Chapter 2
Friedrich
The countess had changed. I secretly studied her as she helped me sit against a tree trunk and was shocked by the difference in her looks.
Her childhood roundness was gone, her once-awkward nose and ears now in perfect harmony with her face.
Even her freckles had melted away, leaving snowy, flawless skin.
But more surprising was what hadn’t changed.
The deep sadness that had darkened her blue eyes as a child still remained.
She caught me watching her, and I dropped my gaze, angry with myself for noticing her at all.
“Wait here. I’ll be back with help.” She blew on her hand as she disappeared into the crowd, and my gut shifted uncomfortably.
I was to blame for her injury. If I hadn’t taken it upon myself to try to help .
. . and why had I? She was nobility, after all.
The whole class had a pretty tidy way of getting themselves out of trouble.
A violent shiver raced through me, and my eyelids drooped.
Exhaustion threatening, I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth and leaned my head against the trunk.
Food had been scarce since Mühlberg. Being seen at an inn or caught traveling the main roads was too much of a risk, and what little I’d eaten was either foraged or begged for.
But not even the smells of ham and ale wafting from the feast tempted me.
Right now, I wanted nothing more than a bed.
The scuff of shoes nearby jolted me awake. I instinctively pushed myself farther back into the shadows of the forest before realizing the steps were faltering and uneven. Not the smart clip of a soldier.
I risked a glance around the trunk at the man staggering toward me, his swaying steps all too familiar. Even if he’d been sober, he wouldn’t have recognized me, but I crouched lower behind the trunk, trying to rein in my shivering as the town bowyer passed by.
It could have been a few moments or a few hours before the countess returned; my sense of time had warped into uselessness, and my head was growing hazy. I almost didn’t notice the countess’s soft step.
Her voice whispered from the other side of the tree. “Do you think you can get up?”
I leaned around the trunk to find a gangly boy standing beside the countess as she twisted a dripping rag around her hand. “I brought a servant if you—”
“I can stand.” I made an effort to rise, but the shivered crouching had taken its toll, and I sank back to the ground.
The countess winced. “Help him, Ulrich.”
I gave the servant a quick appraisal. He was likely somewhere near fifteen years of age and had the tall, bony build of a boy who’d just sprouted.
I didn’t trust that he could carry me, but he seemed determined, dropping to the ground beside me and wrapping his arm around my waist. When his hand bumped against my gash, I had to squeeze back a cry, only letting it escape my lungs once I’d stifled it down to a groan.
He had enough sympathy to wait until I’d recovered before draping my arm over his shoulder and hoisting me up to meet the countess’s worried gaze.
“Our coach is practically resting atop the ale tables. How will we get him there undetected?”
“Why hide him, my lady?” the boy asked.
“If reports prove correct, in a few days our town will be overrun with the kaiser’s soldiers.
We don’t need anyone remembering a man in Father’s livery limping through the feast.” She pulled off my cap, tucking it under her arm and ruffling my hair.
My eyes went wide at her forwardness, but she was already busy surveying the festival.
“Just keep to the outskirts of the crowd, Ulrich. Pull him toward houses or barns whenever you can.”
Ulrich nodded and half-carried me as we shuffled along behind the countess. “Didn’t you say the war is over?” he whispered.
“As good as.” The countess fiddled with her bandage. “But until a treaty is signed, the war continues.”
Which meant I was still a soldier in that fight, subject to either capture or death whenever the Spaniards arrived.
The countess seemed to understand this, for she moved with quick, sure steps through whatever shadows she could find.
Poor Ulrich was struggling to both keep pace and support me, though I did my best to carry my own weight.
Each time we ducked behind a darkened home, he’d lean me against the wall to rest his trembling arms. Still, for as young as he seemed, he had surprising strength.
We were fewer than two rods from the coach when a woman grabbed the countess’s arm and pulled her to a halt.
“Mistress, where have you been? You vanished after the burning.”
“Belinda, we must go. Now.”
The woman’s eyes took in my livery, and she fell into stride beside me, shielding me from view until we arrived at the coach where the count stood, balanced on the step and drumming his fingers against the roof.
Though his temples were now streaked with gray, he still wore the familiar fur-lined overgown with rubies along the neck chain.
They sparkled in the light of the bonfire as he snapped at Ulrich to hurry up.
Poor Ulrich was wheezing when he deposited me into the coach. I fell into the seat with a groan, resting my head against the window frame and sucking in the stale air until the ache from my gash dampened.
The coach creaked as the count settled in his seat across from me. “Friedrich Rowohlt. I thought you were dead.”
Even after a year, the count’s voice still left my nerves twitching in irritation. “Sorry to disappoint, Your Lordship.” Digging into my doublet pocket, I pulled out Count Samuel’s signet ring and dropped it in the count’s gloved hand.
He looked up at me, anxiety tightening his eyes, until the coach tilted again and the countess set foot inside. Her father moved to block her way.
“You and Mistress Hatzfeld must stay,” he said. “Else who will oversee the feast?”
She kept her foot in the coach, lifting her chin with a determined gaze. “He’s wounded and febrile. I must see to his care.”
I expected Count von Waldeck to hold his ground, but he sank back to his seat with a nod. His daughter climbed in, followed by her lady, and the three of them crowded together on the opposite seat, their eyes fixed on me.
“Rowohlt, tell me what happened to my son.”
The coach lurched forward, and I took a deep breath but regretted it the moment pain shot through my gash.
At my grimace, the countess squeezed out from between her two companions and nearly fell into the empty space beside me, quietly rolling back my shirtsleeve to press her fingers against my wrist. Her touch was ice, making me shiver even more.
I clenched my teeth against the chattering. “Count Samuel was taken captive.”
“Captured? When? How?” Mistress Hatzfeld’s questions pulled my attention from the countess and back to the bloody field by the river Elbe. The kaiser’s army bursting through the fog, the deafening crack of bullets mingling with the scent of smoke and soured eggs. The screams of men dying.
“He was injured. Shot in the leg.” I’d done my best to stay by and defend him, but the kaiser’s men were closing in. “When they started collecting prisoners, the count pushed me away and told me to escape and find Your Lordship to bring word of his capture.”
“And where are they keeping him?” Count von Waldeck asked.
“With the kaiser. He took the Elector of Saxony captive too. I suspect they’re being held together.”
Hatzfeld whipped her head toward the count. “Didn’t Dalwigk say the elector has been—”
“Condemned to die,” the count finished for her.
With such speed I might have imagined it, Hatzfeld rested a gentle hand on the count’s wrist. Was this behavior typical?
I glanced at the countess to see if she’d noticed, but she was rubbing a hand across her nose, blinking so quickly she had to be fighting tears.
“Father, we can’t let that be Samuel’s fate too. What can we do to save him? Is there some way to break him free? How will we see that he gets the care he needs for his wound?” Her voice grew more frantic with each question. “Could you not send me to him?”
“I’m afraid there is little to be done as of yet.” The count clenched his jaw, looking out the window. “The prisoners will be in the company of the kaiser wherever he travels, and with the war on the brink of ending, there’s no one place he’ll settle long enough for us to seek him out.”
“But what of Samuel’s injury?” the countess continued. “If he’s not properly cared for—”
Her father lifted a hand to stop her. “The kaiser will treat his noble captives with the respect demanded by their rank. Samuel’s needs will be looked after.
So long as he is allowed to live.” He ground out the last words.
“I will send Dalwigk to search and see if we can’t learn more of Samuel’s welfare and whereabouts, but in the meantime, Margaretha,”—he leaned forward, his attention fixed on her—“you should seriously consider accepting the queen’s invitation. ”
The countess fell into silence.
I couldn’t understand the importance of the queen’s invite and was too tired to think about it.
The nobles continued their discussion, talking past me, as they apparently no longer needed my input.
When the coach tilted back, climbing the steep hill to Wildungen’s old fortress-castle, I sagged into the velvet cushions.
Before we’d even arrived at the gates, the steady bounce of the coach tempted me toward the oblivion of sleep. I gave up fighting and welcomed it.