They rose up on their toes, their faces drawing within a handbreadth of each other, then falling back two steps. Could he see that her face was flushed? Would he realize it was not only from the heat or the dancing but from being so close to him?
His jaw hardened as he seemed to be looking at something behind her. He leapt toward her just before something slammed into her back. She stumbled into Jorgen’s chest. He threw his arm between her and whatever had collided with her back, pulling her aside.
She watched over Jorgen’s shoulder as a man with a torch passed them. He was waving the fire over his head, pushing his way through the crowded Marktplatz along with a small band of red-nosed, drunken men, shouting, “Light the bonfire!” Someone screamed, and another person fell to the ground, causing more screams as people scrambled out of the way.
Jorgen kept his body between her and the unruly men, shielding her until they had passed. His brow furrowed as he looked into her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I am well. Thank you for protecting me.” They were being pressed against each other by the people on either side of them as the music halted in the middle of the song. Some of the dancers loudly protested the shouting and pushing that was disrupting their dance.
Jorgen bent his head close to her ear. “Take my arm.”
She complied, and he started making his way around the revelers. She smelled the wine and strong drink on the bodies passing in front of them. They were headed toward the other side of the fountain where the wood had been piled in readiness for the bonfire. But it was too early. They never started the fire until the Burgomeister had made a speech and darkness had fallen.
Odette and Jorgen moved at a slow pace, often forced to wait for a group to pass, many of them shouting and laughing and pushing. A particularly unruly group almost wrenched Odette’s hand from Jorgen’s arm, causing her to gasp and stumble. Jorgen turned his body so as to block them from her. Then he put his arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her beside him instead of behind him.
He kept his gaze on the crowd and on making a way out of the crush of people, which allowed Odette to study him covertly through her lashes.
He had a solid chin, a muscular jaw, and sturdy cheekbones that contrasted with a gentle look about his mouth and eyes. He clenched his jaw, his arm tightening about her when someone pushed against them.
Was he aware that she was watching him?
Soon they were free of the boisterous people heading for the bonfire. He loosened his arm around her as Rutger, Anna, and Peter approached them.
“There you are,” Rutger said. “I was afraid you were caught in that crowd of ruffians.”
“We were, but Jorgen kept me safe.” She couldn’t help glancing up at him. The way he gazed down at her made her heart trip and miss a beat.
Her uncle turned his attention to Jorgen. “I am grateful to you for protecting Odette. But now that the more unruly ones have gone to see to the bonfire, I hear the music starting.”
“I believe it is my turn again.” Mathis walked up behind them. “Odette, would you favor me with another dance? Jorgen is a handsome enough fellow. He will find another maiden to dance with him.” Disdain dripped from his tone.
So Mathis and Jorgen knew each other?
Jorgen looked into her eyes, as though to see if that was what she wanted. Not wanting to slight either of them, she wasn’t sure what to say.
“I thank you for dancing with me.” Jorgen bowed to her. “Perhaps I will see you again.” He smiled before walking away.
She bit her lip as she watched him go.
But when she turned, Anna gave Odette a wide-eyed look and raised her eyebrows. Anna seemed to be asking her what she thought of Mathis and Jorgen. Odette was under no illusion that Anna would let her go home without telling Odette her thoughts, and in great detail.
The section of the cobblestone town square devoted to dancing became less crowded as some moved closer to the bonfire. Odette danced with Mathis but found herself glancing over at Jorgen, who was dancing with a pretty red-haired girl.
When the song ended, Mathis leaned down and said with a grin, “You dance as gracefully as a swan.”
“Thank you. You probably say that to every maiden who dances with you.”
“Indeed, I do not.” He feigned seriousness and leaned even closer. “You must come to my father’s house when he gives his next party. As the most graceful woman in Thornbeck, you must come to all the mayor’s gatherings.”
She simply smiled back at him.
“I believe I should dance with Jorgen now.” She turned away from Mathis before he could protest.
At seeing Jorgen talking with the red-haired maiden, Odette’s heart sank. Would he want to dance with her again?
He seemed to be bidding the girl farewell and turning away. She caught his eye. He just stood there, looking at her, so she walked toward him.
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Would you like to dance?”
“Ja.” She tried not to exhale too loudly the breath she had been holding as she took Jorgen’s hand. Never had she been so attracted to a man. Would her uncle deem him worthy? Not that Jorgen would ask her to marry him, but it was never too early to find out.
When the dance was over, Jorgen gave her hand a small squeeze and held on to it. “Are you thirsty?”
Odette nodded. “Let us go for water.” She looked around Jorgen’s shoulder at Anna and Peter. “We’re going to the fountain for water. Do you want to come?” She didn’t wait for their answer but turned and walked with Jorgen, her hand on his arm. She was too afraid to ask him his profession—afraid he would think she was using that to judge his acceptability—and afraid his profession would not be acceptable to Uncle Rutger. What could she ask him to make him talk about himself?
Peter and Anna caught up with them, and Peter said, “You may not remember me. I’m Peter Voreken. Do you live in town?”
“In Thornbeck Forest. The margrave has appointed me the new forester.”
The new forester? Odette’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach, then seeped all the way down to her toes. It was worse than she’d feared. Much worse.
This was the man who could send her to the margrave’s dungeon.
It was as Jorgen had feared. Peter Voreken’s smile faltered when Jorgen told him he was the forester. Peter’s father was a wealthy merchant and a prominent person in Thornbeck. Jorgen was orphaned by the Great Pestilence of 1348 and left destitute. His adoptive father had taught him all about taking care of the game animals and all the duties of a gamekeeper, and although Jorgen still aspired to greater things, he was not ashamed of his position. But perhaps it had been a mistake to set his sights on Odette Menkels.
He dared a glance in her direction. A flicker of something akin to fear crossed her face, and her smile seemed frozen on her lips. Of course she thought his status too low, but she seemed afraid of him. Her fingers went loose on his arm. He should give her an easy way to excuse herself from his company, but . . . he wasn’t ready to let her go. He would only go if she expressed her wish for him to go.
“Forester,” Peter said. “That position is appointed by the margrave, is it not?”
“It is.”
“Have you caught any poachers?”
“Not yet. But I consider capturing poachers my most important duty.”
Why did Odette look pale?
“I’ve never spoken to the margrave,” Peter went on. “I suppose you speak with him very often.”
“I report to him once every week, sometimes more.”
“You must be busy. Thornbeck Forest is very large.”
“I am training two new gamekeepers now, so ja, I have a lot of work. What do you do?”
“I help my father with his merchant business, bringing goods here from the Orient and selling them.”
The sun had gone down, and dusk settled around them as they stood with the others waiting to get a drink at the fountain. Some more people crowded in, causing a shift in their li
ne, and Peter and Anna became separated from Jorgen and Odette. They seemed almost alone now in the middle of the crowd.
Odette appeared to have recovered from whatever had made her turn pale and look frightened. “What else do you do all day besides train gamekeepers?”
“You don’t want to hear about my dull work—keeping track of the animals in Thornbeck Forest. I am interested to hear about you, though. What do you do when you’re not attending Midsummer festivals and dancing in the town square?”
“I see. You want to turn the talk away from yourself and onto me now.” She nodded and closed one eye, as if they were in on some secret. “You will probably think me strange, but I teach reading and writing lessons to the children who live outside the south wall of Thornbeck.”
He turned his head to look full into her face. “That was you? I saw someone several days ago teaching the children outside the town gate. They were drawing in the dirt with sticks.”
“I taught them their letters and now I’m teaching them words.”
His heart thumped harder. There was more to this beautiful maiden than he could have imagined.
Odette admired the look in his blue-green eyes. He did not disapprove of her teaching poor orphans. She refrained from telling him that she also sometimes brought them food and fed them before the day’s lesson, as she couldn’t bear to think that some of them hadn’t eaten all day. And she certainly couldn’t tell him that she slept much of the day because she spent her nights poaching.
“I think that is . . .” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “A very good thing.”
One of the boys had told her that the new forester gave him food when he went and knocked on the door of the old gamekeeper’s cottage. Was that man Jorgen?
The mood had grown somber. Did the thought of the poor children make Jorgen sad? She decided to change the direction of their conversation. “How do you and Mathis know each other?”
“We attended the town school together when we were boys.”
“I heard my name!” Mathis called from behind them.
Odette turned to include Mathis in the conversation, but Jorgen was slower to turn.
They were at the fountain now, and it was almost their turn to get water.
“We were talking about how you and Jorgen know each other.”
“Oh, Jorgen and I knew each other as boys. We fought once, if I remember correctly, over something I said. Jorgen was serious and did not like my sense of humor, I am afraid.”
“What did you say?” Odette wanted to know.
“It was many years ago,” Mathis said. “I don’t remember. Probably Ulrich Schinkel dared me to insult Jorgen.”
“I remember.” Jorgen had that somber expression again as he stepped forward and took the copper dipper that hung on the fountain, used it to catch the clear water pouring out, and handed it to Odette.
“Thank you.” Their eyes met. Would he tell what he and Mathis had fought over? She kept her gaze on Jorgen over the rim of the dipper as she drank.
Mathis took another dipper and caught some water for himself.
When it seemed Jorgen would not tell what had happened, Mathis said, “We were both learning to read and write at the Thornbeck School for Boys, but with very different . . . childhood upbringings.”
Jorgen shot Mathis a warning look, which made Mathis shake his head. “But Jorgen has done well for himself, much better than . . .”
Odette held her breath, waiting to see what Mathis would say. Finally, he ended the sentence with, “the old gamekeeper who raised him.”
So the old gamekeeper raised him but was not his father? Jorgen’s look turned even more hostile, and Mathis added, “And now here we are, dancing in the town square with beautiful maidens on this Midsummer night.”
“Were you good students?” Odette asked.
Mathis turned his head to one side. “I was a good student.”
Jorgen snorted.
Mathis laughed. “Very well. I was not a good student, nor was I well behaved. I wanted to be running in the sunshine and playing games. Jorgen was a much more attentive student than I.”
Anna, who had been standing nearby listening, spoke up. “I was not a good student, either, though my mother forced me to attend the girls’ school. Odette is quite a scholar, however.” She nodded proudly at Odette. “She has a tutor, a monk who comes two days every week to teach her to read and write in Latin and French.”
They all turned their attention to Odette. She shrugged. “My uncle humors me, even though he doesn’t understand why I love to study. I enjoy learning languages and . . . other things.” She decided not to reveal why she had not attended the town school for girls with Anna—or that Brother Philip was teaching her theology. He would only teach her theology if she vowed not to reveal it.
“Shall we dance some more?” Peter, who stood beside his wife, urged them all back toward the dancing and music. He could not know how frightened Odette was of the man she had felt such an attraction to only minutes before, frightened of what he could and would do to her if he discovered she was poaching the margrave’s deer. Just thinking of him delivering her up to be thrown into the margrave’s dungeon made her skin prickle.
She and Jorgen danced the next song together, and the next and the next. Perhaps she should have excused herself and danced with someone else, but Mathis did not return. The longer she danced with Jorgen, the more she was able to enjoy it and forget that he was the forester.
In fact, they danced until the Minnesingers began to play closer to the bonfire, now lit and starting to roar at the other end. They agreed they did not wish to join the drunken merrymaking around the fire. Jorgen kept hold of her hand a bit longer than was necessary. His touch made her heart flutter.
She caught her breath. How could she be foolish about this man she had just met? Had she forgotten what he could do to her? She must be a lack wit.
Uncle Rutger came toward them. “What a merry party you four make, dancing and laughing. Jorgen, you must come to our home for Odette’s birthday feast in two nights. You will be most welcome. Peter and Anna will be there as well.”
Oh, dear heavenly saints. Uncle Rutger must not know Jorgen was the forester.
Jorgen consented to come, and after the details were conveyed of the time and location of their house, Jorgen turned to Odette. “Until then.”
Would he kiss her hand? But he only smiled, bowed, and walked away.
As Peter and Uncle Rutger escorted Anna and Odette home, Odette couldn’t help but wonder what the reaction of Peter, Anna, and the handsome young forester would be if they ever discovered that she was poaching the margrave’s deer and giving the meat to the poor. The fact that Jorgen’s adoptive father, the old gamekeeper, was shot and killed by a poacher a few years ago would make Jorgen hate her.
Her heart constricted painfully in her chest. There was only one thing to do: never get caught.
4
JORGEN WALKED CAREFULLY through the thick undergrowth in the margrave’s game park. He was sure the thicket where he had found the twin fawns was nearby. Curious to see if the twins were both thriving, he was also looking for signs of wolves and wild boar. None had been seen in Thornbeck Forest for many years, but it was always possible that they would wander in from the wilder areas nearby looking for food. The wild boar’s favorite tree nuts grew here, and a baby deer would be easy prey for a wolf.
As he examined the undergrowth, the events of the night before were not far from his mind. He had danced with fair maidens before, but Odette was different. She was graceful and beautiful, but there was something in her eyes and in the things she said, an intelligence and a boldness that belied her quiet demeanor. He had been pleased—and surprised—to have been invited to her home for dinner.
If only Odette’s uncle wasn’t quite so rich.
When they were boys, Mathis Papendorp and Ulrich Schinkel, now the margrave’s chancellor, had never let Jorgen forget that he was not as wealthy as they we
re. And now, to find that Odette had attracted the attention of Mathis . . . It seemed a bad omen. Mathis probably seemed the perfect person to marry someone like Odette.
Jorgen wanted to believe that the look he had seen in Odette’s eyes and her manner toward him proved that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. He had believed he did see a preference in her reluctance to leave his side. But even if it were so, would she marry a forester?
Still, he remembered one particular moment when Odette had met his eye with such a sweet smile it had made his heart trip over itself. The memory of that smile warmed him so much, he halted. He had forgotten why he was there. Oh yes. The fawns.
As he pushed some brush aside, something on the ground caught his eye. He bent to look closer, then picked it up. An arrow.
The arrow did not appear to have been lying there long. It did not resemble the margrave’s arrows, which were all made by the assistant gamekeepers with a distinctive feather at the butt, which they dyed bright red in order to be able to recover them. This arrow’s fletching was snow white. Besides that, the margrave never went hunting without Jorgen, and he had not been hunting in weeks.
There was only one explanation: someone was poaching, or trying to poach, the animals in Thornbeck forest.
Jorgen stood and looked around, still holding the arrow. His whole body tensed as his heart beat faster.
His father had been shot by a poacher. Had it only been four years ago? It seemed like a long time, and yet he still sometimes would begin to go ask his father a question before realizing that he could never answer Jorgen’s questions again. The memory of his death would flood him for the hundredth time.
After examining the woods that day, Jorgen believed the poacher had been discovered by his father. The poacher had shot at the gamekeeper and missed, then stalked him until he was able to kill him. It had been murder, plain and simple.
And that murderer’s arrows had the same white feathers on the end.
The margrave’s guards had searched for the killer, but they never found him. Jorgen had been preoccupied with comforting his grieving mother and seeing to his father’s burial, not to mention his own grief and shock at his sudden death. He regretted being unable to hunt the poacher down himself. He hoped, with God’s favor, someday he would find him and gain justice for his father.
The Medieval Fairy Tale Collection Page 3
