After Agnes combed my hair so hard that I thought my scalp would bleed, Margery twisted it into a series of low, dark whorls at my neck. Then she pulled a pale-blue gown edged with white lace from the locked trunk. “This will do, I think,” she said.
“Whose dress was this?” I asked as she tugged the satin sleeves up my arms.
“Does it matter?” Margery stepped back to admire it. “It’s lovely.”
The satin was cool and smooth under my fingertips, and the lace was so delicate I was almost afraid to touch it. I’d never seen anything so beautiful in my life. Had it belonged to the old baron’s wife? Or was it made for a daughter she hoped she’d have? All I knew was that it belonged on the shoulders of a lady, not a peasant, and I felt like an utter fool in it.
“Why does the baron mock me?” I asked as Margery slipped fine leather boots on my feet. “Does he give his pigs pearl necklaces?”
Agnes snickered, but Margery looked at me with great offense. “You’re a beautiful girl,” she said.
“I’m a commoner,” I said. “I’m not even supposed to look a noble in the eye.”
“I don’t pretend to know what the baron wants or thinks,” Margery said. “I just do as I’m told.”
“And so will you, if you know what’s good for you,” Agnes added. And she gave my arm a hard pinch as she shoved me out the door.
Two waiting guards—not the hard ones who had brought me here, though I felt sure these would be no better than the others—took their places on either side of me and led me away down the passage.
The great hall, which occupied the second floor of the keep, was warmed by a huge fire and lit by countless candles. The smell of charred meat made my mouth water. At the long wooden tables, there must have been a hundred men at least, and by the look of them, they’d been eating and drinking for hours already. Their faces were wine-flushed and their voices rang out as they bragged of their roles in the fight.
At the far end of the hall, on a raised platform, the baron sat at a table draped in rich velvet. He seemed freshly scrubbed, but there was a gash across his brow that looked red and angry. He raised a goblet to me, as if in a toast.
“Go and join him,” the first guard said.
I shook my head and remained where I stood.
“Tebben was right about her,” he said to the other. “Doesn’t do as she’s told.”
“There’s a remedy for that,” said the other one. He took a step toward me, and the next thing I knew he’d hit me across the face so hard that I saw stars floating in blackness. My knees buckled, and I grabbed on to the table to stay upright.
“Now go and present yourself to Baron Joachim,” he said.
I put my hand to my stinging cheek. “I won’t,” I whispered.
“You damn well will.” He raised his hand to strike me again.
But he couldn’t see what I could, or else he would’ve run. The baron had left his table, and his face was full of rage as he came toward us, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
“I don’t have to go to him,” I said. “Because he’s right there behind you.”