The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (22 page)

She turned away from Anna’s distraught expression and strode toward the front door of The Red House.

The guard at the door trained his eyes on her as she approached. He uncrossed his arms and turned his body to face her. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to Agnes.”

“Why? What about?” He narrowed his eyes. Otherwise he didn’t even move, as though she were no threat at all.

“She will want to talk to me.”

“Go away. This is not the kind of place for a maiden like you.”

“How do you know what kind of maiden I am?” She felt a bit
queasy in her stomach at what she was implying. She clenched her jaw and said firmly, “I want to talk to Agnes.”

He leaned toward her menacingly. “Why?”

“I want to work for her.”

He leaned back with a lift of his brows. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Very well.” He opened the door and preceded her into the house.

When they walked in, everyone in the room turned to look at her. One woman, wearing clothing that covered more of her skin than the rest of them, turned and put her hands on her hips. “Who is this you have, Conrad?”

“She wants to talk to you, Agnes.”

The woman looked at Odette from head to toe. “What do you want?”

Odette walked toward her. “I was thinking of working for you. I had heard that my friend Kathryn was working here, and if she is here, then I want to work here too.”

Agnes crossed her arms over her chest, continuing to eye Odette.

“Is she here?”

“Why would that matter to you?”

“Because I want to be where my friend is.”

“So you want to work for me.” Agnes gave a smirk. “Have you ever done this kind of
work
before?”

One of the women staring at her from several feet away snickered. The bodice of her dress was indecently low, and Odette averted her eyes. The young woman beside her laughed even louder. Two men sitting at a table grinned at her as they looked up from their game.

Odette lifted her chin, hoping they couldn’t see her blush in
the dimly lit room. “There is a first time for everything. I am desperate for work, and this is what I want to do, if Kathryn is here. She said I could make a lot of money in a short time.”

Agnes stared at her as a slow smile spread across her face. “Then go get ready for work. Conrad will show you to your room.”

“I want to talk to Kathryn first.”

Agnes leaned in, as though to whisper to her. “I am not playing games here. This is a place of business. I know you want to save your girl, but she is my girl now.”

Odette leaned away from her, noting the coldness in her hard blue eyes. Part of her wanted to turn and run back out the door. But Kathryn was here, and Odette was not leaving without at least talking to her.

She faced the stairs at the back of the room and marched straight toward them, not looking back. She heard Agnes whispering, then a grunt from the guard as Odette started up the steps. As she reached the shadows, she began to hurry, then to run up the steps.

Heavy footsteps pounded the stairs behind her. She ran down the long corridor calling out, “Kathryn! Kathryn, where are you?”

Her heart beat so hard she could hardly breathe. The guard was still behind her, his steps drawing closer.

A door at the end of the corridor opened and Kathryn’s face appeared. Her eyes grew wide. “Odette.”

Odette ran to her. Kathryn moved back as Odette rushed into the room, then shut the door behind her.

As soon as she was inside, she heard a loud noise against the door. She stared at it, but it stayed shut. “What was that? What is he doing?”

“He barred the door from the outside.” Kathryn’s voice was quiet, and when she looked at Odette, her mouth hung open. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you the same question.”

“I can do what I want.” Kathryn turned away from her and sat on the bed in the center of the room.

“But, Kathryn, why? I do not understand. What about your brothers?”

Kathryn’s frail shoulders went up and then down in a quick shrug. She still did not face Odette.

“Did you not want to stay with them? Were the people at the farm unkind to you?”

She was still and quiet. Finally she said, “They weren’t unkind, but I did not feel like I was doing enough to pay for being there. Agnes came and talked me into coming back. She reminded me of the promises I had made to her and how much she had helped my brothers and me.” Kathryn’s voice quivered. “I know it must seem wrong to you, but . . . what else . . . am I good for?” She sobbed softly.

Odette sat beside her, putting her hand on Kathryn’s shoulder. “Kathryn, this woman, Agnes, is using you. You do not owe your loyalty to her. You do not have to do this! You are so young, and your life can be different from this. You are much too good for this kind of life.”

She shook her head furiously. “No, I am not. I have done things, bad things. You do not understand. I am not innocent and clean like you. I am damaged . . . ruined.” She said the words like they caused a bitter taste in her mouth.

“That is not true. You are a beautiful young maiden who can start fresh and clean right now. People have done bad things to you. I am sure that is true. But you do not have to stay in that awful place where they have tried to imprison you. You can be the woman you were always meant to be, the woman who is deep inside you. Just because people did bad things to you, or you did
bad things in the past, does not make you bad. You can choose to be free, free from all that.”

Tears flowed down Odette’s own cheeks as she spoke, as she realized it was true of her too. People had said ugly things to her when she was young, when she had scavenged for food and even stolen food a few times. But even as she was not those things they said—beggar child, worthless, orphan trash—Kathryn was not either. “You are better than this.”

“How do you know God has not cursed me to do these things? He could have kept my parents alive. He could have saved them, could have saved me.” She sobbed harder.

“He is saving you now.” Odette gripped Kathryn’s arm, trying to make her listen. “He saved you when Jorgen came and found you here. He saved you when Rutger took you to the farm where your brothers are living. We can leave here now and you do not have to—”

“We cannot leave! They have locked us in. Oh, what have you done, Odette? They will do these terrible things to you now. And it is all my fault.”

“No, no, we shall get away. No one is going to do anything to me.” But Odette’s insides were twisting, her cheeks burning as she tried to think how they would escape.

18

“W
E WILL GET
out of here.” Odette sat on the bed patting Kathryn’s shoulder. “They would not dare to hold me against my will.”
Even though I told them I wanted to work here
. How would they escape? Especially since Kathryn had already escaped once before. They would never allow Kathryn to leave a second time.

While the girl’s shoulders shook with sobs, the thought of what she must have done, here in this very room, sprang up before Odette’s eyes, and she shuddered.
God, help her get out of here and never come back. Help her understand she does not have to stay here.

Odette walked to the window, which looked out over the street. Below, people were walking around, carrying bundles and sacks and baskets full of good things from the market. A man walked by as he took a bite from a bread roll in his hand. They were going about their normal daily chores and shopping, not knowing that just above them a young girl’s life was hanging uncertainly. Kathryn was doomed to a sordid, ugly life, depending on what happened in the next day, hour, or minute, and Odette’s innocence could be snatched away just as quickly.

“O Lord God,” she whispered toward the overcast sky, “please get me out of here. Get us both out of here. We are but dust and
ashes in Your great universe, God. But for the sake of our Savior, Jesus, remember us and help us.”

“I am so sorry you came here for me,” Kathryn said, watching her from the bed. “You never should have come.” Her face was tear-stained and blotchy.

“Do not worry. I will think of a plan. Sooner or later they have to unbar the door. We must find something we can use as a weapon and force our way out.” Odette looked around the room for something she could use to bash someone over the head. “Or we could always kick them between the legs and punch them in the throat. Rutger taught me that those are the two places to strike if a man ever attacks me.”

Kathryn’s face seemed to grow even paler, her eyes wider. “But they would punish us, maybe even kill us, if we did something like that.”

“The idea is to render them too weak to hurt us, just long enough for us to escape.”

Kathryn still looked terrified. “You should go without me.”

“Do not be afraid. Just trust me.”

Kathryn wiped away another tear, pressing her lips together.

Jorgen walked toward his mother’s favorite bakery. It was the anniversary of his father’s death, and although she avoided admitting it, he knew she always felt sad around this day. So he had decided to buy her a cake, a luxury she never allowed herself, and take it to her. She would fuss at him for walking all that way, and especially since he had been going out every night to search for the poacher and getting less sleep. But it was worth it to give her something else to think about besides Father’s death.

Was someone calling his name? Jorgen turned his head but did not see anyone he knew on the crowded street. He kept moving forward.

“Jorgen!”

Anna was running toward him. When she reached him, she was so out of breath she could only pant.

“What is it?” By the look in her eyes, it was something bad. “Has something happened to Odette?”

She closed her mouth to swallow, then said, “Odette is at The Red House. You must come and get her.”

“The Red House?”

“She heard that Kathryn was there. She went inside to find her.”

Jorgen was already walking fast toward
Waschefrau Strasse
. “How long has Odette been in there?”

“Longer than I thought she would be. I told her not to do it, but she said she just wanted to see if Kathryn was there and to talk to her.”

What would they do to her? Jorgen broke into a run, leaving Anna behind, weaving in and out between the people.

When he turned down the street where The Red House stood, he slowed his pace. The guard at the door was already glaring at him. “Get out of here,” the guard said in a deep voice.

This was no time for playacting. Jorgen was no good at it anyway. He stood tall and looked the taller guard in the eye. “I am Jorgen Hartman, and I am the Margrave of Thornbeck’s forester. He will not suffer you to thwart my official business here. He will shut down this brothel, and Agnes and the rest of you will be on the street.”

The guard’s glare grew even blacker. “You are that man who took Kathryn away from here.”

“I am. The margrave knows all about that as well. He will also
hear that you are keeping a young maiden here against her will, a young maiden who is the niece of a wealthy burgher named Rutger Menkels.”

When he said the name “Rutger Menkels,” the guard moved back a half inch, the expression in his eyes changing. Rutger was one of the wealthiest people in Thornbeck, but did that warrant a reaction from this stoic oaf of a guard?

“Come. I will take you to Agnes.”

Jorgen almost stepped on the guard’s heels as he followed him inside the dingy, half-lit room. Agnes’s shrewd eyes caught sight of them and she came forward. The guard met her halfway and whispered in her ear. A change came over Agnes’s face, much like what had happened with the guard. Then she waved the burly man away and proceeded toward Jorgen.

“Where is she?” Jorgen demanded.

“Where is whom, dear boy?”

“You know who. I will not stand here arguing with you. I will find her myself.”

He started toward the stairs, but the guard stepped in front of him and blocked his way. Jorgen tried to walk around him, but the man grabbed Jorgen’s arm. Jorgen slipped out of his grasp and turned to face the room. The guard caught hold of his arm again, his fingers biting into Jorgen’s flesh.