He'd just violated security, he realized-and grossly at that. The expedition was supposed to be kept a secret.
But as stern as it might be, his sergeant's training was a patina over a young man in a state of emotional chaos-and a practical German farmer, at that.
Fuck it. The up-timers were lunatic on the subject of security. What difference did it make if a civilian in Magdeburg knew what several hundred enemy spies certainly knew by now anyway? No one doubted there were that many spies in the city. Not even Gunther Achterhof thought the CoC security apparatus could do more than keep the bastards from anything direct or ambitious. But there was no way to keep them out of Magdeburg altogether, since it was a city full of immigrants and more coming every day.
All a man needed was half a brain and a decent eyeglass-which were hardly rare-and a good patch of woods. There were woods all over. From there, he could watch the regiments in their training. If he had any military experience at all, which he certainly would, he'd know the battle group was getting ready to march. There were apartments all over, too. The city was full of modest windows-but plenty big enough for an eyeglass. From one of them, he could watch Simpson's ironclads getting ready also.
Fuck secrets. All the more so, this day, when the only secret in the world that Thorsten Engler cared about was the secret heart of a woman he could only half-understand.
Chapter 30
Caroline sat at her desk for two hours. Part of the time, staring at the objects on it. Part of the time, staring at a photograph which she pulled out of her desk drawer. Most of the time, staring out the window. To the northwest, where the army camp lay, so she had to crane her head a little.
Finally, seeing the sun lowering itself into the window, she realized what time it was. And how little time remained.
She snatched up the objects-rebundled them, actually, since Thorsten had left the cloth too-and hurried into Maureen's office. To her great relief, the Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt countesses hadn't left yet. They were usually in Maureen's office, this time of the afternoon, having a leisurely chat over the affairs of the settlement house.
That was good, because she didn't think Maureen would know the answer any more than she did. Not for sure, anyway-and this was one of those times you had to be sure.
Ignoring their startled greetings-she'd pretty much just burst in-she laid the half-wrapped bundle on the table.
"Do these mean what I think they mean? I need an answer, ladies. No fooling, down and dirty, and now."
Frowning, Anna Sophia rose and came over. But her nineteen-year-old counterpart was there first, already unfolding the cloth.
"Oh, Caroline, how splendid. Thorsten gave them to you, I assume?"
Emelie held up the salt cellar and pepper grinder. "Nice enough, if not fancy. These would be an heirloom, you understand. Something-probably his mother's-that he was able to save from the farm."
She put them down and held up the other pair of objects. "These now… Very good shoes, they are. He must have saved half his salary to buy these."
"Emelie!"
The young countess of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt handed the shoes to her. "Don't be silly," she said, smiling. "Yes, they mean exactly what you think they mean, Caroline. What else would they be?"
The older countess was at the table, now, frowning at the things.
"Yes, of course. He is asking you to betroth him. But-Caroline… You can do better than a former farmer and an army sergeant. I'm quite sure. Much better, in fact."
Caroline looked around, saw an empty chair, and sat down. Then, quickly, she took off her shoes and began trying on the new ones. As always when she was under tremendous emotional stress, she grasped at practicality.
"No, Anna Sophia, I don't think I can. I really don't-and believe me, I've thought about it a lot, the last few weeks. More to the point-way, way more to the point-I don't want to."
Her foot got jammed halfway into the shoe. "Three years is too long, isn't it, Maureen?"
"Don't be stupid. If we were still back up-time, with what you've learned, you'd be a licensed clinical social worker by now. If it was up to me, excessive and self-indulgent grief would be listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual as a no-kidding mental disorder. Of course it's too long. Way too long."
"Yeah, I know. It's just-oh, damn the man! Why didn't he ask? They're at least a size too small!"
"Same reason you didn't, I imagine. Didn't know what to ask or how to ask it in the first place."
Caroline put back on her own shoes, her shoulders slumped. "I'm an idiot. And now it's too late because-"
Her shoulders unslumped and her head came back up. "Is Kristina still here?"
"Should be. Last I saw she and the four-headed Cerberus were-"
Caroline didn't hear the rest. She snatched up the shoes Thorsten had left and raced out the door. Once in the hall beyond, she located the princess by the simple, direct-and incredibly improper-expedient of just bellowing: "Kristina! Where are you? I need you right here, right now!"
Kristina popped out of a doorway not three seconds later.
"Okay, girl, you keep telling me what a great horsewoman you are. I need to get to the army camp before they close the gates at sundown. No way there's enough time to get a carriage-too slow, anyway-and if I tried to ride a horse I'd fall off before I got to the end of the street."
"Oh, I can take you! Just ride behind me and hold on tight!"
It didn't strike either one of them that the notion of a full-grown woman-bigger than most, at that-"holding on" to a seven-year-old girl-smaller than most, at that-while cantering on a horse was perhaps not a good idea.
Of course, it did occur to the four-headed Cerberus.
"You can't do that!" they shrilled as one.
"Watch me!" came the imperious reply, and off they went. Kristina only paused long enough once they reached the stable to tell Caroline, "You'd probably better put those shoes in the saddlebag. So you can hold on with both hands."
The four noblewomen almost got trampled as they came into the stable, just at the moment the horse and its two riders went out. Fortunately, they were spryer than they looked. The two soldiers had been lagging so far behind they only needed to take two steps aside to clear the street.
"This is so much fun!" Kristina shrieked.
Caroline was far too scared to think it was "fun." Kristina had-what a surprise-a truly superb horse, and she did in fact know how to use it. Her notion of a "canter," however, was nothing Caroline would have called by the name. Not, admittedly, that Caroline could tell the difference between a trot and a canter and a gallop much better than she could the difference between a horse and a cow. But it did seem to her that they were racing along faster than she could remember driving on a freeway.
All things are relative, though, and at the moment Caroline's fear of their speed was pretty much drowned beneath her fear at the speed with which the sun was setting.
However, they got to the gates before sundown. The question now became…
How does a civilian female holding a pair of shoes get herself admitted into an army base?
Luckily, Kristina had the answer. "Open the gates! I'm Princess Kristina, daughter of the king and emperor! My friend Caroline, the countess of Oz, needs to see Thorsten"-there might have been just the tiniest hesitation here-"the count of Narnia!"
The four guards stared at her. The princess stamped her foot. "Now! Or I'll-well, you won't like it."
She cocked an eye up at Caroline. "Is that okay?" she half-whispered.
"I'm not about to give you a hard time over it, that's for sure. But where in the world did you learn to tell fibs like that?"
Kristina sniffed. "How silly. Watching my father and Uncle Axel. And all the others. They're frightful fibbers, you know."