The lead Meistersinger, Gebehart, suddenly looked at Lord Rupert with a quizzical lift of his eyebrows. Rupert gave the singer a nod. Gebehart nodded back.
Rupert turned to Rose and leaned in close to her ear. “Here is the song of my heart to you.”
The drum began a deep, low rumble that vibrated Rose’s breast bone and set the brisk tempo of the song. Rupert took her arm and they faced each other, forming two lines with the other couples. His eyes focused on hers. The other instruments joined the drum, which was like the beating of a giant heart.
The bass voice of the lead singer began with great enthusiasm,
“It is the joyful season—maidens and young men, rejoice! O! O! Totus floreo!”
The other male and female voices joined in the chorus.
“I am amore virginali totus ardeo;
My body’s burning at the thought of first love;
Novus, novus amor est, quo pereo!
I have a new, new love, and it spells my death!”
Lord Rupert’s look of palpable passion set her cheeks to stinging as they moved toward each other, brushing shoulders, then twirled away, only to pass each other again. She wished it was dark so that no one could see the way he was looking at her.
The song continued, and at the end of each new verse the bearded lead singer repeated the refrain with gusto, “O! O! Totus floreo!”
“My love is a flower among virgins And a rose among roses.
O! O! Totus floreo!
Your consent comforts me,
Your refusal exiles me.
O! O! Totus floreo!”
Lord Rupert’s appreciation was undisguised as his eyes roved over her. He circled her, dancing around her while she stood still. He ran his hand along her bare arm where the sleeve of her fashionable dress split.
“In winter a man can control himself But in spring he’s passionate.
O! O! Totus floreo!”
He fell to one knee. While she danced around him, he placed his hand over his heart and patted his chest in time to the drum beats.
“Come in gladness, little fraulein!
Come, come, my beautiful love—now.
O! O! Totus floreo!
My body’s burning at the thought of first love.
I have a new, new love—and it spells my death.”
The dance ended. Rose, a little out of breath, pushed back the stray strands of hair that had come loose from her braid and clung to her damp temples.
“Let me.” He stood so close she had to lean back to keep his chest from brushing against her. He reached out and ran his finger along her hairline. In a gruff voice he said, “I feel as though I shall die if I don’t kiss you right now.”
Rose took a step back. “I assure you, you won’t die.” Her stomach flipped crazily and her heart jumped into her throat, but she attempted to look disdainful. In truth, she feared he would kiss her right there in the town square. His eyes were so bold and full of admiration for her. She already knew how warm and soft his lips felt on her hand. It was easy to imagine…
Alarmed, Rose looked around for Hildy. Don’t panic. I’ll simply stay here in the Marktplatz with all these people around. Even Lord Rupert wouldn’t be indecent enough to kiss her in front of everyone.
“I think I’ll get some water.” She turned and started toward the fountain in front of the Rathous. Lord Rupert was right beside her when she reached it. She got in line, as several others had had the same thought. But when they saw Lord Rupert standing with Rose, the line disintegrated. They all stepped back to allow him to go in front of them.
Lord Rupert bowed to them. “I am most grateful.”
He walked forward, took a dipperful of water, and turned. His face lit with surprise to see her still standing at the back of the line. He motioned for her to come forward.
Rose’s heart filled with dread. She began walking through the crowd. Her skin tingled as with a thousand tiny needle pricks, feeling every person’s eyes on her, watching her make her way to Lord Rupert.
He handed her the dipper of water. She took it and drank a quick gulp, avoiding his gaze, handed it back, and hastened away without waiting for him.
Hildy appeared and Rose’s breath went out of her in grateful relief. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Lord Rupert wasn’t close behind. “Talk to me, Hildy. I’m so bewildered. Is it too early to go home?”
“Go home? Why would you want to do that? Lord Rupert is looking at you like you’re the Queen of the May, the Goddess of Love, his last chance at happiness.”
“That’s the problem! I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t you?”
Rose stared at her friend in frustration.
Hildy rolled her eyes. “All you need to do is smile and say a few encouraging words—and keep dancing. How hard is that?”
“But Hildy, everyone is watching, everyone is seeing just what you saw.” Rose’s eyes darted around, making sure no one was listening. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’re probably all imagining immoral things about me. It’s embarrassing!”
“Actually, they’re probably all thinking how lucky you are.”
“Lucky? I’m sure they don’t believe he has any intention of marrying me.”
“So?” Hildy shrugged her shoulders. “There’s hardly a maiden over fourteen who wouldn’t want to be in your place right now.”
“You’re not helping.” Rose pressed the backs of her hands against her burning cheeks. Better to change the subject. “How are you and Gunther?”
“He went to buy something to eat. Do you want a chewet?”
A greasy fried pie didn’t sound very good to her. “No, thank you.”
“Well, I don’t have to tell you, Gunther is wonderful.” Hildy sighed dreamily. “But don’t worry, I’m being coy—at least, I’m trying.”
“Here you are.” Gunther stepped up and handed Hildy the meatfilled pastry. “Rose, would you like one?”
“No, I thank you, Gunther. Are you enjoying the music?”
“Yes, I’m enjoying myself more than I ever have before, I do believe.” His eyes caught and held Hildy’s.
Rose looked down at the cobblestones and rubbed her forehead with the heel of her palm, trying to think of a plan of action before Lord Rupert confounded her to the point that she let him do something awful—like kiss her.
“There you are.”
Rose looked up into Lord Rupert’s face. “Oh, yes. Here I am.” She tried to sound cheerful, but her smile wavered. What was it Frau Geruscha told me to do?
To pray and ask God to lead her, to ask God his will. She should have done that. Perhaps if she could slip away and be alone for a few minutes…
“Excuse us.” Rupert turned and bowed to Gunther and Hildy.
“Of course, my lord,” Gunther and Hildy murmured.
He bent his head toward Rose and spoke softly, his voice taking on a meek tone. “The Meistersingers are taking a break now. Will you go with me somewhere so we can talk?”
Rose nodded and he placed his hand lightly on her elbow. She allowed him to lead her toward the Rathous, trying to think of a way to avoid being alone with him. Frau Geruscha had warned her that she could say no to him any time she wanted to.
Just as they came to the door, Rose stopped. “Why don’t we stay outside? There’s no one around. We can talk here, can’t we?”
“There’s a place inside where we can sit.” He tilted his head and gave her an entreating look. “Rose, I promise I’m not trying to get you alone so I can ravish you. Is that what you’re afraid of?”
“No, of course not.” He had such an innocent look on his face, she decided to trust him. She followed him inside.
Their footsteps echoed through the empty building, everyone having gone outside to enjoy the music and sunshine. They sat down on a wooden bench against the wall, and he shifted so that he was facing her.
“Rose, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, believe me.” He sighed. “Bu
t I have a feeling you are.”
Rose’s heart tripped as she thought about what to say. “Forgive me. I suppose I’m a little uncomfortable, wondering what people are thinking.” And there’s the way you look at me sometimes, like I’m a stray lamb and you’re a hungry wolf.
“People are thinking what I’m thinking—that you’re the most beautiful maiden they’ve ever seen.”
“I doubt that.”
“Rose, please listen to me. I know you like to dance, so I hired the Meistersingers for you. If I’m doing something that makes you sad, please tell me. Let me make you happy today. That’s all I want…to make you happy.”
He leaned toward her, his hair curling around the sides of his neck. His unique smell, mixed with fresh air and the lilac his laundress folded inside his clean clothes, wafted to her. His eyes were the pale blue of a shallow stream. At the moment they looked wide and innocent and sincere.
“I want to believe you.” Rose drew in a quick breath as she realized she’d let the words slip out. She bit her lip.
Rupert’s features softened. He leaned closer and lifted her hand out of her lap. “Then believe me, Rose.” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb, drawing it to his heart, pressing it against his chest and sending tingles up her arm. “The truth is, I’ve fallen in love with you. I want to be with you…forever.”
He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it so tenderly, Rose’s heart stopped beating for a moment.
“And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you from that detestable cur. I would never let anyone hurt you.”
He reached his other hand toward her cheek, and this time Rose did not pull away. He gently brushed his fingertips over the bruises. Rose closed her eyes and gave in to the warmth that flooded her from his touch. O Lord, I’m in trouble.
Rose opened her eyes as Lord Rupert took both her hands in his. He focused on her lips, and she knew he was preparing to kiss her. She bent her head and let him kiss her forehead instead. His lips were warm. “So beautiful,” he whispered against her skin. He let go of her hands and his arms went around her back, pulling her close.
Rose ignored the warning bells ringing in her head and concentrated on how good it felt to be held, close and tender and warm. His hand caressed her back in smooth, slow circles. Her insides melted like butter. She laid her head against his shoulder and watched the faint, rhythmic pulse in his neck, then closed her eyes and savored the sensations washing over her.
He pulled away slightly. If she lifted her face, he would kiss her. Part of her wanted to let him, but she also felt as though his lip prints were already branded on her forehead.
She took a deep breath and placed her hands on his chest. Gently, she pushed out of his embrace and stood up.
Lord Rupert stood too and wrapped his hands around her upper arms. Rose was afraid that he would be displeased with the way she had avoided his kiss, but when she ventured a peek at him, his face held a strangely contented expression.
“I believe I hear the music again. Are you ready, mein Liebling?” The endearment sounded so good and sweet. She was “his dear.”
Rose nodded and let him slip her hand through the crook of his arm and lead her out into the waning sunlight of late afternoon, back into the noisy Marktplatz.
Chapter 14
Rose fetched a bucket of water from the courtyard well and came back inside the chamber, setting the water beside the fireplace. Frau Geruscha walked in, worry lines wrinkling her forehead. She crossed the floor to stand in front of Rose.
“I’ve just come from speaking with Bailiff Eckehart.” She frowned. “Rose, they couldn’t find Peter Brunckhorst. They don’t believe there is any person by that name in Hagenheim.”
Rose felt the blood drain from her face. “How can that be?”
“I know not.” Frau Geruscha wrung her hands. She sat on a wooden bench and leaned forward, then straightened, then stood up again. “Rose.” She fixed her eyes on her. “What did the man look like?”
“He was tall, with black and white hair.”
“How tall?”
Rose raised her hand high. “About this tall.”
“What else did he look like? Describe him.”
“He doesn’t have any distinguishing features to speak of. He has black eyes and bushy eyebrows, brown teeth, and a pointy chin.” Rose shook her head and shrugged.
Frau Geruscha’s expression grew even darker. “Who else knows him?”
Rose thought for a moment. “My mother. He came to her months ago, asking to marry me.”
“Good. I’ll go tell the bailiff.” Frau Geruscha flew out the door.
But later that day, when the bailiff came to talk to Rose, he said that her mother had not been able to provide any helpful information, having no knowledge of where Brunckhorst came from or of his family. The man who called himself Peter Brunckhorst had met her on the street and mentioned an interest in Rose, so Rose’s mother had invited him to her home, where he made an offer of marriage. Seeing his expensive clothes, she gave her consent and promised to try to procure her daughter’s. She also admitted to his giving her a small bag of coins—a secret gift, he had said.
“I know nothing else about him either,” Rose said.
Bailiff Eckehart looked puzzled. He abruptly ended their conversation and left.
Rose’s heart took a long swim in the pit of her stomach for the rest of that rainy day. Not only had they not found Peter Brunckhorst, there was no Peter Brunckhorst. She sat by the window, listening to the steady fall of the raindrops.
But the man who had accosted her was real. And he’d filled her with a very real terror.
Rose imagined herself dressed in chain mail and heavy metal armor, like she had seen Lord Hamlin and his knights wear once during a tournament. She imagined the armor protecting her against Peter Brunckhorst and his schemes, keeping her safe, as she fought him off with her sword and shield.
It was a silly thought. Women never wore armor. She must think seriously. If Peter Brunckhorst tried to harm her again…she had no control over what the man would do next. Perhaps she would be able to fight him off again. But what hope did she have against a grown man like him? He was stronger and bigger than she was. She’d been fortunate to have gotten away from him this time. She didn’t think she would be so fortunate if there was a next time. Please, God, protect me. Don’t let him get me.
She refused to think any more ugly thoughts. She let her mind wander to more pleasant memories, to the tender and respectful way Lord Rupert had behaved for the rest of Midsummer’s Eve. At the end of the festivities in the Marktplatz, he had walked her back to the southwest tower. Rose had heard Wolfie scratching from the inside, letting out a bark and probably waking Frau Geruscha.
“Thank you for the Meistersingers, Lord Rupert. I enjoyed dancing with you.”
Rupert brought her hand to his lips, then straightened. “You are welcome, my beautiful Rose.”
“Good-bye.” Rose put her hand on the door, inching away.
“Farewell, my love.”
Rose went inside and bent down to rub her dog’s head. She petted him and echoed Lord Rupert’s words, “My love.” She sighed. “Well, Wolfie, how would you like to move out to the country, to a manor house?”
The next morning, sitting in front of the window with the rain pouring down, Rose suddenly wondered if Lord Hamlin was safe and warm and if he had found and captured Moncore. She no longer felt angry at him, she realized, about the words he’d spoken that last day in the forest. He couldn’t help his upbringing, after all, any more than she could help hers. So she decided to pray for him. Taking up the prayer beads that hung from her waist, she clasped her hands tightly in her concentration and prayed silently.
Someone touched her back and Rose jerked away. She turned and saw Frau Geruscha.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, Rose. I have something to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“I think it’s best if you not leave the
castle courtyard, at least for a while.”
Rose stared. “Why? Wolfie always keeps me safe. I only left him here that day because I was going to church.”
“I know.” Frau Geruscha frowned, something she did quite often these days. “I’ve received permission for you to attend the chapel with me so you don’t have to go to the cathedral. I want you to be safe. It’s only for a few weeks. You don’t mind so much, do you?”
“I suppose not.” At least she would have a good excuse not to visit her mother, who still hadn’t forgiven her for refusing to marry the supposedly wealthy wool merchant. She shuddered whenever she thought of Peter Brunckhorst—or whatever his name was—out there somewhere.
Rose now saw Lord Rupert every morning at prime, when she went with Frau Geruscha to the chapel for prayers. He also came to Frau Geruscha’s chambers once a day, if only for a minute. He often brought Wolfie a bone he had pilfered from the kitchen, meat still clinging to it. He hadn’t tried to kiss her hand since Midsummer’s Eve, but if Rose read his looks correctly, his feelings for her had not waned.
Three weeks after Midsummer’s Eve, a man stumbled into the healer’s chambers clutching a cloth to his head. Thank the Lord of heaven, Frau Geruscha was there to tend to his injury. His ax head had slipped off its handle and grazed his temple. Frau Geruscha examined the wound and proclaimed the man quite blessed to still be alive. A little closer to the skull and he would be dead. As it was, the cut was shallow and would not require stitches. She reached for the roll of bandages in Rose’s hand.
A timid voice called to her from the door. “Rose, are you busy?”
“Hildy.”
“I don’t need you right now, Rose, if you want to go talk to Hildy,” Frau Geruscha said, not taking her eyes off her patient.
Rose stepped outside the door to where Hildy was standing. Her eyes were red and puffy, as though she had been crying. Rose’s heart filled with dread, and Hildy’s hands trembled as she reached out to her.
Rose squeezed Hildy’s hands. “What’s wrong?”
Hildy swallowed then whispered, “Can we go upstairs? I have to tell you something.”