The Princess Spy

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Thank you.” As Margaretha walked, hoping she didn’t break the eggs, she realized she wasn’t hungry enough to eat them raw. But if she wanted to cook the eggs, she would need something to put them in. She had seen the cook at the castle put eggs into a pot of boiling water.

  Margaretha noticed a child’s face peeking out an open window at her. As she looked at the houses and shops lining the dirt street, she noticed several more men, women, and children gaping at her.

  A little girl was walking toward her carrying an armload of wood. “You’re pretty,” the little girl said.

  “Thank you.” Margaretha’s stomach growled again and she pinched a piece of bread off one of the loaves and put it in her mouth. It was barley bread, coarse and rather tasteless, but it made Margaretha’s stomach feel better, so she ate another piece.

  She didn’t know where she was going and needed to get back to Colin and Anne, so she approached an older, gray-haired man standing in the doorway of a crude house. “Excuse me. Can you tell me where I might find a pot for cooking? A small one, preferably.”

  There was a shrewd look in his wrinkly eyes. Abruptly, Margaretha was very aware that she was alone, that she didn’t have the safety of her name and her family to hide behind, and that it might have been better to ask a woman.

  “Come inside and you can have what you want.” He motioned with his hand, a too-eager expression on his saggy face.

  “No, I will wait here. I can pay you for the cooking pot.”

  He grunted, then turned and went inside. He came back holding a black iron pot. A young man stood just behind him in the shadows.

  Margaretha lifted her purse without untying it and opened it, offering the man two silver coins.

  “More,” the man said.

  She needed the money to buy horses for the long journey to Marienberg. “No. Two is enough,” she said. She still didn’t like the look on his face.

  A woman ran toward her carrying a small iron pot. “Here! You can have mine for one silver coin!” She smiled.

  Margaretha liked her face, so she smiled back and gave her the coin. After the woman looked it over, she handed Margaretha the pot. It was heavier than she had expected and she almost dropped it.

  The man in the doorway growled, then mumbled something under his breath that Margaretha did not understand. She did not look back again, but walked through the little village the way she had come, toward the hiding place in the forest where she had left Anne and Colin. She put the loaves of bread into the pot while she walked and held it against her hip, keeping it away from her purse, dangling against her thigh, and the fragile eggs inside.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled, as if someone was watching her. She quickened her pace, wishing she had not insisted she could go into the village alone and buy food. She had assumed this small village was like Hagenheim’s Marktplatz, a safe and friendly place to buy and sell.

  Perhaps she was only imagining that eyes were still watching her. She was almost out of sight of the little wattle-and-daub buildings. As she rounded a bend in the road, she slowed her pace, hitching the pot a little higher on her hip. Her fears were foolish and imaginary.

  Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned her head to look, and someone shoved her in the back. She fell to her knees, dropping the pot in the dust of the road.

  Chapter

  19

  Colin stepped out onto the road and walked in the direction he had seen Margaretha go. Perhaps he should not have let her go by herself. After all, how many times had she gone to market to buy food? Probably none.

  He had been walking for less than a minute when he heard a startled cry and a hollow, metallic sound, like something heavy hitting the ground.

  He began to run, and rounded a bend in the road. Several feet ahead, a man was standing over Lady Margaretha. With one hand he held her by the throat, and with his other hand he was grabbing at her purse.

  A roar left Colin’s throat as he charged forward. The man looked up just as Colin leapt through the air. He let go of Margaretha’s throat. Colin tackled him, knocking him backward into the ground. Without waiting for the man to recover, Colin drew his fist back and slammed his knuckles into his nose.

  “How dare you touch this lady!” Colin ground out between clenched teeth.

  The scrawny man cowered beneath Colin, holding his hands up over his face. When Colin lifted himself off him, he saw that Margaretha’s attacker was little more than a skinny, raggedly dressed youth, not even as old as Margaretha. He scrabbled backward, dragging himself away surprisingly fast on his hands and feet.

  Several villagers were coming their way, no doubt to see what the commotion was. Colin allowed the man to get up and run back toward them.

  Margaretha. Colin turned and ran back to her. She was on her knees, staring down into her leather purse. He knelt beside her and gently placed his hand on her arm. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head and touched her neck.

  “Let me see.” He pulled her hand away. There were slight red marks on her skin, but no bruises that he could see. An image of Philippa’s bruised neck leapt to the fore of his mind.

  “I am well,” she whispered, and lowered her head so he couldn’t look into her eyes. Her hands were shaking as she pulled a cracked egg out from among her coins. Her voice trembled as she said, “He tried to take my purse.”

  The air rushed from his chest at how forlorn she sounded. What was he thinking, allowing her to go alone? “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.” His words coincided with a stabbing pain, like a knife between his ribs, and once again he saw Philippa as she was dragged from the river, her neck covered in bruises . . . then John’s unseeing eyes staring up at the sky.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” He wanted to see her face, but he didn’t want to force her to look at him. “Let me do that.” Colin took the broken egg from her hand and tossed it away. Four more eggs lay inside, but they all seemed to be intact. He drew the drawstring closed and gave it back to her.

  He helped her stand, and she wiped her face with the back of her hand. She bent and picked up a black pot sitting on the ground with two loaves of bread inside. “At least our bread didn’t get dirty.”

  Her voice was quiet, and when she looked up at him, she wasn’t crying. “I’m grateful you came when you did, or we would have lost the money we need to buy horses.” She seemed to make an attempt at a smile.

  Should he put his arm around her? He wanted to comfort her but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Forgive me for not getting here sooner.” His stomach clenched at the thought of that man hurting her. “If you want me to, I will go find that little pond scum and make him sorry he ever thought about stealing from you.”

  “No, no, I don’t want . . .” She shook her head. “Please, let us get back to Anne.”

  Colin walked beside her. She stayed quite close to him, her arm brushing his once, then a second time, as they made their way back to the little cove in the woods.

  Once back, they all ate the bread, even Anne, who complained, “This is barley bread! I don’t eat barley bread. It tastes like dirt,” as she tore off another piece.

  Colin built a fire and carried water in the pot from a nearby stream to cook the eggs that had not been smashed when she’d fallen to her knees and struggled with her attacker.

  While the eggs cooked, Colin asked Margaretha about what happened at the village. At first she was quiet and barely answered him, but soon she began to tell exactly what had happened, the way the people in the village had looked at her, and what they had said to her. Seeing she was her talkative self again, he relaxed against a tree trunk and stretched out his legs. As long as she was quiet and unsmiling, he worried she might have some hidden injury. Her chatter reassured him that, just as she had not suffered damage from getting thrown from the dangerous black stallion, she had survived her attack unscathed.

  Thank you, God.

  Margaretha was pleased to
see Anne eating one of the eggs. As much as she’d complained about the bread, she hadn’t said anything about the egg — although it would have tasted better with a little salt.

  Margaretha felt better now that her stomach was full. It was good to sit in their quiet, secluded spot in the forest and rest her tired feet. Her shoes were not very sturdy and wouldn’t last long if they had to walk much farther. They needed to find horses, and soon. Her family’s lives depended on it.

  Margaretha stood. “We should go.”

  After Colin covered their fire with dirt and poured the water from the pot over the mound, they set out on the south road toward Marienberg.

  Anne, as soon as they started walking, grinned smugly at Colin, “I know you want to protect me from danger, but I am quite certain my father and his servants can keep me safe from Lord Claybrook’s guards. So, since I know the way and don’t need any help, I am going home.”

  Colin didn’t acknowledge her words, and Anne’s smile changed to pouting lips and crossed arms.

  “You should go home,” he announced. “We will escort you there. And I think Lady Margaretha should stay with you too.”

  “We already talked about this.” Margaretha clenched her fists. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. “I am going with you to Marienberg Castle to get men to fight Claybrook. I will not sit like a frightened little girl at my uncle’s house.”

  Anne huffed and crossed her arms again.

  Colin’s jaw looked like it was cut from stone. She plainly read his meaning.

  “Lady Margaretha, you can trust me to go to Marienberg Castle, get help, and save your family.” He glanced sideways at her as they walked. “This journey will be perilous. Look what has already happened, when you were attacked at that village. I don’t want you to be hurt, and you will be safe at Lord Rupert’s manse.”

  Heat pricked her face. She knew she had been foolish to show her money and purse to all those people in the village. She had not been on her guard when the man ran up behind her and attacked her, and to Colin she must look like a sheltered, naïve girl who didn’t know the least thing about taking care of herself. The thought of him having to rescue her suddenly made her furious, mostly at herself.

  Margaretha couldn’t seem to stop herself from saying, “I will not let anything like that happen again. I will not need you to save me again, and I will not be dropped off like a pile of dirty laundry.”

  “It isn’t like that at all.” But Colin’s voice did not sound a bit conciliatory; he was not backing down either. “A young, beautiful lady walking around the countryside, unprotected except by a man like me — untrained in warfare — with only a small dagger as a weapon? It is beyond foolish. What kind of person would I be if I allowed it?”

  “You do not have a choice in the matter! I have a will of my own, and I am not married, and I have no master with a right to tell me what to do.”

  She had almost allowed his mention of her being “beautiful” to soften her. But she couldn’t allow him to deter her from her purpose. “My family is in danger. I must help them.” She felt the tears well up behind her eyes and was horrified. Now was the absolute worst moment for her to be hit with an urge to cry. She swallowed, forcing the tears back. “You need me to go with you. If we both go, we can help each other, and there is a better chance of getting there. Besides, you simply cannot stop me. I am going, and I will not be deterred.”

  They were standing in the road, glaring at each other. Anne looked on, frowning in obvious disgust.

  Margaretha started walking again, as if the argument was over and she had won.

  “I will not allow you to put yourself in danger.” Colin’s tone was adamant.

  “You cannot stop me.” At the risk of sounding boastful, she said, “I took care of myself and Anne in the castle. I saved us all by knocking out the guards and taking us through the secret tunnel. And therefore, I am going.”

  “I want you to stay with Lady Anne. Why can’t you understand? This will be a dangerous journey.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, as if he was clenching his teeth.

  She truly did not understand why he was so determined to leave her behind. Unless . . . “If I annoy you, why don’t you just be honest and say so.” She blurted this new thought before she could bite it back. Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. Was he trying to get rid of her because she talked too much? Did she annoy him so much? Well, of course she did. She annoyed everyone when she talked too much, which was all the time.

  “No.” Colin frowned.

  Of course he wouldn’t admit it.

  “No, you don’t annoy me. I just don’t want you to get killed.”

  They walked on in silence. Margaretha quickened her pace so that she was walking slightly ahead of Anne and Colin, since it seemed she could no longer hold back the tears. She knew she probably sounded ridiculous. Perhaps he did simply want her to be safe. In her anguish and frustration, her family’s faces rose before her — her mother; her sisters, Kirstyn and Adela; her sister-in-law, Gisela, and her unborn baby; her brothers, Wolfgang and Steffan. And what would happen to her father and Valten when they came back to Hagenheim and found it under siege by that evil Claybrook? Would he manage to carry out his plan to kill them?

  If she were honest, the tears also sprang from wondering if Colin found her company so tedious and annoying that he wanted to get rid of her. But she pushed that thought away.

  Instead she considered poor Bezilo, so badly beaten and wounded. Pictured Claybrook’s guards, whom she herself had bashed in the head with her candlestick, lying dead on the grass after Bezilo finished them off with the sword. O God, what has happened to my life? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Will I be able to make it to Marienberg before something worse happens? Will you keep my family safe until I return? Will I ever be able to return to Hagenheim?

  This was not the sort of prayer to give her the courage to defy Colin, and not the sort that would help her stop crying. She wiped the tears as discreetly as possible, hoping Colin and Anne wouldn’t know she was crying, since they were behind her and could only see her back.

  O Father God, I know nothing is impossible for You. I am not putting my faith in anything but You — not the money in my purse, nor my status as the daughter of a duke, not in Colin’s ability to protect me, nor even in myself. My faith is in You. You are mighty to save, and I will not waver in my faith. I know You care for me, and nothing is too hard for You.

  Her tears had all dried up by the end of that prayer. A sense of peace washed over her and she walked with a more confident step. Thank you, God.

  Colin suspected Margaretha was crying by the way she kept lifting her hands to her face. He sighed. God, help me. I can’t allow her to be killed. Help me convince her to stay with Lady Anne. I just want to keep her safe. Why can’t she be reasonable? But Colin felt no peace at all after that prayer. Was God even listening to him? Surely God wouldn’t want him to take her with him.

  “What does your home look like?” Anne asked, a flirtatious smile on her face. Uh-oh.

  He looked askance at her. “It’s . . . gray.”

  “Gray stone?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to England.” Anne smiled meaningfully.

  Once again, he wondered why he had told her his lineage. Though he knew why. Pride, stupid pride. He was tired of being treated first like a poor mad indigent, then a mute stable boy. His pride had risen up and he’d declared himself both wealthy and powerful by the world’s standards. Now he would have to pay for that bit of folly.

  “Is it a castle?”

  “In a sense.”

  “With towers?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Le Wyse House.”

  “Not very grand.”

  Colin shrugged. He was still trying to figure out an argument that would convince Margaretha to stay behind.

  “What did you say your father’s title was?”


  “Earl of Glynval.”

  “That sounds very well. Is Glynval a grand place?”

  “No. It is a small village.”

  “Oh. But he has land holdings in other parts of England?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you always so talkative?” Her hand was on her hip.

  “Are you?”

  “I’m not the one with a reputation for talking too much.” She angled her head in Margaretha’s direction and raised her eyebrows.

  Was it his imagination, or did Margaretha’s shoulders stiff en? She spun around and faced Anne.

  “Anne, you have always treated me with contempt and petty mean-spiritedness, and I’m tired of it. If you cannot treat me as a friend and a relative, the way I have treated you, then don’t bother to come visit me at Hagenheim anymore when this is all over.”

  “Ach! I did not know you had such a temper, Margaretha.” But Anne said nothing more to Margaretha, and they continued walking.

  Anne tried to make conversation with Colin occasionally, but for half an hour, Margaretha never spoke. Anne even invited Colin to come to visit her when all was done saving Hagenheim and capturing Lord Claybrook.

  He was afraid he would never be able to convince Margaretha to stay with her cousin now, although he still hoped she was softening. When they were nearly to Lord Rupert and Lady Anne’s home, Colin caught up with Margaretha and took a peek at her face. Before he could say anything, she unclenched her teeth to say, “I’m coming with you. You can’t stop me.”

  No. Not softening at all.

  Chapter

  20

  Margaretha hardened herself to the disappointed look on Colin’s face. Even though his lip was swollen and he still had traces of the blue and greenish bruises on his face, she couldn’t allow herself to feel any pity for him, not until she was no longer afraid he would try to leave her with Anne.

  Anne quickened her pace as they drew near her home, causing them all to walk faster. The two-story stone house looked quiet. There was no sign of Claybrook’s guards. Colin asked Anne to wait, but she ran toward the house, leaving Margaretha and Colin staring after her from their hiding place behind some trees.