The Healer's Apprentice

  “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.

  “Describe him to me, everything you can remember.” He leaned forward, propping his arms on his knees.

  “He’s tall, about your height, very thin, and he has black hair with streaks of white in it. He has a pointed chin and rotten teeth.”

  “Is there anything else?”

  “His eyes were very black,
as if something evil was staring out of them.” Rose shrugged. “I suppose that sounds silly.”

  Lord Hamlin shook his head. “Not at all.” He stared at the floor. The silence dragged on as he sat motionless.

  Finally, Rose spoke up. “Were you able to get closer to finding Moncore on your trip?”

  Lord Hamlin sighed then clenched his jaw. “No.” He shook his head. “Every time I go looking for him, I hear he’s in our region again.”

  “What does he looks like?”

  “I’ve only seen him once. He’s tall, with black…hair, mixed with white…and black eyes.”

  Lord Hamlin and Rose stared at each other.

  Frau Geruscha gave a startled little squeak.

  “You don’t suppose…?” Rose didn’t finish her sentence.

  Wilhelm knew what she was thinking, of course. But if Peter Brunckhorst and Moncore were the same person, why would he be after Rose?

  He stood and began pacing the floor. “This Peter Brunckhorst is playing at some sort of deception. Why else would no one know him by that name? Perhaps he and Moncore are one and the same.” He turned to Rose. “What did he say to you when he grabbed you?”

  Rose looked like she was thinking hard. “It didn’t make sense. I’m not sure I can remember. Something about me being the darling of the duke’s family, and about my face giving me away. Just nonsense. He said I wouldn’t get away from him. Then he pulled out a small pouch of powder.” Rose shuddered and wrapped her hands around her arms.

  A thought hit him like a fist between the eyes. What if Rose is Lady Salomea? He turned away from her, covering his eyes so he could think, but his thoughts were racing in a mad circle. He grabbed one and held on. Why else would Moncore want to harm Rose? It made perfect sense. If this Peter Brunckhorst was Moncore, then Rose must be his betrothed.

  There was one way to find out. He and his mother were just discussing this a few days ago. Lady Salomea was eighteen. On her nineteenth birthday, two weeks before Christmas, the Duke of Marienberg planned to take her out of hiding and bring her to Hagenheim for their wedding.

  He spun around to face her. She looked wide-eyed at him. He didn’t doubt that at that moment he probably looked like a wild man.

  He grabbed her arm. “Rose, when is your birthday? How old are you?” His heart stood still while he waited.

  She stammered, “Five weeks before Christmas. I-I’m seventeen.”

  He felt as if he’d just been punched in the stomach. He let go of her arm and stumbled back.

  He should have known. It had been a foolish thought. But now he was reeling from the disappointment. He turned away again so Rose and Frau Geruscha couldn’t watch him as he tried to recover his composure. He leaned his elbow against the stone wall and covered his face with his hand.

  For a moment he’d been the happiest man in the world.

  “Lord Hamlin? Are you all right?”

  Rose peeked around his left side. He looked a bit like he had the day he came in to get his leg sewed up. Why had he asked her how old she was? Was he thinking that she might be his betrothed? Rose would have to think about that later, because he finally opened his eyes.

  His features softened as he held her gaze. He heaved a great sigh. “I’m sorry, Rose,” he whispered. “I wish someone had been there to protect you.”

  “I did reasonably well for myself, I think.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “Yes, you did.”

  There it was again, that something that passed between them when he locked eyes with her. Rose hoped Frau Geruscha didn’t notice it. She immediately thought of Lord Rupert and felt a stab of guilt.

  “I…I’d better go.” Lord Hamlin pushed himself off the wall and stood, towering over her. He seemed taller than his brother, perhaps because he was broader in the shoulders and thicker in the chest. He had a protective, chivalrous aura about him, and Rose wanted to enjoy it, if only for a moment. He had thought, for a moment, that she was his betrothed. She was sure of it. And had been disappointed that she was not. That meant he cared for her, perhaps even loved her. It was such an amazing thought that Rose felt dizzy, and for a moment her vision blurred.

  He surprised her by taking her hand in his. “I’m glad you’re all right.” He said the words softly, almost whispering. Her whole arm tingled at his gentle squeeze.

  “Thank you.” Rose got lost in his dark blue eyes.

  He was getting married soon. She’d have to forget about him then. They couldn’t stare longingly into each other’s eyes anymore. This was the last time. Ever.

  He let go of her hand and walked out the door.

  Why did Frau Geruscha have to be so hard on Lord Rupert?

  Rose stood by while Frau Geruscha bandaged the hand of a young woman who had spilled boiling broth on herself. As Frau Geruscha explained to her how to change the bandage and check for festering, Rose’s mind wandered to Lord Rupert’s visit earlier.

  He had come to see her that morning after prayers, all polite graciousness, smiling and asking after Frau Geruscha’s health. But the frau had glared at him and answered with a monosyllable.

  Was there something her mistress wasn’t telling her about Lord Rupert? She knew he’d done some unprincipled things in his past, but he was very good natured to allow Frau Geruscha to treat him so coldly. After all, he was the son of the duke. He couldn’t be used to that kind of behavior.

  But if Lord Hamlin trusted his brother and believed Lord Rupert wanted to marry her, why wasn’t that good enough for Frau Geruscha?

  She only wished Rupert would ask her to marry him. Surely that would cure Frau Geruscha’s sour attitude toward him. And Rose had decided to accept his offer of marriage, if and when he made it. She had thought she didn’t want to marry, but now she knew that wasn’t true. She wanted to love and be loved, and if Lord Hamlin couldn’t marry her—the very idea he could was absurd—then she would marry Lord Rupert. Lord Rupert loved her, and she was sure she would have little trouble loving him back. As Hildy had told her before, he was everything a woman could want. He was handsome, cheerful, and affectionate. Rose would be happy with him—and Lord Hamlin would be happy too, married to Lady Salomea. Intelligent, mature adults could choose to love the person they were married to, whoever it was. Didn’t the Bible command wives and husbands to love each other? If it was a command, then it was possible. Besides, she was afraid she would never be very good at healing. She wasn’t like Frau Geruscha.

  If he did ask her to marry him, Rose would become Lady Rupert Gerstenberg. Frau Geruscha would be forced to address her as “Lady Rupert.” Was that why Frau Geruscha seemed so determined to convince her that Lord Rupert’s intentions were not honorable? Because she didn’t like the idea of her apprentice taking social precedence over her?

  Rose shook her head. Although it seemed a reasonable explanation, Frau Geruscha had never been prone to such petty feelings. Then why was she so hostile to Lord Rupert’s attentions to her? Shouldn’t Frau Geruscha be happy for Rose and want her to marry him?

  But perhaps Frau Geruscha didn’t believe Lord Rupert intended to marry her. Rose still had moments of disbelief herself, when she doubted his sincerity. But if Lord Hamlin believed it, it must be so. Mustn’t it?

  Her head hurt.

  The next day Lord Rupert met Rose at the well when she went to draw water. He grabbed her hand, turned her toward him, and whispered, “Come away with me, to the orchard. I have something to tell you.”

  “I can’t.” Surely he understood that she could not do such a thing.

  “Please, Rose.” He bent over her hand and planted a kiss on her wrist so hot it seemed to burn her skin.

  “Rupert! Oh, I mean, my lord—Lord Rupert—you mustn’t. People may be watching.”

  “Then meet me somewhere they won’t be watching.”

  “I cannot. What if Frau Geruscha found out?”

  “Frau Geruscha! I want to exile her to Byzantium! Is she jealous because someone loves you? Does she want you to
be miserable like her?”

  “Please, Lord Rupert, you should not say such things.”

  “Then meet me in the orchard.”

  “But why?”

  He stared down at her, his jaw tightening.

  “All right.” Rose was so confused. If she didn’t go with him, he would be angry with her. If she went and was caught, Frau Geruscha would be angry with her. “I’ll go. But I can only stay for a few minutes.”

  “When?”

  “Now. In two minutes.”

  “Don’t disappoint me.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Rose’s hand shook as she hooked the water bucket to the windlass and turned the handle to fill it. She tried to hurry across the courtyard, sloshing water and marking her path all the way.

  Oh, let Frau Geruscha not be here so I don’t have to explain. But the healer met her at the door.

  “There you are. Thank you for getting the water, Rose. I’m on my way out to visit the shoemaker’s wife, the one who fell and broke her leg. I’ll be back soon.”

  Holding back the relieved smile that started to curl her lips, Rose said, “Yes, Frau Geruscha.”

  Rose went inside but then stuck her head out and watched Frau Geruscha make her way across the courtyard. Once she was out of sight, Rose took off her apron, smoothed back her hair, and, as an afterthought, took Lord Rupert’s bracelet out of her pocket. She put it on her wrist and fastened the clasp.

  She ran out the door and headed for the orchard, with Wolfie at her heels.

  Chapter 18

  Rose approached the apple orchard that nestled in a small valley overshadowed by the castle.

  Lord Rupert stepped out of the trees with a huge smile on his face. “I wondered if you would leave me waiting here.”

  “I said I would come.”

  He stepped toward her and took her hand. He was dressed impeccably in a white linen shirt, a purple velvet doublet embroidered with white flowers, and black hose. His hair was pulled back and tied with a purple ribbon at the nape of his neck. She certainly couldn’t fault his physical appearance.