“I was only trying to listen for a while in order to refresh my memory of the language.”
But then Anne began speaking in German again and he didn’t understand a word. They talked in hushed voices, and this time Margaretha did not translate for him. Anne probably told her not to.
They came to a break in the trees, with a meadow on either side of the road.
“There’s the horse breeder’s house.” Margaretha hurried forward. A large stone and half-timber house came into view across the road in the clearing. Beyond it was a meadow and stables.
Colin listened and looked carefully up and down the road before they ventured out. But no sooner did he get two feet onto the road when he heard horses’ hoofs, and he stepped back into the cover of the trees.
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.