The Princess Spy (33 page)

Margaretha had managed to ignore him for most of the meal and talk with Gisela and Kirstyn and her mother, but then he tapped her on the arm and asked, “My dear, what would you like me to give you for a wedding gift?”

A question had been nagging at her all day, so instead of answering his question, she asked, “What have you done with my father’s guards?”

At first he didn’t answer, only took his time lifting his goblet to his lips and taking a drink, then slowly setting it back down.

“I don’t think you should worry about such a thing. But if you must know, the ones who are still alive are in the dungeon beneath the castle.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “And if they refuse to transfer their loyalty from your father to me, then they shall all be hanged.”

She tried not to let it show that his words made her feel sick.

“But do not worry, my dear. Once they find out that you, Duke Wilhelm’s oldest daughter, are my wife, I think most of them will be more than willing to bow the knee to me.”

He had thought of everything. The swine would use her as a pawn in his power game, just as he was using his men to do all his fighting for him. He was nothing without those men, nothing but a cowardly bully and an evil schemer.

No, she would not let him steal her peace. He would still be defeated. After all, her father had many friends all over the Holy Roman Empire. Even now he was probably gathering his forces to attack. Along with Colin and Duke Theodemar of Marienberg, it was only a matter of time before they would come and save Hagenheim from the clutches of this evil man.

Margaretha simply smiled.

The guards escorted her mother, siblings, and Gisela back to the solar, but he ordered two other guards to take Margaretha back to her chamber. She gave Claybrook a cold stare. “Cannot my mother come with me?”

He shrugged. “I suppose.” Then he doubled the number of guards he sent with Margaretha and Lady Rose.

“He must think you’re dangerous,” she said to her mother.

Once they were in Margaretha’s chamber and the guards were outside the door — the only way in or out of the room — Lady Rose whispered, “I have an idea. It may only help us gain a little time — ”

“Maybe all I need is a little time. I know help is on the way, Mother. Help is coming soon; I can feel it.”

“Yes, but unless it comes in the next two hours, it will be too late to save you from marrying him. So we will switch places.”

Margaretha gasped at her mother’s suggestion.

“We are almost the same height and build, and our hair is similar. If I wear your wedding dress and veil, and you wear a veil as well, then we should be able to fool the guards and Claybrook too. It probably won’t buy us much time, especially if he insists on going to the Great Hall and feasting afterward, but it’s worth trying.”

“But I don’t want to escape and leave you here.”

Her mother caught her arm and made her look her in the eye. “If you get a chance to escape, you take it. No one here is in as much danger as you are.”

Her mother’s hand was shaking, even as she held onto Margaretha’s arm, and her expression was more serious than Margaretha had ever seen it. “Yes, Mother.”

“If the guards still think I am you, and if they take me up to Claybrook’s chamber, they won’t be paying as much attention to you. Then you can slip away, down to the dungeon, and through the secret tunnel.”

“But what will Claybrook do when he discovers you’ve tricked him?”

“Let me worry about that. I can take care of myself. I wasn’t always a sheltered duchess, and I might be able to hide something up my sleeve.”

“Like a candlestick?”

“What?”

“I hid a candlestick up my sleeve. That is how Colin and Anne and I escaped. I hit two guards over the head with it.”

“That is a good idea.” Her mother smiled mischievously, making her look like a young girl.

They looked around the room, but there was not a single candlestick in sight. “He must have heard that story as well.” Margaretha’s heart sank a little as they continued to look for anything that might be used as a weapon. They searched and searched, but nothing was small enough to fit in their sleeves — voluminous though they were — that was also hard and heavy enough to serve as a weapon.

Then Margaretha noticed the iron cross hanging above her door. Her mother insisted that all their bedchambers have them. She carried a stool over to the door, quietly set it down so as not to alert the guards outside, and lifted the cross off the nail that held it in place.

The cross was nice and heavy. Good.

“Here, Mother. You can use it on Claybrook.”

“You will have more need of it. You’re sure to encounter guards when you’re trying to escape.”

They argued for several minutes, but Lady Rose finally won.

Margaretha put on her mother’s dress, which was a dark emerald green. Then she found a black headrail, which she used to cover her hair and tucked into the collar of her mother’s gown. She took her black mourning veil, attached it to her mother’s gorget, and looked in the mirror.

“I don’t even recognize myself.” Margaretha giggled at the deception.

In the meantime, her mother had put on the over-decorated wedding dress, with its heavy gold brocade and layers of silk, which were embroidered with silver and gold thread. Then she fastened a fancier gorget to her head, attaching her most heavily embroidered veil.

“No one will ever know you aren’t an eighteen-year-old bride.” Margaretha shivered a little inside. “But are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t want to endanger you, Mother. He is so ruthless, he may kill you if he thinks I have escaped. I don’t think we should do it.”

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t allow him to kill me.”

“Mother.” Margaretha felt ill. “I can’t let you do it.”

“And I can’t let you marry that evil man!” She lowered her voice when she went on. “I lost one daughter, and I won’t lose another if there is anything I can do about it.”

Her sister, the one who drowned when Margaretha was a baby. Margaretha’s chest ached at the pain her mother must still feel over the loss. She must trust God to keep her mother safe.

“All will be well, Mother. I shall believe that God will make a way of escape for you.”

“Yes, and I shall believe my plan will work.” Her mother held her by the arms and stared into her eyes.

“Very well.”

The guards pounded on the door and announced that it was time for them to come down for the wedding. Margaretha ran to the window and gazed out, hoping against her better judgment, knowing that they — her father, Valten, and her cousin and Colin — probably would not be there.

The courtyard was nearly deserted. The only people she saw were two of Claybrook’s guards, and they looked as they always did — no one sounded an alarm, and no one moved or looked particularly vigilant.

Her rescuers had not come.

No matter. She would rescue herself.

Chapter
30

Her mother opened the door to the guards
and allowed them to lead her and Margaretha down to the chapel, where the priest and Lord Claybrook were waiting.

The priest’s eyes were wider than normal, and his lips were pursed. No doubt he had been threatened with some heinous consequence if he did not agree to perform the marriage rites.

Margaretha hung back while her mother walked forward to stand beside Claybrook in front of the priest. Soon, her family members were ushered in to stand as witnesses to the marriage. A glance over her shoulder showed several guards, all with swords drawn, standing by the door of the chapel.

There was another entrance, but it was on the second floor. With an upward glance, she saw a guard standing at the top of the winding stairs, and another at the bottom. Claybrook was leaving no opportunity for escape.

Margaretha felt the weight of the iron cross inside her sleeve. It gave her a measure of comfort, even though she could never hope to use it at the moment, with so many guards around them.

The priest began speaking the rites, unaware that the “bride” before him was Lady Rose and not Margaretha. He spoke slowly, but he soon came to the part where the bride and groom would have to give their consent to the marriage. Just before it was time for the bride to consent, Claybrook suddenly took hold of her veil and ripped it off, revealing the face of Lady Rose.

Claybrook turned and his eyes immediately focused on Margaretha, her face covered with the veil that was supposed to be her mother’s. “Ah! I knew you would attempt some trickery.” His lip curled in a snarl, showing his teeth like some sort of animal, and he pointed at Margaretha. “Bring her here.”

The guards grabbed her elbows and pushed her forward. Claybrook threw back her black veil. “A foolish ruse. You cannot delay the wedding any longer.” He grasped her upper arm so tightly, his fingers bit into her flesh. But Margaretha was too relieved that his hand had just missed the cross in her sleeve to complain.

Claybrook turned to the priest. “Get on with it.”

The priest repeated the vows. When he asked her if she would vow to honor and obey Claybrook as her husband, Margaretha replied loudly in German, so everyone in the chapel could hear, “I will not.”

Claybrook growled and said, “She agrees.” Claybrook’s voice was emphatic. “Now go on.”

Margaretha waited to see what the priest would do. Would he stop the ceremony, defying Claybrook, since Church law stated that no one could be married against their will? Or would he continue with the wedding vows to avoid whatever Claybrook had threatened him with?

The priest only spared Margaretha one quick glance before continuing with the ceremony.

She could have protested further, could have fought Claybrook and run if she was able to break loose from his painful grip, but what good would that do? The guards would only drag her back. They might even hurt her mother just to force her to comply. For now, she would bide her time.

The priest’s voice was like the drone of a hive full of bees, dooming her to marry him, whether she consented or not. There was no way out.

O God
,
save me
,
save me!

She must keep her wits about her, even though she was trapped and could see no way of escape. How could she ever get past so many guards?

This pattern of thinking was not helping. She must keep looking for an opportunity. She must not allow herself to think that all was lost. God was her peace. Hadn’t she learned that on the long journey she had taken with Colin? By focusing on God’s power and goodness, she would not panic and her mind would remain clear so she could think of a plan. Instead of sending up prayers full of anxiety, she would trust that God would make a way.

When the priest pronounced them “man and wife,” Claybrook took her hand, squeezed her fingers in a vice-like grip, and nodded to the witnesses. “Now we shall eat, drink, and be merry as you honor the marriage between the House of Fortescue and the House of Gerstenberg.”

Each of Margaretha’s family members alternately looked horrified, disgusted, or angry, but Claybrook didn’t seem to notice. He dragged Margaretha forward.

The marriage can still be annulled.
She comforted herself with those words, but it was little comfort if she were forced to go back with him to his bedchamber. She simply had to escape.

She numbly followed as he paraded her in front of his men. One of them looked at Margaretha with a lewd sneer. She glared back at him, then faced forward, refusing to look at anyone else.

Throughout the feast, Margaretha calculated various escape routes. When she asked to go to the garderobe, he sent three guards with her and refused her request to allow her mother to accompany her. The guards never turned their back on her, and she wasn’t desperate enough to take on three of them — yet.

She forced herself to eat a little bread and meat, to make sure she kept up her strength. But soon, her nervous stomach would not accept any more food.

The only good thing was that Claybrook was drinking heavily, and had been all day. Perhaps he would make himself so drunk he would pass out and she could escape. She wouldn’t count on it, though.

Margaretha’s sisters kept looking at her with tears in their eyes. She winked at them when Claybrook wasn’t looking. All would be well. She didn’t want them to think otherwise. Her little brothers also looked frightened for her, desperation and anger flitting over their faces. They wanted to defend her, which proved her little brothers did love her, even though they teased her.

Margaretha refused to look at Lord Claybrook throughout the feast. There was little entertainment — only one troubadour and a juggler. No one seemed in a particularly festive mood. Even the few knights of higher rank who had been allowed to join the feast as guests were subdued.

Finally, when Claybrook was well and truly drunk, he yelled at the guards standing by to take Margaretha’s family to their chambers and lock their doors. Then he motioned to three guards to come with him. “Come and escort me and my new bride to our wedding chambers.” He chortled drunkenly.

Margaretha walked slowly, and, surprisingly, the guards and Claybrook followed suit and walked slowly as well.
I can surely fight off a man as drunk as Claybrook.
But she preferred to delay the moment of confrontation as long as possible.