Free The Fairest Beauty by Melanie Dickerson

pilgrimage.”
    “Oh no. That will not do.” Sophie clasped her hands together and stared at the ground. She whispered, “You have to make it sound like you’re doing something nice for her, that you admire her so deeply you can’t help but play music for her. And you certainly don’t expect payment.”
    “Very well. I can do that.” He tried not to smile at the extreme concern she was displaying.
    “Let her know you don’t expect her to provide your meal tonight or your bed. She doesn’t like it when unexpected visitors arrive and ask to bed down anywhere on the castle knoll, even in the stable or with the servants. Tell her you have a place to sleep in the village.”
    He nodded, although he was a little skeptical, after his cold reception, that he could find a place in the village to bed down. But perhaps, if he tried again, he could find people willing to speak about Sophie — or Duke Baldewin and his daughter.
    She went on, still whispering as she stoked up the fire under the large kettle in the center of the courtyard and added morewood. “Pay her several compliments. She expects it. But be tactful. And remember, you don’t expect any reward.” She paused a moment to stare vacantly into the trees.
    “And you probably shouldn’t say you’re a pilgrim.” She grabbed a long wooden spoon and began to stir the hot wax. “No, you’re a troubadour on your way to the fair. You heard of her beauty and wished to come and admire her and write songs about her. That should do it, as long as Lorencz and Walther don’t say anything to contradict you.” Her satisfied look changed into a frown. “But do take that ring off your finger. You’re trying to look poor, not like a rich man playing at being a vagabond.”
    Gabe wrenched the ring off, feeling foolish for having forgotten such an obvious thing, and thrust it into his pocket.
    She pointed at his feet. “And your shoes. They’re much too fine for a troubadour.”
    He bent down and smeared mud on his boots so that it was difficult to see what material they were made of, then he looked down at himself — he didn’t see anything else that would betray his true status. He thrust his hands, mud and all, into his hair and mussed it, rubbing the dirt into the strands until they were surely sticking out everywhere.
    “Yes, I think you might just live to tell the tale, if you keep a glib tongue in your head.” She glanced up at him and flashed a smile.
    Pinnosa hadn’t exaggerated her beauty.
God, help me save her. Help me discover the truth
.
    “If you’re still alive after you talk to the duchess, you are welcome to share the servants’ fare tonight. It isn’t fancy, but it’s filling. Or perhaps you can pay for your food in the village. Either way, your presence, wherever you go, will stir a lot of talk and interest. The people of Hohendorf aren’t used to strangers coming around.”
    That was an understatement, considering the way people had stared at him when he passed through the village.
    “When will you ask Petra what she knows about your identity?”
    She pursed her lips. “Tonight, when no one can overhear us.”
    As she continued with her task, a comfortable silence settled between them. He tried not to watch her, but his gaze flicked repeatedly in Sophie’s direction, especially as she rolled up her sleeves to her elbows, lifting her arms to hang each wick over the line. Though he’d observed her doing the very same task all morning, he couldn’t seem to stop noticing her graceful motions. A thought flitted through his mind that she would look beautiful dancing the bassadanza, moving to the music, her hair decorated with flowers and a silk skirt swishing around her ankles. Of course, to fit into the scene perfectly she would need to gain some flesh and not appear so emaciated. He imagined her arms slightly plump, the dark smudges gone from under her eyes, and a joyful smile on her face.
    He was enjoying the image a little too