The River Maid (2 page)

Along with his mother, the prince had been staying at the castle for the past six months. Adrianna often saw him in the distance out riding, but he rarely lowered himself and came into the town to mix with the townspeople.

“
Christian is waiting for me,” Monsieur Gaspard said. “We will tell them what has happened at the castle.” He put his hat back on. “Be careful, mademoiselle. I would not want anything to happen to you.”

“
I will.”

She watched Monsieur Gaspard go over to the prince. He spoke to him in a low voice and the prince nodded curtly. His dark blue gaze flicked over her briefly at Monsieur Gaspard
’s words and then just as quick it was gone. She felt as if the prince had just dismissed her as insignificant, worth no more than a glance. They mounted their horses. With his short legs Monsieur Gaspard struggled to get onto his horse, but the prince swung up with an easiness that suggested long hours spent riding, and then waited patiently for his tutor to mount. As they rode off back to the castle, Monsieur Gaspard raised his hat in a salute to her, but the prince did not look back.

She suddenly realised she was standing there alone. Everyone had gone inside, leaving the street deserted. A shutter banged behind her. She whirled around, her heart racing. She all but ran back to the small house she shared with her mother and hurried inside, bolting the door behind her. They never usually locked the door during the day; no one in the town did. She wondered how many of the townspeople would be locking their door tonight.

She sat on a bench next to the fire and picked up her mending. She stared blindly at the stitches. Her mind couldn’t seem to accept the fact that Jutta was dead and that she would never see her friend again. She raised her fingertips to her cheeks and was surprised to find them dry. Why wasn’t she crying? Her friend was dead. Her mind flashed back to Jutta’s white hand hanging limp from beneath the blanket and swinging as the men carried her body. Hoping to drive away the image, she stirred the embers of the fire and added more wood and tried to concentrate on her mending, but every noise made her jump and her heart race in fear.

The door handle rattled. Adrianna dropped her mending and grabbed the poker from the fire and held it before her.

“Adrianna, let me in.” It was her mother’s voice. Feeling foolish, she set the poker down and hurried to unbolt the door. Her mother took off her cloak and went to warm herself in front of the fire.

Her face was weathered and deeply lined for a woman of only five and thirty and her long brown hair, the same brown as Adrianna
’s own, was touched with grey at the temples. Her hands, which were covered with small calluses and scars, looked as if they belonged to a woman twice her age. They were a testament to a difficult life. Adrianna’s father had died when she was ten, leaving her mother alone to provide for them both, although she had never heard her mother complain. Adrianna always worried that her own hands would be as calloused as her mother’s one day. They were red and sore now.

“
How is Frau Luft?” Adrianna asked.

“
She won’t stop crying. I fed the children and put them to bed. The younger ones don’t understand what has happened. I said I would go back tomorrow and help with them.” Her mother looked old stood hunched before the fire. Old and weary. She shook her head and sighed. “I kept thinking how easily it could have been you. I don’t know how I would bear it if I lost you.”

“
You won’t ever lose me,” Adrianna said, going to her mother. Her mother hugged her to her and Adrianna rested her head on her shoulder. For a brief moment, Adrianna felt like a little girl again, before the arguments started. It had just been the two of them for so long. She wished they could stay like this, with no anger or resentment between them.

All too soon her mother released her.
“I’d better start supper.”

Adrianna followed her into the kitchen. Her mother lifted an apron over her head and tied it briskly at the back. She took out a heavy pot and filled it with water before setting it in the fire.

“I don’t want you going anywhere near the river by yourself from now on,” her mother said as she began chopping carrots and potatoes.

Adrianna picked up a ladle and stirred the broth.
She could feel the start of another argument. “I’m always careful. I would never get too close.”

“
Neither would Jutta.”

She thought back to what Monsieur Gaspard had said.
“Do you think it was an accident what happened to Jutta?”

Her mother paused before she continued chopping the vegetables.
“Herr Fleischer said there were bruises on Jutta’s arm.”

“T
hey think someone drowned her?”

“I don’t know, but t
here are soldiers everywhere and so many ships pass the town every day. I want you to be careful.”

“
I will.”

Her mother nodded. She threw handfuls of the vegetables into the pot. “
Ernst said that he saw you speaking to the prince’s tutor after I left you.”

That was the problem with living in a small town; there was always someone watching.

“He saw the crowd and wanted to know what had happened,” Adrianna said.

“I’m not sure I want you speaking to him.”

“Monsieur Gaspard would never harm anyone.”

“
No, but I have seen you talking to him on more than one occasion. And lately you seem…different.”

Monsieur Gaspard talked to her like she was his equal, not his inferior. He talked to her about philosophy and art. About the world.
“Is it so wrong to want something more?” Adrianna asked softly.

Her mother sighed and put the knife down. “
I’m getting old, Adrianna. I won’t always be here. If anything were to happen to me, you would have no one. You would be entirely alone. You need to wed. It’s the only way to secure your future.”

Adrianna stirred the broth so hard it sloshed over the sides and ran down into the fire with a hiss.
“There’s no one for me here.”

“
Peter is a very handsome young man.”

“
I don’t like him.” It was hard. She knew her mother struggled to provide for them both. She had seen her mother wince when sewing, the joints of her hands causing her pain. It got worse in the winter. She struggled to see the stitches in the dim light and she had a cough that wouldn’t go away. If Adrianna married Peter, she would be able to take care of her mother and they would never have to worry about having enough food again.

Peter was kind, but she didn
’t feel anything for him. She looked at him and felt nothing. Perhaps there was something wrong with her; the other girls her age had wed. She was going to end up like Frau Brauer who had never married and lived her whole life with her elderly mother.

“
Peter is a good choice,” her mother said gently. “He might be your only choice.”

Adrianna wanted to have a choice. If she married Peter, she would stay here in the town forever. She would never see anything more. But how could she be so selfish to want something more? Jutta was dead. She would never have a future.

They continued preparing supper in silence. They argued so much lately. They seemed to disagree over everything.

“
That’s a pretty tune,” her mother said. Adrianna hadn’t realised she had been humming softly the song she had heard at the river. “Did you learn it from Jutta?”

“
Why would I have learnt it from Jutta?” she asked.

“
I remember hearing her singing something similar the day before she disappeared.”

That was why the song had sounded familiar. She must have heard Jutta singing it.
If only she could remember the words.

Chapter Two

As soon as they were out of the town, Christian slowed his horse to ride alongside Gaspard.
“Did she say how the missing girl came to be in the river?” Christian asked. He had been listening discreetly to Gaspard’s conversation with the girl, but it had been difficult to hear from where he was stood.

“No. After she went missing they assumed she had run away.”

“So it could be a simple accident.”

“In my experience, my friend, when a young beautiful girl is found dead, it’s rarely an accident. Especially when the countryside is overrun with deserters and thieves.”

The horses picked their way up the steep winding path that took them around the back of the town and up to the castle. They needed to get back before nightfall. Christian didn’t want to risk his horse stumbling and breaking a leg in the dark. 

Sitting high on a rocky ledge above the town of St Goarshausen, the castle commanded a strategic position overlooking the river Rhine. A huge tower, called a bergfried, jutted up from the centre of the castle. Adjacent to it was the great hall. Katz Castle had been built by the Counts of Katzenelnbogen over four hundred years ago. A hundred years later the Katzenelnbogen
’s had died out and, after much changing of hands, eventually the castle had passed into his family’s possession. That was until four years ago, when it had been seized by the French revolutionary army. As a gesture of goodwill, the local French authorities were allowing him and his mother to stay there. He supposed he should be grateful that the French hadn’t destroyed it as they had Castle Rheinfels, which lay on the other side of the river. But with the advent of cannon, the thick stone walls of the castle which had once been impenetrable were now vulnerable, and no doubt the French knew they could easily take the castle back if they had too. 

“
You could have asked her yourself, you know,” Gaspard said, interrupting his thoughts. “Instead of sending me.”

“
They wouldn’t talk to me. Not properly.” His rank and position made that impossible. 

“
You are at least German. They don’t speak to me unless there’s no other choice.”

Christian looked up surprised. “
That girl seemed willing to talk to you.”

Gaspard smiled fondly. “She’s the only one. Adrianna isn’t like the others in the town.
She wants to learn, unlike some people I know.”

Christian smiled at the remark that was directed toward him. He enjoyed his lessons with Gaspard, but still having a tutor at nearly nineteen was beginning to wear on him.

“She makes me think of my daughter,” Gaspard went on softly. “She would have been the same age had she lived.”

Gaspard rarely spoke about his family. From what his mother had told him, Christian knew that Gaspard
’s wife had been killed during the French Revolution, but he hadn’t known Gaspard had lost a child as well. It had been sixteen years since the revolution that saw the end of the French monarchy. That would have made Gaspard’s daughter only one or two years old when she had died.

Grooms came out to take their horse as they clattered into the courtyard of the castle. Christian straightened in the saddle and schooled his face. He was no longer relaxed, but stiff and formal. They were only servants, but he had been taught since birth the correct way to behave.

“Your mother is going to be furious with us. We were supposed to be back hours ago,” Gaspard said as he dismounted.

“
You mean she will be furious with me.” Christian swung down and handed the reins to a boy. “Perhaps she will stop me going riding as well as sailing.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

At that moment, his mother came out. She was dressed for dinner in a white muslin gown with long white gloves. Her dark hair was twisted and pinned up in the new classical style that was currently popular. She smiled serenely at them, but Christian could tell when his mother was displeased. 

“I’m sorry we’re late,” Christian said.

“It wasn’t Christian’s fault,” Gaspard broke in. “
There was an incident in the town.”

Christian suppressed a smile. Gaspard was always trying to protect him.  

“Did something happen?” his mother asked, raising an elegant brow.

“
A girl drowned in the river,” Christian said.

“
How terrible. I will have the cook send down some food for the family.”

He wondered why she was dressed so formally. She waited for the groom to lead the horses away before she spoke again.
“General Ducasse is here,” she said as soon as the boy had left. “He arrived an hour ago. I had no choice but to invite him to stay for dinner.”

“
The General was only here a month ago,” Christian said. “Why has he come back so soon?”

“
The French authorities obviously wish to keep an eye on us. You need to change. We’re waiting for you.” His mother swept away to return to her guest.

Although the French revolutionary army had seized the castle, this part of the Rhineland was not under French rule; at least not yet.

“What do you think he wants?” Christian asked Gaspard. “Surely the French do not consider me a threat?”

“
I don’t think it’s you the General has come to see,” Gaspard replied.

Christian frowned.
“Who else would he come to see?”

“
I doubt very much it’s me. That leaves only one other person.”

Realisation dawned on Christian.
“You mean he’s courting my mother?”

“
Your mother is quite beautiful. As a princess, she’s also connected to many of the royal families in Europe.”

“
We should hurry and change. We cannot keep the General waiting.” He quickened his pace, overtaking Gaspard. The sound of Gaspard’s laughter followed him inside.

His valet was waiting in his bedroom, the clothes for that evening already laid out. Christian stripped off his riding clothes and quickly washed his face and arms in a bowl of water. He remained still while his valet dressed him, moving only as necessary. His evening attire consisted of cream breeches tucked into black boots, a white linen shirt with a stock and cravat, a cream waistcoat and last a black coat that was cut to the waist at the front, but hung to the tops of his boots at the back. Christian held out his hands to allow the servant to pull on his gloves and do up the buttons.

“Thank you,” Christian said, after his valet was finished.

He met Gaspard in the hallway. The Frenchman was dressed exactly the same, except his waistcoat was a deep blue.

“Be careful what you say tonight,” Gaspard said as they made their way down the stairs. “Do not forget the General is French. His loyalties lie with France.”

“
I understand.”

Gaspard never spoke of who he had been before the revolution, but from his knowledge of etiquette and intrigue Christian guessed he had been at Versailles before the demise of the French royal court, though in what role he did not know.

A footman stepped forward to open the doors to the drawing room as they approached. His mother sat on the sofa, her hands neatly clasped in her lap, while General Ducasse stood before the fire.

The General was in his early forties. Physically imposing, with broad shoulders, the general wore the dark blue jacket of his regiment complete with gold braid to signify his rank. His face was tanned and weathered from being outdoors and his blue eyes stood out in contrast to his dark skin. His black hair, which had likely been dyed, was slicked back with pomade.  

“General, you remember my son and Monsieur Gaspard,” his mother said as they entered.

“
Of course.” General Ducasse bowed. “Your Highness.”

Christian and Gaspard bowed in reply.
“General,” Christian said.

At that moment, the gong sounded to signal dinner. His mother rose.
“Shall we go in?”

The General offered her his arm. She placed her hand on his and they led the way into the adjoining room. The table had already been laid out with silver cutlery and fine china. Behind each chair stood a footman. As they took their places, in unison the footmen stepped forward to push in their chairs.

“I thought you would be with the army General,” Christian said as the first course was brought out.

“I’m on my way to Paris. I have some business to settle there before I rejoin my regiment,” Ducasse replied.

“Gentlemen, surely you’re not going to talk about the war?” his mother asked.

“Of course not,” Ducasse said, inclining his head in deference to her.

Christian would have liked to talk about it. He was following the war between France and the rest of Europe through the newspapers. He had maps spread out in the study with tokens to mark the position of the various armies. He and Gaspard would often discuss military tactics and strategy. It was the only lesson he looked forward to.

“
I’m surprised you’re not bored here, Your Highness,” the General said as a footman filled their glasses with wine. “A young man of your age. War is raging across Europe, while you sit here safe in your castle. Everything is changing. All the men wear uniform now at court and military rank is more important than who your father was. Being a prince doesn’t count for much anymore.”

“
Then its fortunate we’re not in France,” Christian said, picking up his glass.

“
Other German princes have declared their support for Napoleon and have been rewarded. If you wait too long, the Emperor’s generosity might not extend as far.”

“
From what I’ve read in the newspapers, little has changed in France,” Gaspard said, interrupting the General. “They have simply swapped one ruler for another. I’ve heard that the Emperor even has his own court now at the Tuileries.”

“
I forgot that you’re French. Tell me, what was your family’s name? I don’t believe I caught it.” The General’s tone was friendly, but there was an edge of suspicion to his voice.

“
I was no one of significance,” Gaspard said dismissively.

“
I see.” The General regarded Gaspard for a moment, before turning his attention back to Christian. “It is different now,” he said. “Napoleon chooses his commanders based on merit. A man can work his way up through the ranks. I started off as nothing more than a simple soldier. The rich cannot depend on money to buy their way to positions of power anymore. Now, they have to earn it.”

Christian agreed with the principle; that he should be judged by his actions instead of his social position. But, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the other German princes who had declared for Napoleon cared about that. They supported Napoleon because it benefited them.

“You should come with me to Paris,” Ducasse said. “I could introduce you at court.”

“
That’s very generous of you,” Christian replied, knowing his mother would never allow it.

“
Or get you a position in the army if you prefer.”

His mother and Gaspard exchanged worried looks.

“We thank you for the offer, General,” his mother said, smiling at Ducasse above her glass of wine. “But Christian has responsibilities here.”

The General smiled.
“I see.”

Christian drank down his wine to stop himself replying. The shame of having his mother answer for him burned his cheeks. He could see the derision in the General
’s face.  

If only the General knew how much he wanted to be out there, fighting. When he was younger, he always assumed he would join the army. He would study at one of the military colleges and then buy his way in. He was the younger son and free to do as he pleased. Then his brother had died and he became the heir and he was no longer free to go off and risk dying in battle.

He wished he could do as he wanted for once. He wanted to join the army and distinguish himself, to prove his worth and command respect for his actions, not just his title. But that choice and any choice over his life had been taken away from him the minute he had been born a prince of the House of Hesse-Kessel.