Especially if the bandit also confessed to kidnapping one of his daughters.
Petunia could picture Oliver in the Bruch jail … well, what her imagination conjured for the Bruch jail, anyway. She imagined a small, dank cell with a barred door, and Oliver sitting forlorn in one corner with a rat by his feet and his curly hair lank over his smudged forehead. What purpose could turning himself in serve? She knew that he hated banditry, but his people still depended on him!
Shaking herself, Petunia looked around. Several of her sisters had been talking to her, but she hadn’t heard them.
“And that answers our questions about why he gave himself up,” Poppy was saying, a smile turning up one corner of her mouth as she looked at Petunia. “Now if everyone could please avoid saying his name, so that Petunia doesn’t drift off again … ?”
“I didn’t drift off,” Petunia said hotly. “I was just wondering what would make him throw it all away.…”
“Throw all what away?” Poppy asked. “He made it sound like he’d been living in squalor out in the forest, despite all the gold he’s stolen.”
“He doesn’t keep it,” Petunia said, defensive. “There are people who depend on him. They use the gold to buy food.”
“That’s what bothers me,” Lily said, before Poppy could think of a retort. “If he has so many people depending on him, why didn’t he tell Papa before?”
“Didn’t he explain?” Petunia was eager to defend Oliver, despite Poppy’s teasing. “His mother brought him to court to try to have his estate returned to him.” She pointed at the floor. “This estate. It’s the center of his earldom. But after the war, half of the earldom was in Analousia, and the other half was given to the grand duchess’s husband.” She lowered her voice on the last part. “But when they got to Bruch, we were being accused of witchcraft, and Anne was imprisoned for supposedly teaching it to us. Oliver’s mother is Bretoner, and she was afraid that she would be accused too.”
“That’s what he told Father and the ministers,” Rose said, nodding.
“But it’s just silly,” Orchid protested. “Why would they think she was a witch just because she was Bretoner? Papa isn’t completely unreasonable!”
“But Bishop Angiers was,” Petunia said. “And he was the one doing the accusing. I remember that horrible man trying to question me, as though I were a murderer.” She shuddered.
“Oliver’s mother, Lady Emily, was one of Mama’s closest friends,” Rose said. “I remember her, though the rest of you are probably too young. Anyone who knew Mama would have recognized Lady Emily.”
“She was there when Mama thought she couldn’t have any children?” Poppy asked.
“And when she suddenly started to have us, one after the other,” Rose said with a nod. “Witchcraft.”
“I still say that’s a silly way to think,” Orchid protested, but they ignored her.
“I wonder,” Daisy said slowly. “I wonder if Lady Emily wasn’t already scared because their estate had been given away. That would certainly make me wonder if the king was angry with me. And when they arrived in Bruch, she heard the rumors and thought that she had already been accused, and that was why the earldom had been divided up?”
“Oh, pooh!” Lilac fluttered her hand. “Like Petunia said, Papa wasn’t the one doing the accusing! I agree with Orchid: this whole thing seems very odd.”
“Indeed it is,” Rose said. “More than odd. Galen and I are certain that there was witchcraft involved—but it wasn’t Lady Emily who was responsible.”
“Then who is responsible?” Petunia asked.
“We don’t know yet, although now that we know the grand duchess is one of the Nine Daughters,” Rose began, but Petunia interrupted her.
“The grand duchess couldn’t possibly be a witch! You’ll never meet a more respectable lady!”
“At any rate,” Rose said, “something is highly suspicious about Oliver’s situation. Once we’ve … taken care of … our own problem with the King Under Stone and his brothers, Galen has promised to sort out Oliver’s missing earldom.”
“That’s wonderful,” Petunia said.
“If it works,” Lilac said ominously, and then, at the expression on Petunia’s face, she took out her knitting and fiddled with the needles.
“It will be well,” Rose said firmly. “Galen and Heinrich took care of it; that’s why they aren’t joining us until tomorrow.”
“What did they take care of?” Petunia felt faint, and the question was barely a whisper.
“They let Oliver go,” Rose said complacently. She took out her own knitting. “And the men that came with him to confess.”
“It was Heinrich’s idea,” Lily said with pride. “Papa was determined to execute the poor boy at the end of the week! But the old earl, Oliver’s father, was Heinrich’s commander in the Eagle Regiment. He saved Heinrich’s life, twice, and Heinrich said he couldn’t possibly let his son die. Dr. Kelling had already convinced father to go to the fortress for a few days, to take some time to think. Once they left, Galen was going to set Oliver’s men free while Heinrich helped Oliver escape.”
“Do you think they succeeded?” Pansy’s hands were twisted together.
But Petunia didn’t doubt it. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. Galen and Heinrich had set Oliver and his men free. They could return to the forest and hide. They would be all right—he would be all right!
“If Galen can defeat the King Under Stone, I’m sure he can let a few prisoners out of the Bruch jail,” Poppy said staunchly, and Rose smiled at her.
“But Galen didn’t defeat the King Under Stone,” Hyacinth said, gazing out the window at the barren winter gardens. “Not yet, anyway.”
Worried
When Oliver and his men walked through the gates of the old hall, everyone within froze. Sentries had seen them, of course, and sounded no alarm, since there was no sign of any Westfalian soldiers. But they did not have the look of men returning triumphant, either. A few of the children sent up a ragged cheer, but their mothers quickly hurried them away, as though they knew that Oliver’s news was nothing to celebrate.
“What happened?” Simon couldn’t wait for Oliver to start talking. He leaned forward on his crutches, his face eager. “Did you see the king? Will he make you a real earl?”
“We went to Bruch,” Oliver said, and to his own ears his voice sounded ten years older. Lady Emily put a hand on her younger son’s arm. “And we saw the king.”
“What did the king do?” Lady Emily asked gently, when Oliver did not continue.
“I was put in the palace attic,” Oliver said, “and the others were put in the city jail.”
Karl’s wife, Ilsa, who had followed them into the old hall, clucked a bit at this, but Karl put a comforting arm around her.
“The room was small, and the windows were barred, but we had clean bedding and there was plenty of food to eat,” he said. “Not that it was as good as yours,” he added.
“I was in much the same situation,” Oliver told his mother and brother. “A small room, but clean, good food. I even had books to read. I told the king everything—about Father, about us. I told him about meeting Petunia, and … accidentally abducting her. He brought in one of his sons-in-law, Heinrich, who had been in Father’s regiment. He confirmed that Father had died, that he had had a son, and that I looked like him,” Oliver finished.
“And then what did you do, Lord Oliver?” Karl’s eight-year-old daughter gazed up at him in awe, as though this were the best story she had ever heard.