The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (20 page)

T
REE LIMBS SLAPPED
her in the face as she ran through them. She stumbled over roots and bushes, but she kept going. Her heart was slamming against her chest, and the smell of sweat and animal blood filled her nostrils, even though there couldn’t have been any blood near her.

Odette was sure that the voice belonged to Jorgen.

A cry rang out above the crashing sounds she and the boys were making as they ran through the forest. Had one of the boys been caught? Would he tell Jorgen the truth about who was doing the poaching and why?

As she continued to run through the trees and undergrowth, her head throbbed with every footfall. She emerged from the trees at full speed. The boys were nowhere to be seen, but they had run in different directions. They would find hiding places somewhere.

Odette found the hole in the town wall, just big enough for her to squeeze through, where she always came and went after dark. She moved the loose stones and squirmed her way through, then put them back in place before hurrying through the back alleys of the town. She climbed over the garden fence and went in the back door.

She leaned against it, trying to calm her breathing.
O Father
God, please do not let Jorgen find out what I have been doing.
Thinking of how her poaching would look through Jorgen’s eyes, a stab of pain went through her stomach. She was stealing. Those deer belonged to the king and the margrave, not to her, even if she was doing it for good reason.

But perhaps the boy would not tell Jorgen about her. Perhaps he even got away, slipping out of the forester’s grasp before he could take him back to the margrave’s dungeon.

Odette’s skin felt cold and clammy around the collar of her leather cotehardie. Her sweat had chilled as she ran, and her head was as light as a cloud, as if it might float away. Her stomach roiled, and she placed her hand on her midsection. “Do not get sick. Do not get sick,” she told her stomach.

She closed her eyes and tried not to think about Jorgen or the poor boy he had caught. There was naught she could do about it now. She would breathe evenly, in and out, and concentrate on getting to bed without anyone hearing her.

She crept up the steps to her chamber door, which she had left ajar. The door creaked when she pushed on it. Once inside, she moved as quietly as she could to the other end of the room. She opened the trunk and placed her bow and arrows inside, then started to remove her hunting clothes.

“Where have you been?”

Odette spun around. “Anna.” She clutched her hands over her chest to keep her heart from leaping out. “You frightened the life from me. What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you when you left my house in the middle of the night. And what are you wearing? Odette, this is strange. Where did you go? What did you do?”

“Anna, I . . .” How could she lie to Anna? At the thought of telling her the truth, her heart started pounding again, thundering
in her head, so hard it made her feel weak. But was that fear making her sick? Or was it the exhaustion of keeping her secret? She had never told a soul, but it would feel good to be able to share it. She could trust Anna, couldn’t she? “If I tell you, do you vow not to tell anyone?”

Anna, who was lying in Odette’s bed, sat up and threw off the covers. “I won’t tell a living soul.” She scrambled out of the bed and went to help Odette undo the lacings on her leather stockings and her leather cotehardie, which protected her from thorns and tree limbs.

“I do not quite remember how it started,” Odette said.

“How what started?” Anna worked at a knot in the lacings on her left stocking.

How should she word this? “I am . . . I have been poaching deer from Thornbeck Forest. At night. Every night for the past year.” She felt weak, so weak her knees nearly buckled.

“Odette!” Anna gasped. “Poaching! This is unaccountably strange. But . . . But . . . Why? Why would you do such a thing?”

Her stomach twisted at Anna’s tone. “I am feeding dozens of orphans and poor families.” That justified her actions, did it not? “Why should the animals live and die in the forest and be no good to anyone?” But it sounded like a pitiful excuse, now that she was saying it out loud.

Anna covered her open mouth with her hand. The moonlight through the window showed how big her eyes were as she stared at Odette. “You . . . you are so . . . brave.” She let out a strangled laugh. “You go out every night and kill deer in the margrave’s forest? I have never heard of anything so exciting!” She laughed again.

“Shh. Someone will hear you.” Odette allowed herself a tiny smile at Anna’s enthusiastic reaction.

“I wish I could see you out there, stalking through the trees,
hunting down your prey, and killing the margrave’s deer to feed the poor. It is romantic.”

Odette sank down on the bed. “It’s hardly romantic, but I am relieved you aren’t scolding me.” She sighed as she lay back on her pillow. “It is exhausting.”

“However
did
you begin doing this?” Anna leaned over her, her face obscured in the dark room.

Odette thought for a moment. “I wanted a way to help feed the poor, something I could do all on my own. I had done a little poaching of smaller animals when I was a child. I learned to use a bow and arrow, and I was good at it. There were so many deer in Thornbeck Forest. It seemed like it wouldn’t hurt to shoot a few and give them to the hungry people. Rutger and I worked out a plan where he would have some of the young men who worked for him go with me and cut up and carry the meat after I killed it. And Rutger has some other people who distribute it to the poor.”

“Oh.” Anna sat facing the foot of the bed. “But . . .”

When she didn’t continue, Odette asked, “But what?”

“Does it not seem strange to you that Rutger would allow you to take the risk? If you are caught, the margrave might cut off your hand. He will be furious and will throw you in the dungeon. And what about Jorgen? If he discovers that you’re poaching . . .”

“I know, I know.” Odette’s heart twisted inside her. “I don’t want to hurt Jorgen, but I also do not want to abandon the poor who are counting on me to feed them.”

Anna nodded. “But, Odette, how long do you plan to do this? It must be exhausting, going hunting every night. When do you sleep? If yesterday was an indication, you are not sleeping. You looked so tired.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps someday I can stop. But to be honest, I don’t see how it will ever be possible. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless I marry a rich man who will use his money to feed them.”

“Odette, you aren’t responsible for every single hungry person.”

“But I just cannot bear to think of them going hungry when I can do something about it. Besides, I like hunting, and I believe I am doing something good and that God will reward me for what I’m doing.”

“It seems to me . . . But perhaps I should not say that.”

“What? Go on and say it. You know I won’t be angry with you.”

“I just think that Rutger, as your uncle, should be more concerned for you and your well-being. He should not encourage you to break the laws of the land.”

“Well, Rutger knows I want to help the poor and that I am a woman who will not be easily dissuaded. He also allows me to study with a tutor and to study any subject I wish, and I am grateful for that.” But there was a niggling feeling that Anna was right. Why did Rutger not try to stop her?

“You should not feel as though you must hunt
every
night, Odette. Truly you shouldn’t. You will make yourself sick. Besides, it must be hard on you to be always afraid of being caught. I could never handle the strain of such a thing.” She reached out and squeezed Odette’s arm. “But you have always been stronger than I am.”

Stronger? Or more foolish? “Perhaps you are right about not hunting every day.”

“So you will only hunt five nights a week?”

“I suppose. But it feels selfish to cease hunting every night. People will go hungry.”

“Odette, you are not responsible for every person in Thornbeck!”

“Perhaps not.” The sun was coming up, and the room was now
light enough from the gray light coming through the windows that she could see Anna’s face. “But if I can feed them and I don’t . . .”

“Now you are just torturing yourself. God knows you cannot feed everyone. Even you have limitations. And I think you should consider that perhaps poaching deer in the margrave’s game park may not be the right thing to do anyway.”

Odette opened her mouth to protest, but Anna interrupted her.

“I am only asking you to consider it. Promise me you will.”

“I will.” She leaned forward and put her head in her hands. “I may have to stop poaching anyway. I think Jorgen caught one of the boys who help take the meat out of the forest.”

“What? When?”

“Tonight.”

“Do you think he recognized you?”

Odette shook her head. “But if he caught one of the boys, it is possible he would have told Jorgen that I am the poacher.”

“Oh. But you do not know if he caught him or not?”

“I am not certain.”

“Then you must assume he did not. You must determine not to worry about it and go to sleep. You must sleep, Odette.”

“What about you?”

“I will sleep too. I lay awake most of the night praying for you.”

A lump formed in Odette’s throat. No one had ever told her before that they were praying for her. “Thank you, Anna.”

“Of course, you mad, wonderful, courageous woman who steals the margrave’s deer.”

Mad. That was a good description of it. Truly, she must be mad.

“Have you received any letters from The Red House girl, Kathryn?” Rutger asked.

Odette shook her head as they ate their midday meal together.

“You have been quieter than usual the last several days.”

“I have not heard anything from Kathryn, but I do not believe she is able to read or write. And I am well.”

“I saw Anna leaving this morning. I hope she did not keep you from sleeping.”

“Oh no.” Odette shook her head. What would he say if she told him what had happened last night? And that she had told Anna her—their—secret.

“How is Anna?”

“She is well.” She stared down at her food, not feeling very hungry.

“Have you learned anything else from Jorgen? Has he found out anything else about the poachers?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” She might as well confess. “I think he caught one of the boys last night.”

Rutger started coughing, as his fruit-juice compote must have gone down the wrong way. He took another swallow.

When he could speak again, he rasped out, “What did you say?”

“Jorgen heard us last night and yelled at us. I do not think he was able to see me. We ran, and I think he may have caught Wernher.”

Rutger’s face seemed to turn a light shade of gray. He took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his face. “Why do you think Jorgen caught him?”

“I heard Wernher cry out.”

“Will you see Jorgen today?”

“Not today.”

“You should have told me. You should have woken me up as soon as you returned home.”

“I’m sorry. I knew there was nothing any of us could do.”

He heaved a sigh. “All will be well, I am sure. I shall try to find out what happened, if he was captured.”

“Oh, thank you, Rutger. I am worried about him. But how will you find out? What will you do?”

“Do not worry, my dear. I have resources.”

“Do you have any influence with the margrave?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “The margrave is a powerful man, but he has lived away from this region his whole life. I do not know anyone who has any influence over him, except his chancellor, Ulrich. And probably Jorgen. But I will find out if Wernher made his way home.”

“Do you think the margrave is a fair man, given the rumors?”

“I know little about whether he is fair, but he placed a harsh punishment on a servant who was caught stealing several months ago.”

If the margrave was capable of killing his own brother, what would he do to poor Wernher? Would he torture him and force him to tell whom he was working for? She and Rutger would lose everything. They might even have to leave Thornbeck in disgrace. No wonder Rutger had looked a bit ashen when she told him about Wernher.

“Since tomorrow is Sunday, and I am always so tired when I’m at church, I thought I would not go hunting tonight, to take a Sabbath rest. Perhaps I will rest two nights a week.” If she wasn’t taken to the dungeon today by the margrave’s guards.

Rutger looked concerned. “Of course, my dear. I think that is a good idea.”

“I will go up to my room now. Will you tell me what you find out about Wernher, as soon as you can?”

“Yes, my dear. Now do not worry. Naught is ever accomplished by worrying.” Rutger gave her a small smile, but it seemed rather brittle and forced.

He was as worried as she was.

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