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  Johanna sat on the railing, waiting for the porridge to cook. Johan Delacoeur put his hands in his pockets and remained outside the door to the captain’s cabin, looking ruffled and tired.

  He yawned. “Pray, why have we stopped in this field?”

  “Saardam is just over there.” Johanna glanced at the western horizon, where pale sunlight touched the mist-covered meadows.

  “Isn’t that a reason to keep going?”

  Johanna resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

  A woman handed Johanna porridge in a chipped bowl. “Be careful. It’s very hot.”

  Johanna ate as quickly as she could, letting the hot goo make its way to her stomach.

  The Shepherd Carolus had also come onto the deck, looking rumpled, unshaven and rubbing his face.

  “So, when are we going to continue?” Johan Delacoeur asked the Shepherd. He held his bowl, untouched, as if eating porridge was beneath him.

  “I thought you’d heard at the meeting last night that we’re leaving the ships here.” The Shepherd had been attending a sick child and had not heard all of the discussion last night.

  “Ridiculous.” Johan muttered under his breath.

  The Shepherd gave him a startled and too-innocent look. “Why ridiculous? When the scouts return, they’ll tell us how safe it is to go in. We’ll be splitting up and going into town dressed as farmers and peddlers so that we don’t attract attention.”

  Johan scoffed. “I’m not going to dress up in rags—”

  “Oh, yes, dear, you are.” This was his wife, Martine.

  One of the younger girls said, “You can always be a pauper for real, like the rest of us.”

  Johan went red in the face. “I’m going to stay with the ship.”

  Martine said, “The boys are already doing that. They’re much handier with sea cows than you are. We’ll do whatever is necessary to go home. Aren’t you keen to find out what has become of your sisters?”

  He snorted, took a spoon full of porridge, burned his mouth, but ate it anyway, glaring at his wife.

  Johanna was beginning to like Martine Delacoeur, who might be of noble birth, but didn’t put up with any nonsense. She nodded at Johanna as if she wanted to say Never mind him, we’ll do whatever we want.

  It was a pity they didn’t have children.

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  ONE BY ONE, the fellow travellers came onto the deck, either from the Prosperity’s hold or ferried in the dinghy from the Lady Sara. There were eighty-two people on both vessels, men and women of all ages, but they were mostly from the middle and upper classes and their households.

  The women at the stove doled out porridge, while their daughters climbed the rope ladder down to the water to rinse bowls and spoons because, between the inventories of the two ship kitchens, they didn’t have enough of either.

  Johanna remained out of the way and only moved to the ladder when Roald had decided to come up. His straw-blond hair was too long and messy and his beard had gotten quite long as well. He looked perfect for disguising himself as peasant.

  She thought he looked cute and with pain in her heart remembered how happy he was when gardening or catching frogs, and how much he was unsuited to meetings, speeches and politics. One of the women gave him a bowl, and he ate, quietly and neatly, with a spoon, without slurping and without spilling, while standing next to Johanna, leaning against the railing.

  On the deck, the word went around that Saardam was visible from the Lady Sara’s position and young Gijsbert and his little friends hoisted each other on top of the cabin to have a look. They reported that it was really misty. Some blue sky peeped through the mist directly overhead, heralding a sunny day. A flock of geese flew high up there, on their way south for winter. Roald was looking at them, too.

  “Winter is coming,” he said.

  Johanna nodded and touched his hand. He looked tense, unused to sharing his home with so many people. His need to be alone and on the riverbank, looking for birds and frogs, radiated off him.

  The young boy Gijsbert called out, “Look, they’re back!”

  He stood on the roof of the cabin, pointing at the riverbank, where the two scouts that had gone out that morning were wading through the grass back towards the boats.

  The captain sent out the dinghy and the two, Dirk and Jan, brothers and the sons of a merchant, were hauled up the ladder. Everyone crowded around them, wanting to know how things were in Saardam and whether their houses were still standing.

  “Give them some space and let them eat first,” Master Deim said, waving people aside.

  The two young men bowed to Johanna and Roald. “Your Majesties, we’re back to report what we’ve seen in Saardam.”

  “Be at ease, and have some porridge first, while it’s warm.”

  One of the women brought two bowls, which the men cradled in their hands. “It was cold out this morning,” Dirk said.

  This was followed by a tense silence while he and his brother ate. More and more people gathered on the deck, everyone keen to hear how their families or houses were.

  Then Jan, the oldest and tallest of the two began, “When we got to the city gates at first light, there were two guards stationed at the gates, but they allowed us to pass without a glance. We weren’t the only ones queued up to get into the city. People, like farmers and monks were all going in and out, most of them carrying things to sell.” He went on to say that a lot of houses had been touched by the fire, but there were also many that had not. The destruction was in the middle of town, around the palace, the harbour and the markets. “But even there, some houses have strangely survived. It was almost as if some of the houses were made from stone and couldn’t burn. You’d see two houses next to each other, and one would be burnt to cinders while the other was untouched.”

  “Witchcraft,” someone muttered, and people nodded.

  A lot of people then wanted to know about their houses in particular and did the brothers see anyone they knew? Master Deim had to call for people to calm down again.

  “The only thing we can say for sure is that Joris DeCamp will have to find a new house. There is a queue of people waiting outside the door. It looks like the occupier and his cronies have taken up residence there.”

  “Is there any sign that they know that we’re coming or that the heir to the throne is still alive?” Master Deim asked.

  The men shook their heads.

  “The guards at the gate are pretty easy,” Dirk said. “We spoke to some people on the streets. No one knows anything. And if Alexandre knew that we were coming, he would have put more men at the gates.”

  True.

  “What about the palace?” someone asked, and Johanna wanted to know about this as well.

  “Couldn’t see anyone there. The gates are shut. The building looks damaged, but no one was there and no one has fixed it yet. The church is completely gone. That area is a wasteland of mud and rubble.”

  There were gasps at this.

  A woman said, “But when we left, though it was badly damaged some of the walls were still standing. They could have put on a new roof.”

  “None of the occupiers would have been interested in restoring the church,” Martine Delacoeur said. Johanna wasn’t sure if she had ever gone to church, since most of the nobles were members of the Belaman Church, even if people in Saardam considered those two one and the same.

  The Shepherd Carolus was shaking his head, a pained look on his face. He had his parish at a different church, and already knew that his church had been destroyed, too. “It is a monstrous thing. We have never harmed anyone, never encouraged a war, or tried to drive out others. We have always helped people—” He spread his hands.

  The Church of the Triune helped common people and forbade magic, both things that would disturb the noble classes that ruled much of the low lands.

  Dirk said, “It looks like they’re building something new where the church used to stand. There’s blocks of stone an
d they’re putting down trenches for the foundations.”

  People talked about what they thought was being built—a new palace, another church—

  Johanna asked the scouts if they’d seen evidence of bandits or soldiers.

  Jan said, “There are some, but unless a lot of Alexandre’s men have left, the occupying army doesn’t look very big. They use Saarlanders. We did see some bandits, one with a bear, but it’s not like the streets are full of them.”

  That’s because Alexandre uses magic.

  At any rate, Johanna judged it safe to proceed with their plan.

  She asked the women to pull out all the clothing they had. As coincidence had it, the Prosperity had been carrying a shipment of luxury goods when it fled Saardam. Some of its cargo included fabrics. In the previous months, women had used all of the fabrics to make clothes, and those items now looked a little the worse for wear, and perfect for the purpose of disguising as travellers or peddlers.

  A few men went ashore and brought back two wheelbarrows with cabbages, eggs and some beetle-ridden dried beans from a nearby barn. One of them said, “It’s a sad thing to have to do this, Your Majesty, but I guess the dead have no more use for food and wheelbarrows.”

  Johanna nodded, sadly, remembering the carnage they had seen at a few places along the river.

  They had also collected apples, most of those worm-infested. Johanna told the children to pick out the best ones, and that they could have the rest. Gijsbert, some older boys and a couple of girls bickered over who would get which apple and then went to great efforts to eat around the worms.

  The first group of “farmers” left soon after, taken ashore by Captain Arense. There were five in the group, a father and a son and daughter, and the two brothers who had gone before. One of the young men took one wheelbarrow and bowed to Johanna and Roald on the deck of the Prosperity.

  Johanna watched them disappear over the path on top of the levee with a feeling of apprehension. The thought that they were doing this for her made her feel sick. She’d been hungry this morning but now she felt so nervous that the porridge she had eaten might make its reappearance any time soon.

  What if Alexandre’s men knew they were coming and were waiting for them at the city gates? What if none of the people loyal to the royal family were still alive? After all, King Nicholaos hadn’t made himself popular with influential people, and the nobles left in Saardam had decided they were better off without the royal family. What if there was nothing left to save? Were all these people risking their lives for nothing?

  Not too much later, a group of six left, including Master Deim, Julianna Nieland and Shepherd Carolus. They were dressed in rags, some with burn holes, and their story would be that they came to look for work in Saardam after the destruction of their village.

  And so they spread out and left in dribs and drabs, with some people planning to enter the city from the western gate in order to prevent the guards at the gate from getting suspicious.

  Everyone would try to find their own family and their own houses. Those who found that impossible would meet at the end of the day at the Brouwer Company’s sea cow barn, or, if the barn was no longer there, Master Deim’s barn, which was on the next quay.

  As the day progressed, the ships emptied of people. Johanna felt drained and slept a bit. Roald wanted to go into the reeds to catch frogs, and was upset that she told him that he could not, so he threw a fishing line over the side of the boat and leaned against the railing, moping. He caught two little fish.

  By midday, none of the people had come back yet, so Johanna got changed into the peasant’s dress that she had taken from the mill and that had sustained rips during the trek with the bandits. Nellie had since fixed it as best as she could.

  Then she helped Roald get changed, too. He fidgeted and wouldn’t keep still. She probably got a bit more impatient with him than was warranted. It was impossible to hurry Roald along. He did things at his pace or not at all.

  “I don’t like this shirt.” He pulled at the collar which, to be honest, was a bit tight.

  “You have to wear it anyway.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are we leaving?”

  “We’re going back to the palace.” If there was anything left of the palace.

  “I don’t want to go. I like the boat.”

  She sighed. In a way, she liked it, too. She liked it that it calmed him to be outside, pottering about near the water, catching frogs. She let her hands fall and looked around the cabin that had been their home for two months. The bed, the cosy desk with the Baron’s books still on it. Oops.

  There was also the jar that Roald used for holding frogs. She remembered using it to scoop up the frog that had escaped.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “I remembered trying to catch that frog.”

  “Oh, yes, the frog that got out.”

  It was sad. It was the end of their uncomplicated life.

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  WHEN JOHANNA and Roald were ready to go, they climbed back onto the deck.

  Roald looked quite like an unshaved peasant from a distance. Close up, people would see that his hands were clean and fine, and that his trousers were of a material that was too expensive for a peasant. Even Nellie in her old torn and stained dress no longer looked like a simple maid. And Loesie wore her dark farm dress, but the expression in her grey eyes was chilling. Johan Delacoeur refused to take off his jacket. It was plenty dirty, he said, as if being “dirty” was indicative of peasants. Martine wore one of the dresses that had been made out of the material that had been on board the Prosperity. Too fine, really, to make a convincing peasant dress. Johanna hoped that the guards wouldn’t notice any of those things.

  The six of them were meant to be farmers going to market, and they were to take the last wheelbarrow and cabbages and apples.

  They descended to the dinghy and Captain Arense rowed them across.

  “Good luck,” he said in a grave voice when they were at the beach.

  Johanna nodded.

  Johan Delacoeur clapped him on the shoulder.

  The captain would stay with his ship.

  It was worrying to leave the Lady Sara behind. Yes, Ko and Willem would stay with the captain, but they were no real defence if someone wanted to take possession of the ships, and if they had no time to rig up the sea cows their only measure of escape—to simply cast off—would only take them into Saardam, where their problems might be worse than the ones they’d be trying to escape.

  They distributed the farm produce. Johanna got a basket of eggs.

  Roald was pretty good at wheelbarrows and pushing it gave him something to do. That was another thing about Roald: when he had something to do, he wouldn’t panic and start swaying or squealing.

  In this manner, they picked their way up the grassy side of the levee. The Lady Sara disappeared from sight. The day had turned sunny, if windy and crisp, and the breeze brought a muddy scent from the nearby lowlands. The trees had lost all their leaves and the wind whistled through the bare branches. The grass had started to yellow.

  The group followed the track along the river, occasionally having to divert to avoid muddy areas. Clearly, the water had been high here, too.

  They’d been walking for a while when Nellie said, “Wait, is that a horse?”

  Johanna looked at the stand of willows where Nellie pointed. Strands of hair blew across her face.

  A horse it was, with a brown coat. When Roald whistled, it came clopping through the paddock towards the group.

  It was a fine animal, not suitable for the field. Its coat was unkempt, full of thistles and other seeds; it had likely fled the city during the fire. A coach horse, maybe. It had the reins still over its head, and that would have made it very uncomfortable. Not to mention that it was a wonder it hadn’t become tangled somewhere. No bit fortunately, or it would have starved to death.

  Roald put down the wheelbarrow and coaxed it close enou
gh that he could grab the dangling reins. He lifted the headpiece off. The apple in his hand disappeared with a big crunch.

  “What are we supposed to do with a horse?” Nellie asked.

  Johanna said, “Take it into town. It belongs to someone there. Maybe we can sell it.”

  Roald said indignantly, “I found it. It’s mine.” He tied a piece of rope around the horse’s neck.

  Johanna guessed it could sleep in the barn, if the barn was still there, but it was one more thing to worry about.

  The horse kept shying when Loesie came too close, so Johanna ended up taking the rope and leading it along.

  The light was turning golden when the group finally arrived at the gates, which Johanna saw, to both her disappointment and relief, looked no different from when she had left. Wait—there was a difference: one of the towers on the gate flew an unfamiliar flag in blue and white.

  Johan Delacoeur was looking at it, too, a frown on his face.

  “Do you know the flag?”

  He shook his head.

  A small number of people were going in and out of the gates, mostly farmers and other folk from out of town. The horse was getting nervous, so Roald put the headpiece back on and Loesie took the wheelbarrow from him while he led it.

  They went up onto the bridge over the water.

  The horse’s hooves went clop, clop, clop on the wood. Some of the farmers leaving the gates gave the animal suspicious looks.

  The men at the city gates wore unfamiliar uniforms, but their faces were undeniably Saarlander.

  One called, “Halt! Who enters the city?”

  “We be wanting to sell cabbages,” Loesie said. “Also, we found someone’s horse jus’ wandering around. It don’t look like a farm horse.”