Outside, her father was already standing in the yard with his hands visible.She couldn’t see his face but knew he would wear an expression of neutrality.Hans was beside him, and Jacob was across the courtyard, standing with arms crossed, legs apart, trying to appear larger than a mere stable boy.
The officer dismounted and began to speak.Unable to bear not knowing, Lise released her mother’s hand and raised the sash so the men’s voices floated in.The officer spoke to her father in rapid French.Her father, despite knowing the language, replied in High-German, his tone steady.The officer switched languages with the ease of a man accustomed to occupied territories.
“We require provisions,” he said.“Bread, meat, fruit.Beer.Whatever you can spare, we will take.And we must water our horses.If you please.”
The last words were tacked on as if this were a request.Yet clearly, it was not.
“Of course,” her father said.“My household staff will see to it.”He gestured to Hans to go inside and get the supplies.
Lise’s mother touched her arm.“Go to the kitchen and tell Frau Becker what we must give.No more than a third of what we have, mind you.”
Hurrying back along the hallway, Lise was still talking to their outraged cook when Hans came in with Anna, both their faces white as chalk.The housemaid’s family was from Hanover, and her cousin had been killed a year earlier.She sat down heavily on the kitchen stool.
“Don’t worry,” Lise said.They waited in tense silence until Frau Becker produced the sacks of provisions.Anna rose to her feet, but Lise forestalled her and lifted one of the coarse bags.
“Stay here.Out of sight.”She nodded to Hans, who carried the other two sacks.
“That had better be enough,” Frau Becker vowed.“Because they’ll get naught else without going through me.”
Lise nodded.But their cook hadn’t seen the men and their weapons.
Silently, she passed her mother and Frau Kemper in the front hall and went out with Hans.More soldiers had dismounted and were stretching their legs, eyeing the house and outbuildings with the casual assessment of men who had done this many times before.
The officer turned to her.He was younger than she’d expected, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with a thin face and tired eyes.
Into the silence, her father spoke.“This is my daughter, Fräulein von Ostenfeld.”His voice was tight, and his glance told her he wished she had stayed indoors.
“Mademoiselle,” the office said, inclining his head.“We will not trouble you long.”
“In these sacks are bread and cheese,” Lise said.“Two joints of smoked ham, one of which had been meant for our Sunday meal,” she added tartly, causing her father to shake his head.She reined in her annoyance.“There are early apples and a few jugs of beer, too.”
The officer nodded and gestured for two of his men to take the provisions.Meanwhile, others filled their water skins from the well, letting their horses drink from the trough.One of them wandered toward the stable, peering inside.
“Have you seen any strangers in the area?”the officer asked her father.“English, perhaps.Or anyone traveling without proper papers?”
Lise’s breath caught.Her father’s expression didn’t change.
“No strangers,” he said.“We see only our neighbors and those from Eutin.We are a quiet district.”
The officer’s gaze moved to Lise, then away.“We will be quartered in the area for at least a week.Maybe longer.If you see anyone suspicious, you will report it to our liaison in Eutin, the house by the town mill.A sentry is stationed there.These are dangerous times.Spies and smugglers are everywhere.”
“Of course,” her father agreed dispassionately.
The soldier emerged from the stable and shook his head at the officer.Nothing.The officer nodded, seemingly satisfied.
“My thanks for your hospitality,” he said, and swung back into the saddle.A moment later, they were gone, the sound of hooves fading up their drive and onto the lane.
Lise’s mother appeared beside her, slipping an arm around her waist.
“They’re looking for him,” Lise whispered.“For Lord Bowen.”
“Perhaps,” her mother said.“Or perhaps they simply want to remind us who holds power here.”
But her father’s face was grim.That evening, after a solemn day and a subdued meal, he announced he would ride to Eutin in the morning.
“I need to speak with the bailiff,” he said.“And I will look in on our English guest.Make certain he is well.”
Lise wanted to beg to go with him, but she knew better.Her presence would only raise questions.
