The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (28 page)

“Jorgen! So good to see you.” Dieter clapped him on the shoulder.

They talked and asked about the health of their families. “I have a request to make of you, Dieter. You were always a shrewd ally when we were boys, and I have need of a pair of shrewd eyes.”

Dieter and Jorgen sat on the side of the fountain while people milled all around them, buying and selling in the
Marktplatz
.

“Someone has been selling poached meat at the back of The Red House. And there is a poacher who has been taking so many of the deer from Thornbeck Forest that they are becoming scarce. I must find this poacher and capture him.”

“What can I do, Jorgen?”

“I want you to help me catch who is selling the poached meat. If you can discover who is behind this black market, I believe he will lead us to the poacher.”

Jorgen discussed with him the days the black market was operating. “I also need you to track Rutger Menkels and find out what he does every day. Follow him when he leaves his house early every morning, and tell me where he goes and who he sees.”

Dieter readily accepted the quest, and they agreed to meet again the next day at the same time and place.

Jorgen felt a little stab of guilt when he asked Dieter to follow Odette’s uncle, but if Rutger had schemed to have someone steal Odette’s mask and trick Jorgen into making a fool of himself with the imposter, then he and Odette both needed to know. And if he was not responsible, Jorgen hoped Odette would never find out that he had asked Dieter to follow him.

23

O
DETTE WAS RUNNING
.
Behind her she could hear a large stag crashing toward her, getting closer and closer. Over her shoulder she could see it was the stag she had injured weeks ago. Her arrow was sticking out of his haunch.

She kept running. He let out a loud snort, so close she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. She tried to make her legs move faster, but they were weighed down by something thick and sticky around her ankles.

Suddenly she tripped. She fell on her hands and chin, and her teeth snapped together. She covered her head with her arms, but the stag slammed his antlers into her back.

Odette awoke with a gasp, pushing herself up with her hands. It was only a dream . . . only a dream.

It had seemed so real. Her jaw ached as if her teeth really had slammed together. But it was not real. The stag she had injured—and which Jorgen had been forced to put out of his misery—he was not still alive. He was not goring her in the back. It was only a dream.

“O Father God,” Odette whispered, “I do not want to do this anymore.” It was getting harder and harder to find deer to kill, and she simply was tired of it. “God, what am I to do? Help me.”

She saw the pinched face of Hanns and the rest of the children, hungry and unsmiling. She couldn’t let them down, could she?

She forced herself to get out of bed and put on her hunting clothes. She had wanted to stay awake and talk to Rutger, to confront him about what was happening to the deer she had been killing and also about the missing vase and tapestry, but he had not come home at his usual time, and she had fallen asleep. But it was dark now, and she had to go see if she could find a deer. For Hanns.

Half an hour later, she was stalking through the trees. She kept an arrow nocked and ready, for she had seen a deer only a moment before, barely visible between the leaves of a tree. She wanted to get a good shot at it since she couldn’t afford to lose any more arrows and didn’t want to wound any more deer.

She crept quite close, her feet soundless as she moved carefully. The deer also moved forward, bending toward the ground, then lifting its slender head. It stood motionless while Odette took careful aim. She was so close she aimed for the spot on its head that would kill it instantly. She let the arrow fly, and it found its mark. The deer fell to the ground.

As the boys swarmed to prepare it to be taken out of the forest, she heard one of them murmur, “Amazing shot,” and shake his head.

Few people would ever know of her skill with a bow and arrow. But the food she was providing for the poor was what she was most proud of, and now she wasn’t sure if the deer she had been killing were even going to feed the poor. What was happening to her kills? She would make sure part of this meat went to Hanns. She had the boys wrap up a big share of it and help her sling it over her shoulder as she trudged toward the little hovel Hanns shared with his mother.

“What did you discover?” Jorgen approached Dieter at the fountain the next day.

“Rutger is an interesting person.” Dieter’s lips twisted in a wry frown as he remained standing. “He went to the corner of Roemer and Butcher’s Guild Strasse and waited for several minutes, as if he was looking for someone. Mathis Papendorp walked up and they talked for a few minutes. Then they went their separate ways.”

“Mathis Papendorp?” Now that he thought about it, Mathis had been at the ball as well, lurking in the shadows with Rutger. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Maybe they had schemed together to have another woman trick him into kissing her, and they made sure Odette was there to see it. Of course Rutger would rather his niece marry Mathis, who was wealthy and influential, than marry Jorgen, who was merely a forester. But even though he had never thought of Rutger as the sort of man to do something so underhanded, Jorgen could easily imagine Mathis working to persuade Rutger to help him undermine Jorgen’s character in Odette’s eyes.

“Did he go anywhere else?”

“Yes. It was still very early in the morning, and he went to The Red House.”

Jorgen blinked. “The Red House?”

“He went in the back door by way of the alley. I was afraid to try to follow him in. He would see me if I did. So I waited outside.”

“Did he leave with anything, like a bundle?”

“No. He stayed for several minutes, then came back out.”

“But today was not a black-market day,” Jorgen said. “Where did he go after that?”

“He went to the storehouse near the north gate. Everyone there was bowing and showing deference to him so I assumed he owned it.”

“Yes, I believe he does.”

“But he also met three young men, just boys around thirteen or fourteen, and spoke to them for several minutes. He gave them each some money.”

“Did you hear anything he said to them?”

“I tried to get close enough, but he was speaking too quietly.”

“What did the boys look like?”

“Ordinary, their clothing rather poor, and they were all rather thin. After he gave them money, they left and Rutger went inside the storehouse. When I left to come here, he was still there.”

Could the boys be the ones who had accompanied the poacher? Could Rutger be behind the poaching? It seemed strange but possible, especially if he was involved with the black market at The Red House. Of course, Odette’s uncle could have been at The Red House for other reasons . . .

Jorgen sat on the side of the fountain and rubbed his forehead. He had never suspected Rutger of having anything to do with the poaching problem or the black market. Could he be the mysterious poacher? Possibly, but it seemed more likely that he was the one selling the poached meat at the black market. Could Rutger even be the owner of The Red House?

Poor Odette! If her uncle was involved with such reprehensible deeds, she would be devastated. He had to be sure before he said anything to her about it.

“Do you wish me to follow him again tomorrow?” Dieter looked eager to continue his spying, especially when Jorgen handed him two coins.

“No. Tomorrow I want you to follow our old friend Mathis
Papendorp. Find out whatever you can. Then meet me the day after tomorrow here at the fountain.”

Heinke helped Odette get properly dressed, then Odette set out for the storehouse where Rutger conducted his business affairs. When she reached it, she asked the nearest man where her uncle was, and he pointed him out, talking with a man at the other end of the building.

Odette walked to him. “I need to speak with you.”

Rutger took one look at her and his expression changed. “Very well. There is an office where we can speak in private.”

They walked across the large building, only partially filled by bundles and trunks and stacks of crude wooden boxes. He took her to a narrow little room in one corner of the building, led her inside, and closed the door.

There were a couple of stools and a table with an inkwell and writing implements and some paper. Tiny shelves covering one wall were stuffed with papers. Neither Odette nor Rutger sat.

As she faced him, her breath started to come fast, her chest rising and falling. “What is happening?”

“What do you mean?” His eyes were shadowy and distant.

“What are you doing with the meat I have been providing? That meat was supposed to go to the children. What have you done, Rutger?” Tears of anger pricked her eyes.

“I do not understand.”

“Do not pretend you don’t understand! The children have not been receiving any meat. You told me you would deliver it.”

“Please lower your voice, Odette. I don’t want any—”

“What are you doing with the deer meat?” Odette spoke
slowly, pausing after each word. “You are selling it, aren’t you?” Her voice rose dangerously high as the tears continued to well up. “How could you?”

“Odette, I am sorry.” Now tears were swimming in Rutger’s eyes. She’d never seen him cry. He cleared his throat, looking away from her, staring at the wall. He cleared his throat again and looked down at the floor. “I . . . I am in debt.”

Her stomach twisted and the breath left her lungs in a rush.

“I did not intend to do it. My last two ships sank with all the goods I had paid to bring here. And then bandits stole the goods on the last caravan from the Orient. I was desperate, so I sold some of the meat. I only meant to do it once, but things went from bad to worse. The demand for the meat was so great and my debts were so pressing . . . I kept selling it.”

Her chest ached and her face felt hot. “That is despicable.” The pain in his expression softened her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble? I never would have let you pay for that elaborate gown and mask for the margrave’s masquerade ball.”

“I didn’t. Mathis Papendorp paid for it.”

“What?” Odette stared at him. Had everything she’d believed about her uncle been a lie? Did she even know him at all? But how much money Rutger did or didn’t have wasn’t what she was most concerned about.

“How could you do it? How could you take their meat? What about the children? How long have you been selling the meat that was intended for them?”

Rutger turned aside from her so she couldn’t see his face. He reached up to wipe his eyes. “Five or six months. I told myself it was only for a little while, but . . . I know there is nothing I can say that will make you not hate me.”

Odette closed her eyes and covered her face with her hands.
All that work, all those nights of hunting . . . And it had not been for the children at all. She felt betrayed, as if a knife had been plunged into her back.

“This . . . This is something I never would have imagined you were capable of. You must have been desperate”—Odette chose her words carefully, trying to keep any bitterness out of her voice but failing—“to do such a thing.” What could she say? That she was disappointed in him? That was far from adequate.