The Princess Spy (22 page)

She looked him in the eye. “Those deaths were not your fault.”

This time he looked away. “John’s death was.” He sighed. He should not tell her what happened, but he found himself saying, “I had put my cloak on John only a few minutes before Claybrook’s men found us. They had been told to kill the man with the red cloak.” He clenched his fist around the pommel of his saddle and closed his eyes as shame crowded his chest.

“I am so sorry, Colin.” She placed her gentle hand over his, and he loosened his grip. “You are not to blame. That was not your fault, and I thank God you were not also killed.”

She squeezed his hand, and he felt the shame melt away a bit.

“Thank you for being concerned for me,” she said. “No one could accuse you of not caring about your friends, of not being willing to help others. It wasn’t your fault John was killed. The blame lies with Claybrook and his men, not you.”

A lump formed in his throat. Her skin looked as soft as velvet in the moonlight. He thought of reaching out and brushing his fingers across her cheek. “And you are not annoying.” He leaned closer as he realized the truth of what he was about to say. “Life is more cheerful when you talk to me.”

“Oh.” Her mouth hung open. “Truly?”

“Truly.” A warning, like a voice of caution, whispered to his spirit. It warred with the other voice that said how sweet she looked, her face upturned toward his.

He cleared his throat. “We’d better try to sleep.”

“Yes.” She turned away from him and they spread their blankets, she on one side of the fire and he on the other. It was a cool night, and so he showed Margaretha how to roll herself up in the blanket for extra warmth.

When he closed his eyes to sleep, he could still see Margaretha, the way she had looked in the moonlight. Her voice was soft and sweet, and her smile was completely devoid of ill will. But he also remembered Anne saying Margaretha would never leave her family. England was a very long way from the Holy Roman Empire.

He should guard his heart, for he could see it was in danger, and they were still a long way from Marienberg.

Margaretha slept as soundly as she did in her own soft bed in Hagenheim. She awoke and wondered why she couldn’t move her arms, then remembered she had wrapped herself in her blanket.

Colin was not lying where he had been the night before. Hearing a noise, she saw him saddling one of the horses. The sun had not made an appearance yet, but the sky was streaked with pale pink and orange.

They broke their fast with some bread and cheese and were soon on the road again.

When the sun was high overhead, they stopped to rest and water the horses at the small stream that meandered near the roadside.

“I know I shouldn’t complain, but it is hard to sit so long in a saddle.” Margaretha resisted the urge to rub her sore backside as she watched Colin check the saddles and the packs and tighten them. Her hands were blistered from holding the reins. They both stretched and arched their backs while the horses grazed. “I will be overjoyed to see Marienberg Castle.” She didn’t want to tell Colin, but she’d also been thinking of her family back at Hagenheim Castle, wondering if they were being mistreated, if they were scared or hungry or cold, and if her father and Valten had found out about Lord Claybrook’s treachery. Were they attacking Claybrook’s guards at this very moment, outnumbered and getting beaten back?

She must be learning self-control, because she stopped herself from mentioning these fears to Colin. What good would it do? She’d probably start crying and that would not help anyone. Tears only made men feel uncomfortable, and they gave her a headache.

“I am grateful to you for wanting to help me and my family and the people of Hagenheim.” Margaretha occupied herself with checking the horses’ hooves to make sure they hadn’t picked up rocks or thrown a shoe. “I know you want to capture Claybrook for your own reasons, but you had no reason to want to help me and my family. If there is anything my father or my cousin, the Duke of Marienberg, can do for you, I am sure they will be pleased to reward you.”

Colin had been filling their water flasks while she checked the horses’ hooves. He now sat down and stretched his legs out on the ground and fixed her with a serious stare. “Lady Margaretha, I’m afraid you think more of me than I deserve. The truth is, I came here for the sole purpose of capturing Claybrook and taking him back to England to face punishment for his murders.”

“So you would not help us if it were not for wanting revenge on Lord Claybrook?”

“Not revenge. Justice.” He seemed to think for a moment, then lay down on the grass, reminding her of when he had lain on Frau Lena’s sick bed, ranting about Claybrook so passionately that she had thought he was mad. He said quietly, “But I would have helped you and your family, Margaretha, even if I had not known of Claybrook’s previous evil deeds.” He smiled at her, then closed his eyes.

Something about the way he looked at her made him seem even more handsome. But she refused to think about that. She stepped to the edge of the stream and started washing her hands in the cold water. “I believe you
would
have helped us anyway, and that is to your credit. I am thankful to have your assistance, for whatever reason. However, I must say, I am not sure your desire for justice is not simply a thirst for vengeance. You should be careful to leave room for God’s justice.”

Margaretha took a drink of the cold stream water. It wasn’t quite as good as the well water at Hagenheim, but almost.

“Vengeance?”

Margaretha glanced over her shoulder. The word seemed to have riled him into a sitting position as he squinted at her.

“You think me guilty of seeking revenge, then?”

“I am sorry if I sounded accusatory.” She wasn’t sure why, but she had to fight the smile that was creeping into her face. He was so intense. “A desire for justice is a good desire, and I believe you have that. I also think you ought to be careful not to let it lead you into vengefulness.”

He stared at her but didn’t say anything.

“I sometimes say things before I think, things I shouldn’t, but I’m not sorry I warned you not to be vengeful.” She almost said,
because I care about you
, but her breath hitched in her throat and stopped her. He was almost like an older brother to her, after all they had been through together in such a short time, and she did care . . . a lot. Although the way she felt about him was not the same as the way she cared for her brothers, she didn’t want to dwell on that too much. When this was all over, he would go back to his family in England, and she would go back to her pleasant life in Hagenheim.

“Perhaps I do want revenge.” He picked up a chestnut off the ground beside him, seemed to be testing its weight, then threw it into the stream. With a hollow
plop
it sank out of sight. “But I think I am justified, after he murdered an innocent girl simply because she was pregnant with his child and he didn’t want to marry her.”

Understandable, but was it justified? Margaretha wasn’t sure what to say, but for the moment, with his lips pursed in that tense way, she didn’t think him quite as handsome as she had a few moments before.

Chapter
21

For the rest of the day, Colin thought about
what Margaretha said. Their horses made good progress on the reasonably smooth roads. He might not admit it to Margaretha, but he did want revenge. He wanted revenge for his sister’s sake, whose innocence and sense of security had been shattered by the indefensible murder of her friend. He wanted revenge for his friend John’s sake, who had died because of his loyalty to Colin. He wanted revenge for his own suffering at the hands of Claybrook’s guards. And what difference did it make whether you called it revenge or justice? Wasn’t it the same thing? Surely God understood that Colin needed to bring Claybrook to justice.

But Colin also knew that it mattered to God what was in his heart. Motives mattered. And he hadn’t felt much peace — any peace, if he were honest with himself — since he left England.

He was too tired to think any more about this. It was already dark and they needed to find a place to sleep for the night.

He signaled to Margaretha and she turned her horse to follow him off the road and into the trees. Once again they were able to find the stream that wound close to the road. As he and Margaretha unsaddled their horses and tied them to a tree, Margaretha began saying, “We should only have about two more days of hard riding before we reach Marienberg. The horses are holding up well. I am thankful to see that. I’m not sure my mare at home would have fared as well.”

Colin thought he heard horses’ hooves. The sound was getting closer, and Margaretha must have heard them too, because she stopped talking and listened.

The horses — there must have been at least three of them — slowed on the road, which was only about twenty feet from where they were standing in the trees. Male voices were talking but he couldn’t make out the words. Then he heard, “. . . stop at this stream for the night.”

Margaretha moved nearer to Colin and the horses until she was standing close enough he could hear her breathing. It was too dark for him to see more than the outline of her, but she was facing the direction of the voices.

Four or five horses and riders left the road at almost the same spot where Colin and Margaretha had. The riders dismounted and led their horses to the stream. In the light of the moon, Colin could see that the men were wearing red tunics with gold stitching.

Margaretha grabbed his arm. She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Those are Claybrook’s men.”

“Don’t move,” Colin whispered back to her.

Her hand still gripped his arm. Claybrook’s men milled around, talking and preparing to sleep there. If none of them came toward where he and Margaretha and their horses were standing, perhaps they could leave quietly and not be seen.

One by one, the men headed into the woods, no doubt to relieve themselves, then came back. Colin held his breath as the last man headed into the woods, walking within ten feet of them. Margaretha stood still next to him, but the horses were busy munching on what grass they could find at their feet. Would the sound of their powerful teeth biting through the grass reach the man’s ears as he walked past?

The man disappeared into the trees.

The others were talking as they set up camp, made a small fire, and seemed to be cooking something. As he added some sticks to the fire, one man said, “That Lady Anne is a fine one. When she marries Sir Reginald, think he’ll make her do the cooking?” His voice rumbled with laughter.

Another one snorted and said, “She’s too fine a lady for cooking. Reginald will lose all his money trying to keep her in silks.”

The first one said, “She must not have any love for her kinsmen. She hardly batted an eye when Reginald told her he was promised a castle and holdings when Duke Wilhelm was dead.”

Margaretha gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

He went on. “She even told us the color of the horses the duke’s daughter and Lord le Wyse had left there on.” They chuckled.

One of the other men standing nearby laughed so loudly, he drowned out their conversation about Lady Anne.

Margaretha clenched her fist over her mouth as she stared out at the men.

Colin was still watching and trying to listen for the man who was in the forest and had passed so close to them. He suddenly emerged from the trees at the same spot he had entered, about ten feet from Colin and Margaretha, and joined the other soldiers. The loud talking and laughing must have covered up the soft sounds of the horses’ chewing, because it didn’t look as though he had heard or seen them hiding there.

“What should we do?” Margaretha whispered.

“I think we should go now before things get too quiet.” In the darkness, Colin took her hand in his, his heart pounding hard against the wall of his chest. He placed his lips against her hair and whispered, “Take your horse’s reins and we’ll lead them back, farther into the trees. Follow me.”

Margaretha nodded and did as he said. They led the horses away from Claybrook’s men. He tried to let go of Margaretha’s hand, but she clung to him.