The Healer's Apprentice

  By the time Rose topped the hill, her headache was worse and her neck had begun to feel stiff and sore. Should she turn back? First she would make it to the stream for a drink. Wolfie bounded far ahead of her. She lost sight of him before she entered the forest.

  She sank to her knees by the stream bank and dipped her hand in, drawing the water to her lips. When she swayed and nearly fell face first into the trickling brook, she sat back on her heels, rubbing her forehead with her wet hand.

  Something was wrong.

  “Wolfie!” she called. She slowly got to her feet. Her head ached worse than ever, and she put her hands against her temples. When she tried to turn her head to look for the dog, she gasped in pain.

  Confusion threw a fog over her thoughts as she turned in a circle. Was she looking for Wolfie? She couldn’t remember. She wanted to go home but wasn’t sure if she lived in town or in the forest.

  Wolfie broke through the underbrush and tromped toward her.

  “Wolfie, we have to go home.” Rose started off through the trees. She stretched her arms out in her effort to not look down or move her head.

  Soon she came to the small clearing where her parents’ cottage stood. The door hung open. She wandered inside. Perhaps her mother had some soup she could sip. Her throat was feeling sore.

  “Mama?”

  She looked around. No one was there. Leaves swirled around the dirt floor, and no fire burned.

  “Mama? Agathe? Dorothye?” Where was everyone? Where was her bed? It wasn’t very cold today but still, there should have been a cook fire.

  A vague memory stirred in her foggy mind, of a castle, and of a house in town. O God, there’s something wrong with my head. I can’t think. She sank down on the dirt floor. Unable to hold up her head another minute, she lay full length, moaning at the pain in her neck.

  Wolfie licked her cheek. Rose weakly brushed him away. The dog stretched out beside her, whimpering in his high-pitched dog’s voice.

  “It’s all right, Wolfie. I’ll lie here until I feel better.”

  Rose shut her eyes and darkness closed over her.

  Wilhelm stared out the window of the Great Hall that faced the courtyard. The sky had been darkening all afternoon. Though the morning had been warm, a frigid wind had moved in around noon, bringing colder air and even freezing rain. Ice now covered the ground, turning it silver. He didn’t envy anyone caught out in this weather.

  “Lord Hamlin.”

  He turned and was surprised to see Frau Geruscha hurrying toward him. Her forehead was creased with anxiety and desperation shaded her eyes.

  “Yes, Frau Geruscha?”

  “It’s Rose.”

  His body tensed as he waited for her to catch her breath.

  “I don’t know where she is. She left this morning to go for a walk and hasn’t returned.”

  Fear stabbed his heart. His gaze darted to the window. “Do you have any idea where she might be?”

  “No.” Frau Geruscha clasped her hands together. “And now it’s sleeting. I sent a messenger to her parents’ home, but they haven’t seen her. I’m so worried. She was upset this morning, but I don’t think she would run away. You don’t suppose Peter Brunckhorst—or Moncore…?”

  “I’ll find her.” He spun around and barked to a servant, “Get Christoff and Georg. Bring them to the stable and tell them to wait for me.” He turned back to Geruscha. The fear in her eyes sent a wave of blood pulsing through his body. “I have an idea where to look. If she isn’t there, I’ll come back for my knights and we’ll search for her until we find her.”

  He took time only to grab two woolen cloaks then ran to the stable.

  Instead of waiting for the stable boy to help him saddle Shadow, he grabbed the gear himself and readied his horse to ride. He threw one of the cloaks around his shoulders and tucked the other one under his arm. Swinging himself into the saddle, he set out, urging Shadow into his fastest gallop. He prayed for protection for Shadow’s legs. Don’t let him slip on the ice.

  His heart pounded in rhythm with the horse’s hooves. O God, please help me find her. Please keep her safe. Show me where to look. If Peter Brunckhorst or Moncore had her…He couldn’t let himself think about that yet. He had a feeling he knew where she was, almost as if God had whispered it in his ear.

  The icy rain pelted his face and hands like a thousand tiny pinpricks. His body heat warmed the extra cloak that was tucked against his side. He hoped he would soon be able to wrap it around Rose.

  He guided Shadow first toward Rose’s tree on the hill, then to her favored spot in the woods beside the waterfall. Not seeing her at either of those places, he began searching for her father’s old house. He had to find it soon, before night fell and it grew even darker.

  He pushed Shadow down the narrow path that he believed led to the woodcutter’s cottage. Shadow responded nimbly to his commands as Wilhelm guided him off the path time and again, searching the woods for the cottage. It was so dark in the dense forest, with the thick clouds darkening the sky, he couldn’t see far. “God, help me!” Wilhelm cried out. Every moment counted. With the fading light, the evening air grew colder and colder. If Rose did happen to be in the little cottage, she would be freezing by now. “God, help me find it!”

  Wolfie’s warning bark and growls came to him from his right. He turned Shadow toward the sound. Soon he spotted the dark square of the house. “Thank you, God.” He leapt off Shadow’s back. Hold on, Rose. I’m coming.

  Chapter 23

  “It’s me, Wolfie. That’s a good boy.”

  The dog stood in the open doorway. Wilhelm slowed his steps and held out his hand to him, waiting for him to catch his scent and remember that he was a friend. The dog sniffed and then whimpered, moving aside. Wilhelm strode quickly into the house.

  “Rose?” A dark form lay on the floor. He crossed the floor and dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Thirsty.”

  Rose was lying on her side. Wilhelm laid his hand on her forehead. Burning hot.

  She shivered. He whipped out the woolen cloak he’d kept against his side and spread it over her. “Everything is all right. I’m here.”

  He jumped up and whirled around, searching for something that would hold water. Spotting a metal dipper with a broken handle on a shelf, he grabbed it and ran outside to the stream behind the house. He dipped it into the icy water and hastened back inside.

  Wilhelm sat on the floor beside her and slipped his arm underneath her. He lifted her head and shoulders and propped her against his chest. She grimaced, but still didn’t open her eyes. “Drink this.” He placed the cup to her lips.

  Some water dribbled down her chin then she parted her lips and drank. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “Rose. I’m here. I’m taking you home.” He smoothed back the strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “Drink some more.” He held the cup to her lips again.

  “Thank you.”

  Her voice was raspy and weak, but it gave him hope.

  “I don’t think I can walk,” she said.

  “No, you don’t have to walk.”

  Wilhelm pulled the hood of the cloak over her head and lifted her into his arms. She moaned.

  “Are you in pain? Where?”

  Her eyes were closed as she spoke. “My neck. But I think I’m merely tired.” Her voice trailed off.

  Wilhelm carried her outside where Shadow stood waiting. He lifted Rose’s limp body and held her in the saddle while he mounted up behind her. He opened his cloak and pulled her against him, wrapping the material around her, protecting her from the rain and sleet that was still falling. Her head lay against his chest, just below his chin. He pulled her hood low over her face, seized the reins, and urged Shadow forward.

  Rose moaned and Wilhelm slowed Shadow’s pace. He pressed his lips against the top of her head. “Everything’s all right now. I’m taking you home.” The heat of her feverish cheek burned through his clothing.

&n
bsp; God, heal her. Don’t let her die. The words of his prayer repeated over and over to the rhythm of Shadow’s hooves.

  Her body shuddered and she snuggled closer to him. She placed one hand against his chest and slipped her other hand around to his back. She mumbled something, but he couldn’t make out the words.

  His temples pounded with his urgency to get Rose to Frau Geruscha. But he tried not to let Shadow move at too quick a pace. Finally, after making Shadow walk the whole way to keep from causing her pain, they neared the town gate. The guard recognized Wilhelm and let them in. He guided Shadow toward the southwest tower of the castle.

  “We’re here, Rose. I have you.” He slid off the horse, pulling her off after him while supporting her head and neck. He cradled her in his arms as he carried her into Frau Geruscha’s chamber.

  “You found her!” Frau Geruscha hurried toward them. Her relieved tone and expression immediately turned to alarm. “Is she hurt?”

  “She’s burning up with fever.” Wilhelm lowered her carefully onto the bed and she moaned again, her face scrunching up in pain. “Her neck hurts and she’s confused.”

  Wilhelm watched the color drain from Frau Geruscha’s face.

  “What? What is it?” Wilhelm demanded.

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Tell me.” Wilhelm took a step toward her.

  “She must have what the baker’s daughter had.”

  “The baker’s daughter? What happened to her?”

  Frau Geruscha would not look up. “She died.”

  Wilhelm’s heart stopped.

  “But that doesn’t mean…Rose is older and stronger.”

  Wilhelm fixed his eyes on Frau Geruscha. “Pray for her. Now.”

  She knelt by the bed and Wilhelm fell to his knees beside her and made the sign of the cross. Frau Geruscha placed her hands on Rose, one on her shoulder, the other on her head. Wilhelm laid his hands on her lower leg.

  Her quiet voice began, “Merciful God, heal your child, Rose. Make her well. Take away her fever and her pain. In the name of Jesus.”

  Wilhelm stared at Rose’s face. Frau Geruscha stood. He took her place, kneeling beside Rose, and touched her forehead. Just as hot as before. A shard of disappointment pierced his chest. He lifted her hand. It was ice cold and he rubbed it with both hands, trying to restore the warmth. “Rose? Rose, can you hear me?”

  Rose’s eyelids flickered open and her feverish eyes focused on Wilhelm’s face.

  “Get well,” he whispered.

  Rose swallowed and a little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I love you.” And she closed her eyes again.

  Wilhelm stared, his breath caught in his chest.

  “I need you to go now, Lord Hamlin.” Frau Geruscha touched his shoulder.

  Still dazed by Rose’s statement, Wilhelm stood. He laid Rose’s hand gently by her side on the bed and looked at Frau Geruscha. “Let me stay. I can help. Let me do something.”

  Frau Geruscha shook her head. “You shouldn’t be here. Do you want to get sick too?”

  He couldn’t keep his eyes off Rose. Her chestnut hair splayed around her head, her cheeks glowed red with fever, and her black lashes feathered against her skin.

  She loves me.

  Frau Geruscha tried pushing him toward the door, but he didn’t budge. “Here.” She bent over to pick up a water bucket. “Take this. Find a servant boy to get me some water from the well. I need cold water to bathe her, to get the fever down. Then get someone to guard my door. I don’t want anyone coming in this room and spreading this sickness.”

  He stood staring at her. How could she be so calm?

  “Pray. That’s what she needs from you.”

  Wilhelm grabbed the bucket and strode out the door. He quickly filled it and brought it back. He watched as Frau Geruscha dipped a cloth into the icy cold water and wiped Rose’s face.

  “Please go now.” Frau Geruscha didn’t look at him.

  He turned and stumbled back outside, slumping against the closed door. He was glad for the darkness of night and the freezing rain which kept everyone else inside. He was cold and wet, but somehow he barely felt it. He kept remembering Rose snuggled against his chest, the feel of her body in his arms. He closed his eyes as he recalled the way she had looked at him, the way she said “I love you.”

  Oh, he knew she was sick and delirious or she wouldn’t have said it, but he also knew it was true. There had always been something between them. They understood each other. She needed him. She loved him.

  O God. I can’t bear to lose her. Please let her live.

  But if she did live, he would lose her anyway, when he married his betrothed.

  Wilhelm clutched his chest, at the pain inside his heart. He turned his feet toward the chapel. I can’t lose her, God. There has to be a way.

  Rose slipped in and out of the darkness. Sometimes she fought to open her eyes and understand what was happening. Other times she simply prayed for relief from the pain and feverish discomfort.

  She was finally able to open her eyes enough to see the faint light of morning peeking in the window on the other side of the room. She blinked, trying to remember how she had gotten back to Frau Geruscha’s chamber after falling asleep in the old cottage in the forest.

  A knock sounded at the door, reverberating in her head. She closed her eyes again, hearing Frau Geruscha’s soft footsteps scurrying across the floor. Then voices. One of them sounded like Lord Hamlin. She wanted to concentrate, to comprehend what they were saying, but she felt her hold on consciousness slipping away. The darkness closed her off from the world again.

  “Is she better?” Wilhelm tried to look around Frau Geruscha into the room, and he caught a glimpse of Rose, lying where he had laid her the night before.

  Frau Geruscha stood in the doorway and shook her head. “No.”

  Wilhelm’s arms went weak at the anxious look on her face and the bags under her bloodshot eyes. He forced the air back into his lungs. “She’s not worse, is she?”

  “The same. Please keep praying.”

  “Isn’t there anything else I can do?”

  “Thank you, but no. I’ll send for you if she gets worse.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she closed the door.

  “God, save her.” He pressed his fist against the door. “Don’t let her die.”

  Rose awoke and opened her eyes. Now the sun shone much brighter through the window. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. “Frau Geruscha,” she rasped.

  In a moment her mistress was by her side. “What is it, child?”

  “May I have some water?”

  “Of course.” She went away and came back with a cup. She held Rose up with her arm.

  Rose drank two gulps and lay back. Her head was spinning and she wondered if the water was about to come back up.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little.” She tried to stay awake, but already her hold on reality was slipping away.

  “Rose?”

  She tried to respond, but her mouth wouldn’t obey her. Her heavy eyelids closed and she saw and heard no more.

  How much time had passed while she slept? She looked around the room. Frau Geruscha was putting another log on the fire. Rose sighed, feeling a bit less feverish, hoping the worst of her sickness was gone. She studied the sunlight coming through the window. What time of day was it?

  “Rose?” Frau Geruscha turned. “You’re awake, child.” She hurried to her with a cup of water. “Drink.”

  Rose propped herself up on her elbow and drank the water. She lay back down, feeling exhausted merely from that slight exertion. Again she tried to remember something about how she had gotten back to Frau Geruscha’s chambers. She had a faint memory of being on a horse.

  “Rose? How do you feel?” Frau Geruscha laid her hand on her forehead. “Oh, thank God! The Lord of heaven be praised, you feel much cooler.”

  “I think I’m better. I feel better.” Rose closed her eyes, wanting
to pursue the memory of what had happened to her the first day of her sickness. Slipping back to the darkness and pain of that evening, she smelled a familiar, masculine scent with a hint of leather—Lord Hamlin.

  She was on the floor of her father’s old cottage. Lord Hamlin held a cup of water to her lips. She felt his arms around her, lifting her up, holding her against his chest. His velvet doublet was soft against her cheek, and his voice was soothing and low. “I’m here. I’m taking you home.” He held her on his horse all the way here, then carried her in and laid her on the bed.

  Her heart began to beat faster, compounding her lightheadedness. Had that truly happened? Or was it a product of her sickness, along with the other hazy, delirious thoughts she’d been having?

  “Frau Geruscha, how did I get back here?”

  Frau Geruscha simply smiled.

  “Did Lord Hamlin bring me back?”

  “I told him you were missing. You were gone all day. He went looking for you and brought you home.” Frau Geruscha averted her eyes.

  Rose suddenly remembered something that made her cheeks burn. She swallowed. “I didn’t—I mean, did I…say something embarrassing to Lord Hamlin?”

  “Embarrassing?”

  Rose couldn’t bring herself to repeat the words. “Did I say anything after he brought me in?”

  “Oh, well, you may have said something. You were sick, out of your head.” Frau Geruscha smiled and turned away again, as though trying to hide her amusement.

  Rose closed her eyes in mortification. What must he think of me?

  Frau Geruscha kept her back to Rose, tending the fire.

  Even through the horror of her realization, Rose was baffled that Frau Geruscha had smiled. Would she smile about Rose saying she loved Lord Rupert? No, she would scowl and scold. It was probably because Frau Geruscha believed Lord Hamlin incapable of improper behavior toward her. Wouldn’t she be shocked if she had seen the way Lord Hamlin had kissed her hand the night he brought her through the tunnel.