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cheese too? And is that a chicken?”
    â€œOh, do I still have that?” Dagmar allowed Julia to remove all the things she had covertly managed to stuff into her pelisse while waiting on the dock, along with her haul from the palace. “One of the fisherman left the chicken unattended while he fetched several of his newly mended nets that I happened to stumble over and knock into the harbor, and I didn’t want anyone to steal the poor man’s chicken, so I took it to keep it safe. I should walk all the way back into town to return it, although the chicken has evidently been deceased for some time, and it might not last. What do you think?”
    â€œI think it would be a shame for you to go to all that trouble over a chicken. Surely the fisherman will understand. Now, please, do let me tell you about the man in the garden.”
    Dagmar rubbed her stiff, cold fingers. “Did he suddenly appear at the door offering food or a new home?”
    â€œNo, but I really think you will want to know—”
    She lifted a hand, and obediently, Julia stopped talking.
    â€œLater. Right now I’m so tired I could fall over and go to sleep for a week.”
    â€œOf course. You’re exhausted, and here I am trying to chat your ear off. But it really is most extraordinary—”
    â€œPut the kettle on, would you? I need something hot to bring back life to my depressed soul. I think one of those packages has tea in it. At least I hope so. One of the sailors dropped it when I bumped into him coming out of the tea shop, and he didn’t seem to hear me when later I called to him that the packet had fallen from his grasp.”
    Julia cooed and squealed with pleasure as she opened a small brown package, allowing Dagmar to sink into a moth-eaten chair next to the stove.
    â€œSo many good things,” Julia murmured, touching the cheese reverently. “What will we do with them? Soup for the pig’s head, do you think?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m too exhausted to contemplate doing anything with food that doesn’t involve stuffing it into my mouth. I just knew we had to have something or we’d starve. And speaking of that, if you look in my bonnet, there’s a half loaf of bread. I think we’re due some bread and cheese. Do we have any berries or early apples?”
    â€œNo, but once you have eaten, I really must tell you something of much importance.” Julia bustled around the small, cold room, fetching a cutting board and their sole knife.
    â€œAt this moment, there is nothing more important than that cheese.”
    Dagmar watched Julia hack away ineffectually at the cheese until she could stand it no longer and took charge of making a meal from the bread and cheese.
    â€œI’m sorry I’m such a failure,” Julia said a few minutes later, handing Dagmar a cup of weak tea. “Here you brought home a veritable feast, and all I have to show for my day is a hole in my boots and an Englishman.”
    â€œWe’ll have to get you a new pair,” Dagmar said when she had consumed enough bread and cheese to subdue the ever-growling beast in her stomach. She paused, looking up. “An Englishman? What Englishman?”
    â€œThe man in the garden. He’s English. Or at least I believe him to be. He’s not exactly speaking coherently.”
    â€œHe woke up, did he? Is he still in the garden?” Dagmar ate the last of her bread and eyed another piece, knowing she should save it but mightily tempted nonetheless.
    â€œYes, but dearest Princess, I begin to suspect that he’s not the drunkard that we first believed him to be. There is blood seeping through his coat, and he appears to be delirious. I think the two of us together should be able to carry him.”
    â€œWhy on earth would we want to carry some strange, wounded man?” Dagmar set down her cup and delicately sniffed the air. There was a faint, familiar aroma.