The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (33 page)

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 Gospel 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.