Page 12 of Heart of Snow
Mistress Hatzfeld intervened first. “The count wishes for peace. If you will allow us to take you to him?” Her smile proved her everything opposite of the countess. Confident. Seductive. With only a few more words and a wave of her hand, the Spaniards fell in line to follow her.
“Shall you come too, my lady?” Hatzfeld asked with a peaked brow.
“I will stay and see to the boy. You take the soldiers.”
Hatzfeld nodded and led the men away from the square. Before they’d even gone, townspeople surrounded the countess, pummeling her with questions.
“I do not know how long they intend to stay. Please,”—she raised a placating hand—“we must not provoke the kaiser’s men. Be peaceable. Comply with all the count wishes you to do.”
Hmph. What had the count done to earn their loyalty? He hadn’t seemed to care enough to even warn his people the soldiers were coming.
Dismissing her speeches, I squatted in front of the boy, pushing away the dog when it jumped up to lick my face. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, smearing blood across his cheek as he swiped at his glistening eyes. “I was ready to fight them all.” The growl in his voice was fierce despite his little frame.
“I believe you.”
“Johannes, that was a very foolish thing to do.” The countess dropped down beside me, crouching so near that I could again smell her lilac scent. I quickly stood and stepped back.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “If only poor Johannes were so fortunate as the count and could send a woman to fight in his stead.”
The countess’s tense posture told me she fully understood the meaning of my flippant remark, bristling at my cutting assessment of her father’s leadership. Her attention stayed onJohannes, surveying his wound when she answered me. “Is it always in your nature to make such gross, unjust assumptions?”
She stood, not waiting for my sputtering reply.
“Had I not decidedof my own accord,” she emphasized the last words, “to deliver electuaries this morn, you might be in chains just now. I think gratitude the more appropriate sentiment.” Taking Johannes’s hand, she swept through the square, leaving me alone with the blasted terrier licking my shoe.
Chapter 6
Margaretha
Pastor Hefentreger’s final blessing wasinterminable. I peeked through slitted eyelids to see him dabbing his kerchief across his brow while glancing, not for the first time, at the Spanish captain leaning coolly against the chapel wall. The pastor stuttered through the chant, his tongue twisting over Latin words he hadn’t recited in more than twenty years. His German hearers, ignorant of the language, yawned or drooped their heads in the overheated hall.
The realities of losing the war, of losing our freedom to follow Luther’s teachings, were most painfully clear in our Sunday worship. So many in this chapel had endured the death of someone they loved: a brother or a son, an uncle or a cousin—men slaughtered to save our precious beliefs. And now the bereaved couldn’t even find comfort in the pastor’s words, the Latin language being wholly indiscernible to them.
I had never been brave like Samuel, fighting for our faith, but sitting in the chapel witnessing firsthand the death of the Reformation, my regret tasted bitter. I should have done more when there was more to be done. Instead of wrestling for the victory of our religion, my only hope now was to do my small part to help my brother.
Belinda grabbed my bouncing knee, forcing it steady. “Don’t fret yourself,” she whispered. “You’ll do fine.”
I prayed she was right. It had been a week since Friedrich was recovered enough to begin his new position at the castle, and he had yet to approach me about commencing our lessons. With Samuel’s situation still unconfirmed, I would wait no longer. Today I intended to confront Friedrich.The arrogant, ill-mannered mule.I shook my head. Never in my life had I heard acommoner make such a scathing assessment of nobility. Had he no sense? No instinct for self-preservation?
The pastor’s prayer was finally at an end, and we came to our feet. Resting my hands on the wood railing, I let my eyes trail the chapel below for Friedrich, but instead I found the captain with a sideways smile upon his lips, his gaze squarely upon the gallery.
“The captain watches us,” I whispered.
Belinda glanced down at him, offering an elegant nod in return for his sweeping bow.
I scoffed. “You won’t discourage him?”
“Why should I?” She waited for the pastor and his assistants to leave. “Captain Carrera has power over us. I should like to tip the scales in our favor, if I can.”
She was right. It was just these calculations that proved she should be the one going to Brussels and not I.
As I turned to descend the stairs, my eyes met with Friedrich’s as he stood below. He dropped his gaze and slipped into the aisle to move out the door. He had a head start. It would be difficult to reach him if we weren’t quick.
“Hurry, Belinda.” I held my skirts, navigating down the narrow steps and into the press, which parted to allow us through. Once we were outside, I caught sight of Friedrich tucking into another street.
“Friedrich,” I barked, trotting after him.
