In spite of her age, Frau Hartman was a sturdy woman with a no-nonsense look on her face. Did she know that Odette was the poacher? Surely Jorgen had told her, or she had figured it out herself at seeing a woman wearing a man’s hunting clothes. But she said nothing and gently helped Odette back into bed, then propped up some pillows so she could sit up.
Odette noticed she was wearing an unfamiliar nightdress. “Did you and the healer help me put this on?” She vaguely remembered the process, of the two women stripping her of her leather tunic and hose and pulling the nightdress over her head.
“Yes, my dear. Susanna, the healer, gave you some herbs that made you sleepy so you wouldn’t feel as much pain. How are you feeling today? Well enough to eat something, I hope?”
“Yes, thank you. I believe I could eat something.”
A tray was sitting on the table beside her with a bowl of something that smelled like warm apples.
“I brought you my apple pasty.” She picked up the bowl and handed it to Odette.
“Thank you.”
Frau Hartman stood and straightened the room while Odette ate. The room must have belonged to Jorgen. No wonder he had looked so tired; she had taken his bed.
When Odette considered the situation from Jorgen’s mother’s perspective, Frau Hartman had every reason to dislike Odette. Her son had loved a woman who thought him beneath her, and she had been poaching secretly, which had caused problems for Jorgen for many weeks. And now she lay in Jorgen’s bed while he looked sad and broken.
Odette seemed like a wicked person from Frau Hartman’s point of view.
She wanted to ask where Jorgen was, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she ate the rest of the apple pasty, which tasted wonderful, and drank the water by her bedside, humbled by the woman’s kindness.
“Susanna says you have no broken bones. The arrows went through the muscles. You should heal, in time.”
Odette nodded. “Thank you for telling me. And thank you for taking care of me last night. I remember almost nothing of it.” What she did remember was clouded by a haze of pain.
“Susanna left you some herbs in case you need them.”
She was still in a lot of pain but didn’t want to complain. “It does not hurt so much as long as I stay still. Not that I plan to stay here a long time,” she quickly added. “I’m sure I will be well enough to leave soon. I could probably leave today.”
“Nonsense. You will stay right here until you are healed.”
Odette could sneak away tonight. But if Jorgen wanted to take her to the margrave’s dungeon to be punished for her crimes, he could easily find her at home and seize her. No doubt he would take Rutger to the dungeon as well.
“Are you in much pain, my dear?” Jorgen’s mother looked down at her in such a motherly way, it made her breath hitch.
“No. Thank you for asking. I was only thinking of something . . . unpleasant.”
She shook her head and clicked her tongue against her teeth. “Why don’t you take some of Susanna’s herbs? They cannot do you any harm, after all, and they might help.”
“Will they make me sleepy?”
“Probably.” Frau Hartman found the tiny pouch the healer had left. “I shall go get some hot water. Wait here for me.”
“I will.” Odette nearly laughed. She couldn’t get far, even if she felt well enough to try to leave.
Frau Hartman returned and gave her the steaming mug with the dried herb leaves lying on the bottom. She took a sip.
“Tastes like honey.”
“It has honey in it. Honey is good for all kinds of ailments.” Frau Hartman smiled. She had brought some mending and sat down to sew a rip in an apron.
As she sipped the drink, Odette tried to think of what she might ask Jorgen’s mother about him. “Jorgen must be a wonderful blessing to you, now that your husband is gone.”
“Yes, Jorgen is the best son. My only wish for him is to find a good wife.” She did not meet Odette’s eye.
“It was very kind of you and your husband to take him in. I know he is grateful.”
“He was ten when my husband brought him home. He had been living on the streets since his mother and father died. Poor thing, he was so thin and ragged the first time I saw him. And he was small—you would not know it to look at him now. He was so small I thought he was only about seven or eight. But I never talk about those days when he is around. He does not like to be reminded.” She sighed. “I don’t think he will ever stop grieving over his sister. He tried to be tough, even as a little boy, but the pain of her death and suffering went very deep.”