“I will. Now I am off to warn the other guards. You two stay here a moment so that we are not seen together.”
Margaretha translated to Colin as Bezilo walked away. Colin looked sharply at her, his hands clenched into fists. He had changed so much since the first time she saw him, lying almost lifeless on Frau Lena’s narrow bed, covered in dust and grime and dried blood. And then later, wearing those green-speckled clothes.
Now, even with the brown woolen tunic and hose of a stable boy, when she looked into his intense blue eyes, he made her breath catch in her throat. His hair was clean, thick and wavy, a dark-brown-almost-black which set off his bright blue eyes. His expression was less wild but every bit as intense as when he had demanded to speak to Duke Wilhelm that first day. His cheeks were no longer hollow and his shoulders brawnier after eating the hearty fare the cooks fed the servants.
It must have been a powerful spirit that had brought this foreigner, this peculiar stranger, to their town. He had come and everything had changed. She’d always felt so safe, and if not for Colin, she never would have suspected Lord Claybrook of being a murderer and a violent usurper.
“Margaretha, we must hurry. Claybrook will be expecting you.”
No one besides her immediate family members called her by her given name with such familiarity, but she was not in any mood to scold him for it.
She followed him out of the low garden gate and back toward the castle.
Colin dropped back to follow behind her as they walked. “I will hide in the library, which I saw across from the Great Hall,” he said quietly.
“Very well.” Ahead of her was Hagenheim Castle, a place more dear to her than any other. Its soaring towers never failed to fill her chest with contentment. To her left was the town of Hagenheim, where lived the families of the maids and other servants she had grown to love. There was Irmele the cook, who made her favorite cake for her birthdays. Irmele’s sister, whom she loved and talked about so often, lived near the Marktplatz with her many children and her husband, a butcher. Margaretha’s maid, Britta, had several brothers and sisters who lived in two large family homes on the street behind the Rathous, the older ones married. Margaretha had visited them once with her, and they had treated her like a queen. She had asked to hold Britta’s infant niece, and the baby had spit up on her, making Margaretha laugh, but horrifying everyone else. They had scrambled to clean her shoulder with cloths, apologizing profusely until Margaretha had made them laugh at themselves over all the fuss.
Hagenheim was a place where everyone knew which days to come to market and exactly where to find the town’s butchers, tanners, bakers, and blacksmiths. No one ever left, very little ever changed. Everyone smiled and spoke to each other, and everyone knew each other and knew what to expect from another day in Hagenheim.
Would that now change? Would the townspeople’s safety be shattered because of Lord Claybrook? She simply couldn’t imagine her father allowing that to happen. Even if he wasn’t here, wouldn’t he come and save them before that peacock Claybrook could lift his hand against them?
No, instead of counting on her father to save them, she must trust her own wits, which she’d never placed much value on before, as well as this young foreigner, to save her family, her town, and everything she had ever known. As strange and frightening as it was, it was equally exciting to think that she and Colin were pitting themselves against a dangerous foe and outwitting him until her father could come. Her father would be so proud of her — if she could manage to get her family out before Claybrook captured them.
As she rounded the side of the castle, bringing the gatehouse into full view, her eyes were drawn to the girl on horseback just entering the castle yard.
Her heart sank to her toes. “Not Anne.”
“What is it?” Colin hissed behind her.
“Only my cousin, coming for an ill-timed visit.”
Anne had already seen her, so Margaretha waved and pasted on a smile, starting forward to meet her. “I shall take Anne with me to see Lord Claybrook, which may provide a helpful distraction.”
But when Margaretha glanced behind her, Colin was gone, probably to the library to wait for her.
Margaretha met Anne as a stable boy trotted forward to take Anne’s horse.
“You look beautiful.” Margaretha clasped her cousin’s hand, bracing herself for Anne’s reply.
“Oh, Margaretha, you always say that and I never believe you are sincere.” Anne half frowned in her sardonic way. “But the blue color of this dress does set off my complexion perfectly. And don’t you look like the sweet little girl you are.” She smirked, looking down her nose at Margaretha. One might think by her tone and her words that Anne was at least ten years older, instead of only ten months.
“Come into the Great Hall, Anne. I have someone I want you to meet.”
“Why? Who is it?”
“An English earl, Lord Claybrook.”