The Princess Spy (15 page)

The guard shoved Colin roughly toward
some steps that he could only assume led down to the dungeon. The guard held his hands behind his back. He stumbled and slipped and nearly fell more than once, only to be yanked up by the guard.

A voice called in German from below, down the dark stairs in front of them.

A man came into view, obviously the gaoler, as a ring of keys hung from the leather strap around his wrist. He stood in a pool of light below a torch that was affixed to the wall at the bottom of the stairs. He stared back at them from beneath wiry white eyebrows, his stooped shoulders causing him to crane his neck.

The guard who was crushing Colin’s wrists said something in a gruff voice.

The gaoler’s keys rattled. He mentioned Duke Wilhelm amid all the German words. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, as though he didn’t trust what the guards were saying to him. No doubt he wasn’t used to taking orders from foreign guards.

While Claybrook’s guard and the gaoler were talking, Colin looked around, hoping for a chance to escape. He didn’t see any other prisoners, and a few steps farther down, arm and leg irons were attached to the wall. The floor was bare and a little damp, but there were no loose keys lying around or doorways of escape that he could see.

The gaoler and the guard appeared to be arguing, but the only thing he could make out was “Duke Wilhelm.”

How could he take advantage of this situation? He couldn’t speak their language and the gaoler couldn’t speak his.

The priest! Hadn’t he translated for him with Frau Lena? Perhaps he could beg for his assistance again and then gain his help in escaping. He suddenly remembered the German word for “priest.”

“Priester!”

The gaoler barely glanced in Colin’s direction. He would have to get his attention some other way.

“Help me!” he cried in English. “I do not belong in this dungeon. Lord Claybrook is trying to — ”

Claybrook’s guard cuffed his ear, making his head ring and stars dance before his eyes. But at least his use of English, a foreign language to the gaoler, had caught his attention and, Colin hoped, awakened his suspicions even more.

The gaoler shook his head, then mumbled grumpily and grabbed Colin’s arm. To Colin’s great disappointment, he helped the guards fasten an iron band around each of Colin’s wrists.

“Priester! Please, I need to speak to the priester!”

He found himself chained to the wall in the dark, smoky dungeon. The gaoler looked at him curiously but walked away behind Claybrook’s guards, taking the torch and the only source of light with him. Colin was left in darkness.

Colin pulled hard on his chains, but they held fast.
What
now?
He sank to the floor, his arm chains just long enough to allow him to sit on the cold stone.

To his surprise, the bob of the flickering torch came into view as the gaoler walked silently back down the steps and came to stand and stare at him.

Colin jumped to his feet amid the clanging of his chains. “
Hilf mir
.”
Help me
was one of the phrases he had learned from the priest. “Priester speaks English. English. You understand?” Would the grizzled old gaoler comprehend and help him?

He looked sharp. “
Sie ein Engländer?
”

“
Ja!
Engländer
. Can you go get the priest? Priester? For the sake of Hagenheim and all that’s holy!” If only he knew a few more words!

The gaoler unknit his bushy white eyebrows and grunted. “
Ja
.” He turned and walked away.

There was nothing for Colin to do but wait — and pray the gaoler intended to bring the priest back with him.

Margaretha wandered about the room, peeking at the guard every so often out of the corner of her eye. Gradually, she made her way to the silver candlesticks stored on a small shelf near the windows facing the courtyard. With her back to the guard, and Anne still clinging to her arm, she fingered a small but heavy candlestick just before lifting it and stuffing it into her voluminous sleeve, where she had a hidden pocket.

Anne’s eyes widened. She let go of Margaretha’s arm. In a burst of familial loyalty and generosity, Margaretha whispered, “If you wish to get out of here, you’d better stay close to me.”

Her eyes still enormous and round, Anne took hold of Margaretha’s arm again — her left arm, thankfully, since she needed her right hand free.

Margaretha wandered back toward the guard, who only occasionally turned his eyes on Margaretha and Anne. He even yawned just before he perceived her coming toward him.

“You look like an understanding person,” she began. “As you can see, my cousin and I are not dangerous. If you could only allow us a few minutes in the garderobe, we would be so grateful.” She smiled up at him.

“I am not to allow you out of my sight.” His eyes and voice were hard. He was obviously unmoved by her smile.

She switched tactics. “If you do not allow us a few minutes in the garderobe, I’m afraid you will have a mess on your hands that you will not enjoy explaining to the other soldiers in your ranks, nor the servants who will be forced to clean it up.” Margaretha placed her hand on her hip, raised her brows, and frowned up at him.

Anne’s face turned slightly green and she put her hand over her mouth. Was she really about to heave her stomach’s contents onto the floor? Whether she was or only looked like she might, it was the perfect complement to Margaretha’s insinuations.

“Come, then,” the guard ordered, his voice louder than necessary as he glared down at them.

Margaretha scurried through the door, Anne sticking close to her side, with a second guard following behind. Margaretha headed straight for the garderobe and glanced behind her as she and Anne dashed into the dim, small space designed to allow the ladies of the castle to relieve themselves.

Margaretha whispered to Anne, “You aren’t sick, are you?”

“Only terrified.” Anne looked at Margaretha as if she was a lunatic. “What are you planning to do? These guards mean to kill us. It’s just like what happened at Witten Schloss to my mother’s cousins. Their castle was taken over by the Earl of Hildesbaden and they were murdered, run through before they even knew they were in danger.”

Anne’s voice grew shrill. “I don’t want to die.” Her eyes filled with tears as she clung all the harder to Margaretha’s arm.

“Stop it, Anne,” Margaretha whispered. “You must listen to me. We shall get through this and nothing bad shall happen to us.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know how I know, I just know.” Margaretha grabbed Anne by her elbows. “Now do as I say and everything will come out right. We will use the garderobe. When we leave, I will hit the guards over the head with this candlestick. I know of a secret escape route out of the castle. We can go for help.” She didn’t tell Anne that they would have to go through the dungeon to fetch Colin. Anne wouldn’t like that at all.

Anne let go of Margaretha’s arm, and they both took care of their needs rather quickly. Even so, the guard called, “Hurry up in there or I’ll come in after you.”

“No need,” Margaretha called back. Anne had caught hold of her left arm again as Margaretha slipped the heavy candlestick out of her sleeve and held it behind her back while they emerged out into the corridor. The guard looked them over. He seemed satisfied with their appearance and turned toward the Great Hall. The second guard waited a little farther down the corridor. He was distracted by a pretty maid walking by — Britta, who was probably on her way to the kitchen. Margaretha stepped forward, every nerve under her skin leaping, and raised the silver candlestick. With all the force she could muster, she struck the back of the guard’s head.

Britta happened to glance in her direction just as the guard fell. The shock on her face would no doubt alert the second guard, so Margaretha ran forward just as the second guard was turning toward her.

He grabbed the hilt of his sword and began drawing it from its scabbard. Margaretha struck him across the side of his head before he could get the tip of his sword free. He fell to the stone floor, his sword clattering down beside him, and didn’t move.

No time to check if they’re still breathing
. She dashed down the corridor, tucking her candlestick in her sleeve again.

Britta’s eyes were almost as round as her open mouth.

“Follow me!” Margaretha called to Britta in a loud whisper over her shoulder. Without waiting to see if Britta would follow, Margaretha headed to the dungeon. Her hands shook, but a sense of power surged through her limbs. She felt as if she could save them all.

“If you get me killed,” Anne said in a shaky voice, “I shall come back and haunt you, Margaretha. I shall not rest until I’ve driven you mad.”

Margaretha stifled a rather hysterical laugh. No time to argue with her cousin as she flew down the uneven stone steps into the darkness.

The gaoler had left one torch burning somewhere up the steps. The light was barely enough for Colin to make out the rats that scurried by the far wall. The smell of smoke, mold, and human excrement was almost like a tangible thing, closing in on him in the dark.

The light grew brighter and he heard footsteps, quick and soft, not at all like the gaoler’s heavy footfalls.

He stood up, making his chains rattle, as three young women appeared, hurrying down the steps.

Lady Margaretha led the two others. She smiled when she saw him. No one had ever looked more beautiful or been a more welcome sight. Her eyes flashed with a wildness that matched the tone of her voice, for of course, she was talking. Most of it was in English, although she occasionally slipped into German.

“Colin, we have come to rescue you before we escape. I’ve knocked out Lord Claybrook’s two guards who were watching Anne and me, and this is Britta, a maid who was in the corridor. Do you think we have time to go get my family? Claybrook might catch us, though, and we must — ”

“I don’t know half of what you’re saying, but if you have the key to my irons, I will be very grateful.” He shook his chains to make sure she understood.

Before she could answer, Lady Margaretha and her two companions turned at the sound of voices and more footsteps.

“
Wer ist da
?” the gaoler’s voice called as he and the priest came into view.

Margaretha turned and spoke to the gaoler and the priest coming down the dungeon steps. Colin wasn’t sure what she told him, but the gaoler looked at her as if she had just told him to go kiss a toad.

Colin suspected Margaretha was demanding that the gaoler let Colin go, and the gaoler was arguing with her. The priest, who turned to Colin with a surprised look on his face, began to relay what they were saying.

As Margaretha spoke, the priest translated, “I am sorry to tell you this, but it is Lord Claybrook and his guards who are dangerous. This man came here to warn us to be on our guard against Claybrook, who intends to kill him — and to kill my father, Duke Wilhelm. You must not listen to what Lord Claybrook’s guards tell you.”

“
Ach du meine Güte
,” the priest said, whatever that meant. He crossed himself, lifting the large cross around his neck and kissing it.

The gaoler only muttered and shook his head before lifting the keys that were dangling around his wrist and sorting through them. He stepped toward Colin and began unlocking his irons.

“We must escape,” Margaretha said to Colin while the gaoler loosed him from his chains, “and find help. I don’t know if any of our men got through to warn Father, but we must find him. If he is near enough, he can prevent the Earl of Keiterhafen’s men from getting into Hagenheim tonight and defeat Claybrook before morning.”

The timeframe didn’t seem likely, but he refrained from telling her that. “We must secure some weapons.”

“I have the candlestick I used to knock out the two guards, but I don’t know where we might get swords or knives.”

“We should also try to get some money, in case we have a longer than expected journey ahead of us. We may need to go to your father’s allies for help. Who is his strongest ally?”

“My mother’s family, the Godehards of Marienberg. My cousin, Duke Theodemar, will help us if we can get word to them. We can get there in a few days, if we have good horses.”