The worst of them had been a two-faced lawyer, van der Donck. The Jonker, they’d called him: the squire. He was the one who went behind the governor’s back, who composed letters to the West India Company and published complaints—all to bring down Stuyvesant. And for what? “The Jonker is a lover of liberty,” her husband used to tell her. “You’re all fools,” she would cry. “He loves only himself. He’ll rule you in Stuyvesant’s place if you give him half the chance.”

Fortunately the Jonker had failed to destroy Stuyvesant, but he’d managed to get his hands on a big estate north of the city. He’d even written a book on New Netherland which her husband assured her was fine. The wretch was dead and gone now—thank God! But the people of New Amsterdam still called his big estate “The Jonker’s Land,” as if the fellow were still there. And his example had so infected the merchants that, in her opinion, Stuyvesant shouldn’t trust any of them.

The governor’s hard eyes were fixed on her.

“Can I count upon you, Greet?”

Her heart missed a beat. She couldn’t help it.

“Oh yes.”

He was happily married, of course. At least, she supposed he was. He and Judith Bayard lived up at their bouwerie, as the Dutch called their farms, with every appearance of contentment. Judith was older than Peter. It was she who’d nursed him back to health after he lost his leg, and married him afterward. So far as Margaretha knew, he’d only once had an affair, and that had been when he was a young man, long before he met Judith. A small scandal. She thought the better of him for it. If it hadn’t been for that little scandal, he might have become a Calvinist minister like his father, instead of joining the West India Company and going to seek his fortune on the high seas.

“And your husband? Can I count on him?”

“My husband?” Wherever he might be. Avoiding her.

Well, that was about to change. While he’d been away, she had given the matter some thought and formulated a plan for his future that would be more satisfactory. It was lucky that Dutch custom gave women far more freedom—and power—than the women of most other nations. And thank God for Dutch prenuptial agreements. She had some very definite plans for Dirk van Dyck, when he came home.

“Oh yes,” she said. “He’ll do as I say.”

“I am going down to the fort,” Stuyvesant said. “Will you walk with me?”

London. A cheerful spring day. The River Thames was crowded with ships. Thomas Master gazed at the vessel before him and tried to decide.