Chapter Twenty-nine:
I clad myself in one of my most elegant spring dresses the following morning for my meeting with the Prince. Freia suggested a silver one, its material light and airy, the bodice patterned with tiny white buttons decorating the waistline. The silver skirt swept the floor, their hemlines trimmed with white lace, and the backs of the flared sleeves hung to my knees. I donned a matching silver head covering, tying all of my black hair underneath it into a complex bun. I slipped one of my best pairs of sandals upon my feet and slid a pair of my mother’s silver earrings into my earlobes. I completed my look of sophistication with my mother’s diamond necklace, which I had not yet worn in public. I had asked Jarvis to drive me to the Bayern castle in the count’s carriage, for I hoped that such a conveyance might deter any highway robbers from attempting to pilfer my jewelry.
We arrived at the Bayern castle just as the church bells had begun to clang out their melodies, announcing the arrival of mid-afternoon. A servant opened the castle gates for us, and the carriage clattered over the stone pathway toward the main entrance. A rush of uncertainty entered my veins when I realized that just moments from now, I would be meeting Prince Otto in the library. It would be the first time I had spoken to him one-on-one since that day in the forest, when he had reprimanded me for using my ice against the Gypsies.
My opinions of him had taken a downward spiral since I had befriended his hated brother, and I began to wonder exactly why the Prince wished to speak with me, the strange woman from the future. If he had really decided to allow Joel and me to use his song to return to our time, he could have called Joel to the castle. Worry gnawed at my soul as Jarvis helped me descend from the carriage and promised that he would wait for me on the front porch. I thanked him with a wan smile, then turned to the front door of the castle, which stood open for me, the Prince’s trusty servant Bruno waiting inside to usher me to the library.
Bruno and I exchanged a few words while he led me through the impressive halls, mainly remarks on the season and on the health of the Prince and his Lady. I eyed Bruno covertly as we walked, remembering the other time I had encountered him, that Sunday when Augustin had let Joel and me into the castle to speak with the Prince about his Song of Time. I doubted Bruno had forgotten that incident, particularly since the Prince had ordered him to escort us away from the Bayern grounds once he and Paulus had discovered our pursuits in the music room. I wondered if Bruno believed Augustin to be mad, like most of the servants, and if he had ever actually seen Marelda’s chapel down in the basement.
We reached the library after threading through a few stone hallways, and Bruno opened the massive wooden doors for me with a flourish. I thanked him properly and entered the room beyond, my ice-tinted eyes traveling over its contents—I had decided to simply enhance my vision with my ice for this rendezvous today, since my stash of contacts had dropped below fifty pairs. Books and scrolls lined every wall of the library, the shelves reaching much higher than my head. Several dark tables flecked with gold stood in various places in the room, imposing leather chairs resting near them. An enormous fireplace ornamented the left wall, two golden statues depicting the Bavarian lion standing in front of it with their teeth bared, their claws unsheathed. Above the marble mantle hung an exquisite painting of the city of Muniche, her walls and spires grand, the rays of the sun covering her in a holy light.
I noticed, as I advanced slowly into the library, that three elaborate chandeliers hung from the beams of the ceiling, their candles lit with tiny flames of yellow and red. A low reddish-tinted fire also smoldered in the fireplace. Combined with the glowing candles, it cast the entire library in a ruddy hue, contrasting with the pure light filtering through the windows on the far wall. I frowned slightly and halted ten paces from the door, which had been closed behind me. The Prince had likely lit the fire and the candles himself, and I found that I preferred blue fire to red any day. I wondered if enough of Augustin’s fire rested within my soul to thrust a few blue flames upon the candelabra, vanquishing red with blue. I snickered to myself at the thought, then averted my gaze to a high-backed leather chair near the fireplace, from which Prince Otto arose to greet me.
He strode forward to meet me, and I studied his appearance in the quick seconds it took him to cross the floor. He wore deep burgundy robes flecked with a light auburn, the buckles on his brown leather boots and golden-tinted belt shining grandly in the firelight. He wore quite a few impressive gold chains, along with a ruby ring on the middle finger of his left hand. His black hair draped just a bit over his ears, and his neatly-trimmed beard had begun to look almost decent, more like a man’s.
He walked with confidence, his posture erect, his dark blue eyes silently welcoming me to his castle, his kingdom. He actually did appear attractive, when I viewed him as an unbiased subject. I even supposed that quite a few young noblewomen prayed earnestly every night that once the Lady Maria passed away, Muniche would choose them next. But despite Prince Otto’s handsome exterior, my attitude toward him had been forever tainted by his brother, the hated one, my master—and I would pick him over the Prince in any circumstance.
Prince Otto stopped about a meter away from me, bowing low and spreading out his hands in a salutatory gesture. “My Lady Swanhilde von Thaden, I thank you kindly for accepting my invitation to meet me here on this lovely afternoon. Your stunning appearance rivals the grandeur of the springtime, it would seem.” He smiled brightly as he spoke, his dark blue eyes taking in my outfit and jewelry with a look of appraisal.
I curtseyed low in response, feeling slightly perturbed that the young Prince would compliment my looks so overtly when he held no claim to my heart. I knew that Augustin would punch him in the face for such flirtatious comments. “It is my pleasure to come, Leitaeri,” I answered him, holding onto my decorum, “although I must admit that your purpose in requesting my presence has remained elusive to me, thus far.”
The Prince chuckled, waving his left hand dismissively. “All in good time, my lady. Come sit with me.” He turned back toward the leather chair in front of the fireplace, and I trailed behind him, glancing around at the contents of the library again. He signaled me to the chair across from his, to the left of the hearth, just several paces away from one of the lion statues. “I have asked the servants to bring us bread and tea,” he said. “Afterward, we may confront our business.”
Business. What sort of business would the Prince have with me? I wondered as I settled into the dark leather chair, my buttocks sinking down into its cushion rather comfortably. I crossed my ankles underneath my skirt, sitting as straight as possible in such an immense chair, gazing for a moment at the reddish flames of the fireplace while the Prince sat upon his own chair.
I lifted my eyes to the beautiful painting of the city that hung above the mantle, marveling again at its artistry. The Prince noticed my preoccupation and said with a smile, “That is my Muniche in the splendor of summertime, aglow in the light of her heavenly guardians.” He breathed a quiet sigh of contented satisfaction.
“It is an amazing likeness, fully evincing the glory of Muniche,” I agreed, thinking that I had never before seen such an exquisite portrait of my city, medieval or modern. “Who is the artist?” I inquired, suddenly curious.
The Prince’s visage darkened, and he tore his eyes from the painting, staring down at his folded hands in silence before meeting my gaze and stating, his voice grave, “My mother painted it one year before my birth.”
My eyes widened at this revelation, and I looked from the Prince to the painting and back again. “Marelda,” I whispered, images of her beauty racing through my mind—the ones I had seen in Augustin’s blood.
The Prince looked away from me, staring into the flickering flames of his fire for a long moment, grief evident on his face. “She was like unto an angel of God, I have heard,” he murmured, his mouth twitching in sorrow.
I wondered, while I watched Prince Otto struggle for control of his angst at the untimely death of his mother, whether Augustin had ever seen the Prince’s sadness firsthand or whether he had ignored it altogether. Apparently my master was not the only one who felt pain at the subject of Marelda’s death. I breathed out once, reminiscing upon my own past tragedies, and abruptly heard myself saying, “I lost my mother when I was five years old, Leitaeri.”
The Prince raised his eyes to my face, his expression startled. “I had not realized . . . . I had believed that your family awaited you in the future, my lady.”
I smiled half-heartedly and looked down at my own hands. “Just my father, Leitaeri. My mother died giving my father a son.” I heard the Prince gasp, and when I lifted my eyes I saw that he had grown rigid in his chair, his hands clutching the armrests, horror and sympathy warring on his face. I shrugged quickly, brushing aside any well-meaning words he may have wished to impart with the remark, “But I’m the only one left now. My father looks to me to carry on our heritage.”
Dead silence in the room for what seemed to be a full minute. At length, the Prince sighed heavily, clearing his throat and straightening in his chair. “Please accept my deepest apologies, my Lady Swanhilde. Such grief is a tragic burden to bear.” I shrugged again at his words, looking away and thinking of Augustin, of whom the Prince likely also thought, now that he knew of our common ground.
“I trust that you have found the eleventh century to your liking, my lady?” The Prince changed the subject with finesse, his eyes alight with curiosity.
My mind ran over the events of the past year in a flash, as I suddenly realized that Joel and I had indeed been in this era for almost a year now. “The eleventh century has been decent,” I said honestly, meeting the Prince’s eyes once more. “It certainly has been an adventure so far, Leitaeri, and I thank you again for your kindness in accepting Joel and me into your realm.”
The Prince nodded, a smile appearing beneath his fuzzy beard. “I could do no less for a Teuton woman and her charge, seeking asylum after such a harrowing journey.” His eyes flashed with a touch of humor as the servants appeared behind us, carrying trays bearing tea and warm, buttered biscuits. Prince Otto indicated that they should set their goods upon the small tables that stood beside our chairs, and I thanked the plump, mature woman who handed me my teacup for her hard work and generosity.
The woman dropped a brief curtsey before departing from the room, and I turned my attention back to the Prince when he queried, “And what of Muniche, Lady Swanhilde? I trust that my city in its formative years stands as strongly as the Muniche of your era?”
I took a sip of tea and gathered my thoughts, unsure how to respond to that question, since I knew that in twenty-one years this ancient Muniche would burn to the ground. It would return in the twelfth century, of course, reborn around a conclave of monks, ultimately taking the modern name München. The Bavarian capital of my day and this primeval Teuton stronghold seemed hardly the same place, sometimes. I remembered my beloved mentor, the wise Lady Muniche from my time, thinking that she was a lot more long-suffering and friendly than the Prince’s middle-aged companion, Maria.
But in the end, I bottled up all of my criticisms and replied, “Eleventh century Muniche is undoubtedly the pinnacle of Teuton civilization and success, Leitaeri. I am honored to be a part of it myself, observing its prosperity firsthand.”
The Prince smiled at my accolade, retrieving a biscuit from the tray beside him and bringing it to his mouth. I took another sip of tea while I waited for him to speak again, still pondering the real reason he had sent for me. After swallowing a mouthful of biscuit, the Prince said, “I would also make the assumption, my lady, that you have ultimately found peace in your heart, even though you entered this era twenty years too early, by your estimation.” His eyes watched me sagaciously, his expression suggesting many possible meanings to his words.
I caught his intense look, and it unnerved me as my mind worked to reason out the purpose of his question. The servants had left us in peace, so perhaps he was about to bring up our “business.” I nodded at him cautiously, taking another sip of tea before stating simply, “Fate shall always bring us to the places we should be, Leitaeri.” A second after the words had left my lips, I realized that I had just repeated something Augustin had told me, in Marelda’s chapel at the New Year’s party.
“It shall, indeed.” The Prince’s eyes had begun to burn me, the red fire before us flickering just a shade more brightly. I fidgeted in my chair, gripping my teacup a little more tightly, wishing the Prince would just spit out the truth before it drove me insane. “And thus, I must now address the reason I requested your presence, my Lady Swanhilde.” Prince Otto eyed me seriously, and I waited, my ice seeping further into my veins, an instinctive precaution. “It has come to my attention that you have developed a rather . . . disturbing . . . relationship . . . over the past several months . . . with my eldest brother.”
My ice froze my body in an instant, casting the library in a sharp veil of blue. The teacup trembled in my hands, and I set it down upon the table beside me before its contents could taint my dress or the floor. I had not expected that the Prince had brought me here to reprimand my camaraderie with Augustin. How could I possibly defend myself against this? I swallowed once, then pointed out, “I spend a lot more time with Joel than with your brother, Leitaeri.”
The Prince looked troubled, and his posture relaxed just slightly, his eyes shifting to the fireplace. “That may be true,” he allowed, his forehead wrinkling as he considered my words. He turned his gaze toward me once more and voiced the awful truth I could not counter. “However, my Lady Swanhilde, you are a Teuton woman, and your friend Joel Hudson is an outsider. Your blood longs for another of its kind, one who could fulfill your innermost desires.”
My hands had begun to turn a translucent white as my element struggled to protect me from the wretched truth, the verity that I had heard from Augustin’s lips many times before. “My responsibility must remain with Joel,” I said in a weak voice, even though if our recent plans came to fruition, that issue would be permanently resolved. “I brought him here into this time period, and therefore I cannot forsake him, no matter what longings I have in my blood.”
Prince Otto’s eyes flashed red, whether in response to the manifestation of my ice or my ridiculous lies, I could not tell. “I saw you dance with my oldest brother in elemental glory on New Year’s Eve,” he accused, his expression dangerous.
“I have danced with fire in my own era,” I retorted, my icy hands digging into the leather armrests. “I consider it recreation, Leitaeri.”
The Prince glowered at me for a long moment, the fire in his eyes gradually cooling while they returned to their natural dark blue. “Calm yourself, my lady; you are growing hysterical. Pull your element back before you freeze the entire room. Your display may attract unwanted company.”
I frowned as the Prince glanced toward the closed door of the library. I had no idea that my ice had begun to alter the temperature of the room. Maybe he was making it up. I focused, ordering my ice back into my spirit, and the Prince went on. “You seem incredibly unwilling to admit to your actions with my brother, which surprises me. I have already spoken with him about this matter and had hoped that perhaps you might take more kindly to my advice, since he forever refuses to listen to me.”
I blinked at the Prince, my vision having regained a portion of its natural ambiguity. “Then . . . Augustin has already told you . . . everything?” Prince Otto nodded at me seriously, and I felt a rush of alarm, wondering what exactly that could mean. Augustin would never have told him about the future. He likely just bragged about our heart-bond, since the Prince could never achieve its glory with Maria.
“Well . . . unlike me, Leitaeri, I’m afraid your brother prefers to view these matters as a conquest, one of the few achievements he can claim over you.” I eyed the Prince in speculation, lifting my teacup from the table.
The Prince huffed in annoyance. “In that, he is wrong, my lady.” I spluttered into the cup, shock filling me when I met the Prince’s gaze, seeing torment in his dark blue eyes. “Augustin does not know this, but I once had the same bond you share with him now, one thousand years in the past.” A gasp escaped my lips, and I froze in my chair, my teacup forgotten in my fingers, while the Prince related his heart wrenching tale.
“When Paulus and I used my song to travel to the time of Christ, we spent quite a few years in Palestine before traversing Asia Minor, proclaiming the good news of salvation wherever we could. During our time in Palestine, I met a young Jewish woman named Kezia, already a follower of Christ. She was—and still is—the humblest person I have ever met, her heart full of love and grace, always willing to help others, to pray, to comfort. She was beautiful, with eyes the color of earth beside the river and hair as black as the night sky. And I loved her.”
I stared, my mouth forming a small O of surprise. The Prince leaned forward in his chair, sighing once, twisting his hands. “We were married for twenty-six years. She bore me three children, two sons and a daughter. I told her everything about myself, who I was, why I had come, from whence I had come, and she loved me even though I was a Gentile. Though she had not been born a Teuton, I created the heart-bond with her during the first year of our marriage. Through it I experienced a love I had never known before . . . a love I shall never forget.
“When the Romans began persecuting Christians in force,”—I watched the Prince’s face harden as his story transitioned from beauty to tragedy—“Kezia and I realized that our time would be short. She expressed the hope repeatedly that once I returned to the future, the Lord would grant me a woman to take her place, to love me and keep me close to God. Paulus and I were visiting a church several cities away when the Romans attacked our village, killing every Christian they could find. I returned to my house to find my faithful wife hung on a cross in the front yard, her body picked apart by vultures, her heart vanished forever from my hands. They had gotten to our children as well, but Kezia’s brutal murder has remained with me always, the image never leaving my mind. When Paulus and I were thrown into the coliseum less than a year later, I remember begging God to let me die permanently then, so I could reunite with my family in heaven.”
The Prince paused, turning his back to me so he could compose himself, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Tears welled in my own eyes, and I placed the teacup back upon the table, ordering myself not to compare his story to mine, not to think of what would happen to me one day when my heart-bond with Augustin broke. The severance had dragged the Prince into despair, and he was a man . . . what would it do to me, a tender-hearted woman?
“When the tigers snapped my neck,” the Prince continued thickly, wiping his tears away and turning to face me again, “I awoke to find myself here, back in this castle, a young man again, my hands once more grasping the responsibility that had evaporated from me in the past.” He reached his right hand into his outer tunic to pull the keys of Muniche from his belt, prompting me to stare.
“Without these keys, my heart was free to love whomever it wished,” he said flatly, fingering each of the iron keys in turn. “But now, the city binds me to herself, to the Lady who manifests her soul, teaching me accountability, loyalty, and pride. Despite what you may think after hearing my tale, my Lady Swanhilde, I would not freely sacrifice these keys to another at any cost. Unlike my eldest brother, I love this city and shall gladly shoulder all of her burdens, like my father before me.” He clutched the key ring tightly for a moment, then placed it back inside his tunic while I gaped, marveling at the otherworldly power of the keys of a Teuton city.
The Prince lifted his eyes to mine, his expression making him look far older than his twenty-three years. “But . . . I have never forgotten the bond of the Teutons . . . even though the bond of a city is far stronger, unbreakable by man. I still recall the tenderness of Kezia’s heart in my hands . . . the benevolence of her smile . . . her dedicated love for God. Time, unfortunately, does not erase all memories. That is why, my Lady Swanhilde, I urge you now, as one who has experienced your pain, that you ask my brother to break your bond . . . before things get worse.”
I considered his advice for a long moment, nibbling a biscuit as my response slowly coalesced in my mind. The Prince meant well; I could see that clearly. He did not want me to have to face the pain he still faced today, the longing for a partner long dead and gone. But Augustin’s reminder flashed through my brain: Glory is ephemeral . . . one must enjoy pleasure while it lasts.
So I lifted my eyes to the Prince’s and replied slowly, “Leitaeri, please allow me to offer my sincerest apologies and sympathy for your . . . incredible loss. Time travel introduces many unfortunate complications into life, and love.” The Prince bowed his head formally, accepting my condolences, and I decided that I might as well just be as forthright as I could be.
“Your advice is sound, Leitaeri, but . . . it is already too late for me.” I lowered my voice considerably and admitted, “I love Augustin, and I loved him before he created our heart-bond. And in spite of what you believe, your brother does, in fact, retain the capacity to love, and his devotion to me has staggered me eternally. It is stronger than anything I have ever experienced.”
Prince Otto’s mouth fell open in shock when I finished passionately, “So I can’t ask him to break our heart-bond now, no matter what it may do to me in the future. I can’t set aside his love, even though we don’t belong together. It is too late.” I sensed Augustin’s love wrapping my heart in a wondrous shroud as I spoke the truth, infusing me with acceptance, belonging.
The Prince made a sound in his throat, his jaw working in frustration, his eyes glinting red once more. “You have not known him as long as I have, my Lady Swanhilde.” His tone was harsh, cutting me like a knife. “He is lying to you. All he wants from you is your body, to fuel his insanity for blood and power. He glories in your submission, in your helpless heart crying for his mercy.”
I screamed at his words and leapt to my feet, my contentment vanishing as my loyalty to Augustin prompted my ice to erupt. “You have no conception of the extent of our love . . . murderer!” I spat.