He led them away from the road through several wheat fields. He changed directions three times and they did not stop when it became dark. After dismounting, they passed by an apple orchard which cast grotesque shadows in the moonlight. Frederica picked a couple of red apples and tossed one to Samuel. They both ate theirs eagerly. Then they crept through the orchard and towards the large shadow of a barn.
Frederica touched his arm. ‘I can’t hear any animals.’
Samuel handed her the reins to his horse. ‘I will go check it out.’
Opening the barn door as quietly as possible, Samuel blinked to accustom his eyes to the darkness. His other senses came awake. He could smell manure that was not more than a day old. His feet stepped on grain, loose on the floor. There were no animals in any of the stalls. Nor chickens wandering around.
He returned to Frederica. ‘Someone left in a hurry. All the stalls are empty and there is a sack of grain spilled on the floor. They were probably trying to avoid having their animals stolen by the army.’
Frederica wrinkled her nose. ‘I hope that we are not sleeping on the floor.’
‘Nonsense! Only the best for my wife.’
He could see her smile at the comment. It felt unaccountably right to call herhiswife. To beherhusband.
Samuel found a few bales of hay, and he cut them open with a knife and spread the clean straw on the dirt floor of the barn. Meanwhile, he heard Frederica feeding the horses apples.
He could tell she was smiling at him in the darkness. ‘They are as hungry as we are.’
‘I’ll fetch them some water,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘I’ll put them in the empty stalls and brush them down.’
It did not take long to locate the well, about twenty-five yards from the barn. He heaved out a bucket and brought it back to Frederica. They both drank first and then washed their faces. Then he fetched two more buckets of water for the horses, before collapsing beside Frederica on the hay. They did not undress, but lay together, huddling for what little warmth they could find.
‘I always wanted to sleep in the hayloft as a child,’ Frederica said, snuggling up to Samuel. ‘But perhaps you could warm me up first?’
He enthusiastically accepted this challenge and after only a few minutes, they were both quite hot. He placed his arm underneath her head and kissed her brow. He felt her body twitch a few times, before she settled into a sleep.
Samuel prayed that he could keep her safe.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Samuel woke up before Frederica. He fed and watered the horses and saddled them up. He touched her shoulder to wake her. Opening her eyes, she smiled at him. He could get used to waking up to her smiles.
‘We need to leave before sunrise, just in case this farm isn’t abandoned like I thought,’ he explained.
Frederica stood and brushed the hay off her riding habit. Samuel gently picked several pieces of hay out of her hair.
Her cheek was still puffy and purple as she touched her disordered brown locks. ‘I am sure I look a fright.’
‘I think you look beautiful.’
And he meant it. Heaven help him, he meant it.
Frederica only laughed and he led the horses out of the barn, latching the door behind them. Samuel led them back to the road and they made good time until late afternoon. He could see the outline of the city of Valenciennes. Glancing over to Frederica, she gave him a wan smile. He heard his stomach rumble. They were dirty, tired, and hungry. His instinct was to circle around the town instead of going through it, but he could see Frederica’s shoulders sagging, her face pale. She was exhausted.
He gently pulled on the bridle to slow his horse to a walk. ‘Let us dine in Valenciennes and perhaps stay the night. I think we are both done in.’
She did not respond, only nodded. As if too tired to speak.
They rode slowly into town and there were only a few people in the street. There was an unnatural quiet about the town. The silence before a battle. Samuel stopped at the first inn and helped Frederica dismount. He tied the horses to the hitching post and he watched her stiffly walk in. The owner, a rail-thin man with a skull-like head, met them at the entrance. His dark eyes took in the state of their clothing. He gave them a sinister smile and asked how his humble inn could serve them. Samuel ordered a dinner and asked if there was a private parlour.
‘This way, monsieur, mademoiselle,’ the owner said with sinister courtesy. He led them to an adjacent room with a dirty square table and four shabby chairs. The owner shut the door with a thud.
Samuel shook his head. ‘I am sorry, Freddie. I did not think a nicer inn would allow us in.’
She walked around the table several times. ‘No indeed. And there was no other inn on the street. If this place were nicer, we would have been refused entry.’