A knife blade caught Kirstyn’s eye. Anna must have left it on the table when she went to the privy a few moments before. Her heart skipped a beat. She had to try again, didn’t she?
Kirstyn lunged for the knife and sawed furiously at the rope around her wrist.
Her stomach flipped and tumbled. She had to escape this time, or else Michael would lock her in the pitch-black darkness of the cellar, not letting her see the light of the sun for days on end, never letting her out even to go to the privy, never allowing her to talk to Anna. She would surely go mad.
The knife was dull, but finally the tough fibers gave way.
Her eyes focused intently on the only door. It led directly to the street. Her paralysis wore off and she ran to it, turned the knob, and practically fell out, stumbling on the two steps that led to the cobblestones, then started running.
Her dress had been patched so many times she could hardly tell where the original fabric was, and her hair was messy and uncovered, but she didn’t care. She was free.
She had rehearsed this over and over in her thoughts. She would try to locate the nearest church. There. A spire and cross rose above the roofs of the buildings. It was probably only a five-minute walk. Her heart thumped hard against her chest.
Several men traveled on the street. Would they grab her and try to hurt her?
Kirstyn walked as quickly as she could. Her pulse pounded. She felt so exposed. Was everyone looking at her?
A burly, middle-aged man made eye contact with her. He didn’t look away but stared. Should she ask him for help? But what if he tried to harm her too? She could never defend herself against him, as big as he was.
A cold fear gripped her and she kept walking. She could make it to the church. She wasn’t sure that man was safe, but there was no question of her safety at the church.
Her hands were shaking and her knees were weak. And yet she could walk for hours if it meant freedom.
Had Michael seen her leave? She couldn’t resist the urge to look to the left, right. Then she glanced over her shoulder. A man who looked like Michael was just behind her. Her stomach clenched. She glanced again and realized it wasn’t him. Still, she quickened her pace, eager to get out of the street.
Her eyes met those of a young woman, who looked down at the rope dangling from her wrist. Kirstyn ducked her head and hid her wrist under her arm and kept walking.
Had someone moved the giant stone building? It was taking so long to reach the church. People were staring at her, some with expressions of horror, others pity, and others curiosity.
Finally the front of the church came into view. It was red brick, and she focused on the pointed arch door. She was so close. Just a few more steps. Her heart beat faster. She ran the last few steps, then pushed open the door and rushed inside.
Unused to so much exertion, she was gasping and her knees were shaking.
“Junge Frau?”
She turned to find a priest so close that she jumped back a step.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” The priest looked very young. He stood a respectful distance away. “Are you well? Can I offer any assistance?”
“I am well.” No, that wasn’t true at all. “I was a captive and I’ve just escaped.” Her voice cracked and broke from her chest. She pressed her hand hard to her mouth. She sucked in a long breath to stop the tears. Then she started laughing. She was free!
“Who was holding you captive, junge Frau?” The priest was bending forward and trying to look into her face.
“Forgive me. I am just happy that I escaped. But I need your help. Will you please help me? My life and the life of someone I love . . . We are in great danger.”
His mild green eyes blinked questioningly. “I will gladly help one of God’s children. Will you tell me your name?”
“Kirstyn Gerstenberg of Hagenheim.”
His mouth fell open as his eyes widened. “Someone has been looking for you.”
Kirstyn kept her head down, her hood hanging low as she walked.
“Wouldn’t you prefer to wait at the church?” The priest, who asked her to call him Francis, asked for the third time.
“Just take me to Aladdin.” Kirstyn spoke under her breath, walking as fast as her weak knees would allow. She hadn’t eaten all day—Michael had been punishing her for dropping his cup of wine as she handed it to him. But her desire to see Aladdin carried her along as if she rode on a cloud. “And thank you. Thank you so much.”
Francis walked by her side. “I am not a priest yet. I have not been administered the rite of ordination. But I must help anyone in need as part of my preparation.”
Kirstyn was certainly in need. She owned absolutely nothing but the dress she was wearing, which was torn and patched and stained. She’d had to borrow the long, hooded cloak from Francis to cover herself in case they met Michael on the street.
Oh, if only they could move faster! She just wanted to be safe with Aladdin. It was hard to believe she was truly free until she saw him.
“And your father is the Duke of Hagenheim?” Francis asked.
“Yes.”
“He was here.”
“Is he here now?” Her heart thudded inside her.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“And where is here? Is this Lüneburg?”
“It is Lüneburg.”
“But my father went elsewhere to look for me?”
“I . . . I believe . . . That is, it was my understanding that he went back to Hagenheim because he thought you were dead.”
Her heart seemed to stop. Her father was no longer looking for her? He gave up? “Why would he believe me dead?”
“A bloody scarf was found—your bloody scarf. And then he searched but could find no trace of you. But here you are! You are well and whole and safe. Imagine your father’s joy at being reunited with you again.”
“Yes.” That was a joyful thought indeed. Still . . . “Are you sure he stopped looking for me? And Aladdin? Did he give up as well?” Tears sprang to her eyes.
“I believe Aladdin kept searching for a while after the duke left. In fact, he was looking for you last night. I spoke to him myself when he came to the church to ask for help spreading the news that he was seeking a man named Michael and two women, one of whom was Lady Kirstyn.”
Yes, of course. Aladdin would not give up searching for her. He had been looking for her all this time. Their hearts were so bonded, how could he ever give up on her? If either of them died, the other would surely feel it.
She could hardly wait to see him. “How much farther?”
“His home is near here, but he may be at the warehouse, the business where he and Herr Kaufmann work.”
Soon they arrived at a large brick house. Francis knocked on the door while Kirstyn waited beside him. Still afraid of Michael walking by and seeing her, she kept her head down and her hood pulled low.
The door opened and Francis, in his quiet, humble voice, asked, “Is Aladdin home?”
“No, he’s searching for Herr Kaufmann’s son and Lady Kirstyn. Do you have information for him?”
“I do. Here is Lady Kirstyn.” He turned around and held out a hand to Kirstyn.
“Oh my!” A large woman, very tall and wearing an apron, covered her mouth with her hands. “Come in! Come in, my dear.” She motioned Kirstyn forward.
Kirstyn took one step closer. “Can you tell us where Aladdin is now? I need to see him.”
“Bless you, child. We can send someone to fetch him, and you can rest while you wait for him.” Her eyes seemed to take in Kirstyn’s state and filled with pity and concern. No doubt Kirstyn looked pale and sallow and sunken.
“No, I thank you. I wish to go to wherever he is. He is not far, is he?”
“He may be at the warehouse, Lady Kirstyn, but he said he has been out searching for you.”
“How far is this warehouse?”
“Not far. A ten-minute walk. But you come inside and let me give you something to eat. I’ll send a servant
to fetch Aladdin.”
“Thank you, but I really should like to go myself.”
“I’ll fetch a guard to go with you. Otto!” She turned and shouted for the man, then gave the guard instructions. “Protect Lady Kirstyn and see her safely to the warehouse to find Aladdin.”
“Lady Kirstyn!” A man appeared in the doorway and bowed. “Aladdin will be overjoyed to see you safe and well. Come.”
The three of them set out down the street. Perhaps Kirstyn should have stayed at the house and waited for Aladdin. Her legs were getting weaker, and her stomach was beginning to feel sick. She had a vague and swimmy feeling in her head. But surely she could make it ten more minutes. If Aladdin was not at the warehouse, she would stay there and wait.
Aladdin had spent the morning in the company of two soldiers from the Lüneburg army, searching for Michael and Kirstyn. Now, together with Claus and two of Herr Kaufmann’s other guards, he went back to the warehouse to regroup and allow them a few minutes to eat a midday meal.
Aladdin leaned against the wall and rested his head in his hands. He’d been so elated when he heard Michael was near. But in spite of all their searching, they still hadn’t found him and possibly had caused him to go into hiding again. And Aladdin couldn’t get rid of the thought that if they did find Michael, they might also learn the truth—and that truth might be too awful.
When their respite was over, the two soldiers strapped their swords on their backs and prepared to leave. Aladdin said a quick prayer, then looked up just as the door of the warehouse opened. The young novice, Francis, came in, and right behind him was a figure with a long black cloak. The hood fell back, and two large blue eyes fastened on him. The feminine face blossomed into a smile.
His breath went out of him in one great rush. His body seemed to advance toward her without his command. “Kirstyn. You’re alive!”
She moved toward him as her face crumpled. When he reached her, he put his arms around her and she sagged against his chest.
He held her close, feeling her whole body shake with her sobs. She felt so small and frail. What had she been through? But she was alive! His heart soared. God, You are so good. Thank You. Still, the sound of her cries twisted his gut. He held her tighter, as if by wrapping her up in his arms he could fix what was broken.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kirstyn saw Aladdin, and her heart flooded with warmth. His face showed shock, then he started toward her, his arms out, and when he embraced her, she knew she was finally safe from the horror, fear, and abuse.
His arms were so warm. Her knees buckled beneath her, but he held her up, almost lifting her off the floor. Did he know she loved him? She’d never told him. Did he still think of her as just a friend? No matter. She would enjoy his arms around her.
But she must look—and smell—terrible. She longed for a bath and fresh clothing. Her face burned. She couldn’t stand here crying among all these strangers. She took a deep breath in, concentrating on forcing back the tears. Oh, Aladdin smelled good—his own smell that was familiar and reminded her of home mingled with the scent of herbal soap. And his shirt was so soft. Was it fine linen or silk? His chest was thicker than she remembered, and he seemed taller.
She pulled away and Aladdin loosened his hold, but a wave of dizziness came over her. She lifted her hand to her cheek, closing her eyes.
Aladdin’s face hovered just above hers. “Do you need to lie down?”
“No, I am well. Aladdin, you’re in danger. Michael wants to kill you.” The urgency returned as the dizziness subsided. She gazed into Aladdin’s eyes, even more gentle and warm than she remembered them. How handsome he was.
Aladdin was gazing at her as if she’d just told him a pleasant story, a slight smile curving his lips.
“You must listen. He intends to break into your house and slit your throat.” Her stomach churned as she uttered the awful words.
His expression hardened. Finally. “My men and I shall go and capture him, and if he fights back, we shall kill him as he deserves. Where is he?”
“Oh.” Did she even know how to get back to the place she had escaped from? “Truthfully, I don’t know . . . I don’t know how to get back there.” At least a half-dozen men were staring at her, but she kept her gaze on Aladdin. “All I know is that he’s staying in an old abandoned warehouse, and I could see water out of one of the windows.”
How pathetic she was! She couldn’t even help them find Michael. But the streets were so unfamiliar, and since she’d been following Francis, she didn’t even know which direction to go.
“An abandoned warehouse near the water. Very good.”
“I might be able to recognize it when I see it.”
“Do not worry.” Aladdin bent closer to her. The other men surrounding them were muttering excitedly amongst themselves. “We’ll find it. And I shall take you to my home so you can rest.”
“I should come with you to help you find it.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
“Yes, yes. I want to help.” She made her voice sound strong.
“Very well.”
The men hefted weapons—swords, bludgeons, and daggers—and poured out the door with determined faces. Aladdin and Kirstyn went out last, his hand on her back. Did he know how comforting that was?
She was once again walking in the open. But she focused on the warehouses lining the side of the street. Which one was it?
Aladdin kept his arm around Kirstyn’s shoulders as they walked. She was so thin and pale, but she’d insisted on coming with them.
Along with the two soldiers, Claus, Heinz, and Dietrich strode down the street carrying bludgeons and daggers, though their best weapon was their enormous breadth and strength. Aladdin was tall, but they were nearly twice as broad as he was. He was armed with a sword strapped across his back.
Aladdin and his small army rounded a bend in the street. Ahead lay the abandoned warehouse Aladdin had been thinking of, looking benign and quiet in the midday sun.
“Do you think that could be it?” Aladdin bent closer to Kirstyn.
They all stopped and she stared at it. “I think it is.” She kept looking, then nodded. “I’m sure it is.”
They were still at least a hundred paces away from the warehouse when Aladdin spotted a man emerging from a side street just ahead of them. He headed toward the warehouse.
The men froze, all watching the rather nondescript, short, brown-haired man walk up to the door, open it, and go inside.
“That’s him.” Kirstyn grabbed Aladdin’s shirt and pressed her body against his. Her blue eyes gazed up at him. “Please stay with me. I don’t want you near him.”
Part of him wanted to charge ahead of the other men and pound his fist into Michael’s face. But Kirstyn was more important.
Aladdin gave the signal and stayed at Kirstyn’s side while the soldiers and guards ran to the door and burst in. Aladdin imagined Michael’s look of terror at the men and their weapons. Soon they were hauling him back outside as if he weighed no more than a rag doll.
At last. Michael was caught and Kirstyn was safe, whole, and alive. But she had no idea how much he loved her.
Kirstyn clung to Aladdin as she watched the men drag Michael out the door while he kicked and yelled obscene words. Her stomach twisted in fear. He can’t get me now, and he can’t hurt Aladdin. But in spite of her argument, the fear continued to constrict her throat.
They also brought out Anna, holding her hands behind her. She probably tried to defend Michael, and they realized she was not a captive but an accomplice.
As the men passed with Michael and Anna, Michael glared at her and then at Aladdin. “You! How dare you take advantage of my foolish old father and take my inheritance.” He kept kicking as the two guards had to half carry, half drag him down the street. And Anna simply kept her eyes straight ahead.
One of the guards looked at Aladdin. “Take them to the Rathous?”
He nodded. Then he turned back to Kirstyn.
“You need rest and food. Can you make it back to Herr Kaufmann’s house?”
“Yes, of course.”
They started walking, but she began to feel even weaker. Not now. Her vision spun, and she began to lose her grip on Aladdin. The strangers walking by them, staring, grew blurry and dark. She felt herself being picked up and carried, her head resting against Aladdin’s upper arm. She could still smell his shirt even if she couldn’t see.
Gradually, her vision returned as she floated in and out of consciousness. She should feel embarrassed. Perhaps that would come later. For now she would just enjoy Aladdin’s closeness and pray he was taking her to a bath . . .
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Aladdin caught Kirstyn, picking her up in his arms. Was she dying? Or had she only fainted? She couldn’t die. He quickened his pace.
Her eyes fluttered and his breath quickened.
“Kirstyn? Can you hear me?”
“I think I can walk.” But her voice was groggy and her eyes were still mostly closed.
He could feel her ribs as he held her, could feel her collarbone against his chest. Poor girl, so thin. When had she last eaten? His heart stuttered inside him as joy warred with heartbreak at what she must have suffered.
Holding her close, he walked fast. He wanted to get her home in case he needed to send someone for a doctor.
Hilde would feed her until she couldn’t eat another bite. And Herr Kaufmann would give her the softest bed in the house. And Grethel would . . . Grethel.
No, no, no. His stomach sank. What would Kirstyn think of him when she discovered he’d promised to marry Grethel? Once, when she’d wanted him to go walking in the woods with her, she found him practicing swordplay with Valten. She said, “Do you really need to be a good swordsman too? You’re already perfect at everything else.”
His gut twisted at the thought of her finding out that he’d agreed to marry Grethel, that he’d given up on her still being alive. She would never again say he was perfect. If only he could keep her from finding out, to keep that a secret. How could she ever forgive him for being so faithless?