movement in the shadows there, a small figure almost hidden from view. Stefan smiles and turns to me.
“Please be seated, my lady.” He gestures to one of the chairs positioned at the centre of the table. I seat myself next to Alexander, who does not seem concerned at the new arrangements. “If you would excuse me for one moment please, my lady.” Stefan offers me a bow and strides from the dais.
He marches across the hall to the shadowy staircase, and crouches when he reaches it. A few seconds pass before the small figure steps forward into the light.
It is a tiny girl, no more than three or four years old. She stands before Stefan, shifting from one foot to the other, her nervousness very much apparent. At this distance I have no idea what words are exchanged, but eventually she steps forward to hug him around his neck. His arms fold around her and he stands, picking her up. He returns to the top table, the child clinging to him.
He takes the seat beside me and arranges the little girl on his lap. Her face is buried in the soft leather of his tunic, her tiny fingers curled into fists, which she has tucked under her chin. She turns her head just enough to stare at me, her dark eyes wide. She is impossibly pretty, but so timid it is painful. I attempt a smile, but this simply causes her to bury her nose against Stefan’s chest again.
“Clare, I would like you to say hello to my new wife. This is Natalia. I call her Tally and I think perhaps you can too.” He glances at me, his eyebrow lifted in inquiry.
This is a far less formal introduction and I sense some delicacy here. Stefan was sure of his sons, handled them with easy, gentle authority. With this little girl, he is on eggshells.
“Yes, of course. And I may call you Clare, I hope.”
I am talking to the back of her head, but even so I observe what will have to pass for a nod. I press on.
“We will be friends, you and I. We will have to be, for we are girls in family of men and we must look out for each other. May I rely on you to help me if I get lost in this huge castle?”
Another brief nod, unmistakable this time.
“I am relieved for I had been worried. I will require your assistance, I am sure. And now, I wonder if you could tell me what is good to eat among all these delicious dishes. What is your favourite, Clare?”
The small head turns and Clare surveys the feast laid out before us. I have yet to discern a surfeit of carrots, but perhaps those are to come. The child considers the rich and varied fare, taking her time, then points to a plate of what I suspect may be apple dumplings.
