Fairy Tale Romance Collection

  “No, my lord,” Georg spoke up. “It’s too dangerous. You might be recognized.”

  “Better that one of us should do it,” Christoff said.

  “I won’t be recognized,” Wilhelm said. “Nobody here has ever seen us before.”

  “Better that one of us should do it.”

  “Very well. Christoff, you go to Dietmar, and Georg and I will be nearby if you need us.”

  Morning was a slow time of day for the inn, and, due to the rain, the big downstairs room was empty. Wilhelm and Georg waited inside while Christoff started across the street to see what he could discover from Moncore’s reported friend, Dietmar. After he was a good distance down the street, they started out behind him.

  Wilhelm hunkered against the wall of a mill which faced Dietmar’s little house. He took out his dagger, picked up a small tree limb from the ground, and began to whittle, glancing now and then at Dietmar’s door. Georg was positioned on the other side of the street, under the overhanging roof of an abandoned hut.

  Wilhelm whittled so long, he almost forgot where he was for a moment. His shoulders began to ache from the cold and wet and from hunching over. He straightened, flexing his shoulders. Where was Christoff? He couldn’t imagine what he and Dietmar could be talking about at such length. But perhaps it only seemed like a long time because he was weary, in both mind and body. He hadn’t been able to sleep well most nights of the trip for thinking about Rose.

  The farther away he traveled from home, the more he thought about her. It was tiring to try to force her from his mind, to try to focus on something else. Again and again his thoughts went back to the moment in the forest when Rupert had sworn his commitment to her, saying, “I vow to love her only and to take care of her for the rest of her life.”

  His face burned with shame even now as he remembered his reaction—he who was already betrothed, experiencing such pain at knowing someone else would marry Rose and love her. He was ashamed for envying his brother, and even more shameful was the resentment he felt toward his betrothed. He had thought himself above petty feelings like envy and resentment, but he saw now that he was a common sinner after all.

  He shoved such thoughts away. God will absolve my heart of these feelings. He refused to let them gain a foothold. As long as he pushed any tender thoughts of Rose away each time they foisted themselves on him, as long as he tried to “take every thought captive,” God would help him overcome. Besides, he had an important task to accomplish. He must keep his mind clear to find Moncore and free his betrothed. It would be a balm to his soul when he finally was able to capture the evil conjurer.

  Wilhelm studied the house. A faint light shone out from the cracks around the windows, but there was no indication of what was happening inside. O God, give Christoff success. Let us find the man this time.

  At that moment Christoff emerged from the door. Wilhelm’s pulse quickened. He continued whittling but watched his knight make his way slowly along the street and pass by him. Georg left his place and started down the road behind Christoff. Wilhelm waited. Finally he sheathed his dagger and pocketed the stick of wood that had grown considerably smaller.

  By the time Wilhelm reached the inn, he found his two knights already there, tugging off their muddy boots.

  “Well?” Wilhelm stood waiting to hear what happened.

  “He said Moncore left this region a month ago.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Hagenheim.”

  Wilhelm stared then rubbed his jaw. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

  “Five minutes!” Christoff and Georg set up a loud complaint, but Wilhelm wasn’t listening as he gathered his things and stuffed them into his bag. He was frustrated and angry, as well as uneasy, about what Moncore might be doing in Hagenheim. And he was several days’ ride away.

  Rose made her way through the castle corridors and stopped the first servant she saw. She asked him if he knew Lord Rupert’s whereabouts. He didn’t. “Will you please go find him?”

  Surprise flickered over the man’s face, but he nodded and set off.

  Rose leaned against the cold stone wall and closed her eyes. She covered her face with her hands and prayed.

  The sound of footsteps broke her concentration. She looked up as Rupert came striding toward her.

  “Rose! What’s wrong?” He placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “I need your help, my lord.” Rose was surprised at how steady her voice sounded. “My friend, Gunther Schoff, has been sentenced to die for killing a man. I need you to convince your father that he didn’t do it. You have to stop them from hanging him.”

  Rupert looked at her with a confused expression. “You say he has been sentenced?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there’s nothing I can do, mein Liebling.” He shook his head and pulled her against his chest. “I’m so sorry about your friend.”

  “Please,” she whispered. She pushed away enough to look into his face. “Please do something.” Please, God, let him see how urgent this is.

  Lord Rupert shook his head again. “I can’t, Rose. There’s nothing I can do. Once the duke has set the punishment, no one can change it, not even the duke himself.”

  “There has to be something. We can’t let him die. It was an accident. Gunther’s in love with my dearest friend, and if he dies it will tear her heart out.” She looked into Lord Rupert’s face again, searching, hoping to see some speck of compassion, of interest in saving Gunther.

  He shook his head. “Nothing can be done, my pet.”

  Rose’s throat and chest grew tight. She couldn’t breathe, as though a thick blanket had been thrown over her head, suffocating her. Going to Lord Rupert for help had been her only plan. She had to think of something else.

  But what if he was right?

  Rupert pulled her close again and she didn’t resist. She lay her head against his velvet doublet. He stroked her back with his hands, but she didn’t feel comforted. He simply seemed to be taking advantage of the situation.

  “I have to go check on Hildy.” She pushed away and ran from him.

  Rose passed the well in the courtyard and stopped. How could she go into Frau Geruscha’s chambers and face Hildy with only bad news? She had to find some hope.

  There has to be a way!

  Lord Hamlin. He was coming home, wasn’t he? He would know what to do. He was always so competent, ready to take charge of any situation. And besides that, he was the future leader. Surely he would be able to do something, even if he couldn’t exactly reverse the sentence.

  When was Lord Hamlin supposed to come back? In a few days. How many days ago was that? She wished she had asked Rupert when his brother was due back before she ran off. O God, let him come back today! If he isn’t back in three days, it’ll be too late. Gunther will be hanged.

  Lady Osanna. She would know when Lord Hamlin would be home.

  But Rose didn’t know the whereabouts of Lady Osanna’s chamber. She only knew it was on the opposite side of the castle from the men’s bedchambers.

  She found a maidservant and asked her to lead her to Lady Osanna’s room. She took a deep breath and knocked.

  “Who is it?”

  “It is Rose, my lady.” Rose waited. The door opened.

  “Rose! Hello.” Lady Osanna looked at her quizzically.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I—” What should she say? I need your brother, when is he coming home?

  Lady Osanna stepped aside and revealed Lady Anne standing behind her, staring at Rose as if she were an intruder.

  “I’m so sorry to intrude on you, my lady, but I need help.” Rose felt the tears prick her eyes as she spoke those last three words. Gunther was in the dungeon, chained to the wall, his only hope the hope of heaven when they hanged him in three days.

  “What is the matter, Rose? What can I do?” Lady Osanna motioned for Rose to enter the room then shut the door behind her.

  “I’m not sure anything can be done. I’
m so sorry to intrude on you.” Rose placed her hand over her chest, which felt so tight she could barely breathe.

  “You’re not intruding in the least.”

  Lady Osanna’s voice was gentle and kind, which only made it harder for Rose to fight back her emotions. Staring at the ceiling, she went on. “My friend, Gunther Schoff, has been accused of killing a man. Duke Nicolaus has sentenced him to death by hanging in three days.”

  A look of repulsion twisted Lady Anne’s face. Lady Osanna’s expression was only slightly better—one of shock.

  “But he’s innocent. If Duke Nicolaus understands that he didn’t kill the man, never intended to kill him, perhaps he will release him.”

  “Oh, Rose, it’s so noble of you to want to save him, but I’m not sure there is anything that can be done. The duke’s sentence is irreversible.”

  The tears came on stronger than ever. Rose tried to force them down, but one spilled out onto her cheek. Lady Osanna held out a handkerchief to her. Rose took it, wiping her face, then gained control of her voice again. “Can you tell me when Lord Hamlin is expected to return?” She couldn’t look Lady Osanna in the eye, ashamed of what she must look like to her, her eyes red and her face splotchy.

  “In three or four days. Perhaps he will get back in time and will know something that can be done.”

  Rose held the handkerchief to her eyes and nodded. “Yes, thank you. I thank you for wanting to help. Please excuse me.” Rose turned to leave, wanting to run out of the room.

  “I’m sorry, Rose.”

  Rose nodded again and rushed out the door.

  When Hildy finally stopped crying, her pale face wore a lost, hopeless expression. Rose and Wolfie walked her home to her mother, who met them at the door of their little candle shop.

  Rose went out to the castle stable. She found Lukas and told him she would pay him if he would run and tell her as soon as Lord Hamlin came home. There seemed to be nothing left to do except wait and pray. And Rose did pray, like she’d never prayed before. She prayed all the rest of the day and most of the night.

  The next morning was torture. She knew she should go and sit with Hildy, but she couldn’t bear to see her without any good news to cheer her. Instead, she waited until after nones, then ran out to the stable to inquire whether Lord Hamlin had returned. Perhaps Lukas had missed him. But he had not returned, and no one had had any word from him.

  Rose went back to Frau Geruscha’s chambers. She felt like crying, but her tears wouldn’t save Gunther. She had to do something. Hoping Lord Hamlin would return in time seemed too little, too late. He might not be any more help than Lady Osanna or Lord Rupert had been. In the meantime, she had no choice but to go to the duke and beg him to show mercy to Gunther.

  The thought sent a stab of fear through her. The big, blustery man and his booming voice terrified her. But she would do it. For Gunther and Hildy.

  Rose turned and went back to the main castle. She found Bailiff Eckehart sitting on a stool outside the dungeon, cleaning his fingernails with his knife.

  “My lord Bailiff, sir.”

  He looked up.

  “If you please, sir, I would like to speak with His Grace, the duke. Would you ask him if he would speak with me?”

  “Certainly, fraulein.” His gray brows lowered. “What would you speak to him about?”

  Rose swallowed. “About Gunther Schoff, sir.”

  “Very well.” He stood slowly, putting his knife away in its sheath before starting off down the corridor.

  She waited near the door to the dungeon. What would she say to the duke? He would look at her with those scary eyes, his bushy eyebrows lowered and threatening, grunting his disapproval of her. She would not cower but would humbly beg him to forgive Gunther, to reduce his sentence to something less harsh, due to the accidental nature of the death. She would tell him what a good man Gunther was, kind and gentle. Surely the duke wasn’t completely hardhearted.

  The bailiff’s footsteps echoed through the hall. Rose braced herself as he approached.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry. The duke says he cannot see you today.”

  Rose’s heart sank. Today. “Will he see me tomorrow?”

  “He says he cannot change the sentence and he has no wish to discuss it further.”

  “I’ll come back tomorrow.” Rose clenched her teeth. She would not give up on whatever slim chance there might be.

  She turned and walked down the corridor until she was out of sight of the bailiff.

  What if the duke refused to see her? What else could she do to free Gunther? Tomorrow was Gunther’s last day before the execution.

  Wilhelm knelt on the stream bank to refill his leather water flasks.

  “Will we bed down here for the night?”

  Sir Georg and Sir Christoff stared, their shoulders limp, their eyebrows raised hopefully. All three of them were covered with the dust of travel. But Wilhelm shook his head.

  “Let’s go on a little farther.” He needed to be home again, to rid himself of this urgency, and to get back to looking for Moncore. This trip had yielded them nothing—a chasing of the wind.

  Georg shrugged and Christoff sighed. They turned to their horses and retrieved their water flasks.

  He couldn’t explain to them the strange sense of urgency he felt about getting home. Leaving Hagenheim had seemed like a good idea, to look for Moncore in one of his hideouts, and to get away from Rose—and Rupert. But now this vague-but-desperate feeling nagged at him every time they stopped to rest the horses or to bed down for the night, as if something were happening at home and he needed to be there.

  That was foolish. He didn’t believe in premonitions. There could be nothing at Hagenheim that his father couldn’t handle. But then his imagination had conjured up all kinds of possibilities. Perhaps his father was ill, or his mother or sister. Or perhaps Moncore was in Hagenheim, stirring up some kind of trouble. It was probably none of those things, but the desire to get home became irresistible, driving him forward.

  O God, please give us a miracle.

  The last day before Gunther’s execution, and Rose had come up with no new ideas.

  Time to find out if Duke Nicolaus would see her today.

  Was that a frown on the bailiff’s face? Just the sight of her seemed to ruin his mood. But he nodded in her direction.

  Swallowing and sucking in a shallow breath, she asked, “May I trouble you again to petition His Grace to allow me to speak with him today?”

  “I’ll see what he says.”

  Rose sat on the bailiff’s vacated stool to wait. She consoled herself with Scripture. The unjust judge in the parable of the persistent widow in the Bible had thought to himself, “Though I fear not God, nor regard man; yet because this widow troubleth me, I will avenge her, lest by her continual coming she weary me.”

  The fact that she had suddenly remembered this verse might mean that God was making the duke see her. Perhaps her persistence was working and was swaying him in her favor, as the unjust judge had been swayed in Jesus’ parable.

  Bailiff Eckehart appeared around the bend in the corridor. Rose jumped to her feet.

  “His Grace will see you. Follow me.”

  Rose’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. She could hardly breathe past the lump in her throat as she followed the bailiff into the deepest bowels of the castle. Finally, he stopped before a narrow wooden door and pushed it open for her. Rose stepped through the door and the bailiff closed it behind her.

  Duke Nicolaus sat at the opposite end of the room, his head bent low as he scratched furiously with a quill. He paused to dip the quill in the ink pot.

  He raised his eyes to Rose. “Well? Come forth.”

  His deep voice boomed, seeming to fill the small room with gruffness and impatience. Rose crossed the room on wobbly legs.

  “Your Grace, may I speak?”

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Forgive me for disturbing
you, but I wish to plead for the life of my friend, Gunther Schoff.” To keep him from interrupting her, she rushed on, pushing the words out of her mouth as fast as she could. “The death of Arnold Hintzen was not intentional. He fell into the river and drowned. It was an accident. Surely you wouldn’t put a man to death for causing an accident.”

  “Pure speculation,” the duke roared. His ponderous gray eyebrows hung dangerously low. “Were you a witness to any of it?”

  “No, Your Grace. Please forgive my boldness.” Rose’s heart fluttered, but she clenched her hands into fists to steady herself. “I know Gunther would never kill anyone. He wanted to protect Hildy, who was viciously attacked by this Arnold Hintzen. He only wanted to defend her.”

  The duke stared at her with light blue eyes. “So the man thinks we have no order here? That I have no power nor inclination to defend the helpless or punish the wicked? He had to do that himself? No!”

  He pushed himself up, sending his chair into the wall behind him with a crash. Rose drew in a quick breath and forced herself to stand her ground, her heart beating wildly again.

  “I will not abide my people trying to enforce their own justice. I’m the law here. Your friend made a serious mistake, and now he must pay for it with his life. That is all I have to say. I do not wish to discuss it any further.” He slammed his fist on the desk and took in a wheezing breath, then began coughing, a deep, chest-rattling spasm. He motioned with his hand for her to leave.

  With a humble bow of her head, Rose turned and left the room.

  I’ve failed. O God, what can I do now? There was no one she could turn to, no one left to help her. A weight descended onto her shoulders.

  Since Rose was out of ideas, she should go see Hildy, to offer what comfort she could.

  Hildy lay across her bed, but sat up when Rose came in the door. Her face was puffy, with red blotches over her cheeks. “Any news?”

  Rose shook her head. The way Hildy’s face fell sent a pain through her heart. “But there’s still time. Lord Hamlin will surely come back today.” Surely God would come through for them…somehow.