The Silent Songbird 2016 by Melanie Dickerson
The Noble Servant 2017 by Melanie Dickerson
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Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version, NIV. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. The NIV and New International Version are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.
Publishers Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-7180-7470-8
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
CIP data available upon request.
Printed in the United States of America
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Contents
Guide
The Silent Songbird
T HE M EDIEVAL F AIRY T ALE N OVELS
The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest
The Beautiful Pretender
Y OUNG A DULT
The Princess Spy
The Captive Maiden
The Fairest Beauty
The Merchants Daughter
The Healers Apprentice
The Golden Braid
Summer 1384. Berkhamsted Castle, Hertfordshire, England.
S ervants may marry whomever they want, but a kings ward has no freedom at all.
Evangeline broke off the song she was singing. A lump rose in her throat. Through her open window facing the castle bailey she watched the servants talking and laughing and milling about, finishing their morning chores.
A kitchen maid was drawing a bucket of water at the well in the center of the bailey. A young man approached her.
Alma gave him the dipper, and he lifted it to his lips.
The strangers hair was brown and fell over his brow at an angle. He was tall, and even from Evangelines bedchamber window on the third level of the castle, she could see he was handsome, with a strong chin and a sturdy stance.
He passed the water around to the other men who had followed him to the well. Evangeline leaned out the window to try to catch what they were saying.
Thank you, the man said as he handed the dipper back to the servant. He wore the clothing of a peasanta leather mantle over his long linen tunic.
Where are you from? Alma asked.
Glynval, a little village north... brought... to sell... and wheat flour... Evangeline couldnt make out all the words.
The man wasnt like most peasants. Not that she had seen very many. But this man held himself upright with an air of confidence and ease she had rarely seen before.
Evangeline leaned out a little farther, hanging on to the casement. The man was moving on as the cart started forward, Alma still staring after him. He turned to say something to the other men and suddenly looked up at Evangeline.
Evangeline!
She jumped backward, her heart crashing against her chest.
What are you doing, hanging out the window like a common? Dont you know better than to behave that way? Muriel hurried to the open window and peered out, then closed it and clamped her hands on her hips.
Am I not allowed to look out the window? Im no better than the prisoners in the dungeon. You know, I feel much pity for them. I daydream sometimes about releasing them and running away with them. She tipped her face to the ceiling as if turning her face to the sun and closed her eyes. How good it would feel, walking free through the fields of wildflowers I read about in a poem once, breathing the fresh air, free to go wherever I want.
You think your jests are amusing, Muriel said, but when the king of England is your guardian and is planning your wedding to a wealthy nobleman, you should not expect pity. Envy is more likely.
Wedding? What do you mean? Evangelines heart seemed to stop beating. What do you know?
It is only gossip, but it is said that the king has promised you to one of his closest advisors.
Who?
The Earl of Shiveley.
Evangeline reached out and placed a hand on the stone wall as the room seemed to teeter from side to side. How could the king betroth her to him? Lord Shiveley was oldalmost fortyand Evangeline was barely seventeen. She had only seen Lord Shiveley a few times when he had accompanied the king to Berkhamsted Castle. He stared at her in a way that made her stomach sick, and he always managed to put a hand on heron her shoulder or her back, and even once at her waist. She would always writhe inwardly and step away from him as quickly as she could.
Besides that, it was rumored that Lord Shiveleys first wife had died under mysterious circumstances.
Evangeline shuddered.
The king and Lord Shiveley will arrive tonight, and you must be ready to greet them. Muriel bustled over to the wardrobe where Evangelines best dresses were kept. She opened it and rummaged through her clothing. You should wash your hair. I have ordered your bath sent up, and I shall
Muriel, stop! Evangeline stared at the woman who had been her closest companion and confidant for ten years. Though Muriel was nearly old enough to be her mother, she could not be so daft.
Muriel stared back at her with a bland expression. What is it?
Surely you must see that I cannot marry that man. Her voice was a breathy whisper.
My dear, Muriel said, not unkindly, you know, you have always known, you must marry whomever the king wishes you to.
Evangelines throat constricted. The king does not care a whit about my feelings.
Careful. Muriels gaze darted about the room. You mustnt risk speaking against the king. You never know who might betray you.
I shall tell the king to his face when he arrives that I shall not marry Lord Shiveley, and it is cruel to ask it of me.
You know you shall do no such thi
I shall! I shall tell him!
Evangeline. You are too old to get in such a passion. Sit down and calm yourself. Breathe.
Evangeline crossed her arms over her chest and ignored Muriels order. She had to think of some way to escape. Women often married men they did not particularly want to marry, but she could not marry Lord Shiveley. She was not like other women. They might accept unfair treatment, but Evangeline would fight, argue, rebel against injustice. Other women conformed to what was expected of them. Perhaps they did not dream of freedom and a different life.
You must listen to reason, Muriel said. Lord Shiveley is rich and can give you your own home. You will finally have the freedom to do whatever you wish. You will have servants and your own gardens and even your own horse. Many ladies enjoy falconry and hunting. You can have as many dresses and as much jewelry, or anything else your heart desires.
Only if her husband allowed it.
Muriel knew her well enough to know what might sway her. But a husband did not give freedom. A husband made rules. He took away his wifes control and replaced it with his own. A wealthy, powerful husband could order his wife around, beat her, do whatever he wished to her, and she could do naught.