The Princess Spy (28 page)

“Of course. I know lots of stories.” Her mother had often made up stories and wrote them down for her and her brothers and sisters. But Margaretha would tell him one of her own. “Once upon a time, there was a boy who hated injustice.”

“What is injustice?”

“Injustice is something unfair or cruel. So when the boy discovered that a wealthy man had unjustly and cruelly killed his sister’s friend, a girl the same age as his sister, the boy chased after that man to capture him and bring him back to his homeland to be punished.”

Toby stretched out on the floor and lay his head on her leg.

Margaretha laid part of her blanket over Toby, covering his bare arm and bare feet, and went on. “He caught up to the murderer, but his men beat the boy and left him for dead on the road, where he was picked up by a potter and his apprentice. The potter and his apprentice brought the boy to the great and beautiful Hagenheim Castle, where lived a wise healer who tended his wounds and gave him hot drinks made with healing herbs. Soon he was well again, but none of the people of Hagenheim Castle could understand his foreign language, as he was from a country far away.”

“What did he do then?” Toby’s sleepy voice asked.

“He got a job working in the stables of the castle when he found out that the murderer was there. There was also a beautiful princess living at the castle, and she was the only person, besides the priest, who could understand the language of the boy, since the princess was well-educated, and studious besides.” Margaretha smiled at this bit of vanity. “She and the boy found out that the murderer was plotting to take over Hagenheim and kill the excellent Duke Wilhelm who ruled over the land.”

Toby yawned noisily. “What happened then?”

“Then the noble boy and princess defeated the evil murderer.”

“Did they chop off his head?”

“Yes, and the boy and all of Hagenheim lived happily ever after.”

“Didn’t the boy marry the princess?”

Margaretha hesitated. How should she answer? She must pretend his question didn’t make her heart flutter. It was only a story, after all. “The boy and the princess were good friends, almost like brother and sister. Besides, the boy was a foreigner and didn’t want to live in Hagenheim, and the girl didn’t want to leave her family, because they were good and kind to her.” Just saying the words, however, made her heart heavy.

“That man who was here, is he your sweetheart?”

“He is only a friend.”

A movement made her turn her head. Standing in the doorway, which was open a few inches to let in the light, was Colin.

Her heart stopped in panic. How long had he been standing there?

Rain slid down his face. His hair was as black as night and water dripped off the ends onto his tunic.

But of course, he wouldn’t have understood what she was saying even if he had overheard her story, since he didn’t speak German. She jumped up to get him the dry clothes she had found.

Chapter
26

Colin approached the door of the stable and
heard Margaretha’s voice. From the mysterious, slightly playful tone, she seemed to be telling a story. He stopped to listen, but he couldn’t understand any of it.

“Colin.” She seemed to blush uncomfortably at the sight of him. “I didn’t know you were standing there.” She let out a strained chuckle, as if she was relieved.

He pushed the door open while she and the little boy stood up.

“You are dripping wet. You will catch a deadly chill.” She closed the door behind him, leaving it open a bit to let in some light.

“I set some snares, and now we will have to wait to see if they catch anything.”

“That is so clever. I would never know how to do such a thing. But now you must get out of those wet clothes. You’re shaking. Toby helped me find some dry clothes and a blanket. And in the same trunk there were some men’s clothes.” She bent and picked up a bundle and held it out to him. “No, don’t touch it.” She pulled it back. “You will get them wet. Toby will carry them for you. You can go in the corner and put them on. I won’t be able to see you.”

She turned and said something to the boy, who motioned to Colin to follow him, then took the dry clothes and disappeared into the dark corner of the stable.

Colin followed him until it was too dark to see anything, then stood still as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Toby — that was the child’s name, apparently — had led him into an unused horse stall. He shoved the clothes into Colin’s hands and left, closing the door behind him.

Colin shucked his cold, wet clothes and managed, after much fumbling, to figure out what manner of clothes he had been given — a long tunic and hose — and put them on. Finally, when he was sure he was covered from neck to foot, he made his way back to Margaretha and Toby.

“You must be so cold. You were out in the rain for a long time. You take the blanket.” She took the blanket from around her shoulders.

“I don’t need it.”

“Nonsense. You’re shivering.” She wrapped it around him and held the ends together in front of his chest. Her voice was breathy as she said, “And your hair is still wet.” She stared into his eyes.

He took the ends of the blanket in his hand.

She let go, breaking contact with him and stepping back. The little boy was gazing languidly at them, his eyes half closed.

“I’ll help him get to sleep,” she said softly, although the boy would certainly not understand her English. “He’s very tired.”

She called the boy over to the corner, sat against a huge mound of hay, and took him into her lap.

Seeing the boy’s bare arms and feet, Colin said, “There’s no sense in you two being cold.” He sat close beside her, pulling the horse blanket around Margaretha and the child. He also wrapped his arms around them, on top of the blanket, and leaned his shoulder against the wall and his back against the hay.

“Thank you.” She turned to look at him, bringing her face within inches of his.

She immediately turned away. She spoke to the child in German, that strange, guttural language which actually sounded lilting and sweet coming from her. She talked softly for several minutes, until the boy’s eyes closed and his breathing became regular and heavy with sleep.

“Why don’t you go to sleep too,” he whispered against her hair. “I can keep watch. If I hear someone coming, I’ll wake you.” She felt like heaven against his chest, warm and comfortable.

Turning her head to the other side where he couldn’t look into her eyes, she whispered, “Do you think the rain will stop soon? I don’t like wasting so much time, but it would be difficult to travel in this cold rain.”

“I hope it will stop soon.”

She had been sitting rather tensely, her back against his chest, but now she started to relax a little.

“I found a place in the woods, a rock outcropping, where we can cook the game, if my snares yield some.”

“What is a ‘rock outcropping’?”

“Big rocks creating a natural shelter.”

“Oh. That is good.” She relaxed some more, leaning farther back, the boy still sleeping peacefully with her arms wrapped around him, the same way Colin’s arms were wrapped around her.

She was quiet. He wondered if she was falling asleep. It gave him a warm feeling to think she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms. Truly, she was the most gentle, compassionate, sincere girl he had ever met.

But dwelling on her character qualities was dangerous.

“I’m sorry about what happened to your friend, John,” she said softly.

That was the last thing they had talked about that morning before it started raining. “John was a good man.”

“I have never had anyone close to me die. I had a sister who drowned, but it happened when I was a baby. I know it must be terrible to lose a friend.”

“Yes. It was even worse because I . . . I was responsible. He would have been home, well and content, if I had not brought him here.”

She whispered, “Perhaps you blame yourself to keep from feeling the grief.”

He wasn’t sure what he thought about that statement. “I was impulsive and overconfident. I thought I could capture a murderer, with only one other person to help me, which also makes me arrogant and careless.” Why was he trying so hard to convince her he was a bad person?

“I don’t see you as any of those things.” Her voice was calm and quiet. “I see you as courageous and caring, noble and generous.”

They sat in silence, listening to the rain drip off the thatched roof and the trees outside, the horses snuffling occasionally in their stalls or munching on hay.

He knew he shouldn’t say what he was about to say, but . . . “And I see you as intelligent, kind, brave, and beautiful.”

“I talk too much.” Her voice was soft but vibrant. “And I’m a flibbertigibbet.”

He also knew he shouldn’t do what he was about to do, but . . . he raised his hand to her chin and lifted her face until he could gaze into her eyes. Her lips looked soft and inviting, but he did not have the right to kiss her, as he was not betrothed to her and had no hope of being so.

He let go of her chin and closed his eyes.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, turning so her forehead was nestled against his neck.

“I told you before,” he said. “I like hearing you talk. And I was wrong. You are not a flibbertigibbet.”

“So you think I am a good spy?”

He smiled as he adjusted his arms around her. “You are a very good spy.”

Margaretha awoke feeling warm and comfortable. What was so heavy against her legs? She opened her eyes. Toby lay in her lap and Colin’s arm was around her, and she remembered. Guilt pricked her at how good it felt to be surrounded by his arms, his warm chest behind her. The sound of his steady breathing next to her ear sent a tingling sensation across her shoulders.

Colin shifted slightly. His breathing changed and became less heavy; he was awake.

“Am I hurting you?” she whispered.

“No. But I should get up. It sounds like the rain stopped.” He started sliding away from her.

Margaretha leaned forward and tried not to wake Toby, but he sat up and rubbed his eyes. They all got up and peeked out the door. It had not stopped raining entirely, but it was more of a mist falling from the sky.

“I’ll go check the snares.”

“We’ll come with you.” She should probably leave Toby behind, but she had a feeling he would not allow himself to be left.

Margaretha and Toby followed Colin outside, holding the blanket over their heads. Toby seemed to think it was a game and smiled as they darted around the trees and almost lost Colin a few times.

Colin’s snares ended up containing three plump hares, one in the noose of each snare. They followed Colin to the rock outcropping, which sheltered them, somewhat, from the heavy mist that clung to their eyelashes.

Colin skinned the hares, which made Margaretha avert her eyes and Toby gasp in delight at his skill. He had found a pile of dry wood that had been covered with an oiled tarp underneath the rock outcropping, and he used it to build a small fire. He also made a crude spit from sticks, and he roasted the hares over the fire. They smelled so good, Margaretha’s stomach competed with Toby’s to see whose could growl louder, making them both giggle.

When it was done, Colin presented the meat to them on “platters” of wet leaves.

Switching to English, Margaretha asked, “Where did you learn such important skills as catching and skinning hares?”

“I was a boy like most others, roaming over the English countryside looking for adventure. But John taught me about snares and cooking game.” A flicker of pain crossed his face as he looked down.

No wonder he displayed so much passion to bring Claybrook to justice. In his grief, he was angry. Her mother had once told her, “When women are sad, they cry, but when men are sad, they get angry.”

He handed Toby a piece of cooled meat.

For all she knew, Claybrook may have killed her family members. But somehow, she just couldn’t imagine that happening. Her faith in her father — and her brother Valten as well — was too great to think they might have allowed a peacock like Claybrook to defeat them. And once they were able to reach Marienberg and her cousin, Duke Theodemar, brought his fighting men, Claybrook would finally receive the punishment he deserved.