Voices drifted up from below. He crept down the stairs as quietly as possible, but the wooden boards were creaky. When he could see the light on the steps below him, he stopped to listen.
A man was arguing with two women about the best way to roast a pig. “Roasted on a spit makes it crispy on the outside.”
“But if you cook it in the pot, it does not dry out.”
“I like it boiled in pork fat.”
A girl’s life was dependent on what happened in the next few seconds. God, give us favor. With that quick prayer, Jorgen stumbled down the stairs and into the light of the cooking fire.
“What is that wonderful smell?” Jorgen yelled the words. He stumbled and kicked a copper pot that sat on the floor. The sound reverberated off the stone walls of the kitchen.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” one of the women asked, her features scrunching.
“What do you want, fellow?” The man was even larger than the guard at the front door. He stepped toward Jorgen.
“I was looking for the privy.” He slurred his words and wobbled when he walked.
“There’s no privy here. Go in the alley.” The man jerked his meaty hand in the direction of the back door.
He had hoped to avoid fighting this man who was as big as a bear, but he had to do something distracting so Kathryn could get away.
Jorgen fell forward into a table. He knocked several copper pots and pans and utensils off the table, and they fell onto the floor with a deafening crash.
Screaming and yelling ensued, and the bear of a man grabbed Jorgen by the shoulder and pushed him up, then drew back his fist and aimed it at his nose.
Instinctively, Jorgen ducked and partially blocked the blow with his arm, and the bear’s fist landed a glancing blow to Jorgen’s forehead.
Over the man’s shoulder, Jorgen saw a dark form race toward the back of the kitchen and out the back door.
Jorgen ducked again as the burly guard threw another punch toward his face. Jorgen was not as quick this time, and the blow hit him below his left eye, knocking him back a step. Before the man could hit him again, Jorgen landed a blow to the man’s gut. He bent forward, then brought his fist up to slam into Jorgen’s chin.
Jorgen’s teeth rattled, but he ignored the pain and slammed his own fist into the burly man’s nose.
The man grabbed Jorgen’s tunic at his neck, cutting off his air, and pulled him up onto his toes. Blood poured out of the man’s nose. “I’m going to kill you!”
Jorgen clawed at his hand, trying to get loose.
When the man took one hand away to wipe at his nose, Jorgen held on to the table beside him, raised his feet, and kicked as hard as he could. The man let go and fell backward into a counter filled with more pots and pans, sending them crashing to the floor. The women in the room screamed.
Jorgen fled, jumping over the scattered pots and pans. He leapt out the door and into the alley, running toward the open market square. His whole head throbbed, especially his cheekbone, but he kept going. He ran to the gray stone town hall, jerked the door open, and stepped inside.
Several people were milling around, talking to each other in the large open room. But he did not see Kathryn. Then something dark caught his eye. He went toward the corner of the room and reached down to pick up his cloak, which lay crumpled on the floor.
His heart sank. Where was she? Did she have somewhere safe to go? Why had she not waited for him?
She had not trusted him. No doubt she felt little inclination to trust anyone after what she had been through. He sighed and tucked the cloak under his arm.
He looked around one more time and a man approached him. “If you’re looking for the girl who dropped that cloak, I saw her go inside the shop across the street.” He pointed to the candle shop.
“I thank you.” Jorgen hurried out and across the street. As he reached toward the handle of the chandler’s shop door, it opened and Kathryn stepped out.
“Listen. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I assure you, I only want you to be safe.”
She was staring at him with teary eyes. “I am bad. You should not try to help me. Agnes will hate me.” She burst into soft sobs, covering her face with her hands.
He started to put an arm around her but stopped himself. He let out a pent-up breath, then bent down and spoke softly. “Agnes is not a good person. You must get away from her. If she sends her guards after us, I am not sure I can fight them off.” It was a miracle he had not been beaten into the ground by the one guard. “We must go now.” He hoped she could hear the urgency in his voice.