“Of course.” Rose looped Hildy’s arm through hers and walked to the stairs. Her heart tripped nervously as she wondered what could be the matter.
Once they were inside Rose’s tiny room and she had shut the door behind them, Hildy began to cry—a soft, high-pitched sound.
“Arnold Hintzen tried to hurt me.” She bent over, sobs shaking her whole body.
Rose pulled Hildy into her arms and let the horrifying words sink in. Arnold Hintzen was the young man who had always prodded her to go places with him. He’d always made her shudder, with his mean eyes and persistence. Rose patted Hildy’s back and stroked her hair while she cried. Her blood boiled with anger, but she would stay calm, for Hildy.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
Hildy made an effort to stop crying and lifted her head off Rose’s shoulder. She took several jerky breaths, wiping her face with her apron. “Last night I went to the privy.” Her voice quavered with every word. “When I came out, someone stepped out of the dark and grabbed me.” She started to cry again, but soon controlled herself enough to go on. “It was too dark to see, and I didn’t know who it was. He pushed me down on the ground and told me if I screamed he would cut my throat. He flashed a knife in front of me.”
Hildy trembled all over, even though Rose held her tight.
“He got on top of me and tore my dress. I told him that if he didn’t stop I would tell Lord Hamlin and he would have him hanged. He said, ‘You can’t. You know not who I am.’ And that was when I just suddenly knew. I suppose I recognized his voice. I said, ‘Yes I do, Arnold Hintzen, and I will see you swinging from a noose.’”
Tears slid down both cheeks. She looked pale and weak.
“He slapped me and punched me in the stomach. Then he got up and left.”
Rose felt hollow and sick. “Oh, Hildy. I’m so sorry. But thank God he left.” Tears slid down her own cheeks as she closed her eyes and let the horror sweep over her at what her friend had suffered—and how much worse it could have been. It made her incident with Peter Brunckhorst seem mild.
“Have you told the bailiff?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” She thought of the bailiff’s expression the last time she’d seen him. What if he thought she had made up her incident with Peter Brunckhorst? Rose’s heart sank. Bailiff Eckehart might not trust Rose anymore. How horrible for Hildy if he were to question her honesty after such a horrible event. “Or Frau Geruscha would go with you.”
Voices echoed up the stairs, and Rose got up and opened the door.
“Rose!” Frau Geruscha’s voice called her from the bottom of the stairs. “Can you come down?”
“Yes.” She turned to Hildy. “I’ll be back.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Gunther stood waiting, his face flushed and his eyes flashing.
“Rose, may I speak with you?” he asked.
“Of course.”
Gunther motioned for her to precede him, and they walked outside into the courtyard.
“Rose, have you seen Hildy today?”
“Yes, she’s upstairs in my chamber.”
Gunther’s jaw went rigid as he stared across the courtyard. “From the way I see things, there’s no need to tell the bailiff about this.” He turned his eyes on Rose. “Hildy’s brother and I will take care of it.”
“What do you mean?” But Rose knew already.
“Tonight, we’ll see that justice is done. There’s no need to humiliate Hildy—again.”
“Are you certain, Gunther? Perhaps it’s best to allow the bailiff to handle this.”
Gunther smiled a strange, cool smile, sending a chill up Rose’s arms. “I am resolved. Don’t mention this, not even to Frau Geruscha. There’s no reason for anyone to know. David and I will take care of Arnold Hintzen.” Gunther was silent. After a few moments, he looked her in the eye. “But you must promise me—not a word to anyone.”
Rose took a deep, shaky breath. She glanced away then back again. “Are you certain, Gunther?”
“Yes.” His shoulders relaxed and he looked like himself again. “Don’t worry. Men have been taking care of their women for thousands of years. It’s instinctual.”
Rose shook her head. “Does it matter that I’m against it?”
“No.” He smiled again. “Remember, no worrying. Tell Hildy she’ll never have to give another thought to Arnold Hintzen.”
“You won’t kill him, will you?” Rose’s eyes grew wide at the thought.
“No, just punish him a bit, give him a taste of what it feels like to be helpless.”
“Please be careful.”
“I will.” Gunther turned and walked away. Rose went back inside to Hildy.
Hildy seemed pleased with the idea that Gunther intended to personally punish Arnold for her. Rose had to admit, the thought was somewhat satisfying to her as well. But after Hildy went home and Rose was alone with Frau Geruscha, she began to feel uneasy. Was it wrong, even dangerous, to keep Arnold Hintzen’s attack a secret from the duke’s bailiff? The thought of them taking the man’s punishment into their own hands smacked of vengeance, and the Bible said vengeance belonged to God. It was tempting to speak to Frau Geruscha about it, but she ignored the urge.
Chapter 15
Lord Rupert came by the next afternoon and diverted Rose’s attention with a story of a mouse the servants had been trying all day to catch. It had led them on a merry chase, resulting in a broken stool, a sprained ankle, and the upset of a pot of frumenty.
When Frau Geruscha was out of earshot, he whispered, “Is the old woman treating you well?”
Rose squirmed at his referring to her mistress that way.
He had made other derogatory comments, accusing Frau Geruscha of trying to control Rose’s thoughts. Although far from agreeing with his suggestions, Rose still couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Frau Geruscha’s disapproval of Lord Rupert was ill-motivated.
A tiny sprout of resentment had sprung up within Rose. Whenever Frau Geruscha pursed her lips at seeing Lord Rupert, Rose felt an urge to defend him, loudly and firmly. But she could never be so bold with Frau Geruscha, who had always been so good to her, taking a special interest in her when she was a little girl, declaring that she was unusually intelligent, educating her, and finally, apprenticing her. If Frau Geruscha had not favored her so, Rose would still be living in her parents’ hovel, working hard in the fields and the forest, or worse yet, married to someone she didn’t love.
Even if Frau Geruscha’s attitude toward Rupert was ill-motivated, Rose could never be disrespectful to her or believe that her mistress wished anything other than what was best for her apprentice.
Two days after Gunther told Rose about his plan to punish Arnold Hintzen, Gunther came again to talk to Rose. He pulled a stool close to Rose’s chair and said quietly, “David and I took care of Arnold Hintzen. He’ll never come near Hildy again.”
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” Rose whispered.
“No, of course not. But we made him sorry. We became his missing conscience, I’d say. He’ll think twice before hurting another woman.”
He changed the subject and said he had been hired by Duke Nicolaus for his illumination skills. He would be illustrating the books the scribes were copying. “My first project will be a new Psalter for the duchess.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Gunther!”
“Now that I am employed, I’m looking for a house. When I find one—or build one—I’ll be wanting a wife. Do you think Hildy would accept me?”
Rose smiled. “Yes, and I hope you won’t make her wait too long.”
“I’m a prize worth waiting for, don’t you think?”
“Cocky now that you’ve defended your maiden’s honor, aren’t you?”
They both laughed, causing Frau Geruscha to peek around the doorway from the storage room.
“I’d better go.” Gunther bowed to Frau Geruscha. He winked at Rose and departed.
Two
days later, Hildy came in the door while Rose rubbed Wolfie’s head.
“Oh, Hildy, it’s so wonderful to see you.” Rose jumped up and grabbed her friend’s arm. “It will only take me a moment to put away these herbs. Then will you walk with me around the courtyard? I feel like a prisoner.” She whispered the last few words to make sure Frau Geruscha didn’t hear.
Rose asked Frau Geruscha if she could go for a walk with Hildy, just around the courtyard. Upon receiving Frau Geruscha’s blessing the two of them, followed by Wolfie, strolled out into the sunshine.
“Tell me something exciting.” Rose hooked her arm through Hildy’s.
“I love Gunther.” She giggled exultantly.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well, Arnold Hintzen is missing, or so says his mother.”
“Good riddance. I suppose he was deservedly ashamed and ran away.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about him. Have you heard anything about when Lord Hamlin is coming home?”
“Actually, I have.” Rose sighed, remembering feeling an eager anticipation when she’d learned Lord Hamlin would be home in a few days. Her conscience smote her. Was she so inconstant? After all, she was falling in love with Lord Rupert, wasn’t she? She wasn’t supposed to be excited about his brother coming home—the arrogant, burdened-with-responsibility older brother.
“Well?”
“He’s coming home. He didn’t find Moncore, and his wedding is five months away.”
“I feel sorry for him.” Hildy shook her head. “He’s tried so hard to protect his betrothed from that horrible conjurer, and he hasn’t even been able to find him.”
“Oh, I suppose he’ll be able to protect her well enough once they’re married. Perhaps he should be trying to find her, before Moncore does.”
“Hmm. I wonder that he hasn’t thought of that.”
That afternoon, Hildy rushed into Frau Geruscha’s chambers, her eyes red, her face pale and desperate. She latched onto Rose and began to sob.
Rose had the eerie sensation that she had been through this before.
“What is it? What’s happened?” She grasped Hildy by the shoulders.
“It’s Gunther,” Hildy choked out. “The bailiff and his men have taken him to the dungeon. The duke has already sentenced him, Rose—to death!” Hildy blanched. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Frau Geruscha!” Rose held tight to Hildy, trying to support Hildy’s weight as she went limp in her arms.
Frau Geruscha entered from the storage room. “Oh my!”
The two of them half carried, half dragged Hildy to the bed and laid her on her back.
“Is she sick?” Frau Geruscha asked.
“I know not, I know not.” Rose pressed her hands to her face. “I wish she would wake up and tell me!” She wanted to cry, to relieve the hard knot in her chest, but that wouldn’t help her find out what had happened—although she was afraid she knew why Gunther was sentenced to die.
Frau Geruscha made a few passes under Hildy’s nose with a handful of pungent herbs and she began to rouse. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, weakly lifting her hand and swatting at the offensive odor.
“Hildy? Are you all right?” Rose took Hildy’s hand in hers as she hovered over her.
Hildy opened her eyes and looked up at Rose. Her face wrinkled up again. Tears overflowed their banks and slid across her temples into her hairline.
“Oh, Rose. I can’t bear it. It’s too horrible.”
“Don’t cry. I know there is something we can do. Please tell me everything. We’ll save Gunther. We will.” Rose infused her words with raw determination, hoping to bolster Hildy’s courage.
“They found Arnold Hintzen, Rose. He was dead. In the river. Someone said Gunther did it. When the bailiff asked him about it, I guess he must have said he did. I’m not sure, Rose. But I don’t care if he did kill Arnold Hintzen. I love him. He can’t die. I couldn’t bear it.”
Rose sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Hildy into her arms. She had never felt so helpless in her life. O God, please, please do something. Don’t let Gunther die. Surely he didn’t kill him. Something else must have happened. O Lord, please help us.
Rose tried to think. She had to find Gunther a way out of his sentence. But first she had to find out exactly what happened to Arnold Hintzen.
“Frau Geruscha, help me. Make Bailiff Eckehart take me to see Gunther.”
“Child, he’s in the dungeon. Are you sure you want to—”
“Yes! Frau Geruscha, please.”
“Rose…perhaps you should let his family try to help him. Besides, I don’t think there will be anything that can be done.”
“His mother has already tried,” Hildy wailed. “The duke won’t listen to her.”
“I must try. Please help me.” Rose was determined to help Gunther, since she felt partially responsible. And to help him she had to find out from him exactly what happened.
“Very well, then.” Frau Geruscha’s brows were knit together in wrinkles of worry. “Hildy, stay here. Don’t try to get up. Will you be all right for a few minutes?”
Hildy nodded, looking like a frightened, lost child.
Rose bent and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry. God will help us.”
Chapter 16
Wilhelm, Georg, and Christoff made it to the little valley hamlet in the northern section of the Harz Mountains after riding for several days. A cold drizzle started falling. Wilhelm was anxious to find a stable for the horses and an inn with beds, preferably without lice, for himself and his men.
The first establishment they came to seemed promising for the former—less so for the latter. Two shutters hung awry, providing inferior protection from the cold rain. The front door boasted a deep groove in the middle of it about the size of an ax blade. Raucous laughter, obviously influenced by too much wine, drifted out.
The three men debated on whether they should go on in the rain to try to find a better place or stay where they were. Christoff and Georg suggested they stay. “The next place may be worse,” Georg said, grunting, “in this God-forsaken…” His voice trailed off.
They saw to their horses first, making sure the stableman provided them some hay. Then Wilhelm and his knights slogged toward the inn after the stable hand assured him that at least one room was available.
They entered the smoky hovel, barely lit by a few stinking candles of pork grease. The patrons looked them up and down. Noting the three men’s swords and confident postures, they quickly averted their glances.
Wilhelm fought his curiosity, thinking better of asking any questions until he’d had a night’s sleep. The area was known for its soothsayers and self-described witches and conjurers, and the locals might not take to strangers on the hunt for one of their own kind. The bishop who ruled this section of the Harz turned a blind eye to the pagan beliefs and rituals espoused by his people. Wilhelm had gone to him to ask permission to seize Moncore, if he were found, and take him back to Hagenheim. The bishop had grudgingly granted his request but offered no help.
Wilhelm strode forward and asked the serving maid for a room. She left and came back with the proprietress, a nearly toothless woman with a rotund figure and a stronger than usual body odor.
“I have just the thing for you,” she said, taking a candle and leading the way up the stairs.
She opened the door of the room and Wilhelm turned his head to avoid the smell that assaulted him.
“The last boarders enjoyed their incense. Burned a lot of sandalwood and such, they did.”
Three straw mattresses lay on the wooden floor. Nothing else was visible in the room. Wilhelm didn’t think what he smelled was sandalwood, but he decided not to argue the point.
“Stow your things and come down for some lamb stew.”
Wilhelm hesitated but Georg and Christoff were already brushing past him and tossing their bags in the middle of the floor, where the barest light filtered in
through the cracks in the shutters.
After eating his meal of lamb stew—flavored, so it seemed, with a few weeds and a sprinkling of dirt—in a dark corner table of the inn, Wilhelm wearily climbed the stairs again. He wished for a bath but knew better than to expect any facilities besides a nearby stream or lake. His large tub at home would be a welcome sight upon his return.
In the room, Wilhelm stared at his mattress. Fleas. He scowled with hatred for them and their vicious biting. He had traveled enough to suspect they infested every inn mattress in the Holy Roman Empire. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of dried pennyroyal and sprinkled it on his mattress.
“Trying to keep away the little beasties?” Christoff asked. The two knights looked at each other and laughed.
“We’ll see who’s laughing in the morning.”
He lay his sword beside his bed, and Georg and Christoff did the same. Then Wilhelm pulled his blanket from his saddle bag and wrapped it tightly around himself, fully clothed, before lying down. He lay on his back and looked straight up at the ceiling, since turning his head to the side brought the odor of stale sweat to his nostrils. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep.
He was surprised to see bright fingers of sunlight highlighting the dust of the tiny room when he opened his eyes. Georg and Christoff were both stirring. Wilhelm saw Christoff scratching his chest, and Georg was scratching his neck.
“Fleas?”
The two grimaced and muttered under their breath. Wilhelm grinned.
They strapped on their swords and went downstairs. After they had drunk some warm ale, Wilhelm gave his knights a significant stare and inclined his head toward the door. They took the hint and exited. When the proprietress returned, he called her over. “Frau, do you know of any conjurers of pagan magic in the area?”
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Who wants to know?”
“Someone who’s very discreet.” Wilhelm pushed a gold coin across the rough wooden table toward her.