“Let go!” she yelled. “Let me go!”
The troll paid no attention to her entreaties but proceeded to drag her back along the trail in the direction of his home.
Gretel bounced over the sharp stones and through the cold, filthy mud, her skirts gathering up about her armpits as they went, her underwear quickly beginning to shred. She snatched at bushes and boulders as she was hauled past, but all were wet and slippery and impossible to keep hold of.
“Stop it, you brute! Let me go this instant!” she shouted in the no-nonsense, do-as-I-say-or-else voice she ordinarily reserved for Hans in his most drunken state. But to no avail.
“Big-fat woman stay with Troll!” he insisted, hauling away, apparently oblivious to the considerable weight of his quarry.
She was just about to give in and accept the awful fate that seemed to be written for Gretel of Gesternstadt when there was a rustling in the undergrowth followed by a loud thud. The troll stopped. A break in the clouds allowed Gretel a clear view of her abductor as he teetered, reeled, and fell. She screamed as the vile body plummeted toward hers, but it toppled aslant, landing with a bone-crunching splat on the stony path beside her. Roland appeared at her feet, clutching the hefty bough with which he had just poleaxed the troll.
“Aren’t you supposed to be camped in the woods farther down the mountain?” she asked him.
“Aren’t you glad I’m up here instead?” he asked her.
Gretel had to admit that she was. He helped her to her feet and she did her best to rearrange what was left of her clothes. The troll showed little sign of stirring but she had no desire to linger. Clinging to Roland’s arm, she hurried down the path and to the gig he had parked in the lea of the hill.
An hour later they had scampered back through Bad am Zee, taking advantage of the cover of night, and traveled off the main road for some distance before they found a deserted farm building in which to shelter. Roland tethered the horse near some loose hay at one end of the barn. Gretel changed into fresh, if crumpled, clothes. In the doorway Roland made a circle of stones and lit a small fire, reasoning that no one would be abroad to notice the smoke at such an hour. Gretel was glad of the comfort of the flames. Even in dry garments she felt chilled and sore, her grazes and bruises properly beginning to make themselves felt now. She undid the parcel of provisions Hans had furnished her with and offered Roland some of the excellent bratwurst and black bread. There was a bottle of beer, too, which, on top of the earlier swigs of grog, quickly began to spread a welcome numbness through her body.
She noticed that her traveling companion wore his habitual look of melancholy as he stared into the fire.
“Thank you,” she said, “for coming to my aid.”
“You know I did not think it wise for you to go there.”
“The troll had information vital to my investigation.”
“And did you get that information out of the wretched creature?” Roland picked up a stick and poked at the flames.
“You have met him before, I think,” she said.
“I have. Which is why I could not rest easy knowing where you were. I could not leave you to his . . . attentions.”
“But you thought to. To begin with. You were content with our plan, that I confront the troll alone while you waited.”
“It was not the right thing to do. I know that now.” He looked up at her, briefly, and then turned his attention back to the fire. “I knew it then, too. I am sorry that you were hurt.”
“Oh, don’t concern yourself, Roland. Nothing but a few scratches to my person and a few dents to my dignity. I am accustomed to both.” She broke off another chunk of bread and savored the malty taste, allowing it to banish the memory of the troll’s unidentifiable stew. “And in any case,” she went on, “it was worth it. My mission was accomplished.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed. I have the name and the location of the . . . person who took the cats. Or, more accurately, who had them taken on his instructions.”
Still without looking at her Roland asked, “And do you intend seeking out this . . . person?”
“I do. It may well be that he still has some of the creatures in his possession.”
The young man gave a derisory snort. “It may well not!”
Gretel finished her bread and dusted crumbs from her lap. She drained the last of the beer, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and belched loudly. “Oh, excuse me! But I do find discomfort so much better out than in. Just as I believe you will feel incomparably better if you for once and for all unburden yourself to me, cease dancing about the subject, and tell me everything you know about the cats, the troll, and the giant.”
At the mention of the word “giant,” Roland dropped the stick. It fell into the hottest part of the fire and was soon spitting as the flames consumed it. He watched, fascinated, and continued to stare at it as he at last told Gretel all there was to tell.
“Many years ago, when I was but nineteen, I traveled with my father to Bad am Zee to collect a cart for repair. It was market day. I had time to spare so I wandered among the stalls. It was there I met the girl I was to fall in love with. I knew at once, the moment I saw her, that I would love no other.”
“Johanna?” Gretel asked.
“Yes, but . . . ?”
“Never mind. I’m sorry I interrupted. Please, continue.”
“Johanna. As sweet and as kind a girl as you could wish to meet. She lived, then, with her mother, and her brother, Jack. You will have heard of him, of course.”
“Young Jack and his magic beans, who climbed to the giant’s castle and stole away the goose that laid the golden eggs.”
“The same. And for years the family lived in comfort because of that goose. But, as all things do, their good luck came to an end. The bird was out at dusk, enjoying the summer air, when a fox happened upon it, and, well, I think you can guess.”
Gretel nodded.
“It was a terrible blow for the family. They had only a single golden egg remaining. Johanna was all for buying another field, a cow or two, and returning to a simple farming life, but Jack had tasted adventure. It wasn’t enough for him. It was decided, he decided, that they should move.”
“I remember he left the area.”
“He and his mother traveled to Spain, where they hoped to open a fine restaurant and live in the sunshine for the rest of their lives.”
“And did they?”
He shook his head. “They met with bandits as they tried to cross the Pyrenees. Both were murdered.”
“Thank heavens Johanna was not with them. She has you to thank for that, I think.”
“She stayed behind because of me, yes. But I doubt she would thank me now.”
“But you were young, in love. You are the son of a successful cartwright—why did you not marry the girl and take her home to your family?”
“We planned to. She and I had talked about it at great length. She would remain in Bad am Zee for the summer, and as soon as word came that her family were settled in their new life, she would come to Gesternstadt and we would be wed.”
“Alas, that word never came.”
“Her grief was terrible to witness. And then, as if that were not enough for her to bear . . .”
“What?”
“It was at that time that my father’s habit of gambling started to destroy all our lives. My own mother took to her bed from the worry of it all and was in her grave before Christmas. Nothing we could do would stop him. He borrowed money, from some terrible people.”
“People called Muller, perhaps?”
“Among others.” Roland nodded. “It looked as if we would lose everything. And I could not leave my father and my younger brother. Much as I wanted to give up on my family and go to Johanna, I could not. It was then that she hit upon a plan. An idea that seemed dangerous, and yet simple. Johanna knew that when Jack cut down the beanstalk, the giant was not at the top but at the bottom. Marooned. Forced to carve out a terrestria
l existence for himself. And this he did with some success. He traveled in the east, I know not where, hiring out his brutal strength to whomever was willing to pay for it. Avaricious men saw his worth. Adventurers. Generals. Princes, even. He returned with a fortune in treasure. He wanted to build an impregnable castle to house his booty, so he built it—”
“—inside a cave.”
“The most luxurious cave you have ever seen.” Roland sighed and rubbed his eyes, the memories painful for him. “Johanna thought if she went to the giant, if she explained who she was, and that it was, after all, by her brother’s deeds that the giant had come to his new situation of great wealth and comfort, she thought that he might feel kindly disposed toward her. That he might be touched by her plight.”
“But what a foolish course of action! Surely the giant would harbor hatred for Jack, and might have taken out his anger on the wretched boy’s sister. Had she not considered this?”
“Johanna was desperate. We all were. Such a condition clouds one’s thinking.”
“But the giant did not crush her beneath his giant fist in fury.”
“Indeed he did not! He scarcely listened to her words because at the first sight of her he fell in love with her and begged her to stay with him for all time. Of course she would not agree to such a thing. But our situation grew increasingly desperate. In the end, a compromise was agreed upon. She would live in the castle, as his honored guest, but one weekend in three she would return to Bad am Zee, to spend time in the area she knew as a child, to enjoy the market, society—”
“—and her lover.”
Roland’s voice had become tense with emotion. “We meant it only to be for a short time. Until I had cured my father of his terrible affliction. Until my brother was old enough to understand and to help. Until I could recover our lost business and earn sufficient to keep my family and a wife. But weeks turned to months. And months to years.”
Something stirred in Gretel’s memory. She prodded it with a mental finger until it revealed itself to her.
“The driver of the stagecoach!” she exclaimed. “All muffled up and hardly his eyes showing even though it was a warm spring day. It was you!”
“On those weekends I would change places with the driver, leaving him to enjoy a rest and ale at our expense. I would travel to Bad am Zee and spend those few precious days with my beloved.”
“And she would give you what money she had extracted from the giant?”
“Yes. Sometimes it was very little, sometimes it was some treasure or other that I would have to sell. The giant was generous to her, lavished gifts upon her, but never gave her large amounts of money. And he frequently demanded to be shown the gifts, so that she could not sell them.”
“You were quickly trapped in this terrible situation, I see.”
“Trapped,” he repeated.
“But wait a minute. By the time Hans and I went to Bad am Zee that day, Johanna was living in Gesternstadt and working at Madame Renoir’s salon. I saw her myself. Why would you be traveling there at all if she no longer lived there?”
“The giant had grown tired of the nature of their agreement. He didn’t want her going off anywhere without him. He flew into jealous rages that were terrifying to see.”
“The poor child.”
“She could no longer stay there. She saw that soon she would be nothing more than his prisoner. A chance came for her to flee one day and she took it, coming to Gesternstadt.”
“And still you did not take her in?”
“I could not! The workshop had been burned to the ground, my father was inconsolable, we had even less money than before, and there were threats. Terrible threats made against all who were close to him.”
“The money lenders.”
“It was not safe for Johanna to so much as be seen with me. And then”—he pushed a hand through his floppy hair—“I traveled one day to the Summer Schloss to deliver a new wheel for one of the royal coaches.”
“And you met Princess Charlotte.”
“At first I did not take her attention seriously. No king would allow his daughter to bestow her affections upon a lowly tradesman’s son. Especially a bankrupt one! And besides, my heart belonged to Johanna.”
“Even so, I imagine what Princess Charlotte wants, Princess Charlotte gets. And she might prove a pretty consolation . . .”
“To my shame, I was tempted, for a while. We met in all manner of places. That was part of the excitement, at least for her. The disguises. The risk of discovery. Sometimes we met in Bad am Zee; after all, I had already a system in place for visiting the town.”
“And sometimes you met in a little copse less than a crooked mile outside Gesternstadt.”
“And each time I promised myself would be the last.”
“She gave you money?”
For a full minute he could not bring himself to answer. When he did speak, Gretel noticed the flickering light of the dying fire reflected in a single tear on his cheek. “You can only imagine how that made me feel,” he said.
They sat in silence. Roland was lost in his own personal torments. Gretel was busy slotting together all the new pieces of the puzzle, and watching as a clear, if unattractive, picture was constructed before her mind’s eye. At last, things were beginning to make sense. There were still unanswered questions, of course. Not least concerning the three dead bodies. But she could see Roland was close to the breaking point. She would not press him further; there was important work to be done.
Tomorrow.
She stood up, her knees creaking as she stretched her legs.
“Roland,” she said, “I am a firm believer that there is no situation that cannot be improved by action, so action we must take. It is late. We will rest ourselves and the horse here for the night. At dawn we will head east.”
“To the giant’s castle?”
“Indeed. It seems both you and I have business there,” she said, before fluffing up some warm, dry hay and flopping down into it. She pulled her cape up over her and let exhaustion carry her off into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
TEN
The sharp, unearthly bark of a dog fox woke her while it was still dark. She sat up, wondering for a moment how on earth she came to be in a barn with a strange young man. As the events of the previous day came back to her, she shifted in her hay bed, her bruised and aching body complaining at the smallest demand made upon it. The prospect of two days’ travel in the ruinous gig did nothing to make her feel any better. On top of which, she had, as yet, no sensible plan beyond travel east. What then? She would be faced with an impenetrable castle-within-a-cave, inhabited by a lovelorn giant. Was she to simply knock on the door, introduce herself, and demand the return of Frau Hapsburg’s cats? She still did not know why the giant required them. Despite her loathing for the creatures in general, these felines were in particular: they had names, they had a doting owner. It did not sit well with Gretel to think of them badly used.
Roland’s reaction suggested the answer to that particular question would not be a cheering one. And there were so many other things as yet cloaked in a fog of mystery. If Muller had been lending money to Herr Hund and then threatening him, had Hund himself killed the man? Or Roland, perhaps? Gretel glanced over to where the youth lay sleeping. It was hard to believe him capable of such a thing, but then, his was a desperate situation. And what of Peterson-Muller? Was the same killer also responsible for his unpleasant end? Roland stirred in his sleep, muttering Johanna’s name piteously. Surely not. And there was still the murder of Bechstein to unravel.
Gretel remembered that he had seemed very frightened that night when she had bumped into him at the entrance to the Bad-Hotel. He clearly knew his life was in danger. And the Petersons were in town. But then, so was Roland. No, there had to be another explanation, she decided. She stood up, dusting hay from her clothes and dragging her fingers through her mud-encrusted hair. It was a relief that there was no looking glass, for she feared her appearance would caus
e her serious alarm. She reapplied what pins remained among the tangles and helped herself to the last of the pickled eggs. The sounds of her activities roused Roland from his fitful slumbers.
“Is it dawn already?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“Not quite, but the sky has cleared a little. I think it best we start out at once.”
“It is a long journey, fraulein. Are you sure you wish to undertake it?”
“I have no choice. There is the case to be solved, and there are matters I must prove or disprove if my brother and I are to retain our freedom, and, quite possibly, our heads. I do not wish to go, but go I must.”
“The giant is a monstrous creature.”
Noticing for the first time that there was fear in the young man’s eyes, Gretel told him, “I do not expect you to accompany me all the way to the castle. It will be sufficient that you transport me close enough that I might walk there.”
“You cannot confront him alone!”
“It is not my intention to confront him at all. Do not concern yourself. I merely wish to point out that I hired you to drive my conveyance, nothing more. You have already done more than I could have asked of you.” She paused, then ventured, “However, you may wish to consider the possibility that, within the giant’s castle, there lies the answer to your problems.”
“How so?”
“Leaving aside for a moment the matter of your father’s gambling, it seems to me that your difficulties are, in fact, of the mundane monetary kind. It strikes me that the giant has not played fair by Johanna by wishing to change the terms of their arrangement, and by bullying and frightening her so that she had to flee. Surely a being in possession of such a fortune as his would neither begrudge nor miss some trifling piece of treasure. A piece that could restore the fortunes of the Hund household and allow you to, at last, marry the poor girl?”
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