The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (7 page)

The margrave’s forehead was creased, as if he was concentrating. “Jorgen,” he greeted and waved him forward.

Jorgen stepped up to the desk, doing his best to ignore Ulrich, but Jorgen could see out of the corner of his eye that Ulrich was sizing him up.

“As our forester,” the margrave began, “tell me how the game is faring in the park. Any problems to report?”

“Lord Thornbeck.” Jorgen bowed and decided to begin with the good news. “The mild weather has produced many new pheasant chicks, as well as many hares. In fact, it might be best, my lord, if you permitted the gamekeepers to snare some hares for your larder. Too many will cause the animals to be thin and sickly and might attract new predators, like wolves, to move into the game park.”

“Please have your gamekeeper set some snares, then, as many as you think necessary.” He turned to his chancellor. “Ulrich, tell the cook to prepare rabbit stews and pies for the next few days.”

“For you, my lord, or for your servants?” Ulrich’s pinched face looked even more pinched, as if he didn’t look forward to eating rabbit stew.

“For both my table and the servants’.”

“Yes, my lord.” His face took on a resigned expression. Then he scowled at Jorgen when he caught him staring at him.

The margrave was looking at Jorgen again, so he went on. “The hinds and their new offspring are mostly accounted for, my lord, but I believe some of the stags may be missing. I also found an arrow that does not bear your red feathers, as well as some evidence of blood on the ground that looks as if someone tried to brush over it with leaves. It appears there is a poacher afoot in Thornbeck Forest.”

The look in the margrave’s eyes sharpened. “A poacher?” He glowered.

“I believe so. If you wish, I can put up a notice in the town center. We can offer a reward to anyone who has information about the poacher.”

The chancellor made a faint snorting sound. “A reward? Don’t you think you are offering the margrave’s money recklessly? You aren’t even certain there is a poacher.”

Jorgen’s face burned. He didn’t want the margrave to think him hasty about offering a reward.

“Perhaps we should wait before offering a bounty,” Lord Thornbeck said. “I think a stray arrow is proof enough of a thief, but look around and see if you can discover any more information about this poacher. Poaching cannot be tolerated. The king’s land, forests, and game in this region are entrusted to me, and it is my duty to see that they are maintained and protected.” He gave Jorgen an intense look, and Jorgen could well imagine why he was renowned as a fierce fighter before he had been appointed the captain of the duke of Pomerania’s guards, and later, Margrave of Thornbeck.

“I trust you to see that this poacher is caught.”

“Yes, my lord. I shall find him and stop him.”

While the maidservant hung the newly cleaned wall hangings, Odette glanced down at the guest list, which would have been impressive if she were looking for a wealthy husband. Her uncle wanted what was best for her. She suspected he wanted her to find a husband and cease poaching, although he had never said so.

The Burgomeister himself had declined Rutger’s invitation due to another obligation, but his son would be there. The margrave’s chancellor was also coming. And she wasn’t sure if she was excited or terrified when she stared at Jorgen’s name on the list.

But perhaps, if she were capable of being cold and calculating about it, she could see her friendship with the forester as a way to keep an eye on what he was doing and find out if—and what—he knew about her poaching.

Uncle Rutger appeared in the doorway.

Odette smiled as he came toward her. “I was just looking at the guest list. At first I thought you invited every wealthy merchant and important official in Thornbeck. But then I realized you only invited the unmarried ones.”

He chuckled. “Odette, you are so fair of face and capable of every duty a wealthy official could want from his wife. I would invite the margrave himself and think he could not choose more wisely if he asked for your hand in marriage.”

Now Odette laughed. “A very pretty speech indeed. I thank you.”

“Are you eager for your birthday party tomorrow night?”

“Of course. But I have something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?”

“Do you remember the man at the Midsummer night festival that you invited?”

“The one you danced with all night?” He raised a brow at her.

“I didn’t dance with him all night. But yes, Jorgen Hartman. I
think there is something you do not know about him.” She glanced up at her uncle. How would he take the news? “Jorgen is . . . He is the margrave’s forester.”

Her uncle stared at her. “Did you say he is the forester?” He leaned down, and in a loud whisper asked, “Why were you dancing with the margrave’s forester?”

“I didn’t know he was the forester.” She bit her lip.

“Odette, you’ve been dancing with the devil, and now I’ve invited him to our house.” Even her normally jovial uncle, so full of jesting and humor, looked aghast. “But we cannot tell him not to come. We must be polite and hope he never finds out what a great marksman you are.”

At least he wasn’t too upset to make a jest about it.

“Do not fear, Odette.” He shook his head. “He would never suspect you of anything. You are my niece, a beautiful, graceful young woman who receives at least three marriage offers every month.”

“Not that many.” She often had to rebuke Rutger for exaggerating.

“At least two every month.” He made a gesture with his hand. “Do not worry. You are perfectly safe. You can enjoy his company for one more night and then you will probably never encounter him again.”

She supposed that was true. “I must try not to be nervous around him.” And try not to notice how beautiful his eyes were. Or how deep his voice was. Or how much she liked talking to him.

“The only reason I asked him was because of the way you were looking at him. I was hoping he might be wealthier than he appeared.”

“What do you mean, the way I was looking at him?”

“The way you were looking at each other. But though he is
young and handsome, you are above his station in life. He is only the adopted son of the old gamekeeper.”

“Do you know about him?”

“Why, yes. If the stories I’ve heard about the new forester are true, the old gamekeeper found him as a young boy in the
Marktplatz
, without parents or family, and took him home. He and his wife raised him. The old gamekeeper and his wife sent him to the town school, and Jorgen must have impressed the margrave because he appointed him the new forester. But after tomorrow night, I will not be asking him to any more parties, just to be safe.”

That seemed the reasonable way to approach the situation.

“What did you think of Mathis Papendorp? He is also a handsome man, is he not?”

“I suppose, though perhaps his status as the Burgomeister’s son makes him a little more handsome?” She raised her eyebrows in challenge.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Odette laughed. “His manner is polished but . . .”

“You do not approve of him either? He is at least young! You cannot say I am foisting another old man on you with this one.”

“I do not disapprove of him, but it is difficult to discern his true character after knowing him for so short a time.”

“You have certainly known him longer than you’ve known Jorgen. But take your time learning his character. All I ask is that you do not reject him outright. After all, think of the influence he could have over the town ordinances and in your cause to help the poor of Thornbeck. Surely you can see the advantages of such an alliance. You could refrain from poaching and still feed the poor.” He lifted his brows with a significant nod.

“I suppose.” She hated to admit it, even to herself, but Rutger was probably right.

“You will not be going hunting tonight?”

“After missing two nights because of Midsummer, I don’t want to miss another night.”

“Sometimes I think you push yourself too hard.”

“I am well and hearty. Do not worry.”

The servant returned to hang another tapestry. Odette needed to prepare for the hunt, so she gave Rutger a quick kiss on the cheek and went upstairs.

Though her uncle was only fifteen years older, he was a good guardian. She couldn’t imagine a better one. What need did she have of a husband? She was her own master, doing what she wished. Things like poaching that no husband would allow. As long as she avoided getting caught, she could see herself hunting and giving away the meat for a long time to come.

6

J
ORGEN MADE HIS
way toward Rutger’s house. The sun was still shedding its light across the sky, but the people on the street were heading home after their labors.

He was still surprised he had been invited to Odette’s birthday feast. But unless Odette was a girl who cared naught for wealth, power, and status, she would never choose Jorgen over Mathis Papendorp. He would be foolish to get his hopes up about her.

A young man and woman were walking in Jorgen’s direction. The man was smiling down at her, her face was upturned toward his, and she laughed. He smiled even wider and put his arm around her. She leaned her body into his, and he kissed her on the mouth before they continued down the street.

He had avoided thoughts of marriage as long as he was still a gamekeeper, but seeing that couple, he felt a slight ache in his chest. When he married, would he and his wife be in love like those two?

Now that Jorgen was the forester, he could afford to take a wife—a wife who was willing to live a less wealthy life than the one to which Odette was accustomed.

Rutger Menkels’s house was a large four-story, half-timber structure not far from the
Marktplatz
. The lowest floor was made of stone and plastered white, and the upper floors jutted a little
farther over the street with each higher level. Plaster was criss-crossed with wooden beams that gave it a decorative look, along with striped shutters on the bottom floor.

When he reached the house, the windows were open to the warm night air, and he could hear the voices inside. The door was also open, the servants nowhere in sight, so Jorgen walked in.

Odette stood in the large ground-floor room wearing a beautiful blue dress, her hair hanging across her shoulders and down her back, with a few tiny braids that were interwoven with matching blue ribbons. She was talking to Mathis—or, rather, listening to him.

“The old margrave was a great friend of my father, and his oldest son ran the region like his father had before him, but the new margrave . . .” Mathis shook his head. “A lot of people don’t trust him.”

Odette’s gaze shifted to Jorgen standing just inside the doorway and her smile widened. “Jorgen! Come in.”

She motioned for him to join their conversation, making room for him between her and Mathis.

“Jorgen would know something of the new margrave.” Mathis turned toward Jorgen. “What do you think of him?”

Jorgen considered how to answer Mathis’s question about the margrave, the man whose duty it was to protect all the people of the region, especially from invaders from outside the Holy Roman Empire, since they were so near the northeast border. “He is a good and competent leader, as much as his father and brother were before him.”

Mathis raised his eyebrows. “My father says he’s never done anything except train as a knight, and he had just started training the fighting men who protect the castle. He couldn’t know anything about being a margrave.”

Odette looked from Mathis to Jorgen.

“Lord Thornbeck is very capable. He has learned what he needed to know to execute his duties well.”

“That is loyally spoken, Jorgen, but what makes you think so? Do you have that much confidence in his chancellor and chief advisor, our old friend Ulrich?”

Jorgen forced himself not to react to the jab Mathis aimed at him. Did he know that Jorgen feared the chancellor was trying to undermine the margrave’s confidence in him? “Lord Thornbeck, as I said, is a competent leader.”

“Competent.” Mathis shrugged. “Perhaps, but some people still question if he had anything to do with his brother’s death. A fire in the west wing? There’s never been a fire in the castle that I can recall, and this one originated in the margrave’s bedchamber.”