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Wolfenberg
Two months after the battle of Welfesholz, Dieter’s night terrors had all but ceased. He recognized the debt he owed to his wife in helping him vanquish the ghosts. He’d wept in her arms more than once since the first night he’d confided his experiences. It was nothing less than a miracle he’d married a woman who loved him more for yielding to what most perceived as a weakness in a man.
Strangely, he felt stronger for having sobbed like a child.
But he was restless. Free of the emperor’s domination, the citizens of Köln no longer needed him. His family and estates in Wolfenberg beckoned. He wanted his babe born there, far from the turmoil he’d experienced. He’d neglected his responsibilities for too long and his wife deserved to take up her role as his countess.
“I’ve begun preparations to move back to Wolfenberg,” he told her one evening.
The joy that blossomed on her beloved face assured him he’d make the right decision. “Are you pleased?”
She grinned. “Köln is a magnificent town, but I grew up in the country. My father’s estates are both near small villages, far from Westminster. I would be happy anywhere with you by my side, and you miss Wolfenberg.”
This woman always knew what was in his heart. “You will love it,” he promised. “It’s not an ideal time for you to travel, but…”
“I’d like our child to be born there,” she insisted. “You’ll be with me on the journey, so I’ll appreciate every minute of it.”
* * *
It took three days to travel to Wolfenberg. Apart from waking with a queasy feeling each morning, Blythe weathered the journey better than she expected.
Dieter had no trouble recruiting twenty men to serve as an armed escort. He approached the burghers of Köln, who quickly acceded to his request for a large canvas pavilion in which they camped.
On their last night on the road, she laughingly confided she would miss making love in the tent. He countered by assuring her he would erect the pavilion on the grounds of his estate so they might use it whenever they wished.
The dogs relished trotting alongside the convoy, though Schnell tired of the exercise quickly and obviously preferred lying at Dieter’s feet in the comfortable carriage. Each night, the hounds slept outside the entrance to the pavilion as if aware of their responsibility to guard its occupants.
The servants from Wolfenberg who’d accompanied Dieter to Köln were anxious to return home. The cook’s ability to conjure tasty meals en route was a testament to the woman’s skill. Anna fussed over Blythe at every opportunity. Each morning, Bernhardt shaved his master and provided a clean shirt and polished boots.
The worst part for Blythe was the sweltering summer heat, which reminded her of the torment of wearing heavy English wool while in Matilda’s service. Again, the resourceful Bernhardt worked a miracle by conjuring warm water for bathing in the pavilion.
“I feel at home here in Saxony,” she told Dieter as they travelled past miles and miles of thick forests and lush meadows.
The pleasant landscape did little to calm the winged creatures fluttering in her belly at the prospect of arriving among people who might not welcome a foreigner as their countess.
* * *
The tension drained from Dieter’s body as they neared Wolfenberg.
He was confident his people would welcome them home warmly, but he’d sent a message to his father, just to make sure.
He needn’t have worried. Waving crowds lined the laneways long before they reached the manor house. So many had gathered in the village, Dieter was obliged to call a halt, heartened by loud cheers when he emerged from the carriage.
Standing at the base of the market cross, he called for their attention. “People of Wolfenberg,” he began. “I thank you for your warm welcome. It’s good to be home in a Saxony free of imperial tyranny.”
There was more cheering, and shouts proclaiming their pride in his heroic deeds. It appeared news of his exploits in battle had traveled fast.
He strode back to the carriage and lifted Blythe down from inside.
Frowning, she put her hands on his shoulders.
“Smile,” he said. “They will love you.”
A hush fell as he escorted her to the cross. A murmur began as she mounted the step. He held up his hand. “May I present my beautiful wife, Lady Blythe, your countess.”
Deafening cheers brought a broad smile to Blythe’s face.
Dieter’s heart swelled when she acknowledged their welcome in a few words of halting German. A moment of curious silence greeted her remarks, then applause and nods of approval. If they didn’t already know, they would learn soon enough of her origins and of how they had met, but this wasn’t the time. “Now, we must journey on. I am anxious to reunite with Johann.”
