A Melanie Dickerson Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “What? When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Do you think he recognized you?”

  Odette shook her head. “But if he caught one of the boys, it is possible he would have told Jorgen that I am the poacher.”

  “Oh. But you do not know if he caught him or not?”

  “I am not certain.”

  “Then you must assume he did not. You must determine not to worry about it and go to sleep. You must sleep, Odette.”

  “What about you?”

  “I will sleep too. I lay awake most of the night praying for you.”

  A lump formed in Odette’s throat. No one had ever told her before that they were praying for her. “Thank you, Anna.”

  “Of course, you mad, wonderful, courageous woman who steals the margrave’s deer.”

  Mad. That was a good description of it. Truly, she must be mad.

  “Have you received any letters from The Red House girl, Kathryn?” Rutger asked.

  Odette shook her head as they ate their midday meal together.

  “You have been quieter than usual the last several days.”

  “I have not heard anything from Kathryn, but I do not believe she is able to read or write. And I am well.”

  “I saw Anna leaving this morning. I hope she did not keep you from sleeping.”

  “Oh no.” Odette shook her head. What would he say if she told him what had happened last night? And that she had told Anna her—their—secret.

  “How is Anna?”

  “She is well.” She stared down at her food, not feeling very hungry.

  “Have you learned anything else from Jorgen? Has he found out anything else about the poachers?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” She might as well confess. “I think he caught one of the boys last night.”

  Rutger started coughing, as his fruit-juice compote must have gone down the wrong way. He took another swallow.

  When he could speak again, he rasped out, “What did you say?”

  “Jorgen heard us last night and yelled at us. I do not think he was able to see me. We ran, and I think he may have caught Wernher.”

  Rutger’s face seemed to turn a light shade of gray. He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “Why do you think Jorgen caught him?”

  “I heard Wernher cry out.”

  “Will you see Jorgen today?”

  “Not today.”

  “You should have told me. You should have woken me up as soon as you returned home.”

  “I’m sorry. I knew there was nothing any of us could do.”

  He heaved a sigh. “All will be well, I am sure. I shall try to find out what happened, if he was captured.”

  “Oh, thank you, Rutger. I am worried about him. But how will you find out? What will you do?”

  “Do not worry, my dear. I have resources.”

  “Do you have any influence with the margrave?”

  He hesitated, then shook his head. “The margrave is a powerful man, but he has lived away from this region his whole life. I do not know anyone who has any influence over him, except his chancellor, Ulrich. And probably Jorgen. But I will find out if Wernher made his way home.”

  “Do you think the margrave is a fair man, given the rumors?”

  “I know little about whether he is fair, but he placed a harsh punishment on a servant who was caught stealing several months ago.”

  If the margrave was capable of killing his own brother, what would he do to poor Wernher? Would he torture him and force him to tell whom he was working for? She and Rutger would lose everything. They might even have to leave Thornbeck in disgrace. No wonder Rutger had looked a bit ashen when she told him about Wernher.

  “Since tomorrow is Sunday, and I am always so tired when I’m at church, I thought I would not go hunting tonight, to take a Sabbath rest. Perhaps I will rest two nights a week.” If she wasn’t taken to the dungeon today by the margrave’s guards.

  Rutger looked concerned. “Of course, my dear. I think that is a good idea.”

  “I will go up to my room now. Will you tell me what you find out about Wernher, as soon as you can?”

  “Yes, my dear. Now do not worry. Naught is ever accomplished by worrying.” Rutger gave her a small smile, but it seemed rather brittle and forced.

  He was as worried as she was.

  17

  TODAY WAS SUNDAY, and she actually felt well rested and might not fall asleep while she prayed, as she had often done in the past.

  Rutger had informed her that Wernher had slipped through Jorgen’s grasp and escaped. She shuddered inside at how close she and the boys had come to Jorgen catching them. She would be sure to thank God for Wernher’s escape.

  If she saw Jorgen at church, would she be brave enough to ask him how things were going with his hunt for the poacher?

  Odette walked with Rutger to the cathedral, which was not far from their home. Odette pulled her veil over her face as she entered the echoing nave. She dipped her fingers in the holy water and made the sign of the cross. Then, bowing her head, she genuflected before the crucifix depicting Jesus suffering on the cross. After a moment of silent prayer—God, forgive me of my sins and remember them no more—she made her way toward the altar, finding a place to stand where she could see the priest.

  Odette glanced around but did not see Anna or Jorgen. Rutger joined her, bowing his head and kneeling to pray. Odette did the same, making the sign of the cross over her chest.

  Usually Odette felt little or no guilt for her poaching activities. After all, she was feeding the poor. But today she couldn’t seem to stop confessing it to God as she prayed.

  I have broken the law of the land. I am sorry I could not have fed the children any other way . . . Forgive me if what I am doing causes Jorgen pain or trouble. I do not want to hurt anyone. Forgive me for breaking the law and stealing from the margrave and king.

  It was at the edge of her mind to say she wished she didn’t have to hunt anymore. At first it had been exciting, but now . . . She rather dreaded the killing and the guilt of knowing she was stealing the margrave’s—the king’s—property.

  I am so confused. Is it not right to feed the poor? Lord God, provide another way, if it be Your will to do so.

  Brother Philip knelt not far away. He then prostrated himself on the stone floor, facedown, as he often did. Odette had once asked him why he did that, and he scowled, grunted, and said, “Because I am overcome by the realization of my sin,” as if it should be obvious. What would he say if he knew about Odette’s poaching? There probably wasn’t enough prostrating in the world to absolve herself of that sin, at least in Brother Philip’s eyes. But she didn’t have to absolve herself in his eyes, only in God’s.

  A man with thick dark-blond hair caught her eye. Jorgen walked up the center of the nave and took a place on the other side, parallel to her.

  She should be meditating on her sins from the past week instead of letting her heart flutter over the thought of speaking with Jorgen. Odette bowed her head and closed her eyes. But instead of examining herself and meditating on Jesus, an image of Jorgen’s face rose before her as he discovered that she was the poacher he was searching for—the image from her recurring dream.

  The choir of boys recited some hymns in plainsong, then the priest began the Liturgy of the Word and gave a short homily. When he began the Sacrament of Eucharist, Odette closed her eyes and concentrated on the meaning of it. How sad she felt for those who did not understand Latin, for it always lifted her heart to meditate on the words and to believe she was in the very presence of God.

  When she went forward to receive holy Communion, her eye caught Jorgen’s as he filed in behind her.

  The back of her neck prickled. What was he thinking, walking just behind her? He had caught Wernher two nights ago, even if he had lost him soon after. Had he figured out that she was the poacher? How had he looked at her a moment before? She’d only glanced at him. She didn’t think he looked angry, bu
t she couldn’t be sure.

  She was being foolish. Of course he did not know she was the poacher. Her face burned with the heat of the midday sun nonetheless.

  When the priest dismissed the people, Odette hoped she didn’t look obvious as she made her way toward Jorgen, trying to keep him in the corner of her vision. People were moving down the middle toward the entrance, blocking her view. Finally she could see him again. Dark circles under his eyes joined the bruise on his cheekbone and made him look worn out. His brows were drawn together, but when he saw her, his face relaxed.

  Mathis Papendorp stepped between them. His smiling face loomed before her.

  “Odette, you look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Mathis. It is a wonderful day to be in church, is it not? Are you feeling absolved?”

  He opened his mouth, then faltered. “Absolved? Why, yes, I suppose so.”

  “I do as well.” Odette smiled. “It is good to see you, Mathis. I wish you a good week.”

  “Thank you. I wish you a good week as well, Odette.” He looked at her for a moment, then whispered, “I am giving you time to think, as you asked me to. Please do . . . think of me fondly.”

  She opened her mouth but wasn’t sure what to say. So she smiled and nodded.

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Fare well, Odette.”

  “Fare well, Mathis.”

  As soon as he turned away, Jorgen said to Rutger, who stood just behind her, “May I escort your niece home?”

  “You may.” Rutger nodded to him and joined the crowd heading for the door.

  Jorgen held out his arm to her. He did not look at all angry, and her shoulders grew lighter.

  “You look well rested,” he said.

  “Thank you, but I was thinking you look the opposite.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Mathis staring at them with narrowed eyes. He had stopped not far from the door of the cathedral, but now he scowled and stalked out.

  Odette hoped she had not hurt his feelings. But standing so close to Jorgen, touching his arm, she couldn’t help but focus her attention on him. “Have you had some difficult nights?”

  He sighed. “You do not want to hear about my troubles.”

  They walked out into the sunlight, and Odette found herself pressed close to his arm as the people jostled them. They waited for two arguing women to pass before continuing on their way. Rutger was ahead of them, too far away to hear their conversation.

  “I do not mind listening to whatever is troubling you.” She spoke the truth, even if her greater curiosity was for what he had found out.

  He shook his head, pressing his lips between his teeth. “I caught a boy in the woods a few nights ago.”

  “Was he the poacher?”

  Jorgen shook his head again. “But the poacher was there and had just killed a deer. I think the boy and at least one other person were about to carry it away.” He was quiet for a moment, staring straight ahead.

  “So you caught him? Did he tell you who the poacher was?”

  “No.” He looked down at his feet as they walked slowly, letting Rutger move farther away. “I lost him. He wriggled out of my grasp. I chased him a long way, but I lost him.” He sighed again.

  It felt wrong, but her heart swelled with a surge of relief that the boy had gotten away, while Jorgen’s face was a picture of burdened disappointment. A stab of guilt pierced her chest.

  “I am sorry. I know how badly you wanted to catch him.”

  “I need to catch him. What kind of forester would I be if I cannot catch a poacher, one who seems to be poaching so much and so often? The margrave will lose confidence in me and replace me with someone else.”

  “Surely he would not do that. He must know you are doing your best.”

  “And the chancellor dislikes me and is probably leaping at every opportunity to malign me to the margrave.”

  “How could anyone dislike you?”

  “Ulrich seemed to dislike me from the first time I saw him when we were children. Then he seemed to become jealous when Lord Thornbeck appointed me forester. I think he has been afraid of losing his position ever since the former margrave died in the fire.”

  “Some people are jealous. The margrave probably sees his true nature.”

  He shrugged. “Possibly.”

  “And perhaps he sees that your strong character is the exact opposite of that petty chancellor’s.”

  He smiled a little and gazed down at her. “You are very loyal, are you not?”

  She thought a moment. “I am loyal, but I hope I am only loyal to people and causes that are worthy.” She smiled up at him. “You are a loyal person, too, are you not?”

  “I suppose.”

  Thinking of his loyalty to the margrave, she asked, “Do you think it is ever possible to be too loyal?”

  His brows came together. “Perhaps.” Then he nodded. “It is possible, if one is loyal to the wrong thing . . . or the wrong person.”

  “Very true.” If the margrave had killed his brother so he could take his place, then Jorgen’s loyalty to the man could get him in a lot of trouble and cause him to do things that were wrong. She hoped he would see that, sooner rather than later.

  But could she also be loyal to the wrong person or thing? She was only loyal to God, her uncle Rutger, her friend Anna, and the poor. No, her loyalties were certainly righteous.

  Odette walked beside Anna as they made their way home the next day with baskets full of fruits and vegetables from the market. Odette had a servant for that chore, but she had enjoyed choosing them in the bustling Thornbeck Marktplatz and talking with the various sellers.

  “These melons look so sweet.” Odette thumped the round fruit with her finger.

  “You paid too much for them,” Anna scolded. “The woman would have taken less.”

  “I did not mind. Besides, she looked as if she needed it more than I did.” Her dress had been patched multiple times, and she wore no shoes at all.

  A woman stood beside a cart with bunches of flowers and others planted in earthen pots. The seller held out a pot of bright-red geraniums and called, “Flowers make the heart merry!”

  Odette was drawn like a honeybee to the red geraniums. She and Anna exclaimed over their favorite ones. While Anna bartered with the seller, offering her some carrots and leeks for a bunch of flowers, Odette wanted the geraniums.

  A man’s voice near her caught her attention as he said, “That new girl is back at The Red House. Remember the young one with the pretty face?”

  Odette glanced to the right. Two men were standing in front of a baker’s shop only a few feet away. One held a long loaf of bread under his arm. The other bent toward him, as if imparting a secret, with a leering grin on his whiskery face. She itched to slap that grin right off him.

  The other man grunted and nodded.

  “We should go over and give her a greeting, eh?” He laughed, an ugly sound.

  “Agnes is protective of that one. She might not let you—”

  “Aw, Agnes likes me. She lets me have any girl I want.”

  Odette’s stomach turned as the blood drained from her face. She glared at the two men, but they did not even see her as they moved away from the front of the bakery and down the street.

  Odette grabbed Anna’s arm. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Anna was just turning away from the flower seller with her bunch of flowers.

  Odette stepped aside, out of the street, pulling Anna with her. “There were two men over by the bakery, and one of them said something that makes me think Kathryn went back to The Red House.”

  “Oh no, I cannot believe that. It might not be Kathryn. It couldn’t be. She is with her brothers at the farm.”

  “I have a strange feeling it is her. I have to find out.”

  “How will you do that? You cannot!” Anna put her flowers in her basket and grasped Odette’s arm. “What are you thinking?”

  Odette knew she
probably shouldn’t tell Anna, since she might try to stop her. “I cannot let Kathryn be molested by that disgusting man. I will simply go to The Red House and see if she is there.”

  “They will not let you in that place.”

  They would if she wanted to work there.

  Odette stood in front of The Red House with Anna still holding on to her arm.

  “Odette, what are you going to do?”

  She turned to her friend and looked her in the eye. “Nothing bad will happen. I only want to find out if Kathryn is here.” She thrust her basket into Anna’s hand. “I will be back in a few minutes.”

  She turned away from Anna’s distraught expression and strode toward the front door of The Red House.

  The guard at the door trained his eyes on her as she approached. He uncrossed his arms and turned his body to face her. “What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to Agnes.”

  “Why? What about?” He narrowed his eyes. Otherwise he didn’t even move, as though she were no threat at all.

  “She will want to talk to me.”

  “Go away. This is not the kind of place for a maiden like you.”

  “How do you know what kind of maiden I am?” She felt a bit queasy in her stomach at what she was implying. She clenched her jaw and said firmly, “I want to talk to Agnes.”

  He leaned toward her menacingly. “Why?”

  “I want to work for her.”

  He leaned back with a lift of his brows. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Very well.” He opened the door and preceded her into the house.

  When they walked in, everyone in the room turned to look at her. One woman, wearing clothing that covered more of her skin than the rest of them, turned and put her hands on her hips. “Who is this you have, Conrad?”

  “She wants to talk to you, Agnes.”

  The woman looked at Odette from head to toe. “What do you want?”

  Odette walked toward her. “I was thinking of working for you. I had heard that my friend Kathryn was working here, and if she is here, then I want to work here too.”