Nikolaus retrieved the satchel from Hette’s shoulder and draped the bag across his own. He patted her hand in reassurance, and the group continued their trek into the forest.
“Dare we call out?” Clare asked a few minutes later.
Christyne scanned the area, but the view had not changed. Trees, boulders, spring flowers bursting through patches of crusty snow. No huddling forms. No makeshift shelters.
“Nay.” Nikolaus answered. “Our voices would attract those the prince sent behind you and alert them to your real purpose.”
“If we do not find them soon, I fear we never will.”
A slight movement in the periphery of her vision caused Christyne to pause. Had it simply been her imagination? The wind dancing with the leaves of the bushes or a wild hare frolicking amongst the budding crocuses?
There! A flash of muted color between finger-like branches. She slowed her steps. Raised her voice slightly above a whisper. “Fear not. We are friends of the Brethren and wish you no harm.”
The cry of a raptor soaring overhead slashed through to the forest floor. She edged closer to where she knew a person hid, leaving enough space to not cause them to flee. “We only wish to aid, but time is expiring. Landsknechte are close at our heels.” She paused. What could she say that would make them realize no harm would befall them if they showed themselves?
“Have you found someone, princess?” Nikolaus asked.
Christyne held up a hand. Would whoever hid in the brush flee if they knew more than she sought them? If only Lorenz had told her what to say when she found one of his fellow believers.
She nearly breathed a laugh. Why had she not thought to use his name before? “Lorenz Meier. You know the man. A believer such as yourself.” She extended her fingers toward the leafy brush. “I will take you to him. You will be safe, I assure you.”
“How do I know you speak true?” a feminine voice called from behind the green foliage.
How indeed? She pictured Lorenz, bringing his every feature to the forefront of her mind. “He has hair as black as ink, the same that stains his fingers. And a wide forehead that speaks of the depths of his intellect. Eyes the like of which I have never beheld. The color, aye, but also the depth. They are windows to a soul that sparks with life and vibrancy.”
The bush moved, branches scratching against themselves. “You have seen him?”
Christyne dared a step forward. “I dug out the arrow that was loosed into his leg.”
Slowly a crown of brown curls emerged from the top of the bush, followed by a dirt-streaked face and a tattered working dress. “Aye, I can see you now, though you were not dressed as fine that day as you are presently.” A woman emerged from behind her hiding place, a palm to her middle. “We prayed you were an angel sent by God.”
“Lorenz said the same, although I assure you, I am but human.”
“He lives then?”
“He does. And you will also, but as told, you must hurry.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “The heretic hunters?”
“Are nigh at hand.”
She nodded once, then whirled and followed a slight decline down a hill.
Christyne turned to see the other three had witnessed the exchanged and were close on her heels, then she plunged down the hill after the woman.
Three in total. The woman’s husband and her sister. They had built a small shelter by a stream, claiming they had felt close to the prophet Elijah when God had sent ravens to feed him by the brook Cherith.
Quickly they scrubbed away the layers of dirt and grime that forest living had caked into their skin. Behind trees and brush they changed out of their tattered garments and donned their disguises. When they emerged, they appeared as different people. Gone the fugitive heretics. Behold, the wedding guests of a prince and princess.
Chapter Seventeen
Germany, Present Day
Mila stood at the head of the conference room, a projection screen behind her with different graphs as her backdrop. She looked crisp and in charge in her sleek black business suit and trendy hair. Every person sitting around the oval table and those perched on chairs lining the walls trained their gaze on her, tracking with her presentation on immigration trends and swaying emotions.
Amber glanced down at the PowerPoint print off in front of her. Mila had translated her presentation into English so Amber could follow along, but the language barrier made her feel a bit of an outsider. Not to mention the glances people cast her way when they thought she wasn’t looking. Immigration and asylum-seeking was a global issue, one that affected many of the leading countries. And one that divided opinions in each of those countries.
She wasn’t there to speak politics, though. All she wanted to do was help in any way she could. She tried to ignore the pointed glances. To not think of how they reminded her of the inscrutable attention she’d gotten before she’d left the States. These people around her now probably wondered about her motives because of her homeland, while those at home had wondered about her presence because of her gender.
