“Perhaps.”
“Is that why you shot me? Because you thought I shot at you?”
“Not you, but I did think the poacher may have been trying to kill me.”
“But you wanted only to wound me?”
Jorgen rubbed a hand over his eyes and down his face, then heaved a sigh. “Odette, I never would have hurt you at all. If I had known it was you, I would not have shot a single arrow. But yes, I was trying to wound the poacher, not kill him.” Thinking how he might have killed Odette if his arrow had gone a few inches to the left made a cold sweat break out at his temples and on the back of his neck.
Odette nodded, looking contrite as she stared down at her hands. After a few moments, she said, “I have been away from home all night and nearly all day today. My uncle will be worried about me. Would it be possible for you to send word to him that I am well?”
Jorgen shook his head. Could she honestly be worried about her uncle? But she would be a cold person indeed not to care about her guardian and only living family member.
“I will go myself and tell him where you are. Odette? Do you think Rutger might harm you, thinking you might tell me or the margrave that he was behind the poaching and the black market?”
She inhaled a noisy breath of air, sitting up straighter. “No. No, my uncle would never harm me. But I know you must tell the margrave what we have done, and I don’t want you to feel bad about it. Go ahead and tell him. I do not want you to get in trouble because of me.”
A stab of pain went through his chest. He wanted to protect her, but it just wasn’t feasible. “I don’t have any choice but to tell him.”
She nodded.
He suddenly wanted to take her and run away, to go where the margrave would never find her. “I have to go.” He practically ran from the room.
He had to get away from her. He had to think without having her so near that she made him lose all perspective. The walk to her uncle’s house would give him time to clear his thoughts.
As soon as she heard Jorgen leave the house through the front door, Odette allowed the tears to slip down her cheeks. Of course he had to tell the margrave. Lord Thornbeck would be furious with him if he found out Jorgen had been hiding her at his own home when she was the poacher.
But the hurt look on his face had reminded her so much of her recurring dream. It was the same expression he’d had then—hurt and anger.
Odette wished Brother Philip were there so she could ask him what she should do. How could she get absolution for her sin? Even though she had justified her poaching by saying that God would want her to feed the poor, she knew what she had done was wrong. Seeing the pain in Jorgen’s face brought on her the full force of that truth. And since Rutger had been selling the meat instead of giving it to the children, the margrave would never believe she had been poaching to help the poor. Who would believe it? Did Jorgen even believe it? It seemed the height of folly that she had trusted Rutger so completely. She had been blindly loyal to him. Was she any different from Kathryn, blindly loyal to Agnes because she had helped Kathryn and her little brothers when no one else had?
Rutger had betrayed her, Agnes had betrayed Kathryn . . . And she had betrayed Jorgen.
Even though he was exhausted and had slept very little, Jorgen walked to Thornbeck and down the main street that led to the Marktplatz and Rutger Menkels’s house. Besides carrying Odette’s message to him, he had something he wanted to say to her uncle.
Rutger met him in the first-floor room. “Have you seen Odette?”
“My mother is taking care of her.” He said the words wryly, but he might not have answered him at all if he had not seen true concern in his eyes.
“What has happened? Is she ill?”
“No, she is injured.”
“Injured?”
“Odette wanted me to let you know she is safe and well. But I came here also to ask you why you would allow her to poach the margrave’s deer. How could you, her guardian, condone such a thing?”
His face went white. “So you have captured her.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes and blew out a breath. “She was doing it for the children. You do not know how determined she was to help them.”
“And then you sold the meat instead of letting her give it to the poor.”
“Did she tell you . . .? I never intended to do it. I was helping her by distributing it to the poor. But then everything went wrong. My ships and all their cargo were destroyed, and my caravan was beset by robbers. I lost everything. I was in debt and desperate. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but—”
“So Odette knew nothing about what you were doing?”
“Not until a few days ago. And she had no idea I was in debt. I did not want her to know.”
“Until Mathis offered to help you if you would convince Odette to marry him.”
“But he loves her, and I believe he will treat her well. If you truly cared for her, you would want her to marry Mathis.” His jaw hardened as he said the words that were a death knell to Jorgen’s hopes.
For a moment, Jorgen wanted to slam his fist into Rutger’s face. But that would not help. “You would sell Odette to the wealthiest suitor, then. I had thought you better than that. But I also never would have thought you would use Odette so shamefully as to let her go out poaching, believing she was helping the children, when you—” Jorgen halted his tirade and ran a hand through his hair. Ranting would not serve any good purpose either.
Rutger took a step toward the door, then stopped and stared at Jorgen. “Even if I did not need help from Mathis, he would still be her best choice of husband, the choice that makes sense for her. And she has made that choice. She told Mathis yesterday that she would marry him. He’s having the banns published on Sunday.”
Jorgen seemed to go numb all over. Even his mind was numb. But Rutger was right. She was wise to choose Mathis. And he would be wise to let her.
Odette slept fitfully that night. In addition to the occasional sharp pains in her arm and leg, she had stayed awake wishing Jorgen would come back to talk to her. She couldn’t stop wondering if he had gone to tell the margrave he had caught the poacher. All night she kept waking up, her mind going over and over what he must think of her. She also kept thinking of how worried Rutger must be that she had not come home, even if Jorgen did go and tell him she was safe.
As the sun finally came up, she prayed for wisdom and mercy.
Jorgen’s mother came to her bedside to bring her some food. She rearranged Odette’s pillows for her, even though she could get up, although painfully, and fluff her pillows for herself.
“I made you some pheasant and stewed fruit. I remember you said you liked pheasant more than pork.”
“You don’t have to cook special things for me.” Odette wished she hadn’t admitted to the woman the foods she liked and disliked when she had asked her. “I will eat whatever you make. I am in no position to be picky.” She gave Frau Hartman what she hoped was a meek expression.
She only smiled and briefly touched Odette’s cheek after placing the tray of food across her lap.
Was this how mothers treated their daughters when they were sick in bed? She could not remember her own mother. Odette was rarely sick, and since moving with Rutger to Thornbeck, she had been tended by servants. But to be treated like a cherished daughter . . . It warmed her and made her sad at the same time.
Frau Hartman sat beside her with her sewing again as Odette began to eat. She couldn’t stop thinking about how many reasons Jorgen’s mother had to dislike her.
“Why are you so kind to me?” Odette asked, afraid to hear the answer and bracing herself for it.
“I would think, for the same reason you are kind to those poor children. And for other reasons as well.” She tucked her chin to her chest and continued sewing.
Odette didn’t ask the other reasons.
She suddenly remembered something Jorgen had told her. “I wonder if I could read Jorgen’s Psalter. He also said he has two Gos
pel books.”
“Of course, my dear.” She set her sewing aside and stood.
“Do you think he would mind?”
“He would be pleased to let you read them. I know just where they are.” She bustled out of the room and came back a few moments later with the books in her arms.
“Thank you so much.” Odette held them reverently and then opened one. “Shall I read aloud?”
“That would be lovely.”
Odette began to read some of the gospel of John. After a while, Frau Hartman said, “Would you read a few psalms now?”
“Of course.” Odette randomly opened the Psalter to Psalm 91. As she read, she thought about Jorgen. He was out in the forest, alone, and someone was possibly trying to harm him. They had already shot at him.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
God, please, please keep Jorgen safe from whoever wants to harm him.
She read on, finishing Psalm 91, still praying in her mind for the psalm to come true on Jorgen’s behalf. Didn’t he love God and follow God’s commands? Surely God would not allow anything bad to happen to him.
After Odette read a few more psalms, Frau Hartman laid her sewing aside. “Would you like me to braid your hair?”
“Oh, that is very kind, thank you.” It must look a hideous mess.
Odette had finished her food, so Frau Hartman fetched a comb and started combing her hair. It felt so good Odette closed her eyes.
“I always wanted a girl so I could fix her hair.” Frau Hartman sounded wistful, but not sad.
“Were you hoping Kathryn would stay here and be your daughter?”
“Yes, but she was at the age and had been through so much that . . . She did not know how to think of Jorgen as a brother. I was grateful when I learned she was staying at your friend’s house.”
“She seems content to work for Anna. I think Anna’s cook has been very motherly toward her, which I am sure she needed.” Odette sighed at how good it felt to have a woman braid her hair. Perhaps Kathryn wasn’t the only one who needed someone to be motherly toward her.
“You have beautiful hair.” She worked it in and out and between her fingers with gentle tugs. “I always thought Jorgen’s hair was thick and beautiful. It was a bit of a shame that he was not a girl.”
Odette laughed. “He would have been a beautiful girl.” But as a man, he made her want to study him, to know him, and to memorize each hard angle and plane of his chin, jaw, cheek, and brow.
What a scandalous thought. Her cheeks heated. Had she forgotten she had promised to marry Mathis? She’d hardly thought of him the last two days and nights. Was it not wrong to marry someone she thought so little of?
When she finished braiding her hair, Frau Hartman unwrapped the bandages around Odette’s arm and leg. “Susanna says it is best to let the wound ooze, to let the bad humors out since it has stopped bleeding.” She placed a cloth under Odette’s leg and left the bandages off her arm and leg.
The wounds looked raw and disgusting.
“If anyone comes in the house, you can cover yourself with the sheet. I am going out to tend the geese and the garden.”
“Is there anything I can do to help you? I can sew something or shell some peas or beans.”
“I will bring you some peas to shell.”
Odette was thankful she would be able to do at least this little thing to try to repay Frau Hartman for all her kindness.
A couple of minutes went by before the front door opened and shut. Hoping it was Jorgen, Odette quickly covered herself with the sheet so he wouldn’t see her uncovered leg and the open wound.
A moment later, Rutger entered the bedchamber and Odette felt a prickling on the back of her neck.
27
“I DID NOT expect to see you. How did you know I was here? You haven’t been worrying, have you?”
Rutger walked toward Odette’s bed. “I was worried, but Jorgen came last night to tell me you were safe.”
“Oh. That was very kind of him.” Considering how exhausted he must have been—and how much Odette had hurt him.
Rutger did not look pleased. “What happened to you? He said you were injured.”
“I was shot in the arm and the leg, but no bones are broken.”
“Who shot you? Jorgen shot you, didn’t he? Now I suppose you will give up your girlish idea of him.”
“I do wish you would stop insulting me over Jorgen.”
“Mathis told me you accepted his offer of marriage.”
Odette’s stomach did a queasy flip. “I have not married him yet.” She didn’t care if she sounded defiant.
“Do you think Jorgen has told the margrave anything?”
“I don’t know, but he will have to tell him what we have done.”
“He has no proof. I shall speak to the magistrate, the margrave’s bailiff, and the margrave himself. You shall not be punished for this. Who would ever believe that a beautiful, wealthy merchant’s niece could be a poacher? It is preposterous. We shall make this forester a laughingstock and the butt of jokes. No one will believe him when I am done.”
“No, Rutger . . . I think I must pay for my crime.”
His face hardened into an expression Odette had never seen before. “And you intend for me to pay too?”
“I do not see how we can get away with it now.”
“You are not to tell anyone anything, do you understand?” He pointed his finger at her nose. “Stay silent and do not implicate yourself or anyone else. Just stay silent.” Rutger lowered his finger but continued to give Odette that hard look.
Odette clamped her bottom lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling. Rutger had never spoken to her this way before. She never imagined she would ever feel frightened of him. “I do not intend to tell the margrave anything about your involvement.” She made an effort to breathe more normally and calm her heart. “I will be careful to say that I was the one who poached, and I will refuse to implicate anyone else.”
“It may all turn out well.” Rutger was no longer looking at her but was pacing in a tight line by her bed, tapping his chin with a finger. “After all, you shall be married to the Burgomeister’s son, and Mathis will no doubt have a lot of influence. But the marriage must take place soon. Very soon.”
Her stomach did that sickening flip again.
“My dear”—he turned to face her—“I am so thankful to see that you are not near death. Still, it must be painful for you to walk. I would not be surprised if you hated Jorgen.” He eyed her.
“I do not hate him. He had to shoot me. It was his duty as the forester.”
“I brought some peas,” Frau Hartman called as the back door opened and shut.
Her uncle squeezed her hand. “I am sorry. I must go.” He turned and ran out of the room, down the corridor, and out the front door, letting it slam behind him.
Frau Hartman stood in the doorway with a basket of peas. “Who was that? Was someone here?”
“It was Rutger.”
“Oh. He did not have to run away like that.”
No doubt he was frightened. Guilt would do that to a person. “I see you have some peas for me.”
While Odette shelled peas, which she had learned how to do as a little girl when she worked for her neighbors—popping the pod, then pushing the little round peas out with her thumb—her mind was left to go over and over the visit from Rutger.
She had felt real fear at the way Rutger had spoken to her. Surely her uncle would not harm her. But what would he do to avoid punishment by the margrave? Would Mathis be able to bribe Lord Thornbeck to spare bo
th her and Rutger? Would her marriage to Mathis save her and her uncle from punishment?
And what about the poor children? They had not starved, even though for six months the food she thought was going to them was actually being sold by Rutger. God must have been providing for them. And if she had not decided to go out hunting one last night, thinking she had to provide meat for them one last time, Jorgen would not have shot her.
While Jorgen’s mother was out of the room, she whispered, “God, I know Rutger and I do not deserve it, but would You provide for us too? I want to do the right thing, and I don’t want to be punished for poaching, but I do not want to marry Mathis.”
She couldn’t imagine how God could get her out of it.
Jorgen arrived at Thornbeck Castle in the morning to report to Lord Thornbeck. His hands were cold and sweaty, and he still was not certain what he would tell the margrave. God, give me wisdom and the words to say.
Ulrich met him as soon as he was inside the castle and walked him to the margrave’s library. For once, Ulrich smiled and talked about the weather. His friendliness made the hair on Jorgen’s arms rise. What was he scheming?
“Good morning, Jorgen.” The margrave stood and leaned on his cane when Jorgen walked in.
“Good morning, Lord Thornbeck.” If only he could meet with the margrave without his chancellor there. The shrewd look in Ulrich’s eyes made him seem even more suspicious. He would do his best to turn the margrave against him.
“What news do you have for me about the notorious poacher of Thornbeck Forest?”
“My lord, I now know who is responsible for the poaching, as well as the black market.”
“That is excellent, Jorgen.” The margrave’s eyes grew wider and a wisp of a smile crossed his lips. “Excellent work.”
Ulrich looked as if he had just swallowed an eel whole, as his face turned ashy green.
“Who is this poacher? I will send my bailiff at once to capture him and all his helpers and bring him here.”
“My lord, I . . . I can tell you that the poacher will no longer be poaching.”