The Princess Spy (32 page)

“Claybrook may force his rule over them,” Margaretha said to Sir Gisborne’s back, “but their hearts belong to Duke Wilhelm.”

Sir Gisborne made no reply.

He and his men surrounded her as they walked her through the courtyard. But instead of being taken directly to her family, she was taken to Lord Claybrook, who was sitting like a king on a throne in the Great Hall.

“Lady Margaretha,” he said with a smile. “I am pleased my men were able to bring you back safely to me.”

Margaretha said nothing. Once again he was wearing one of his elaborate hats, along with a cape of royal blue silk, embroidered with an Oriental design in gold thread. She tried not to feel anything so that her anger toward this man would not overwhelm her. She had to keep a clear head.

“I see you are not inclined to speak today.” He smiled that feline smile of his.

“I wish to see my family, if you have not murdered them all yet.”

“My dear, you know me to be a ruthless man, but I see no need to dispose of your mother and sisters or the little ones.” His lip curled. “Not if you agree to marry me.”

So, he would hold her family’s lives over her to force her to marry him. She should have guessed.

When she didn’t speak, he said, “The wedding shall be . . .” He looked up at the ceiling, as though contemplating a date. “Tomorrow, at vespers.”

Margaretha stared past him at a spot on the wall, refusing to look directly at him. “I want to see my family now.”

After several moments of silence, he said, “I shall send your wedding dress to you. You shall be quite lovely in the gown I have picked out for you.”

After a few more moments, he waved his hand and ordered some guards to take her to the solar.

Margaretha climbed the stairs extra slowly and began speaking to the three guards who accompanied her in their native English. “A vast army is on its way here. If you wish to save your lives and fight on the side of the righteous, on God’s side, you had best change your loyalties when you hear the battle begin.”

The soldiers’ eyes shifted as they glanced at each other.

“I speak the truth. Duke Wilhelm and his allies will not punish you if you refuse to kill on Claybrook’s behalf. Duke Wilhelm rewards good deeds, and you will not be sorry if you offer your loyalty to him, I can promise you.”

None of the guards spoke, but she knew they were at least listening. If she could turn a few of his own guards against him, Claybrook would have even less chance against her father and her cousin Theodemar, the Duke of Marienberg. And Colin.

They reached the solar before she could say much else. Inside, her mother and Gisela were sewing, Kirstyn was playing backgammon with Adela, and her brothers, Wolfgang and Steffan, were playing some sort of game on the floor.

“Mama!” Tears sprang to her eyes at seeing her dear mother.

Everyone looked up at her. They all seemed to exclaim at once. Her mother dropped her sewing and ran to Margaretha, embracing her. “Thank heaven you are all safe and well.” Margaretha squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank you, God.”

Her mother cried softly against Margaretha’s shoulder.

“Don’t cry, Mama. All will be well.”

Kirstyn and Adela added their arms as they also embraced her. Even her brothers came and patted her arm.

“Where have you been?” her mother finally asked, wiping her eyes. “What have you been about? We did not know what had become of you.”

Margaretha glanced over her shoulder to make sure the guards were listening. “I cannot tell you exactly, but I believe help is on the way to Hagenheim. Father and Valten shall have all the fighting men they will need to easily defeat the evil Lord Claybrook.” She only hoped some of the guards at the door of the solar understood German. But Claybrook would have been clever enough to ensure that.

Her mother looked nervously at the guards and then turned to her daughter and placed her finger over her lips.

“Don’t worry, Mother,” Margaretha whispered. “I am trying to convert the guards to our side.”

Next, she inquired after Gisela and her health.

“I believe she is very near her time,” Lady Rose said, smiling at her daughter-in-law.

“I am ready when that time comes,” Gisela said. She laid her hand over her stomach and smiled, but her eyes were sad. No doubt she was worried about Valten. Would he return and be able to defeat Claybrook in time to see his first child born? How terrible to be facing the birth of your first child while being held against your will.

Would Margaretha be forced to wed Claybrook before help arrived? She would almost rather die than spend one hour wed to that villain. But she also couldn’t allow Claybrook to harm her family members. Tomorrow at vespers, if no one came to rescue her, how could she avoid marrying Claybrook? If Colin was not able to get here with an army in twenty-four hours, she might soon be the bride of a monster.

Chapter
29

Margaretha thanked the maids — Britta
was not among them — who brought up the hot water for her bath. They didn’t answer, but looked frightened and scurried away. No doubt Claybrook had told them not to speak to her.

When she was safely alone in her room, she sank into the warm water and closed her eyes. Never had a bath felt so good, or been so needed! She scrubbed her skin as well as her hair and scalp with the floral-scented soap. If she hadn’t been afraid someone might invade her privacy, she would have stayed longer. But she quickly dried herself off and began to braid her wet hair.

But even the welcome refreshment of the bath could not chase away her worries about her family’s safety, the safety of the Hagenheim people, and her questions about Colin.

How long had he searched for her? Did he realize Claybrook’s men had taken her back to Hagenheim? Had he and Toby arrived in Marienberg? Did the Duke of Marienberg believe him? Was he able to find someone who spoke English who could help him convince her cousin to raise an army and come to Hagenheim?

For the tenth time that morning, Margaretha’s breath caught in her throat. There were hundreds of things that could have gone wrong. And for the tenth time, she told her fears, “Nothing is too hard for God.”

She let her braid hang over her shoulder and finished getting dressed.

Yes, there were hundreds of things that could have gone wrong. But Colin was brave. He was the most intensely determined person she had ever met. But more than anything else, she knew God was on their side. God was ever on the side of the righteous.

When she was young, the priest had made her memorize certain psalms. She still remembered Psalm 1.

Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers,
but whose delight is in the law of the L
ORD
,
and who meditates on his law day and night.
That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither —
whatever they do prospers.

Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff
that the wind blows away.
Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

For the L
ORD
watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked leads to destruction.

“You watch over us, God. You watch over Colin, and you watch over my family, and the way of Lord Claybrook leads to destruction. I believe, God. Take away my unbelief. I have peace because my trust is in you.”

She must not allow Claybrook to take away her peace. She must not allow her fears to overwhelm her trust that God would make a way of escape for them.

The door opened and Claybrook strode in.

For a moment, she was speechless. When she found her voice again, she raged, “How dare you come in here when I have not given you my leave? You will request my permission before coming into my private chamber.” She stood and glared into Claybrook’s vacant, black eyes.

“I will not ask your permission,” he hissed back, his face deadly calm as he leaned so close to her she could count his eyelashes and see his nostrils flare. “You are to be my wife in but a few short hours, and then you shall ask
my
permission . . . to breathe.”

Margaretha shuddered inwardly. “I do not wish to become your wife — yet. As loyal subjects of the king, we must first send a missive to the king requesting his approval of the union.”

“Oh, we shall do that.” Claybrook smiled and nodded. “But first, we shall wed in secret, here in the castle chapel, with your family members as witnesses. In the event of any fighting, I want everyone to know that we were married . . . especially if you should meet your untimely death in the melee.”

Margaretha refused to show any horror. She merely stared at him.

“However, if you cooperate with me” — he smirked and toyed with the liripipe dangling from his hat — “and if you prove to be a good wife, I shall make arrangements so that you do
not
meet your death at the hands of my overzealous guards.”

You will never possess me.
She did not speak the words aloud. She would let him, for the moment, think he had won.

“But the reason I am paying you this visit is to present you with your wedding dress. It is finer than anything you own, I would wager.” He snapped his fingers, and a maid brought in an elaborate gold-and-silver-trimmed dress. She laid it on Margaretha’s bed and left the room.

Should she defy him? Or should she pretend to be defeated and go along with him?

“It seems I have no choice in the matter,” she said softly, her gaze never wavering from his face.

He smiled. “It is good to hear you speak reasonably. Now examine your dress. I have brought it all the way from London for you, and I want you to see how exquisite it is.”

Margaretha looked at the garment. It was not at all to her taste, very gaudy, and the bodice was cut too low. “Truly, I have never been interested in fashions and clothing.” She couldn’t resist disappointing him.

“Once you put it on, you will see how magnificent it is.” He snapped his fingers again and a slim young man entered the room. “My tailor, Gabriel, will make sure it fits properly. Put it on and he will make the appropriate adjustments.”

“I have a seamstress who can adequately adjust it for me.” Margaretha met his eye, prepared to defy him in this.

He seemed to think about it, then motioned dismissively with his hand. “Very well. I shall call your seamstress — what is her name?”

“Gertie.”

“And I will have her come and do the proper alterations.” He waved the tailor out of the room, then turned to Margaretha. “I shall see you tomorrow, my dear, on this auspicious occasion of our wedding.”

He stepped toward her, as if he intended to kiss her hand. She turned away from him, pretending not to realize his intention. “Very well.”

He paused. Would he force the issue? Finally, he turned, but before he left the room, he said, “Tomorrow night, my dear, there will be feasting and dancing after the wedding.” Lowering his voice to an icy murmur, he said, “We shall drink and be merry.” He walked away, and his laugh floated down the corridor after he was gone.

The next day, Lord Claybrook sent for Margaretha for the midday meal. He even told her which dress he wished her to wear — her dark blue cotehardie with the silver embroidered hem.

She wore her pink silk with the colorful birds embroidered on the bodice.

He frowned when he saw her walking toward the dais where he was sitting in her father’s place at the head of the table. He had installed her mother opposite her usual place, at his left hand instead of on the right, and Margaretha he placed to his right.

She said a quick prayer, entreating God to look down and see this boastful peacock in her father’s place and to see the injustice of it. “Give me justice against my adversary,” she whispered, imitating the persistent widow from the Bible.

The meal was delicious. Margaretha surprised herself by eating heartily. She was aware of the guards stationed all around the Great Hall, and Lord Claybrook smirking and drinking more than he was eating. But in her heart, she felt peace. Colin was on his way to save her, and God would not allow Claybrook to marry her. He would provide a way of escape.