I let him down.

He whined for a moment and sniffed at the air. Trotted over toward a box.

I followed him.

The box reeked of excrement and stale urine. Though the dog stretched out his neck and sniffed at it, he did not approach it. But he did go up to the body that lay in the dirt of the yard. He growled at it. He turned his back to it and kicked dirt at it with his back paws. And then he barked.

I understood then: we had come back to a place the dog had known. A place of beatings and whippings and starving. We had passed back into Flanders.

A path that meandered away from the shack eventually led us to a road. As much as I wished I could reverse my path and return to France, I had no confidence I could do it. I had no choice but to follow the road. I had regained the lace, but it was useless to me until it was in France. We walked back into the city of Kortrijk as the sun woke. I went into De Grote's store once it had opened and addressed myself to the clerk.

The dog slunk behind a barrel.

"I wish to see De Grote."

"He's not here. He won't be here for another hour. Maybe two."

"Then I'll wait for him."

"Come back later, I'll tell him you've been by."

I walked toward the back of the store where I knew De Grote's office to be. The dog followed at my heels. "I'll wait for him in his office, then." I put a hand to a door.

"It's locked."

I turned to face the clerk. "Then perhaps you'll give me the key."

"Only De Grote has the key."

I lunged forward, grabbed the clerk's collar, and threw him over a barrel, pressing his throat against the edge of the lid. "I'm sure it won't take you long to find another."

"I don't-"

"It would be a shame for me to break your arm for want of a key."

"I can't-"

"I've been marked by De Grote since I got here. Would you like to tell me why?"

"It's not you."

"It feels like me." I gave him a shake.

He yelped. "It's not you. It's what he does, if he thinks he can. He charges for the smuggling, and then he recoups the lace and charges for its smuggling again."

"Pity. I was beginning to think I was somebody special." I pulled the man off the barrel and threw him toward the counter at the front of the store. "Get me the key!"

We waited for some time in De Grote's office, the dog and I. Eventually, there came the sound of shouting and the scuffling of feet upon the floor.

"What do you mean he's here? He can't be!"

"But he is, De Grote...he's-"

The door flew open, and De Grote stood in the doorframe.

The dog slunk behind the chair I was sitting in.

De Grote strode into the room. "I did not expect to see you again."

"Because you thought me dead?"

"It doesn't pay to toss accusations about in Kortrijk."

"So I've discovered. You've made a profitable business out of cheating your business partners."

"I'm not accustomed to entertaining in my office. How can I make you leave?" He took another step closer to me.

I rose. "You can get my lace across the border like you promised to."

"I already did."

"You did not."

"I was assured, in fact, that the lace made it into France."

"I wonder how it is you come by your knowledge?"

"It's not my fault you brought it back across the border. But your lapse in judgment can be dealt with. We can make another arrangement. You can make me another payment. And I can deliver your lace once more."

"I will not pay twice for the same service."

Behind me, the dog whined.

"It is not the same service. I delivered once already. Now you're asking me to deliver again. One and one will forever make two, Frenchman."

"I see my own dagger there in your belt. As you said, one and one make two."

De Grote's hand closed upon the handle of the dagger. "It's a very fine piece of workmanship."

I took a step closer to him. "For the favor of using your services once more, I'd like it returned."

"And I'd like to never see you again."

"I will guarantee it. Just as soon as you get my lace out of Flanders."

The dog growled and came to stand beside me. De Grote took a step away from us as his face went white. "Call off your dog."

"Get my lace out of Flanders."

"Call off your dog! I've a horror of the beasts."

"My lace...?"

The dog barked with a sharpness that made me wince.

"Meet me at the cemetery of Sint-Maartenskerk on Friday night at eleven o'clock. I'll have it put in a coffin for you. Cross the border and deliver it to the priest in Signy-sur-vaux. It's a bit of a journey to the Ardennes, but the priest is willing, and no one will suspect you so far from the border."

"If you are not there, then I warn you, I will hold your life as forfeit."

Chapter 22.

Katharina Martens Lendelmolen, Flanders Sister had given me a new commission on the Monday, just as I had expected.

"We have an order for something different. I told the Reverend Mother the only reason I could accept it was because I knew you would be able to do it."

Something...Had she said something different? I could not hear for the buzzing in my ears. I couldn't make something different.

"...I'll pin it just here."

I sat as she took my pillow from me and pinned the pattern upon it. I sat as she settled the pillow back on my lap. Sat as she patted me on the arm and then walked away. There was nothing to do. I couldn't see to know what to do. And I knew then what my fate would be. How could it be any different than Mathild's?

I set about twisting and crossing my bobbins for one cycle and then untwisting and uncrossing them in the next. All day long, I worked at undoing my work, praying Sister would not notice.

She did not.

The next day, Tuesday, the day of Heilwich's visit, I told my sister I was done.

"Not with the lace!"

"I finished it on Saturday."

"But you can't be done with the lace. I haven't got the money yet!"

"Sister gave me a new pattern."

"And...?"

"I can't see to make it. I've been pretending. All day yesterday and all day today I've been pretending."

"You must keep pretending, Katharina. Promise me you'll keep pretending."

"I don't know how long I can. And what if Sister sees me?"

"I'll pray she doesn't. This very afternoon, once I get back to Kortrijk, I'll pray the rosary for you in Father Jacqmotte's own office."

"The rosary? For me?"

"Just...whatever you do...don't leave the abbey. Don't let them throw you out."

I tried not to. I tried not to let them throw me out. But the next day, Sister discovered I'd been pretending.

"What-!" She grabbed my pillow from me. The bobbins clattered to the floor. "What is the meaning of this?"

As I sat there, as I listened to the lace makers at work around me, I made a decision. I decided I was not going to be like Mathild. I was not going to let Sister shriek at me and pull me out of my clogs, following along behind her as meek as...as...a lace maker. "What happened to Mathild?"

A pair of shoes scuffed against the floor as Sister's footsteps halted. "What did you-?"

"What happened to Mathild!" I spoke the words as loudly as I dared.

There was no sound in that place save for the animals crunching hay below. Had I not known differently, I would have guessed myself to be alone. But then Sister wrenched my arm.

"Ow! What happened to Mathild? You threw her out, didn't you? She made lace for you, and when she couldn't see anymore, you just threw her out!"

"Hush. You will not speak of such things here-! You will not speak at all!" She tried to snatch me from the bench, but I let my pillow fall to the floor and leaned back on my heels so stubbornly she had to relent.

"Do you know what will happen once they've done with us?" I tried to speak so loudly even the children across the room would hear. "They'll throw us out onto the street."

One of the younger girls began to cry. "I want my moeder!"

"Hush now." Sister's whisper was vicious. "Look what you've done!"

"None of you will escape. You'll all go blind. Just like me. And Elizabeth and Aleit and Johanna. Beatrix, Jacquemine, and Martina."

"She lies."

"I don't! I swear on the Holy Mother. I was the youngest of the lace makers when I arrived. And now I'm the oldest. What happened to all of the others?"

"Lies!"

"What will happen to all of you?"

Sister seized me with such force I had no choice but to do what she wanted. What she wanted was to drag me from the room. I nearly tumbled down the stairs. I would have, but for the grip she kept on my arm.

Once we cleared the workshop, she began to yell. "Help! Someone help us!"