Letters in the Grove

by Felicia Rogers

  Teresa raised her eyebrow and forced her heart rate to slow. Praying he didn’t realize her falsehood, she said, “Since I have no idea what you are speaking of, I don’t see how I could accomplish such a task.”

  Victor’s maniacal smile made her stomach clinch in fear. “In time I am sure all will become clear, and before you realize it you will have no trouble deciphering the message.”

  Chapter Six

  Gustav paced the length of Max’s solar. Max was currently viewing his grounds and had allowed Gustav the use of his private chamber.

  Olga stitched madly at a piece of fabric. The small tapestry would be something to place on Hans’ wall when they retrieved him. Worry lines furrowed her brow and she swore under her breath.

  “Do not look at me thusly. You know when I get upset I ruin my needlework.” She lay the needlework aside and placed her hands in her lap. “Tell me what happened. And do not give me the excuse you gave my husband. I know something out of the ordinary occurred. Do not forget, I am your sister.”

  Always able to read his moods, she made it impossible for him to keep a personal secret. He smiled. Olga had been consistent in tattling to their parents for even his slightest infraction.

  Relating the tale of his visit home brought a gasp from Olga. She stood and fluttered about the room. The worry lines from before deepened into grooves.

  “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Gustav remained silent and his sister continued, “What are you going to do? Since you did not see who took her you have no idea where to start. And what did she mean by thinking you were someone else? Who would want to hurt Teresa? And the funds you sent to her over the years. How could they possibly have all been used? None of this makes any sense.”

  “I agree. Unfortunately, I did not have time to ask those questions. I was tied to a chair for our brief reunion.” Gustav ran his hand through his hair and stood by the fireplace. The heat from the flames seared his legs and he moved away. “It seems while I’ve been away things might have changed.” Teresa had changed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it, Olga. I come home and all the furniture and even the windows have been sold. No funds? And she is worried about people coming to our home that she might need to tie to a chair? What happened to the sweet innocent wife I left behind? Where did she go?” What could she possibly have gotten herself into?

  “I hate to say it, dear brother, but when you left, she was on her own. Perhaps she had an unforeseen expense and had to use the funds. Teresa has always been good at adapting.”

  “True.” His sister’s explanation was lacking, but how was she to know the answers? He paced the small solar back and forth. He’d only been home for two days and already everything had gone awry.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Do you think Max can make some inquires within the court? Perhaps someone has been seen with her during my absence. Maybe they know who she socializes with.”

  Olga agreed and rushed from the room. Gustav moved to the window. The cool glass pane sent a chill along his arm. Wherever Teresa was, he hoped she was safe.

  ****

  “Hans, you must come quickly!”

  His heart hammered against his chest at the servant’s request. The young buxom maid was forever drawing him into secret alcoves and placing kisses against his red cheeks. Sometimes the attention was nice, but not when it interrupted his studies.

  “Helga, I am busy. Can it not wait?”

  “Nay, it cannot. You must come.”

  When he stayed put, she hurried forward, a hundred ringlets of golden hair bobbed with the movement. “Hans, I just overheard some news.”

  “Then tell me here, woman. I do not have time to gallivant all over the estate just to hear gossip.”

  Standing upright, her lips pursed into a pout. “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “Very well. Your parents have returned. They have come home!”

  Hans drew his brows together. This was not the news he expected. Letters had arrived more frequently of late, but there had been no word of a potential visit.

  “News is they have come to take you with them. You are going to England, or maybe France. Wouldn’t it be glorious to travel to far off places? To see how others live?” Helga danced around the room, a dreamy expression on her face.

  “I disagree. Germany is currently one of the only countries where a person can live and be free to worship as they please.”

  “That’s not exactly true, Herr Schmidt, and you know it. In order to worship as you please you must live in a part of the country where that is what they worship. If I was not a Protestant and you were not a Protestant, then living in Augsburg would be dangerous indeed.”

  Hans failed to mention the fact that even though this was true for most it wasn’t true for all. His benefactor, Rudolf Raeder, was staunchly Catholic. However, the power of his coin kept him in a position of authority. The Settlement of ’55 had not affected him in the slightest.

  Helga fell in front of his feet. Her blue eyes gazed at him. “If your parents take you away, can I go as well? Please tell me you won’t leave me here.”

  What she asked for he could not promise. It was not his place. With his silence tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and coursed along her soft plump cheeks. Poised to wipe them away, he was alerted to a sound. Boots scuffed the tiled floor of the open courtyard. The sound echoed along the wall to his room. He stood, moved Helga aside, and walked to his bedroom door.

  Discreetly he pushed it open but a crack. He peeked out. In the courtyard, talking to his benefactor was Victor Wulf and a young woman. Her long honey-colored hair swished against her waist as Herr Wulf squeezed her arm. Her blue eyes held an icy look and caused a shiver to race up his spine.

  With his ear to the opening he barely made out their words.

  “Who do we have here, Herr Wulf?” asked his benefactor, Rudolf Raeder.

  “Herr Raeder, I believe we have found the dissenter.”

  “Is that so?” Rudolf cocked a brow and circled around the couple.

  The woman shot him a look of pure hatred, a gaze that would have slayed a lesser man.

  He stopped before her. “Young lady, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  Even from his distance Hans could feel Rudolf’s patience slipping. Did the woman not know what trouble she was in?

  Gulping down his fear, Hans entered the hallway and approached the threesome. The clip of his shoes against the marble had Rudolf facing him. Rudolf narrowed his eyes and frowned.

  Hans shrunk from the onslaught of anger, but cleared his throat and explained, “I heard voices.”

  Rudolf’s expression didn’t lessen in intensity. “This does not concern you, Hans. Please return to your room and continue your studies.”

  “Of course,” he said, bowing low before leaving. Instead of going back to his room as ordered, Hans stopped a few feet away. Each step took him longer to take as he tried to hear their continuing conversation, but their voices trailed off as they exited the courtyard. Hans moved as if to follow, but Helga grabbed his arm.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, her eyes darting back and forth.

  “Nowhere, absolutely nowhere,” said Hans, as he stared at the stranger’s retreating form.

  Chapter Seven

  Different princes ruled different parts of Germany. Each prince was allowed to choose what religion was practiced in their region. Herr Rudolf Raeder was a friend and comrade of the local prince-bishop. His job was to protect the interests of his prince and the prince’s people, and even though the region of Augsburg had chosen the Protestant faith, Herr Raeder’s status of friendship with the prince-bishop had allowed him certain freedoms. Meaning he could remain Catholic even in an area that hadn’t been deemed so. Herr Raeder was a dangerous entity to Teresa and to all those who worked for her cause.

  Teresa wished she could have implored
the young boy who interrupted the verbal assault in the foyer. The young were often sympathetic to the Protestant cause, but he appeared afraid of his own shadow and had backed away quickly when ordered.

  Hauled against Victor’s side, Teresa had been escorted along an empty hallway to another room. Floor to ceiling windows covered an entire wall. Bright light filtered across the shiny floor, and heat from a six-foot-high fireplace radiated throughout the room. A desk covered in scattered pieces of parchment encompassed the space in the middle of the room.

  Herr Raeder walked behind the desk and settled in an overly stuffed chair. He steepled his fingers, rested his elbows on the desk, leaned forward, and planted a smile of duplicity on his lined face. “Frau Braun, this would be easier if you would just answer the questions.”

  Teresa clamped her mouth shut until the thin line of her lips brought her physical pain.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I can see you have decided to be stubborn and remain silent. Let me assure you that would not be in your best interest.”

  Victor pushed her roughly onto a sofa. The soft luxurious material conformed to her body and Teresa fought the urge to relax and withheld her sigh of relief at being able to sit.

  “Victor, I assume you have explained to the young woman why she is here?”

  “Of course, Herr Raeder.” Victor folded his arms and glared. Whether he resented the insinuation that he couldn’t perform his duties properly or was disgusted that she’d been uncooperative wasn’t clear.

  “And does she deny her involvement in the subversive act?” Raeder stared pointedly at her.

  “Aye, she does.”

  Raeder tapped his finger to his chin. “Hmm, this does pose an interesting problem. There are ways to extract needed information, but I would be much happier if that wasn’t required.”

  Teresa stared straight ahead. In front of her was a full bookcase. Where did a man acquire funds for so many tomes? Why the price of such a collection could feed most of the people on the west side!

  Continuing to stare, she noticed something odd. The unusualness of the situation almost made her gasp. Had she not been so schooled in controlling her features, she would have given the young boy away.

  Between two books was a set of eyes. The pale cast of blue could have belonged to none other than the youth from before. Curiosity would be the child’s undoing, but perhaps she could use it to her advantage.

  “I see you have decided against admitting your faults. Since I do not believe in marring items of such rare beauty, other methods will be employed. Victor, would you conduct the young woman to our special chamber?”

  Victor’s evil grin caused an involuntary shudder. “I would be delighted.”

  He grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet and against his side. In the courtyard, they took the leftmost of the eight available doors. A flight of steps led downward into a dark, cavernous hole. Wet rock lined either side and Teresa steadied herself by placing her hand against the wall. When they reached the bottom, the sounds of their footsteps echoed against the uneven stone floor.

  Victor nudged her along. Candles winked from dusty shelves. Doors with tiny metal bar openings lined the length of a wide hallway. Victor opened one and pushed her inside. It groaned in protest as it closed. Teresa fought the urge to run to the door, bang her hand against the splintered wood, and beg to be released. Instead she settled demurely on a wooden stool hidden in the corner and refused to look at her jailor.

  “You will change your mind. When the darkness comes and the rats begin to nibble away at your clothing, you will talk.” Heels clicked outside the door, indicating Victor’s exit.

  Teresa stared forward until her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Moss clung to the opposite wall. Water trickled from a barred opening several feet above her. The odor of old feces permeated the air. She pinched her nose.

  The dungeon, for it could be called nothing else, was lonely and quiet. At this point she would have welcomed the sound of a gnawing mouse because it would mean she wasn’t utterly alone.

  She left the stool and sat on a wooden frame laced with ropes and covered with a thin straw mattress. She leaned back and drew her knees to her chest. Drawing in deep breaths, she worked to calm her frayed nerves. Regret assailed her. Why had she not released Gustav? Perhaps all this could have been thwarted if she had. He would have stood up to Victor and taken the man down to the ground with one blow. A grin covered her face at the thought.

  Gustav may have been a designer by trade, but he was a brawler by nature. The death of his parents while he was a young age had doomed him to roam the streets for survival. His fists had become his weapons. In fact, that was how they had met so many years before.

  She had been young, no more than fourteen. Always a bit fearless and stubborn, she had been challenged to stroll alone through one of the most violent parts of town. Instead of admitting her fear, Teresa had boldly proclaimed she would do the deed.

  One fateful summer day, with her father’s walking stick in hand, she had met a group of friends on the lower west side. They whispered behind their hands and Teresa knew they were afraid to perform the act they required of her.

  A feeling of superiority had wafted over her. Her first step into the crypt-like place had indeed been scary. Buildings had sat too close together. Streets were filled with people dressed in torn rags. They lounged casually, not seeming to care that their sagging frames were unkempt.

  But with each step, Teresa had become more emboldened. The hem of her skirt passed over debris and she cringed as the odor reached her nasal passages. Delicately pinching the bridge of her nose, she fought the bile that rose in her throat. She had closed her eyes and swallowed, thereby missing the group of ruffians directly before her.

  The leader had stepped in her path and Teresa had been powerless to stop the inevitable crash. A gasp had escaped her open lips and she covered it with her palm. Quickly recovering from the shock, she had reached her hand forward to help the teenage boy to his feet. The slap to her hand had caused fury to rise within.

  “How dare you!” she had proclaimed and stomped her foot like a spoiled child.

  She would never forget the look on the boy’s face. Aghast by her behavior, the boy had stood and lifted his fists, ready to fight. Being a lady of moderate means, she had been opposed to all violence, but when he raised his fist to her she threw aside her walking stick and mimicked his stance.

  The boys with him had proceeded to laugh uproariously at the situation. Teresa had relaxed, feeling assured the issue was over. For what man would dare hit a woman? Finding her stick, she had picked it up and was surprised by a blow to the side of her head. Staggering in confusion, she had fallen against a wall.

  The next few moments had flashed by in a daze. Figures had danced before her in a blur. The sounds of scuffling drew closer, then farther away. At last her vision had cleared and a boy with brown hair and the warmest brown eyes she had ever witnessed had stared at her. He had offered his hand and she took it gladly.

  Blood had oozed from several cuts along his knuckles, but she had paid no heed. The young man had rescued her from the ruffians. Gustav Braun had escorted her to the edge of the grotto and left her with her friends with an order to never enter the neighborhood again.

  “I may not always be here to rescue you,” he had said.

  How would she ever see her hero again if she followed his decree? But with a heavy heart, she had stayed away from the grotto. It was some years later that she ran into him at the home of a wealthy family. He had been in attendance for his sister’s anniversary to Maximilian Schmidt. The sight of Gustav in fine clothing had sent her head into a dizzying spin.

  A smile had spread wide across his face when she introduced herself. He reminded her in vivid detail of her antics. He had remembered her. The thought had made her toes curl.

  Their courtship after that second meeting was quick. Both of them wished to be together forever. Time apart had been excruciating. With Max an
d Olga’s assistance they convinced Teresa’s parents to allow her to wed Gustav.

  Their life had been one of modest comfort. Gustav’s love more than made up for the physical items she did without. When he had accepted the opportunity to help the Huguenot movement in France, she never thought twice about telling him no. Helping the Huguenots was what he felt he needed to do, so they had prayed and accepted the consequences of the time apart, only Teresa never realized how long the time would last.

  With her head resting against the cold stone of the dungeon wall, Teresa closed her eyes. Tears coursed along her cheeks. She should have written to him ages ago and told him the truth of her feelings. She wanted him to come home, it was time. Stewing over the past had done nothing but cause resentment.

  She sighed. Visions of their last days together floated in and out of her mind. A smile covered her face. Those were some of the happiest moments of her life. One of these days she would tell him so. That was if she ever made her way out of her current prison and he would speak to her after her unexplained actions.

  The bed slab creaked and groaned as she shifted. Comfort on the wooden frame would be impossible. The straw from the mattress had thinned with age. The ropes holding the bed together were frayed and several had given away all together, making the mattress sag.

  She opened her eyes and listened. Maybe if she tried hard enough she would hear air coming in. Maybe the air would show her a way out. Or maybe a scurrying rat would lead her to their home and she could climb inside and waddle away with them. Whatever the case, she would find a way out. Gustav was finally home. She would share the importance of her work with him and then nothing would keep them apart.

  Chapter Eight