Spun (5 page)

Anja was so focused on Tillz she barely noticed the rain had stopped outside, or that the fire had died down again, or that the sky was lightening as the first rays of dawn were preparing to peek out from the horizon. It wasn’t until a dog barked outside the cottage that she—and Tillz—was brought fully back to her surroundings.

“I must go,” Tillz said, and Anja heard the regret in his voice. “It will be morning soon.”

“No, stay,” she said, though she knew it was impossible. He must not be caught in the cottage with her, or anywhere on the grounds.

Tillz looked down at Anja, and she saw the conflicting desires and wants in his face. “I cannot stay any longer. I will leave the gold and soon, Werner will find it and let you go.”

“What if he doesn’t? What if he harms me?” Anja said. “I’m afraid.”

Tillz gathered her up in his arms, kissed her lightly on the forehead. “As long as he thinks you are a source of riches, he will not harm you in any manner,” he said. “I am sure of it.” Tillz gained his feet, lifting Anja with him and setting her gently on the floor. He kissed her again, his lips lingering on hers, causing the desire she had so carefully tamped down earlier to flare again. “Do not be afraid.”

He hugged her tightly to him, as if loath to let her go, and when he did finally release her and move across the room, Anja was acutely aware of the cold and empty space around her.

Anja watched Tillz as he set the gold on the table and filled his pockets with some of the iron and copper from their jars before he moved to the door. After a few moments at the lock, Tillz left the cottage, closing and locking the door behind him.

Chapter 3

Anja woke to the sunlight streaming into the cottage from the lone window. At some point after Tillz had left her, she had moved to the bed, though she didn’t remember it. She sat up, blinking, trying to get her bearings and clear the last vestiges of sleep from her mind. Slowly, the memories of the night came back to her, and she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Had that really happened? Had Tillz really entered the cottage and offered her the gold? Had she really kissed him so scandalously, spent the entire night sitting with him on the floor?

Anja glanced over at the table, saw the chunks of gold lying there, and her blush burned even more intensely. It really had happened. Though she was mildly embarrassed, she knew she
should
be absolutely mortified over her bizarre behavior, but she couldn’t rouse herself to that level of shame. Everything about being near Tillz seemed strangely, inexplicably, perfect.

She examined her reaction to him. Why had desire and eagerness been her response and not fear? Why did she respond so readily to his kiss and touch? He seemed to have been similarly affected by her. What would account for it?

There was the physical component, of course, where her body had reacted to his as if it were the oxygen needed to sustain her life, as if without him near she would be gulping at nothing and would immediately perish. There was so much more to it than that, however. She had seen in his eyes a level of kindness and compassion she rarely noticed in anyone. She had been touched by his notice of her, how he had seemed to have committed the smallest detail about her to his memory, and how he hadn’t hesitated to come to her aid, even though it was clearly difficult for him to step out from the shadows and let himself be known to someone. There was such ease in talking with him, and she knew he had let his guard down for her as he did with no one else, and their conversation had flowed until the approaching dawn had threatened them with discovery.

She rose from the bed and went to the side table, washing quickly with the tepid water in the ewer before she changed into the clothes Werner had left. She was relieved to finally be out of the stiff, grimy dress she had worn for over twenty-four hours.

Anja’s stomach growled, but she had already eaten the small meal Werner had left and there was nothing more in the room. No matter, she decided. Werner would come to get her soon, and once she was free, she would eat when she returned home.

She was still trying to understand exactly what was going on between her and Tillz when she heard the lock of the cottage door click open. Werner stepped inside, Roulf, as always, trailing behind him.

Werner’s gaze scanned the room, saw her standing by the bed, and he broke into a grin that made Anja’s skin form goose bumps.

“You’ve made it through the night,” Werner said, and Anja wondered what precisely he thought would have happened to her. He walked over to the table and peered at the jars. “Excellent,” he said. “Where is my gold?”

Anja gestured to the table. Werner’s eyes nearly bulged from his head when he saw the chunks of gold.

“I can’t believe it!” he cried. “You’ve actually done it. I wasn’t sure … but now…” Werner looked at Anja, his expression incredulous.

“I have done what you’ve asked of me,” Anja said, carefully keeping her voice smooth and even, though it made her skin crawl to be anywhere near Werner. “And now I expect you to keep your promise and let me go.”

Werner looked from the gold to Anja to Roulf and back to the gold. “Your father’s debts are many,” he said slowly as he scooped up the nuggets and pocketed them. “I am not certain that what you have made here with cover them.”

“But I’ve given you the gold. There is certainly enough there to cover the rents and—”

Werner interrupted her. “Your father has many debts to me. I do not think this one night’s work will be sufficient.” He turned to Anja, his face hard. “I think you will need to be here … two more nights, at least.”

Behind Werner, Roulf chuckled and rubbed his hands together, and Anja knew he was trying to calculate how much gold she could produce in two nights.
Poor Roulf
, Anja thought,
he actually thinks Werner will give him a share of the gold
.

“I cannot … I
will
not stay here for two more nights. I’ve given you what you asked, what my father owes you. You
must
let me go!”

Anger flashed in Werner’s eyes. He crossed the room to where she stood and grabbed her roughly by the arm. “Do not tell me what I must do!
I
have
you
locked in the cottage.
I
will be telling
you
what you must do.”

Anja’s chin jutted in defiance. Although she was terrified, she would never give Werner the satisfaction of knowing it. “I will not stay here,” she said evenly.

Werner squeezed her arm harder and shook her. “You will,” he said through clenched teeth. “I expect more gold—at least as much as what you made last night. I will come for it tomorrow morning and the next. I will have more iron and copper brought to you.” He gave her one final shake, then threw her to the bed. He stalked out of the cottage, Roulf following behind him. He slammed the door before the lock clicked into place.

She stood, rubbing her arm where Werner had grabbed her. No doubt a wicked bruise was already forming. She was angry, afraid, and worried. She hated Werner for taking her and locking her in the cottage, she was angry with her father for getting her into her current predicament, and she was afraid of what would happen to her come morning.

With a sinking feeling, she realized Tillz expected Werner to free her that day. Tillz wouldn’t know that Werner demanded two more night’s worth of gold—he wouldn’t be sneaking into the cottage to deliver her salvation. Werner would come the next morning and Anja would have nothing to give him.

Anja shuddered, wondering exactly what Werner would do then.

* * * *

Tillz ran a hand through his hair as he paced back and forth in his little hut, his heavy boots scuffing the wide wooden planks of the floor. He was restless, unsettled, stirred up. He had slept little, dozing for a maybe a few minutes after he had returned home.

He grimaced as he thought of the source of his unrest.

He had been foolish to give in to his impulses last night, and he was nagged by guilt. He did not regret going to Anja and offering her gold—it would have been unconscionable to have left her to Werner’s wrath when he had the means to spare her from it, but he should have never demanded a kiss from her. The only excuse for his behavior he could give was that he had thought a kiss—a simple brush of his lips against hers—would end his curiosity about Anja. Instead, it had ignited a firestorm of desires within him. He wanted to taste her, touch her,
consume
her. He wanted to know her every thought, hear her every utterance, and unlock her every secret.

It baffled him, this overwhelming attraction he had for Anja. When he had seen her in the village, he had thought her pretty and intriguing. Now that he stood in the cottage with her, he had realized he had been so very wrong. She was so much more than merely pretty, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was more lively, more intelligent, more interesting than he ever realized. She was just … so much
more
.

Tillz felt another stab of guilt when he remembered the look on Anja’s face that dawn when she had asked him not to leave the cottage. She had looked so lovely, her sherry-colored hair pulled free from its pins and tousled around her shoulders, her skin all rosy in the light of the approaching dawn. She had looked at him with her large brown eyes, framed with lids gone heavy from sleepiness, and her gaze was so full of trust mingled with an innocent desire, it had nearly undone him. It had taken every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to walk out of the cottage and leave her sitting alone on the floor.

He wouldn’t think of her now. He looked out the window of his hut, trying to distract himself from his memories before they drove him mad, and saw it was already mid-afternoon. Werner should have released Anja by now. Perhaps he would go to her cottage and check to make sure she had returned home unharmed. He would remain unseen, he told himself firmly, and would merely confirm that she was still in good health and spirits. He would
not
make his presence known to her, would not tempt himself by getting too near her.

Tillz thought of saddling his horse and riding into the village, but he knew it would draw unwanted attention. Instead, he walked along the overgrown path through the woods. Though the sun shone, the ground was still damp from yesterday’s rain, and the air had a slight autumn chill to it. He buttoned his woolen coat and pulled his hat lower on his head.

Tillz hesitated at the edge of the forest and looked out over the village. The relatively good weather had brought the villagers out of their cottages, and Tillz was uneasy with all the activity. He watched a cart roll by, pulled by a scrawny old nag, bits of hay blowing off where it was piled in the back. There were many
jungen
and
mädchen
running through the streets, the boys in their
lederhosen
with their scrawny legs warmed by thick woolen hose, the girls wearing their heaviest cotton
dirndls
and buttoned up in cloaks. The cooper sat on a small wooden stool outside his shop, readying the edge of a small cask with his adze, the shaved bits of excess wood piling up around his feet. Other men and women of the village crisscrossed through the street, going about their daily business.

Tillz fought the urge to melt back into the woods and return to his hut. There were too many people about, and he had no desire to risk being seen by any of them. But the desire to assure himself that Anja was well and unharmed and back in her own cottage was stronger, and so he slipped down into the village proper, every instinct screaming at him to turn back. He walked quickly and quietly behind and between the buildings and cottages, ducking into alleys and hidden doorways whenever anyone came too close. He managed to reach Anja’s cottage undetected and crouched near a side window, hidden from the street.

The cottage was dark and empty. There was no sign of Anja or her father. No one moved inside, no candle burned or fire crackled. Tillz pushed down the sense of unease that welled within him. He would surely find Anja at the mill, helping her father. But the mill stood as empty as the cottage, and Tillz grew even more uneasy. He walked everywhere through the village but he could not find Anja. She was not in any of the shops, she was not down any of the streets, and she was not among any of the groups of giggling village girls Tillz passed.

The sun hung low in the horizon by the time Tillz finally admitted to himself that Anja was not anywhere in the village. There was only one place she could be: Werner’s
rittergut,
still locked in the cottage, scared and alone. He hoped it wasn’t true and, and tried to think of anywhere else she could be. His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Roulf stumbling out of the tavern, clutching Jergen’s coat in a vain attempt to keep himself upright.

Tillz edged closer to the two men, thankful the failing sunlight combined with their obviously impaired state made it easier for Tillz to avoid their notice.

“…’e said ’e’d keep ’er for two more nights only, tho’ I can’t think ’e’ll actually let her go,” Roulf said, his words indistinct, his voice as unsteady as his feet.

Tillz shook with an anger that threatened to boil into a full-blown rage. The bastard Werner
had
gone back on his word—though Tillz knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Anja really was still locked in the cottage, expected to produce more gold. Tillz sickened as he thought of her up there, how scared she must be, knowing she couldn’t make the gold Werner wanted and not sure if help would come to her. He must go to her immediately.

Tillz moved away from the men and walked up the hill to the
rittergut
. The setting sun cast everything in a dusky-gray light, and it was hard to make out the manor’s silhouette against the rapidly darkening sky. Tillz quickened his pace, though he fought the urge to break into a full sprint. He was desperate to get to Anja, to see for himself she was well, and to assure her no further harm would come to her, but he knew if Roulf or any of Werner’s other servants caught sight of him, he would be delayed in reaching her.

He neared the top of the hill, and the manor house loomed large before him. He noticed everything about the estate was designed to demonstrate Werner’s wealth and power. The house was overly large and heavily adorned, and its position perched atop the hill gave the impression—largely factual—that Werner peered down upon the villagers, keeping an eye on them. Werner had vast gardens, more carriages than any one person could possibly need, and countless servants to tend to all of it. The main house was lit by coal-gas lanterns, which while common in the larger towns and cities, was virtually unheard of in such a tiny village where candles were still relied upon for light. All of it lent an ostentatious, somewhat foreboding, atmosphere to the estate, as if it were a great ornate beast perched over the village ready to attack.