The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest

by Melanie Dickerson

  “O Father God,” Odette whispered, “I do not want to do this anymore.” It was getting harder and harder to find deer to kill, and she simply was tired of it. “God, what am I to do? Help me.”

  She saw the pinched face of Hanns and the rest of the children, hungry and unsmiling. She couldn’t let them down, could she?

  She forced herself to get out of bed and put on her hunting clothes. She had wanted to stay awake and talk to Rutger, to confront him about what was happening to the deer she had been killing and also about the missing vase and tapestry, but he had not come home at his usual time, and she had fallen asleep. But it was dark now, and she had to go see if she could find a deer. For Hanns.

  Half an hour later, she was stalking through the trees. She kept an arrow nocked and ready, for she had seen a deer only a moment before, barely visible between the leaves of a tree. She wanted to get a good shot at it since she couldn’t afford to lose any more arrows and didn’t want to wound any more deer.

  She crept quite close, her feet soundless as she moved carefully. The deer also moved forward, bending toward the ground, then lifting its slender head. It stood motionless while Odette took careful aim. She was so close she aimed for the spot on its head that would kill it instantly. She let the arrow fly, and it found its mark. The deer fell to the ground.

  As the boys swarmed to prepare it to be taken out of the forest, she heard one of them murmur, “Amazing shot,” and shake his head.

  Few people would ever know of her skill with a bow and arrow. But the food she was providing for the poor was what she was most proud of, and now she wasn’t sure if the deer she had been killing were even going to feed the poor. What was happening to her kills? She would make sure part of this meat went to Hanns. She had the boys wrap up a big share of it and help her sling it over her shoulder as she trudged toward the little hovel Hanns shared with his mother.

  “What did you discover?” Jorgen approached Dieter at the fountain the next day.

  “Rutger is an interesting person.” Dieter’s lips twisted in a wry frown as he remained standing. “He went to the corner of Roemer and Butcher’s Guild Strasse and waited for several minutes, as if he was looking for someone. Mathis Papendorp walked up and they talked for a few minutes. Then they went their separate ways.”

  “Mathis Papendorp?” Now that he thought about it, Mathis had been at the ball as well, lurking in the shadows with Rutger. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Maybe they had schemed together to have another woman trick him into kissing her, and they made sure Odette was there to see it. Of course Rutger would rather his niece marry Mathis, who was wealthy and influential, than marry Jorgen, who was merely a forester. But even though he had never thought of Rutger as the sort of man to do something so underhanded, Jorgen could easily imagine Mathis working to persuade Rutger to help him undermine Jorgen’s character in Odette’s eyes.

  “Did he go anywhere else?”

  “Yes. It was still very early in the morning, and he went to The Red House.”

  Jorgen blinked. “The Red House?”

  “He went in the back door by way of the alley. I was afraid to try to follow him in. He would see me if I did. So I waited outside.”

  “Did he leave with anything, like a bundle?”

  “No. He stayed for several minutes, then came back out.”

  “But today was not a black-market day,” Jorgen said. “Where did he go after that?”

  “He went to the storehouse near the north gate. Everyone there was bowing and showing deference to him so I assumed he owned it.”

  “Yes, I believe he does.”

  “But he also met three young men, just boys around thirteen or fourteen, and spoke to them for several minutes. He gave them each some money.”

  “Did you hear anything he said to them?”

  “I tried to get close enough, but he was speaking too quietly.”

  “What did the boys look like?”

  “Ordinary, their clothing rather poor, and they were all rather thin. After he gave them money, they left and Rutger went inside the storehouse. When I left to come here, he was still there.”

  Could the boys be the ones who had accompanied the poacher? Could Rutger be behind the poaching? It seemed strange but possible, especially if he was involved with the black market at The Red House. Of course, Odette’s uncle could have been at The Red House for other reasons . . .

  Jorgen sat on the side of the fountain and rubbed his forehead. He had never suspected Rutger of having anything to do with the poaching problem or the black market. Could he be the mysterious poacher? Possibly, but it seemed more likely that he was the one selling the poached meat at the black market. Could Rutger even be the owner of The Red House?

  Poor Odette! If her uncle was involved with such reprehensible deeds, she would be devastated. He had to be sure before he said anything to her about it.

  “Do you wish me to follow him again tomorrow?” Dieter looked eager to continue his spying, especially when Jorgen handed him two coins.

  “No. Tomorrow I want you to follow our old friend Mathis Papendorp. Find out whatever you can. Then meet me the day after tomorrow here at the fountain.”

  Heinke helped Odette get properly dressed, then Odette set out for the storehouse where Rutger conducted his business affairs. When she reached it, she asked the nearest man where her uncle was, and he pointed him out, talking with a man at the other end of the building.

  Odette walked to him. “I need to speak with you.”

  Rutger took one look at her and his expression changed. “Very well. There is an office where we can speak in private.”

  They walked across the large building, only partially filled by bundles and trunks and stacks of crude wooden boxes. He took her to a narrow little room in one corner of the building, led her inside, and closed the door.

  There were a couple of stools and a table with an inkwell and writing implements and some paper. Tiny shelves covering one wall were stuffed with papers. Neither Odette nor Rutger sat.

  As she faced him, her breath started to come fast, her chest rising and falling. “What is happening?”

  “What do you mean?” His eyes were shadowy and distant.

  “What are you doing with the meat I have been providing? That meat was supposed to go to the children. What have you done, Rutger?” Tears of anger pricked her eyes.

  “I do not understand.”

  “Do not pretend you don’t understand! The children have not been receiving any meat. You told me you would deliver it.”

  “Please lower your voice, Odette. I don’t want any—”

  “What are you doing with the deer meat?” Odette spoke slowly, pausing after each word. “You are selling it, aren’t you?” Her voice rose dangerously high as the tears continued to well up. “How could you?”

  “Odette, I am sorry.” Now tears were swimming in Rutger’s eyes. She’d never seen him cry. He cleared his throat, looking away from her, staring at the wall. He cleared his throat again and looked down at the floor. “I . . . I am in debt.”

  Her stomach twisted and the breath left her lungs in a rush.

  “I did not intend to do it. My last two ships sank with all the goods I had paid to bring here. And then bandits stole the goods on the last caravan from the Orient. I was desperate, so I sold some of the meat. I only meant to do it once, but things went from bad to worse. The demand for the meat was so great and my debts were so pressing . . . I kept selling it.”

  Her chest ached and her face felt hot. “That is despicable.” The pain in his expression softened her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble? I never would have let you pay for that elaborate gown and mask for the margrave’s masquerade ball.”

  “I didn’t. Mathis Papendorp paid for it.”

  “What?” Odette stared at him. Had everything she’d believed about her uncle been a lie? Did she even know him at all? But how much money Rutger did or didn’t have wasn’t what she was mo
st concerned about.

  “How could you do it? How could you take their meat? What about the children? How long have you been selling the meat that was intended for them?”

  Rutger turned aside from her so she couldn’t see his face. He reached up to wipe his eyes. “Five or six months. I told myself it was only for a little while, but . . . I know there is nothing I can say that will make you not hate me.”

  Odette closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands. All that work, all those nights of hunting . . . And it had not been for the children at all. She felt betrayed, as if a knife had been plunged into her back.

  “This . . . This is something I never would have imagined you were capable of. You must have been desperate”—Odette chose her words carefully, trying to keep any bitterness out of her voice but failing—“to do such a thing.” What could she say? That she was disappointed in him? That was far from adequate.

  “I know. I am sorry, Odette. I never imagined . . . that I would . . . I’m sorry.”

  “How much money do you owe?” Her voice was hoarse as she held back tears, held back rage and despair at what he had stolen from the children—and from her. “Do you have any shipments or caravans on their way here that you could sell and pay your debt?”

  He shook his head. “It is as if heaven conspired against me. I’ve never known such bad fortune. The two ships that were lost were new and very seaworthy. The caravan that was attacked had been well guarded and armed. I cannot understand how it could have happened.” Rutger still was not facing her. “There is only one thing that can save our house.”

  Odette’s stomach sank. It must be something truly terrible. Finally she asked, “What is it?”

  “If you marry Mathis, he says he will pay all my debts and buy new ships.”

  She should have known. Heat seemed to rise into the top of her head like the steam in a covered kettle. She turned and walked out of his office.

  Odette walked down the street, her head down, her vision blurred. She bumped into several people, but she didn’t care. The walk home had never seemed so long before. She hadn’t felt this alone since Rutger came for her, all those years ago.

  She climbed the stairs to her bed and lay across it, too exhausted to even cry.

  Jorgen left Dieter to walk to Peter and Anna’s home. Since Odette said Kathryn was living and working with the servants, and it was just after midday, he hoped to catch her in the kitchen.

  Jorgen knocked on the back door of the Vorekens’ kitchen, which was behind the house in a detached stone building. The door opened and Kathryn stood staring at him.

  “May I talk to you, Kathryn?”

  She opened the door wider. She appeared to be alone in the large one-room kitchen. Jorgen stepped inside.

  The heat of the room raised perspiration on his forehead almost immediately. It was a warm summer day, but live coals smoldered in the kitchen hearth as a large piece of meat slowly roasted on the spit and a pot bubbled beside it, hanging from a hook over the red-hot embers.

  Kathryn pointed to a stool as she sat on another one, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “I wanted to speak with you for a moment. Kathryn . . .” How would he ask her about her time at The Red House when he would not wish to upset her or drive her back there? “I know Peter and Anna are pleased, as we all are, that you are here with them instead of at The Red House. But I need you to tell me something.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you remember ever seeing Rutger at The Red House? Or did Agnes mention his name, ever?”

  Kathryn looked aside, staring at the fire in the large hearth. She shook her head. “Rutger has been good to me. He made sure my little brothers had a good place to live, and he tried to help me. I do not wish to cause him any trouble.”

  “Of course not. I understand. But I need to know for Odette’s sake. Please, tell me the truth. It is very important.”

  Her jaw clenched, flexing. He waited for her to speak again. Finally she said, “Rutger did come to The Red House, but not through the front door where the other men came in. I remember one of the maids coming to fetch Agnes a few times and saying, ‘Rutger is in the back room.’ Agnes would always go directly to meet him.”

  “Do you know why he went there?”

  Kathryn shook her head.

  “Thank you, Kathryn.”

  She just stared at him and he left.

  Jorgen walked the short distance down the street to Odette’s house and knocked on the door. A servant let him in, and as he waited for the servant to tell Odette he was there, he stood, trying to prepare himself for her anger and scorn. After all, the last time he’d seen her had been just after she witnessed him kissing another woman. Would she be angry? Would she throw him out?

  The servant returned. “I am sorry, Herr Hartman, but Fräulein Odette says she cannot see you now. She is very tired and is sleeping.”

  “She said that?” The air went out of him, as if someone had punched him in the gut. “Is she sick?”

  “No.”

  Jorgen nodded his thanks to the servant and walked out.

  Why would she still be asleep if she was not sick? She was avoiding him, but how could he blame her? Perhaps it was best that he not yet mention what he was learning about her beloved uncle, who did not appear to be the man they all thought him to be. It would certainly hurt Odette even more.

  When Rutger came home that night, Odette was waiting for him. “Are you responsible for the woman who stole my mask and tricked Jorgen into kissing her?”

  He sat at the table, where the servants were beginning to serve the evening meal. He still looked humble, but not as much as when she had confronted him at his storehouse.

  “That was not my idea,” he said.

  “Then it was Mathis’s.”

  He hesitated. “He only did it because he loves you and was desperate to make you forget about Jorgen.”

  Odette imagined herself slamming her fist on the table and accusing her uncle of lying. Of course he knew it was Mathis. But she restrained herself. After all, he was her uncle. Even now, he wasn’t demanding she marry Mathis, even though it would solve all his problems, and he would be well within his rights as her guardian to ask that she do so.

  The servants brought in the bread and the main dish of fish and eel stew and then left the room. Even though she normally liked the dish, tonight she ignored the food. “Why have you not asked me to marry Mathis? Why allow him to carry out some elaborate scheme to make me dislike Jorgen? You could at least be honest now that I know everything.”

  Rutger only met her gaze for a moment before looking down at his food. “As I said, that was Mathis’s idea. I had hoped you would see that he could solve all our problems and give you what you wanted—food for the children.”

  “I thought I was providing food for the children.” The undercurrent of bitterness was in her voice again. “Besides that, Mathis cannot give me what I want.” Because I don’t love him.

  “Do you think the forester can give you beautiful clothes and tutors and books? Mathis can. I understand Jorgen Hartman is a well-built, handsome man, but do not allow lust to rule your thinking.”

  “Lust? You accuse me of lust?” Odette hoped he could see the revulsion on her face. “You may accuse me of many things rightfully—I am sometimes reckless and unthinking, and I am a lawbreaker, as you well know—but do you dare call me lustful?”

  “Perhaps I overstated. But you fancy you are in love with him, do you not? For a man, it would be lust. For an inexperienced young woman like you, Odette, it is only infatuation. But please, for your sake, take care that you do not allow your infatuation and supposed love for this man to overcome your good sense. He is only a forester, after all, and he did kiss another girl. Whether he believed she was you or was only doing what men naturally do, I do not know, and neither do you.”

  Odette felt her breath coming fast and heat rising into her cheeks. “After what you have done, do you dare try to cast Jorgen in a bad light?�
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  “I am only trying to help you see everything more objectively. Think of what is best for you and the children, Odette. Think of how you would feel if you threw yourself away on a man of low stature and then found out he was not the man you had thought he was.”

  Odette kept her lips tightly sealed.

  Rutger lifted his hands toward her, palms up. “I know you are angry. And I have probably lost all credibility with you, after what I did by taking the meat and selling it. You were right. It was and is despicable. But as your uncle, I have always cared about you and tried to take care of you. If you cannot bring yourself to marry Mathis, even though he is quite in love with you and is capable of giving you everything you could desire, I will try to understand. And if you truly have considered the cost of marrying Jorgen and still want to marry him, then I will not stop you.”

  The cost of marrying Jorgen. He meant that the children would go hungry—as they had been for the last six months, thanks to him. And that Rutger would lose everything and be destitute. And that Odette would suddenly have a lifestyle far below what she had known for the past twelve years.

  Odette stood up from the table. “I am not hungry. I think I will go up to my room now.”

  Rutger’s face looked downcast. “Of course, my dear. Will you go out hunting tonight?”

  “Yes. And I will deliver any meat I kill myself.”

  There would be a full moon tonight, which would make her more visible to Jorgen if he was out looking for the poacher.

  As she made her way up the steps, her mind flashed back to the dream she’d had the night before, of the angry stag wanting to rip her apart, no doubt for all the suffering she had caused him and the other deer in the forest.

  She had to remember who she was hunting for. She must not be squeamish, must not allow herself to become weak now. She would not let them down.

  The person she had depended on for twelve years had betrayed her. And yet, after all he had done for her, she couldn’t hate him. And now he needed her to marry Mathis.