Trailing the Hunter: A Novel of Misconception, Truth, and Love

by Heidi Eljarbo

  “I can see the baby’s head.” Ellen beamed and moved from one foot the other.

  Ruth pulled the small baby out. “It’s a boy. You have a son, Siren.” She placed him on his mother’s chest.

  Siren produced a tired smile and tenderly wrapped her arms around her son like the wings of a mother bird protecting her little one.

  Ellen clapped her hands, rejoicing. “You did well, Siren. He’s adorable.”

  The little boy had downy blond hair and fair skin. Clara washed the small body and swaddled him in a clean towel while Ruth guided Siren through the remainder of the birthing process.

  Clara pointed to the chair by the kitchen table. “Ellen, would you get the fresh bedding on the chair over there?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Ruth helped Siren stand up, while Ellen swiftly changed the sheets. When Siren was at ease on the clean bed, Clara placed the little baby boy in her arms again.

  Ruth made the sign of the cross above the little boy and kissed him on the forehead.

  Siren frowned. “Why did you do that?”

  “I want to make sure he is kept safe until you can bring him to church for his christening.”

  Siren gathered her blanket snuggly around her newborn. “We shall see.” She started singing to her son.

  Clara sat down on her bedside. “He is perfect. How are you feeling?”

  Siren shrugged, gave her a tired grin, and gazed toward the window. The late afternoon sun shone on the trees across the road. “I am a bit hungry.”

  “We are all in need of nourishment. I will make something.” Clara walked into the kitchen area. She had a young child in the house now. The whole cottage seemed to be filled with tenderness and love.

  Ruth and Ellen remained sitting with Siren, cooing and speaking fondly to the babe.

  Siren looked worn out. She had fought bravely. Now, she cradled the little bundle in her arms, played with his tiny fingers, and grinned. “He looks like his father. I will name this boy Hassel, after him.”

  “Hassel, a Swedish name. You are brave to give him such a name during wars and difficulties with our neighboring country,” Clara said gently.

  “I don’t care. Besides, we are close to the border here. Many have names that are used in both countries.”

  “That’s true. Hassel is a lovely name.”

  “They had many hazel trees where his father was born. No doubt, that was why he’d originally received the name.”

  Clara wiped her hands on her apron. “I like it, a good name for your son.”

  Maybe now was a good time to tell Siren about the women in the attic? The last couple of days had been one event after another, and now, with the birth of Siren’s child, there was one more person to worry about.

  “Siren, there are a few women staying in the loft above the cabin. They have been there a few days, and I felt—”

  “You know what is best.” Siren looked at Clara with tired eyes. “And I am sure you have a good reason for letting them stay there.”

  “A noble reason. I haven’t had the time to tell you before.”

  Siren shook her head. “This is what you do. You help everyone, even me when I looked like a ragged troll. And now you are here for Hassel.”

  How touching. Clara swallowed. The comforting words came at the right time. “Thank you, Siren. You need to eat a bite and then get some sleep. We’ll take care of the baby.”

  “May I hold him?” Ruth stretched out her arms.

  Clara pulled up another chair and sat down with the others around Siren’s bed. She passed around a plate with pieces of fried chicken she’d bought the day before. She also had a small basket with waffles.

  “I could eat a whole cow.” Ellen chomped on a piece of meat, holding a waffle in the other hand.

  The two sisters were not alike. One was bubbly while the other was afraid to open her mouth and look a person in the eye. Clara loved both and was grateful to get to know them.

  Clara laid her fingers across her mouth. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She scurried across the floor, picked up a parcel on the kitchen cabinet, and handed it to Ruth.

  “What is it?” Ruth widened her eyes. “A gift?”

  Clara nodded. “It’s for you and your family. Let me hold Hassel while you open it.”

  Ruth unwrapped the parcel, holding her chin down and peeking at Clara now and then.

  Ellen had her hands on her cheeks and her eyes wide open with excitement. “Hurry, Ruth. I wonder what it could be. We’ve never received a gift before.”

  When they saw what was inside, the girls seemed lost for words. They smiled and looked at each other. Then tearing up, Ruth took both of Clara’s hands. “I have wished for another blanket for our family for so long. Now we have two more. How can we thank you?”

  “No need. I’m happy to help.”

  Ellen’s eyes beamed with joy. She wrapped one of the blankets around herself. “It’s soft…and warm.”

  Obstacles, challenges, and danger vanished for a moment. Clara sat down. If only every moment could be as peaceful and filled with loving kindness as this one.

  Ruth walked across the floor and stroked Siren’s cheek. “You did well. Close your eyes now. The baby will be hungry soon. Rest while you can.” She then turned to Clara. “I need to go home to the little ones. They must be wondering where I am.” She got her cloak from the hook on the wall near the door and wrapped it across her shoulders. When trying to tie the ribbon in front of the cloak, her hands were shaking.

  Was something wrong? Clara took a step closer. “What’s on your mind, Ruth?

  Ruth stood pale, arms dropped to her sides. “Ellen and I have discussed your offer, and we are grateful that you want to help. Can you let Ellen know what you decide?”

  Clara nodded. “Certainly. Ellen can take the blankets. You hurry home, and we’ll talk again soon. Goodbye for now.”

  After Ruth had left, Ellen tugged on Clara’s sleeve. “Do you know where you will take us yet?”

  “I will go and find out now. Could you help with the child?”

  Ellen cracked a wide grin. “Yes, may I?” She opened her arms wide and received Hassel.

  Siren looked as if she was sleeping soundly. Clara whispered goodbye to Ellen and walked out the door. The girl did not need to know where Clara was going. If all went well, Ellen would find out soon enough.

  ✽✽✽

  After a brisk walk, Clara arrived at Ivershall. She found Dorthea sitting on the ground in the garden pulling weeds. She had already rooted out a pile of troublesome thistle and chickweed.

  “Hello, Dorthea. You have a gardener, don’t you?” Clara winked at her.

  “I do.” The older woman’s smile was contagious.

  Clara sat down on the grass with her. “I am teasing you,” she said. “I know how you love your garden.”

  “It does me good, being out here, getting my hands dirty with soil.”

  The difficult task of asking for help tied Clara’s tongue. Was it fair to involve Dorthea even further into her pursuit against Angus? Would it endanger the older woman’s life? It was a risk Clara had to take if they were to help the women in the attic. Her instinct was to avoid the subject and talk about the flowers in the garden instead of presenting a plan that would threaten the safety of the people at Ivershall. People she truly cared for.

  “Siren has given birth to a boy.” She cringed. Procrastination was not a desirable attribute. She’d only put off the real reason why she’d come.

  Dorthea put her soil-covered hands together. “That’s wonderful. And are both mother and child well?”

  “They are both fine.” Clara closed her eyes for a moment. Yes, it was wonderful. She was rarely the bearer of good news lately.

  Dorthea sighed. “Imagine…a son. I hope he will give her as much joy as Christian has given me.” She slid a curious glance at Clara. “I can tell you are here for a purpose.”

  Clara sat up straight. It was now or never. “I need t
o ask for your help.”

  Dorthea wiped her hands on her apron and reached for Clara. “Here, help me up, will you? And hand me my cane. Let’s walk. I need to stretch my legs a little. They get stiff from sitting on the ground.”

  After helping her friend to her feet, Clara hooked her arm around Dorthea’s, and the two of them strolled down the path between groups of daisies in shades from white to red. Trying to muster the courage to ask Dorthea straight out, Clara formulated variations of a question in her mind.

  Farther down the path, Dorthea leaned her cane on a bench. “Let’s sit down here. Tell me, what do you need, Clara?”

  “I have six young women staying in the attic at my school…girls who are in hiding because they are vulnerable due to the present situation in Berg.”

  Dorthea cocked her head to the side. “I see. How do you manage?”

  “They have only been there three days. On Sunday, Else Rud approached me after church and offered to help.”

  “Yes, she’s lovely, and she seemed positive to your presentation at the women’s luncheon.”

  Clara nodded. “Else offered to help, so I asked her to take care of these women. She spends time with them, takes them food, and reports back to me. I had planned to teach them to read but haven’t had the time yet.”

  Dorthea leaned closer. “Maybe you can teach them later. Now, what can I do?”

  “I know it is a lot to ask, but could you take in some or all of the girls? I can help pay for their sustenance.”

  Dorthea patted Clara’s shoulder. “We have enough to feed a few girls. Of course, we will help. Bring them here.”

  Clara leaned backed, the tension in her shoulders giving way to relief. She should have known Dorthea would want to help.

  Worry lined Dorthea’s forehead. “But wait, do you mean to bring them in as maids or to hide them away from the village? I need to know how to go about it.”

  Clara had not thought that far. She paused for a moment then put her hand on Dorthea’s arm. “It may come to the latter. To begin with, perhaps they could fit into the household of servants here at Ivershall.”

  Dorthea patted Clara’s hand. “Yes, that won’t be a problem. The estate and household require a lot of work. I am often hiring new help.” Dorthea looked thoughtful. “I do require a milkmaid or two.”

  Another thought crept into Clara’s mind. Suspicion and worry had become her companions. Even at Ivershall, the girls could be seen and reported to Angus or his interpreter. “I would prefer for these girls to stay within your grasp and under keen supervision. The reason being, I am not sure if I trust your hired hand.”

  “Amund, the cow herd? What has he done?”

  It could be nothing, but Dorthea needed to know. “I found out he carries a witch-bottle, and I overheard a conversation he had with John Pywell. I have never actually seen him do anything wrong, but better for now to be careful and not have him work side by side with any of these girls.”

  “I see. Well, that will not be a problem. He eats and sleeps in the barn. The housemaids will be given rooms in the east wing.”

  Dorthea spoke in a soothing voice. She seemed unvexed, much to Clara’s comfort.

  Clara, on the other hand, was still not convinced. “He is bound to see them sooner or later. The girls cannot stay inside all the time.”

  “We will be careful.” Dorthea put her hands together. “That’s settled then.”

  Footsteps on the garden path made them both turn to look.

  Dorthea’s face lit up. “Ah, there you are, Christian.”

  He walked right up and kissed his mother then bowed to Clara.

  Clara’s cheeks heated. Hopefully, Christian would not notice her disconcertion.

  “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

  “Not at all, dear.” Dorthea filled him in on their conversation.

  Now Clara had to ask for help again. It should have been easier the second time, but it was not. She straightened her gown and swallowed. “Christian, I need to ask for your help, too.”

  He leaned forward, one hand on his knee. “Anything. What do you need?”

  “The six young women we just talked about need help getting to Ivershall. I don’t want them out and about right now, even if they cut through the forest on their way here. And the road from my cottage to Ivershall goes through the village. I am concerned that keeping their whereabouts a secret—and moving them here without the witch-finder knowing—might be a problem.”

  “I don’t mean to seem ignorant, but is it necessary to keep them hidden? I could speak with—”

  Clara shook her head. “I need you to trust me on this. Angus Hill is no respecter of persons or authority.”

  “I see.” He paused for a moment. “How about David and I pick them up during the night?”

  “I would prefer something like that, but the nights are short and not very dark this time of year. People are out both day and night during the summer.”

  Christian rubbed his bearded chin. “I will find a way.”

  Clara took a deep breath. She was halfway there. “There is one more thing. I know a family of seven children, the oldest seventeen summers. They need a hiding place.”

  “When?” Christian asked.

  “As soon as possible. You know the woodlands. Do you have a place they can stay for a while? A cave or an abandoned homestead? They do not cause trouble and are mostly well-behaved.”

  Dorthea leaned forward. “They have no family?”

  Clara shook her head. “They have been alone for a long time and take care of themselves.”

  “I have a place. Do they need someone to pick them up?”

  Clara shook her head. “No need, Christian. They live on this side of the village, and I will ask Peter to help me get them here.” Her heart beckoned her to fling her arms around his neck to show her appreciation. She chose the appropriate, ladylike thing to do and touched his arm, giving him a grateful smile. “Thank you for helping.” She then turned to Dorthea. “Both of you.”

  Clara paused, and tears filled her eyes. “I don’t know what I would do without you. I am in your debt.”

  CHAPTER 15

  ✽✽✽

  LATER THAT EVENING, Christian told David to hitch their strong work horse to the wagon. They filled the back of the wagon with several empty barrels and crates. Dorthea and Marna had spent the afternoon sewing sacks of burlap together to make a covering, and Christian threw the large piece of sturdy material on top of the containers.

  Clara’s last words earlier that day kept coming back to him. In no way did she owe them anything. Truthfully, it was the other way around. Clara had appeared at Ivershall like a ray of goodness. She had enlightened their lives with the importance of charity and service to others and had given them a new perspective. He had not met anyone like her. Of course, they would support her cause.

  Most of all, he wanted to whisk Clara away and spend time with her far from all the problems, but that was not a possibility. Not now. Besides, he was not sure about her relationship with Peter; the two seemed close.

  The evening sun spread a warm glow across the fields as he steered the horse down the lane and onto the road toward Berg. The temperature was pleasant, and David and he had left their coats behind. Comfortable laborer’s shirts of unbleached linen would suffice on a night such as this one.

  David was good company, but tonight they both sat in silence. Christian was engrossed in thoughts about the seriousness of their mission. They had gone through their plan in detail before they left Ivershall but were prepared to improvise if they ran into any trouble.

  They were to meet Clara by a bend in the road east of her cottage. She and Else would have the six young women ready. He had thought much about Clara’s explanation regarding why these women needed to avoid Angus Hill’s attention. The danger that could await them should the witch-finder suspect them of practicing witchcraft…no, he did not even want to think that far.

  Christian slowed the ho
rse as they drove through the village. Market Street appeared as it did any other summer evening. Men were throwing dice on a table outside the alehouse. An older man had had one too many and stumbled out the door and down the stairs. One of the gamblers put a foot out in front of the drunkard, who cried out as he tripped and fell on the rough cobblestone. A young couple seemed to have all the time in the world as they strolled down the street, arms entwined, while those who had finished a long day’s work hurried home for a long-awaited rest before bedtime.

  Christian had lived in the area all his life but was pleased to have a home secluded and away from the village. Wars, military assignments, and frequent council meetings had often kept him away for longer periods, but he’d always come back to Ivershall, his home and refuge. His upbringing had been privileged and carefree with an angel mother and a father who was his best friend and hero. Even if his days now were full of responsibility and challenges, the Ivershall estate and his mother’s presence there gave him serenity in a troubled world.

  On the outskirts of the village, Christian flicked the reins and drove the horse at a steady trot along the narrow dirt road. They passed Clara’s cottage and followed the road around the bend until they saw a large rock next to a cluster of hazel. Christian drove a little farther up to a fork in the road, turned the horse and wagon around, and came to a halt by the rock. No one was out walking. The only sounds were from crickets in the grass and a dog barking in the distance.

  “Do you see Clara and the women anywhere?”

  David shook his head. “Not yet. But wait, there’s someone coming up the road. It looks like a man carrying a sack on his back”

  At the same time, noises came from the bushes. “Stay here until the man passes,” he told David. “I will warn the women to be quiet.”

  Christian jumped down from the wagon. He had to be quick about it. Clara and the women were on their way through the forest, heading toward the road. Once he made eye contact with the group, he put a finger to his lips to caution the women. With his other hand he pointed toward the road where David was in polite conversation with the man. Clara nodded. They were light on their feet and crouched down with him behind the bushes. Five minutes must have passed before the chatty, old guy continued on his way, and Christian could bring the women out into the clearing.