“It may all turn out well.” Rutger was no longer looking at her but was pacing in a tight line by her bed, tapping his chin with a finger. “After all, you shall be married to the Burgomeister’s son, and Mathis will no doubt have a lot of influence. But the marriage must take place soon. Very soon.”
Her stomach did that sickening flip again.
“My dear”—he turned to face her—“I am so thankful to see that you are not near death. Still, it must be painful for you to walk. I would not be surprised if you hated Jorgen.” He eyed her.
“I do not hate him. He had to shoot me. It was his duty as the forester.”
“I brought some peas,” Frau Hartman called as the back door opened and shut.
Her uncle squeezed her hand. “I am sorry. I must go.” He turned and ran out of the room, down the corridor, and out the front door, letting it slam behind him.
Frau Hartman stood in the doorway with a basket of peas. “Who was that? Was someone here?”
“It was Rutger.”
“Oh. He did not have to run away like that.”
No doubt he was frightened. Guilt would do that to a person. “I see you have some peas for me.”
While Odette shelled peas, which she had learned how to do as a little girl when she worked for her neighbors—popping the pod, then pushing the little round peas out with her thumb—her mind was left to go over and over the visit from Rutger.
She had felt real fear at the way Rutger had spoken to her. Surely her uncle would not harm her. But what would he do to avoid punishment by the margrave? Would Mathis be able to bribe Lord Thornbeck to spare both her and Rutger? Would her marriage to Mathis save her and her uncle from punishment?
And what about the poor children? They had not starved, even though for six months the food she thought was going to them was actually being sold by Rutger. God must have been providing for them. And if she had not decided to go out hunting one last night, thinking she had to provide meat for them one last time, Jorgen would not have shot her.
While Jorgen’s mother was out of the room, she whispered, “God, I know Rutger and I do not deserve it, but would You provide for us too? I want to do the right thing, and I don’t want to be punished for poaching, but I do not want to marry Mathis.”
She couldn’t imagine how God could get her out of it.
Jorgen arrived at Thornbeck Castle in the morning to report to Lord Thornbeck. His hands were cold and sweaty, and he still was not certain what he would tell the margrave. God, give me wisdom and the words to say.
Ulrich met him as soon as he was inside the castle and walked him to the margrave’s library. For once, Ulrich smiled and talked about the weather. His friendliness made the hair on Jorgen’s arms rise. What was he scheming?
“Good morning, Jorgen.” The margrave stood and leaned on his cane when Jorgen walked in.
“Good morning, Lord Thornbeck.” If only he could meet with the margrave without his chancellor there. The shrewd look in Ulrich’s eyes made him seem even more suspicious. He would do his best to turn the margrave against him.
“What news do you have for me about the notorious poacher of Thornbeck Forest?”
“My lord, I now know who is responsible for the poaching, as well as the black market.”
“That is excellent, Jorgen.” The margrave’s eyes grew wider and a wisp of a smile crossed his lips. “Excellent work.”
Ulrich looked as if he had just swallowed an eel whole, as his face turned ashy green.
“Who is this poacher? I will send my bailiff at once to capture him and all his helpers and bring him here.”
“My lord, I . . . I can tell you that the poacher will no longer be poaching.”
The margrave’s smile disappeared. “He is dead, then?”
“No, my lord. The poacher is not dead, but the poacher is . . . unable to do any more poaching.”
“You are speaking nonsense, Jorgen. What are you saying?”
As the margrave’s expression grew harder, the chancellor’s eager gaze darted back and forth from the margrave to Jorgen.
“I am saying that I shot and injured the poacher, but I will be trying to find more evidence against the person who is responsible for coercing the poacher into killing the king’s deer.”
“Coercing?” The margrave frowned.
“This is a travesty of justice,” Ulrich announced. “Your forester is defying you, my lord, and refusing to respect your orders. This man should be thrown into the dungeon until he reveals the identity of the poacher.”