He shook his head. “I think not. My time is better spent planning how to make more money so that I can increase your dowry. But perhaps I should be trying to hunt down a husband that you will deem worthy.” He shook his finger at her. “The men of Thornbeck have been clamoring at my door, begging to marry you for years. There is not another maiden in Thornbeck who is as picky as you. I have offered you every wealthy man in Thornbeck, and you have turned them all down.”
Odette let her mouth drop open in what she hoped was an expression of shock. “Every ugly, fat, old”—she paused to emphasize the word further—“wealthy man. Are there any young men in Thornbeck who do not have a hairy wart on their nose and still have all their teeth who might be willing to marry me?”
“See how picky you are?” He gave a look of mock outrage. “I suppose you would be proud to have a handsome husband, even if he was also a poor peasant farmer living in a one-room hovel, but I happen to think you deserve better than that. You do not want your children begging for bread, do you?”
Odette frowned up at him, her hand on her hip. “Of course I don’t want to marry a poor man, but are all the rich men ugly and old?” She tapped her finger against her chin, then held it up in the air. “I know! You should marry a rich widow. Then she could support all of us, and I would never have to marry at all.”
“That is a very good idea. As soon as I find one, I will be sure to marry her as quickly as possible. And if she is unwilling to marry, I shall get her with child and then she will have no choice.”
“You are incorrigible.” She slapped playfully at his arm.
He winked and they parted. Odette headed down the stairs to her friend.
How fortunate she was to have an uncle like Rutger. Most guardians would have married her off years ago to the wealthiest man they could find and would not have allowed her any choice. But he had always asked her thoughts on the matter. If she were to marry, she could no longer do what she pleased—namely, hunt deer in the margrave’s forest. Besides, those men had not held any appeal for her.
Odette joined Anna and they ventured back into the street. The crowds of people buzzed like bees as they made their way to the open space of the Marktplatz.
“Who do you think you will dream of tonight?” Anna asked as they walked arm in arm and passed the big cathedral, the tallest building in town, on their way to the festivities.
“I rarely ever dream of pleasant things.”
Anna gave her a frown and raised her eyebrows.
“But tonight I shall pray to dream of a handsome husband.”
Anna smiled her approval.
Already there was a large crowd of people dancing in the open plaza around the fountain where venders sold goods three days a week from portable booths. The weather was perfect as the sun sank behind the four-and five-story buildings that encircled the Marktplatz.
Jongleurs were throwing colorful balls in the air, keeping them moving in a continuous circle of three, while another young man played the flute and danced. Sellers shouted out various wares and foodstuffs for sale, but the bailiffs were forcing them to stay on the periphery to allow the people room to dance.
The Minnesingers and their accompanying musicians were set up at the head of the Marktplatz and were already singing an old familiar love ballad. One tenor voice rang out above the others as he sang:
You are mine, I am yours,
Of that you may be sure.
You’re safely locked away
Deep within my heart,
But lost is the key
And there you’ll ever stay.
The words made Odette wrinkle her nose. She did not like to admit it, but she did hope someday she might want to “lock someone away in her heart” and lose the key. But unless he was wealthy and willing to help the poor, she feared she might be destined to go on poaching deer until she grew too old to stretch a bowstring.
Straight ahead she caught sight of Anna’s husband, Peter, waiting for them at the fountain in the middle of the cobblestone city center. The fountain was a popular meeting place, so the crowd grew even thicker as they drew closer.
Peter lifted his hand to wave at them just as a young man, dressed in the garb of a wealthy burgher, was pressing through the people toward them. Mathis Papendorp, the Burgomeister’s son, was always smiling and bowing and kissing her hand. Rutger had long been speaking to her of his suitability as a husband.
The young man reached them and bowed. “Beautiful maidens, would you do me the honor of dancing with me this Midsummer’s Eve?”
“I’m afraid we cannot both dance with you.” Odette arched her brows at him. “At the same time, leastways. And although my friend is quite beautiful, she is also married.”