Chapter 36
Friedrich
I pressed my cap to my head as cold gusts slashed the caravan winding its way toward Coudenberg Palace.
With summer now in retreat, all future court hunts were likely to be as cold and miserable as this one had been.
At least the wind cleared out the foul stench of rotting garbage and human waste hovering around the palace like an invisible bog.
Cresting the hill, Margaretha and the prince led the train into the round enclosure of the Place des Bailles, passing between the brass statues mounted on top of bright-blue columns.
I jogged ahead of them through the tunneled ramp to the inner courtyard, then into the stables to get the horse’s stall ready.
The building blocked out the winds, making me warm enough that my nose and cheeks tingled while they regained feeling.
Picking up the rake, I laid out fresh hay as a stealthy step sounded behind me. One trying to be silent but failing. I rounded to find the young page who’d taken my taler. “Ah, master of the dice. Have you something for me?”
“’Ave you somethin’ for me?” He held out his open palm, but I shook my head, falling into the comfortable pattern of our exchanges over the last few months.
“Letter first.”
He pulled two missives out of his jerkin and dangled them from pinched fingers, still offering his open palm. “It’ll be six talers now. I used the last two to bribe the guard.”
It was the same story he gave me every time he brought one of Samuel’s letters, but I studied him with narrowed eyes, trying not to show my surprise at being given a second missive. “Very shrewd.” Digging into my pocket, I pulled out six coins and stifled a smile as the page boy bit each one.
“Hope to do business with you again.” He touched his cap with his finger, then meandered out of the stables.
I couldn’t even wait for him to be gone before I ripped open the first letter, finding nothing more than the standard communications Count Samuel sent his father. But the second missive was different. Short and clearly not meant for the count, it was still written in Count Samuel’s shaky scrawl.
Glad you survived Mühlberg. My health is failing. Still worth it to escape the attentions of a certain lady.
The letter was not addressed to anyone, but I knew it was for me.
Somehow he had guessed or learned that I was the courier of these messages.
Despite my aloofness, or maybe because of it, the young count had always been friendly with me, leading me to form a sort of begrudging tolerance for him and his persistent jokes about going to war to escape the ladies.
But the comment on his health made me uneasy.
He wasn’t one to complain. Speaking about it at all was a clue to how much he was suffering.
Horses’ hooves clopped on the stones outside the stables, and I slid the letter into my jerkin just as the prince rode in on his charger.
Margaretha wasn’t far behind, but I didn’t even have the chance to offer her my arm before the prince appeared beside me, taking her by the waist and setting her down in front of him.
“When will I see you again?” he asked.
She laughed. “I’m sure I shall see you at supper.”
“Too long from now. We could meet back together and ramble the Warande once we’ve changed from our riding clothes.”
I pretended to inspect the horse’s shoe as a reason to stay nearby and hear Margaretha’s answer.
“And what excuse would I give the queen?” she asked. “I must stay with the other ladies-of-honor.”
“They will assume you are with me.” The prince’s hands were still on her waist, and he pulled her closer to whisper, “As royal mistress, you have the freedom to move about as you please.”
My breath gusted out as if the horse had kicked me in the stomach. Did the prince really just call Margaretha his mistress?
“I am not your mistress.” Margaretha stepped out of his grasp. Her voice was cool and steely, unfriendly enough that the prince’s smile fell.
“Regardless, when everyone suspects you of it, you have the same privileges. Whenever you will it, I give you leave to come to me.”
The prince left on much less friendly terms than he’d entered, waiting for Margaretha’s parting bow before striding off with his attendants.
I gave Margaretha a few moments to recover before I handed her Count Samuel’s letter.
“What is this?” She threw me a curious look as she unfolded the paper. Reading the short note, her eyes met mine with wide excitement. “Is this—? How did you get it?”
“It’s what your father sent me to do,” I murmured.
She read over the letter again, shaking her head. “I knew he was ill, but to have him say it outright means he’s worse than I’d suspected.”
Looking to where the prince had just exited, her features settled with determination. When she moved to follow him, I stepped in front of her, stopping her.
“Take some time to think this through,” I said. “If you go off so rashly . . . I wouldn’t want you doing anything you’ll regret.”
Her eyes softened, and she gave me a small smile. “Don’t fret about Felipe. I know how to handle him.”
Then she cut around me and followed him out of the stable.
***
Margaretha
My sights danced over the courtyard as I frantically searched for Felipe, spotting him leading his retinue across the entrance porch of the palace.
I picked up my skirts to dart between servants and up the steps of the porch, skipping every other stair in my haste to reach him.
Each minute was precious to me. Each moment I delayed risked putting Samuel beyond my reach.
“Felipe!” I called to him.
He turned, his face brightening with a smile when he recognized me hurrying toward him.
“Already seeking me out?” he asked.
I puffed a laugh, reaching him and catching hold of his hand for support.
“You said I need never fear to ask anything of you.” I swallowed and took a few deep breaths until my lungs began to steady.
“I worry for my brother. He was ill at the Ommegang. He might be further still with so much time in captivity. You said you would inquire after his health. Have you yet?”
He dropped his eyes. “Not yet.”
“Will you?” I begged. “Quickly?”
He nodded, bringing my hand to his lips.
Knowing Samuel was suffering, I dared to ask more. “And will you send Vesalius to him?”
Felipe reared back his head. “That is a hefty request.”
“Yet I know you can meet it.” I stepped closer, my eyes begging him to agree.
His gaze studied my face, and his mouth lifted in a sideways smile. “How easily you persuade me.” Shaking his head with a sigh, he said, “I’ll send Vesalius.”
I beamed at him. This was it. I could feel it. This was the beginning of securing Samuel’s freedom.