“I hope I die of a broken heart. I can’t go on living if Gunther dies—because of me!” Hildy burst into sobs, sinking down into the bed and burying her face in her pillow.
Rose sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on her friend’s head. “It’s not your fault, Hildy. Gunther certainly doesn’t blame you.”
Hildy lifted her face and stared at Rose through tear-brightened eyes. Her usually tight braid was frayed, with strands of hair hanging loose about her face. “I went to see him today, in the dungeon. I had to see him. He said he wanted to ask me to marry him, would have asked me in a few more weeks.” Hildy sniffed, a look of complete despair in her glazed-over eyes. “I wish they would hang me too.”
Rose patted Hildy’s back while she prayed silently, her throat aching. Please, God, please. Please help us.
Finally, with a vague expression of hope that Lord Hamlin would return before the morning, Rose left and went back to Frau Geruscha’s to wait.
But as the sun drew nearer the horizon, the heavy, sick feeling in her stomach increased.
Night fell. Rose tried to comfort herself in the fact that Gunther would be in heaven, where there was no pain, no parting, no night, only endless, perfect day in the light of the Heavenly Lord. Surprisingly, a measure of peace and even joy for Gunther came over her, but it was fleeting and limited at best. What about Hildy? How could Hildy ever forget Gunther? Her heart would be decimated.
Rose lay on the bed and covered her head with her hands. “O God, I can’t bear this. If you will not rescue Gunther, then give us all the grace to see something good in it.”
But what good could there possibly be?
Rose cried until the soothing darkness of sleep closed over her.
When Rose awoke the next morning, it only took a moment for her to remember that it was Gunther’s execution day.
She rolled over to face the tiny window, where the pale sunrise glowed yellow. Her whole body seemed made of lead, as though the weight in her heart had spread into her arms and legs and head. She rose slowly and put on her dress. Her fingers were so stiff and clumsy she could hardly tie the laces.
She opened the door of her bedroom and felt the tears begin again. She grabbed a handkerchief then plodded down the steps. Frau Geruscha waited for her with a sad, solemn look on her face. They walked to the castle kitchen together to take their breakfast, though Rose was sure she wouldn’t be able to eat.
The two sat on a wooden bench with several servants who were also breaking their fast. Rose looked around at them. Some were talking. A couple of maidservants broke into loud guffaws. Others seemed oblivious to their surroundings, intent only on their food.
Rose looked down at the fruit pastry Frau Geruscha had retrieved for her. How could she possibly eat? How could these people act so jolly, as if life was the same today as every day? Hadn’t they heard the workers’ hammering as they built the scaffolding in the Marktplatz? Didn’t they realize her friend would be executed in two hours?
Two hours. She wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.
“Fraulein?”
Lukas stood behind her, staring at her with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to you last night, but Lord Hamlin, he came home. It was too late for me to be about—”
Rose jumped to her feet. “He’s here?”
“Yes, fraulein.”
“Oh, thank you, Lukas. You’re a good boy.” Rose grabbed him by the arm. “Come. I need you.”
She ran from the kitchen and made sure Lukas kept up as she took a shortcut across the courtyard then entered the door nearest the Great Hall, between the north and south wings of the castle. She stopped just inside.
“Lukas. Do you know where Lord Hamlin’s chamber is?”
“I think so.”
“Run and knock on his door. Tell him that Rose needs to talk to him. It’s urgent. I’ll be right here.”
Lukas turned, but Rose caught him by the arm.
“Here.” She put two marks in his hand. “I’ll give you more if you fetch Lord Hamlin as quickly as possible.”
Lukas’s eyes widened. He took off at a canter.
Rose clasped her hands, prayed, and waited.
Chapter
17
Rose heard footsteps coming, too loud to be the footsteps of a little boy. She stared into the barely lit corridor, straining her eyes, her hands clasped in front of her. She forced herself not to hurry toward the sound of the heavy boots.
Lord Hamlin! She exhaled in relief. Tears stung her eyes—oh, he was a beautiful sight! Impulsively, she wanted to leap forward and hug him and tell him how grateful she was to see him. Instead, she clasped her hands tighter and pressed them to her chest.
He strode briskly toward her down the long corridor. “Rose.” He must have dressed quickly, as he wore only a white linen shirt and hose, no doublet. His dark hair was wet and clung to his forehead, and he had not shaved in days.
Rose almost forgot to curtsy. “Lord Hamlin, please forgive me, but I need your help.”
“What is the matter? Tell me.” Even in the dim light she could see how intensely he was looking at her. And even with several days’ stubble on his face, he was still so familiar, so handsome. There was such an earnest expression on his face, she believed he could—and would—help her. Gratitude swelled inside her, almost taking her breath away.
“It’s Gunther Schoff.”
“The young illuminator.”
“Yes, well—” Rose hesitated, but she had to tell him the entire story, and quickly. “My friend Hildy was attacked. Gunther learned of it. Rather than make her report the incident to the duke’s bailiff, he decided to punish the man himself.” Rose drew in a shaky breath then pressed her hand against her mouth so that Lord Hamlin wouldn’t see her lips tremble. She fought to keep her voice steady. “He found the man by the river. Hildy’s attacker was drunk, and Gunther beat him. He knows it was wrong, but he did it for Hildy.”
His eyes were riveted on her, his brows drawn together. Thank God, he was still giving his rapt attention to her half-rambling story.
“Gunther left him there. Three days later someone found him in the river. Gunther was accused of murder, and your father sentenced him to death.” Please sympathize. Please help us. Please save him. “You’re his only hope.” Her voice broke. Anxiety twisted around her heart as she tried to read his expression.
Lord Hamlin rubbed his stubbly jaw. “I suppose you know that the duke’s ruling cannot be changed.”
His words did not cast her down, because she could see by the look on his face that he was trying to think of something they could do. Just knowing he hadn’t given up gave her hope. Oh please, God, help him save Gunther.
“There is a way.” His face was suddenly alight.
She held her breath as she waited for his next words.
“How quickly can you get your friend Hildy to the Marktplatz?”
Wilhelm sat astride Shadow at the back of the crowd. He frowned at the number of people who had gathered in the Marktplatz to watch the hanging. Scanning the heads, he saw neither Rose nor her friend. She had left at least an hour ago. Had she been unable to locate Hildy?
From the castle courtyard, the drum began its steady, slow tempo, beating out the last minutes of the prisoner’s life.
Soon the procession came into view, making its way through the castle gate. A collective “Oh” issued from the spectators, who then fell silent.
The sight of the prisoner increased the sick feeling in the pit of Wilhelm’s stomach. Young Gunther Schoff’s hands and feet were bound as he followed behind Bailiff Eckehart. Wilhelm recognized Gunther’s mother and sisters huddled together, weeping openly as he entered the Marktplatz.
Wilhelm searched the crowd again but saw no sign of Rose or Hildy.
Gunther’s shoulders were stooped as he shuffled his feet toward the ominous platform. A rope dangled in the middle. Gunther’s eyes, too, darted through the crowd as he walked.
Apparently not finding who he was looking for, he bowed his head again.
Make haste, Rose. She had to come quickly or he would have to figure out some way to delay the proceedings. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs.
Gunther reached the scaffold. He stumbled on the first step but caught himself. He continued slowly up to the platform.
The bailiff climbed up behind him and declared, “This man, Gunther Schoff, was accused, judged guilty by Duke Nicolaus, and has been sentenced to die for the murder of the man Arnold Hintzen. May God have mercy on his soul.”
Wilhelm’s heartbeat quickened. No, it’s happening too fast. Where were Rose and Hildy?
Bailiff Eckehart slipped the noose around Gunther’s neck and tightened it. He turned back toward the crowd. Wilhelm nudged his horse forward a step and opened his mouth to speak as someone called out.
“Wait! You must wait!”
Rose. She was pushing her way through the crowd, her chestnut hair glowing in the morning sun. Hildy followed as the press of people parted to allow them to get through.
Rose reached the front of the crowd, two feet from the platform. She turned and let Hildy pass. Even from across the square he saw the determination on Rose’s face. Hildy was deathly pale, and she swayed on her feet. O God, don’t let her faint now. Gunther might be dead by the time she came to.
“If it please you, sir, may I speak?” The crowd was so quiet, Hildy’s soft voice carried even to Wilhelm.
Gunther lifted his head. A pained look of love infused his features, as though he had both dreaded and expected this moment.
“What is it, maiden?” The bailiff stared down at her from the platform, curiosity as well as a bit of annoyance in his tone.
She raised her voice, as though her courage had returned. “I wish to invoke the ordinance of redemption—to wed the accused to save his life.”
Murmurs erupted from the spectators.
Confusion creased Gunther’s face as a look of surprise crossed the middle-aged bailiff’s. He wrinkled his forehead and cleared his throat, either waiting for the crowd to quiet down or trying to figure out what to say.
“The ordinance of redemption? No one has spoken of that ordinance in years. I’m not certain…that is, perhaps we should consult His Grace, the duke—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Wilhelm tapped Shadow with his heels to start him forward. Wilhelm stared straight at Bailiff Eckehart as the crowd parted.
The bailiff’s jaw went slack, as though he was relieved to see him.
Wilhelm avoided looking at either Gunther or Hildy. He was careful not to look at Rose, either. “Bailiff Eckehart, you are familiar with the ordinance of redemption, are you not?”
“Yes, my lord. I have never seen it invoked. That is…yes, my lord.”
“The law states that any unmarried woman of marriageable age may invoke the ordinance to save a condemned man. Please proceed.” Wilhelm gave the man an intense stare.
“Yes, my lord.” The bailiff reached out his hand to Hildy. “Come here where everyone can see you.”
Hildy took his hand and climbed the steps. Her eyes were fixed on Gunther’s. For the first time, the hopelessness left his face.
Bailiff Eckehart asked, “What is your name?”
“Hildegund, daughter of Hezilo the chandler, now deceased.”
“Very well. Do you now, of your own free will, offer yourself in marriage to redeem this man, Gunther Schoff?”
“I do.” Hildy’s eyes glistened with tears.
The bailiff turned to Gunther. “Do you, Gunther Schoff, accept Hildegund, daughter of Hezilo, as your wife?”
“With all my heart.”
Bailiff Eckehart lifted the noose from Gunther’s neck. Next, he pulled a dagger from his belt and sawed at the thick rope around Gunther’s hands until they broke free. Then he did the same at his feet. He straightened to his full height and sheathed his knife.
Facing Gunther, he said, “I charge you now to take this maiden to the priest forthwith and make her your wife.”
Several cheers erupted from the crowd.
Wilhelm let out a pent-up breath. Thank God he had remembered the old ordinance, put into place centuries before. If he had not, how different this scene would have been. Instead of watching Gunther sweep Hildy up in his arms and kiss her—much to the delight and enthusiasm of the crowd—Gunther would be strangling to death.
He finally stole a glance at Rose. Joy radiated from her face, her eyes seemingly as wide as her smile. His heart raced and he had to swallow the lump that was caught in his throat. She waved to him, and her eyes shone with tears just before the crowd closed around her and blocked her from his view.
Thank you, God, for getting me here in time. How close he had come to being too late. But he had made it, and Gunther was safe. Thank you, God.
The joy of making Rose happy, of saving Gunther, of saving Rose’s friend Hildy from heartbreak and pain, welled up inside him. He turned away from the crowd as they talked over the event in astonished tones.
After thinking it would be his last day on earth, that he would die in disgrace, instead Gunther would marry the woman he loved today. And Wilhelm had to admit, he envied Gunther at this moment. His mourning had turned to dancing and his hopeless waiting had turned to joyful anticipation. But Wilhelm’s waiting had not ended, as one week before Christmas he would marry a woman he’d never met. Meanwhile he was a failure, having failed to accomplish the task that would ensure her safety. And Rose…she would marry his brother.
He hoped no one could guess his thoughts and feelings. Better that everyone think he was indifferent to the people involved, that he was only doing his duty in reminding the bailiff of the ancient ordinance. Let them think that he wasn’t particularly happy for Gunther and Hildy, and that, at the same time, his heart wasn’t aching with emptiness and loss. Because he’d rather they didn’t know that for the first time in his life, he wished he was an ordinary man instead of Wilhelm Gerstenberg, Earl of Hamlin, the future duke of Hagenheim.
With the vague realization that she was dreaming, Rose continued picking flowers in the misty meadow near the castle. But they kept slipping through her hands and disappearing, so that no matter how many she gathered, she never had more than two or three nestled in the crook of her elbow.
Stepping high through the tall, wet grass, she made her way to a thick stand of pink gladioli. But when she reached them, only one remained—skinny, dried up, and brown.
She raised her head. Someone was walking toward her from the other side of the meadow. Lord Rupert smiled and held out his arms to her. She wanted to run to meet him but her legs turned to stone, so heavy she had to pick her leg up with both hands to make a step.
When Lord Rupert finally stood before her, she held out her arms to him. But he wasn’t Lord Rupert at all. He was Lord Hamlin, and instead of smiling, his dark blue eyes gazed intently into hers. She fell into his arms, allowing him to pull her against his chest. He felt so solid and warm against her cheek as she listened to his steady, beating heart.
Rose woke with a start and gasped. The dream had seemed so real. She could still feel the sensation of being held, the hardness of his chest against her cheek.
She pulled the sheet up to her chin and squeezed her eyes shut. Why had she dreamed about Lord Hamlin? O God, forgive me. I didn’t mean it. I should love Lord Rupert, not his brother…
Oh no. It is true. In her heart, Lord Hamlin was the one who inspired her admiration and respect. When she saw Lord Hamlin for the first time in weeks, she’d felt elation. And when he saved Gunther from being hanged…she had looked at him and loved him.
But that’s wrong, God. He’s as good as married. It was Lord Rupert who loved her, and she should love him. If Lord Rupert married her, he would help her family. Her brother and sisters would have a better future.
Lord Hamlin will marry his betrothed in a few months, and I will be happy for him, and happy for her too. I promise I will, God. I
must.
Rose rolled the clean cloth between her fingers as she and Frau Geruscha made bandages for future use. Rose didn’t mind the boring work. She was so restless these days, it suited her to keep her hands busy while her thoughts were free to wander.
“Good morning.”
Rose’s heart leapt into her throat. Lord Hamlin stood in the doorway with his usual serious expression.
“Good morning, Lord Hamlin,” Frau Geruscha answered. “Please come in.”
Rose stood and curtsied, her thoughts going involuntarily to the dream she’d had a few hours ago.
“Our bailiff has spoken with me about the man who accosted Rose while I was away, and I just wanted to hear the facts from Rose, to try and plan our next course of action.”
His eyes focused on Rose. She fidgeted with the roll of bandages. She would scold herself if she thought it would stop her heart from pounding.
“Tell me what you know about this man.” He fixed his eyes on hers, and she strove to mirror his businesslike expression.
“Not very much. He approached my mother after he said he saw me in the Marktplatz. He said his name was Peter Brunckhorst and he wanted to marry me.”
Lord Hamlin swept his hand toward her chair, indicating she should be seated. He dragged the wooden bench in front of her and sat facing her. Rose glanced at Frau Geruscha, who continued rolling the bandages, but her eyes darted back and forth between Rose and Lord Hamlin.
“Had this man bothered you before? Was he the one who grabbed you in the Marktplatz at the May Day festival?”
“How did you know about that?”
“I saw him and tried to help, but Wolfie got there first.” He turned and looked at Wolfie, who took it as an invitation and lay down at Lord Hamlin’s feet. Lord Hamlin rubbed him behind the ears.
“Yes. He told my mother he was a wool merchant. But no one in town has ever heard of Peter Brunckhorst.” Rose frowned at the strangeness of it.