As the sun climbed higher, Jonathan kept to forest paths and game trails, avoiding roads and seeing no settlements.His stomach cramped with hunger, but he came across one stream after another, so never feared the agonizing thirst of the past few days.Thinking of Lise up ahead kept him putting one exhausted foot in front of the other.He could even smile, recalling the way she’d looked at him in the garden when she’d slapped him for questioning her honor.
Lise von Ostenfeld deserved to know what manner of man she was being forced to marry.
And then two lucky events happened when he guessed he was about a quarter of the way to his destination.Upon hearing the sound of a horse and cart approaching from the south on the road to his left, he darted toward it.Close enough to watch from the trees, he saw a wagon go by with a solitary driver.
Jonathan made a snap decision, running after it and catching up before it got too far.
“Stop,” was all he could manage, grateful when the man pulled up on the reins.
Coming abreast, holding his hands up, showing that he had no weapon, he then bent over, breathing hard to catch his breath before he could speak again.
When Jonathan looked up, the driver was eyeing his disheveled appearance with suspicion.
“I’ve been robbed,” he said in his best low-German, letting desperation color his voice.It wasn’t entirely a lie.“They took my horse, my money, everything.I’m trying to reach Eutin.”
The farmer’s weathered face softened slightly.“Climb in back,” he said gruffly.“I’m going to Scharbeutz.You can ride that far.”
“Thank you,” Jonathan said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.“God bless you.”
Climbing into the wagon bed, he noticed the second part of his good fortune.Bushels of apples.
“Good sir,” he said as the wagon lurched into motion.“I have no money but great hunger.May I —?”
He didn’t finish his question before the farmer said, “Eat some apples.They’re my early crop, the best you’ll ever have.”
And they were!Nothing he’d eaten at the finest tables in London compared with the crunchy fruit.Silently, he ate three, marveling that the simple apple could be so sweet and tart and tangy all at once.
With his pangs satisfied, he made room to burrow, low between two large crates, as inconspicuous as he could be.Without meaning to, Jonathan’s eyes closed, and he let himself rest for the first time since his escape, the rhythmic creaking of the wheels lulling him into an uneasy doze.
He woke when the cart stopped.The farmer called to him over his shoulder, “Scharbeutz.This is as far as I go.”
Jonathan climbed out stiffly, thanking the man again.He was perhaps three-and-a-half hours’ walk from Eutin, as he remembered from his own maps.
“Take more apples,” the man said, tossing him a small sack.Jonathan put half a dozen into it without hesitation, knowing he would need the sustenance before he reached Lise’s home.
“Much thanks,” he told the farmer, who drove off without another word, turning his wagon toward the village square.
On the road, Jonathan began walking again, feeling stronger.After half an hour, hearing multiple horses coming up from behind, he ran hell bent for cover.A copse of trees shielded him, while he watched four French soldiers race by.
Heart pounding, giving him a surge of energy, he followed in their wake.By the time he reached the outskirts of Eutin, however, in the dark, exhaustion made his every step feel as though it were made through thick mud.Driven by sheer will, he walked woodenly up the von Ostenfeld drive.Not daring to go to the house, in case Friedrich or French soldiers were waiting inside, he slipped quietly into the stable and crept by the sleeping Jacob.
Immediately, he sensed something was off.After a moment, he realized there wasn’t a single horse in any of the stalls, making the stable colder than usual and entirely silent.Possibly the entire family was away.Possibly not.In any case, all he could do was climb the ladder and fall asleep in the hay.
When morning came, he awoke to chaos, but it wasn’t due to French soldiers.
Hans and Jacob were in the forecourt having a heated discussion.Frau Kemper and even the cook were standing nearby, speaking quickly, loudly, their voices full with emotion.
Jonathan listened for a few moments from the doorway of the stable before he could translate enough of their words to understand.And then he stepped forward, out of the shadows and into the early morning light, making all four servants fall silent.
Mouths open, eyes wide.
For about two seconds.
They surged forward, all of them speaking at once, their faces drawn with worry.Something was very wrong.When Jacob got closer, he could see the boy’s face was pale and streaked from dried tears.
“Jacob,” Jonathan said, understanding enough from what they’d said to know that none of the family was there.“Where are the von Ostenfelds?”He feared they’d all been taken because of how he recklessly hid in their stable.
“Is Fräulein Lise with you, my lord?”
