The Princess Spy (19 page)

Margaretha, Colin, and Anne squatted behind trees as the horses drew closer.

“Who is it?” Anne asked.

Margaretha shook her head and Colin motioned for them to stay quiet. Her question was answered as a group of about five of Claybrook’s guards came into view. They slowed when they saw Gisela’s old house, then rode straight up to it. Two men stationed themselves outside while the others pounded on the door, then forced their way inside.

Colin whispered, “Claybrook must have known about this place.”

Yes, Margaretha had told him all about it. He had asked her all kinds of questions that had led her to go on and on about her family and all their friends and allies, their extended family members, and their family houses. How readily she had revealed the things he could now use against them.

If only she didn’t talk so much. But how could she have known he would use the information to try to take over Hagenheim?

Colin went on. “He assumed this is where we would go to get horses, which means he knows we have escaped.”

Margaretha looked at Colin. His lip was still swollen. The image of Claybrook mercilessly striking him rose before her. She didn’t want to be the cause of any more abuse inflicted upon him by Claybrook or his men.

“This is my fight, and only mine,” Margaretha said quietly. “It is my family that Claybrook is after, my town he wants to rule over. You two should find a place of safety and leave me to travel on to Marienberg alone.”

He turned those intense blue eyes on her. “You are wrong, Lady Margaretha, for this was my fight before it was yours. I followed Claybrook here in order to bring about justice after he murdered my sister’s friend, then watched his men murder my friend John, and I will not give up until I see justice done.” His expression seemed to soften as he added, “I appreciate your courage, but it is you who should find a place of safety. I would feel responsible if something terrible happened to you.”

Was he truly so concerned about her?

“And what about my safety?” Anne asked. “Isn’t anyone concerned about me?”

“I am concerned about your safety as well, Lady Anne.” Colin cleared his throat. “Margaretha, does Claybrook know of your family in Marienberg?”

“We spoke of them a few times. He asked me about them. I’m afraid I told him many things I shouldn’t have.”

“Then I think you and Lady Anne must go to her home. If none of Claybrook’s guards are there, the two of you should stay.”

“What if they torture us to force us to tell them where you have gone?” Anne looked as if she might burst into tears.

“You must tell them that I’ve gone to Marienberg. Claybrook will naturally have assumed this anyway. He will send men to look for me. It cannot be helped, and I would not have them torture you.”

Margaretha set her hands on her hips and clenched her jaw. “No. For the last time, I am going to Marienberg.”

Colin sighed and shook his head. She hoped this was a sign of his resignation.

They could do this. Margaretha was sure of it. God was always on the side of the righteous, and He would be with them.

Colin felt sorry he had called Margaretha a flibbertigibbet. She wasn’t a flibbertigibbet, she was the bravest, the most stubborn, and the most frustrating girl he had ever met. Why couldn’t she listen to him, stay out of danger, and wait for her deliverance like the gentle-bred daughter of a duke that she was?

Trying to reason with her was getting him nowhere. If she had seen Philippa’s bloated body after it was pulled from the river, or John’s bloodied and lifeless face as he lay dead on the side of the road, maybe then she would understand what kind of danger she was in — and how inadequate he was to protect her.

He had started off this journey so arrogant. At home in England, he was self-assured, but his sense of power had rarely been tested as the son of a wealthy earl. How exceedingly foolish he had been to come here, where he’d had the self-assurance beaten right out of him. He no longer felt as if he could protect anyone.

But Margaretha was determined to go with him, and she would not let him convince her she was being foolish. She wanted to help her family and her townspeople.

He would simply have to bide his time and wait for an opportunity to leave her somewhere safe. And the likeliest place remained Anne’s father’s house.

“How far is it to Lord Rupert’s house?”

“About an hour’s walk from here.”

Claybrook’s guards were still where they were several minutes before. They could get no horses here, so Colin set out with Margaretha and Anne, once again staying off the road.

When they had walked several minutes, they came to a tiny village. They decided not to show themselves together, and since Margaretha was the only one who had money, Colin and Anne waited in the woods while Margaretha went to the village to try to buy some food.

As he sat pondering the road ahead, Anne’s voice broke into his thoughts. In heavily accented English, she asked, “My cousin is very beautiful,
ja
?” Anne’s expression was coy. When he didn’t answer, she added, “But she is . . . how do you say in English? Very . . . close to her family. I have heard her say she could never leave her family to marry.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, wary of what she might say next. However, his curiosity made him say, “So Margaretha doesn’t wish to marry? Or hasn’t anyone offered for her?”

“Oh, she has suitors enough, but she has turned them all down.” She smiled. “I myself can marry anyone I choose.” Anne tilted her head down and looked up at him through her lashes, as if she was trying to look demure.

Margaretha had no desire to leave her family, and therefore she would never marry Colin and go back to England — or so Anne wanted him to believe. He didn’t doubt it was true, but it didn’t matter. He hadn’t come to the Holy Roman Empire to find a wife, and Margaretha had shown no signs of wanting him. So why did Anne’s words make his heart sink?

“I don’t know if you realize this,” Anne said, “but you have the most beautiful blue eyes.” She leaned back against a tree and smiled at him, fluttering her eyelids.

What a fool he was to tell Anne that he was the son of a wealthy earl. He liked it better when she pretended she only spoke German. In another minute, she would probably tell him
she
didn’t mind leaving
her
family to go to England.

“I think I had better see if Lady Margaretha needs any help.” He moved toward the road that led into the village.

“I will wait here.” Anne looked at him from beneath half-closed eyelids.

He had to force himself to walk, not run, in the direction of the village.

Chapter
18

Margaretha had never bought food before.
She had never bought anything before. If she wanted something, she gave the money to a servant and let them go to the market or to a shop for her, or a family member or servant accompanied her to the market and paid for whatever she wanted. But how hard could it be? Besides, she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She’d woken up before dawn to spy on Lord Claybrook and the captain of his guard and had missed breakfast, and now the sun was directly overhead. She had been in too much turmoil to notice how hungry she was earlier, but now that there was hope that she might find food, her stomach was growling loudly enough to frighten the birds in the trees.

A woman was coming toward her. Her hair was covered by a cloth tied at the back of her neck. She carried something in her apron as she clutched the corners to her bosom.

“
Guten Tag
,” Margaretha said with a shy smile.

The woman stared hard at her. Finally, she answered, “
Ja
,
Fraulein. Guten Tag
.” But she still looked suspicious and almost frightened. Perhaps she was only surprised to see someone, especially a young woman alone, come strolling into her village, someone she had never seen before. The woman undoubtedly had lived in the village her whole life. Villagers of the Holy Roman Empire didn’t travel much, and they rarely left their village to go live elsewhere, except perhaps to marry someone from another village.

Besides that, Margaretha’s lustrous pale-green silk cotehardie and dark emerald undergown, made of fine linen, would cause her to stand out. As she encountered more people in the village’s street, she saw that the women were dressed in woolen kirtles of nondescript brown and gray and dull green. Their underdresses were of gray linen, and they kept their hair covered with opaque cloths instead of the light veils that Margaretha and her sisters wore. Only Margaretha wasn’t wearing anything on her head. In the chaos of the day, she hadn’t even braided it, and it was tied at the base of her neck with a red ribbon. Several strands had escaped, and Margaretha had tucked them behind her ears.

Her dress was not her best or fanciest, but now she felt almost embarrassed to be wearing such luxurious clothing. She would not go unnoticed, walking across Saxony wearing such a dress. She had to find something less conspicuous. How glad she was that she had not put on her grandmother’s bracelet that morning. She hoped it was still safe at home. However, she did wish she had the ring Claybrook had given her. She could have traded it for several dresses, as well as for something to cover her voluminous hair, which was as wavy and unruly as her mother’s similar chestnut hair.

But first, she had to feed the growling monster in her stomach.

There were only a few shops in this village. Besides the blacksmith, there was also a butcher shop, a brewery, and a tannery. But somewhere ahead, Margaretha smelled bread.

Finally, she found the baker’s shop. She walked in and asked for a loaf of his finest bread.

The baker stared at her much like the woman in the street had. He was slathering melting butter on a slice of bread as he sat on a stool. No doubt he was having his midday meal. Margaretha’s mouth watered so much she was afraid to say anything else. Instead, she waited for him to speak.

“Half a mark,” he finally said, getting up and grabbing a loaf from a shelf just behind him.

Oh yes. She’d almost forgotten she had to give him money. Margaretha lifted her purse from where it hung from her belt. She opened it and poured some of the coins into her hand, but she couldn’t find anything of less value than a mark.

“Two loaves?” She laid the coin in his open hand. He raised his eyebrows and studied the coin, then he gave her two loaves of bread. Margaretha tucked the bread under her arm and asked, “Do you have any cheese?”

He looked askance at her. “No cheese here.”

Margaretha nodded to him and left the tiny shop. As she walked, she encountered a woman with a basket of eggs. “May I buy some eggs from you?”

“What will you give me?” the woman asked. She had the most enormous brown mole on her chin that Margaretha had ever seen, and it had several hairs growing out of it.

“One mark?”

“Let me see it.”

Margaretha lifted out her purse again, took out a coin, and showed it to the woman.

She didn’t take her eyes off the coin, but said, “How many eggs do you want?” as if she was talking to the money.

How many could she carry without breaking them? “May I have five?”

The woman reached into her basket and drew out five eggs, which Margaretha carefully placed in her purse. She gave the woman the coin, then gently closed her purse and let it dangle from her belt.

“Thank you.” As Margaretha walked, hoping she didn’t break the eggs, she realized she wasn’t hungry enough to eat them raw. But if she wanted to cook the eggs, she would need something to put them in. She had seen the cook at the castle put eggs into a pot of boiling water.

Margaretha noticed a child’s face peeking out an open window at her. As she looked at the houses and shops lining the dirt street, she noticed several more men, women, and children gaping at her.

A little girl was walking toward her carrying an armload of wood. “You’re pretty,” the little girl said.

“Thank you.” Margaretha’s stomach growled again and she pinched a piece of bread off one of the loaves and put it in her mouth. It was barley bread, coarse and rather tasteless, but it made Margaretha’s stomach feel better, so she ate another piece.