While the girl’s shoulders shook with sobs, the thought of what she must have done, here in this very room, sprang up before Odette’s eyes, and she shuddered. God, help her get out of here and never come back. Help her understand she does not have to stay here.
Odette walked to the window, which looked out over the street. Below, people were walking around, carrying bundles and sacks and baskets full of good things from the market. A man walked by as he took a bite from a bread roll in his hand. They were going about their normal daily chores and shopping, not knowing that just above them a young girl’s life was hanging uncertainly. Kathryn was doomed to a sordid, ugly life, depending on what happened in the next day, hour, or minute, and Odette’s innocence could be snatched away just as quickly.
“O Lord God,” she whispered toward the overcast sky, “please get me out of here. Get us both out of here. We are but dust and ashes in Your great universe, God. But for the sake of our Savior, Jesus, remember us and help us.”
“I am so sorry you came here for me,” Kathryn said, watching her from the bed. “You never should have come.” Her face was tear-stained and blotchy.
“Do not worry. I will think of a plan. Sooner or later they have to unbar the door. We must find something we can use as a weapon and force our way out.” Odette looked around the room for something she could use to bash someone over the head. “Or we could always kick them between the legs and punch them in the throat. Rutger taught me that those are the two places to strike if a man ever attacks me.”
Kathryn’s face seemed to grow even paler, her eyes wider. “But they would punish us, maybe even kill us, if we did something like that.”
“The idea is to render them too weak to hurt us, just long enough for us to escape.”
Kathryn still looked terrified. “You should go without me.”
“Do not be afraid. Just trust me.”
Kathryn wiped away another tear, pressing her lips together.
Jorgen walked toward his mother’s favorite bakery. It was the anniversary of his father’s death, and although she avoided admitting it, he knew she always felt sad around this day. So he had decided to buy her a cake, a luxury she never allowed herself, and take it to her. She would fuss at him for walking all that way, and especially since he had been going out every night to search for the poacher and getting less sleep. But it was worth it to give her something else to think about besides Father’s death.
Was someone calling his name? Jorgen turned his head but did not see anyone he knew on the crowded street. He kept moving forward.
“Jorgen!”
Anna was running toward him. When she reached him, she was so out of breath she could only pant.
“What is it?” By the look in her eyes, it was something bad. “Has something happened to Odette?”
She closed her mouth to swallow, then said, “Odette is at The Red House. You must come and get her.”
“The Red House?”
“She heard that Kathryn was there. She went inside to find her.”
Jorgen was already walking fast toward Waschefrau Strasse. “How long has Odette been in there?”
“Longer than I thought she would be. I told her not to do it, but she said she just wanted to see if Kathryn was there and to talk to her.”
What would they do to her? Jorgen broke into a run, leaving Anna behind, weaving in and out between the people.
When he turned down the street where The Red House stood, he slowed his pace. The guard at the door was already glaring at him. “Get out of here,” the guard said in a deep voice.
This was no time for playacting. Jorgen was no good at it anyway. He stood tall and looked the taller guard in the eye. “I am Jorgen Hartman, and I am the Margrave of Thornbeck’s forester. He will not suffer you to thwart my official business here. He will shut down this brothel, and Agnes and the rest of you will be on the street.”
The guard’s glare grew even blacker. “You are that man who took Kathryn away from here.”
“I am. The margrave knows all about that as well. He will also hear that you are keeping a young maiden here against her will, a young maiden who is the niece of a wealthy burgher named Rutger Menkels.”
When he said the name “Rutger Menkels,” the guard moved back a half inch, the expression in his eyes changing. Rutger was one of the wealthiest people in Thornbeck, but did that warrant a reaction from this stoic oaf of a guard?
“Come. I will take you to Agnes.”
Jorgen almost stepped on the guard’s heels as he followed him inside the dingy, half-lit room. Agnes’s shrewd eyes caught sight of them and she came forward. The guard met her halfway and whispered in her ear. A change came over Agnes’s face, much like what had happened with the guard. Then she waved the burly man away and proceeded toward Jorgen.