He knew what he had to do. Rupert had asked Wilhelm for his help, and he knew it hadn’t been easy for him. He would be glad Rupert had apparently given up his avaricious goal of becoming the next bishop. As surprising as it was, Rupert truly must want to marry Rose. And Wilhelm would help him convince Rose that Rupert’s intentions toward her were good. Rupert hadn’t used the word “marriage,” but he said he wanted to commit to her, to love her and only her for the rest of his life. It was the best thing for Rose—and more than other maidens in her position in life could ever hope for.
The kindest thing he could do for Rose would be to convince her to marry Rupert.
But what if something else was preventing Rose from accepting Rupert’s suit? What if she felt the same way about Wilhelm that he felt about her? He groaned deep in his throat, sinking his head into his hands. He never should have danced with her. It was a foolish, weak thing to do. Of course, she might not care for him at all. But if she did…he needed to do something to turn her thoughts from him to Rupert.
What was it he had told himself more than once? That he would never be in danger of losing his heart to a mere woodcutter’s daughter. He had been prideful to think that way, to believe the poorer classes were somehow less noble in character. Rose had shown him how wrong he had been. Maybe if he could prove to her that Rupert was not prideful…He wasn’t sure how he would do it, but he would find her tomorrow and convince her that Rupert was the one who could offer her a future. And that he, Wilhelm, could offer her nothing but pain.
As he tried to change his thoughts away from Rose, something more troubling entered his mind. He’d never stopped searching for Moncore, so why hadn’t he found him yet? He knew Moncore was good at disguising himself. As much as he hated to admit it, the man did seem to have a certain amount of supernatural power, a demonic force that was keeping Wilhelm from finding him. But wasn’t God on Wilhelm’s side? Certainly God’s power was greater.
“O God, I vowed I would find my betrothed’s enemy, that accursed conjurer, Moncore. I’ve tried.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tightening his hands into fists. “I’ve tried everything, traveled everywhere, searched out every rumor, sent out spies. I need to find him, and soon. I can’t let him get to her. If I do, I’m an utter failure.”
Wilhelm groaned. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck. He pressed his burning eyes with the heel of his hands. Never had he failed at anything. And this was so important.
O God, why can’t I find him? He wasn’t sure he’d ever asked God for help before. Perhaps that had been his mistake.
“Help me now, God. Help me.”
Chapter 10
Frau Geruscha finished bandaging a cut on a boy’s hand and sent him on his way home. Rose cleaned up the room, getting down on her knees to scrub the floor clean of the boy’s blood. As Rose finished up, a bearded man wearing the purple and gold livery of the Duke of Marienberg appeared in the doorway.
“Frau Geruscha?”
“Yes?” Frau Geruscha’s expression changed from expectancy to shock as soon as she saw the man, and she hurried to the door.
The man held out a folded parchment. Frau Geruscha snatched it and held it against her apron, as though to hide the wax seal on the front. But Rose had already glimpsed the purple and gold ribbon hanging down from it—the colors of the Godehard family.
The back of Rose’s neck prickled. Why would Godehard, the Duke of Marienberg, send Frau Geruscha a message?
Her mistress put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a coin. She pressed it into the man’s hand.
“I will be back in an hour for frau’s reply.”
“Very good.” Frau Geruscha nodded to dismiss him. The man turned and left.
“What is that, Frau Geruscha?”
“What?” Her head jerked up. “Oh, it’s nothing, child. Nothing.” Frau Geruscha slipped the letter into her apron pocket. “Why don’t you take Wolfie and gather some liverwort and feverfew? We’re almost out, and it’s a beautiful day for a walk.”
Rose was stunned by her mistress keeping a secret from her, and by her having a reason to correspond with the Duke of Marienberg. Should she ask what was in the letter? But her mistress looked much too preoccupied to be patient with Rose’s questions.
Rose walked toward the door and made a clicking sound with her tongue. Wolfie jumped up from his place in the corner and leapt out ahead of her. She gave Frau Geruscha one last backward glance before stepping out.
What could the letter be about? And why was Frau Geruscha trying to hide it from her?
Rose held up her skirts as she walked free of the town gate and headed out into the green grass beyond. She lifted her face and closed her eyes, the summer sunshine warming her shoulders. Passing the tree on the hill, she followed the stream into the shade of the forest. She ran her hand along the gray bark of the beech trees as Wolfie crashed through the bushes nearby.
After gathering herbs for some time, she came to a place where the stream waters pooled and then tumbled off the rocks into the stream bed below. Sinking onto the grass and pulling off her shoes, she dipped her bare feet in the pool of water at the base of the waterfall.
Her mind wandered over many events, puzzling first over Frau Geruscha’s letter and her strange behavior, then over Lord Rupert’s flirtations, then the budding relationship between Hildy and Gunther.
She placed her hands on the grass behind her and let her head hang back, closing her eyes and listening to the water splashing on the rocks and dribbling away downstream. Taking one deep breath after another, she let her thoughts wander—until she became aware of some noises across the stream, not far away. Probably Wolfie chasing a chipmunk. “Oh Wolfie, leave those poor animals alone.”
She listened but heard no answering movement from Wolfie.
Rose’s skin tingled along her arms with the sensation that someone was watching her. She opened her eyes.
Lord Hamlin stood beside his black horse on the other side of the stream, hardly five yards away. She jerked herself upright, snatching her feet out of the water.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Rose threw her skirt over her ankles. Her heart fluttered at the way he was looking at her. “Oh, no. I was just sitting here…with Wolfie.” She looked around but didn’t see the dog anywhere.
“You probably want some solitude. I can go.” Lord Hamlin took a step backward, holding Shadow’s reins.
“No, you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.” Of course he didn’t have to go. The whole region belonged to him. “What brings you here?”
“Thought I would take one last ride through the woods before I go away. I won’t see this place for a while.”
Rose wanted to ask his destination, but was afraid to ask such a personal question. But he had volunteered the information that aroused her curiosity hadn’t he? “Where are you going?”
He patted his horse, giving him permission to drink and graze, then sat down on the grassy bank across from Rose. He leaned back against a tree and rested his arm on his knee. “To a region north of here, in the Harz Mountains, to look for Moncore.”
Rose nodded, struggling to hide how this news deflated her. She would miss him. “Do you have reason to believe he is there?”
“Duke Godehard’s spies believe he may have gone there to rendezvous with his pagan friends. We know he likes to hide in that area.” He leaned his head against the tree. “But sometimes I think he’s making up these rumors himself to throw us off.”
He looked tired, his shoulders slightly stooped, his eyelids low.
The silence was broken only by the crunch of Shadow’s teeth clipping and chewing the grass, the birds singing overhead, and the rush of the waterfall. Rose started thinking about Lord Hamlin’s betrothed. Her parents had been so afraid of Moncore demonizing the child that they’d hidden her away.
“Do you believe Moncore has power to demonize your betrothed?” Rose blushed, realizing she had asked the question out loud.<
br />
Lord Hamlin sat forward. “I believe he will do something to hurt her, if he can find her.”
“You believe in God and angels and miracles, don’t you?”
“Yes. God still performs miracles, and the Bible says that angels are spirits sent to minister to us. I just don’t agree that every failed crop, every illness, every accident is caused by a demon.”
“And you don’t believe they exist?”
“I’ve never seen one.” Their eyes met and he smiled. “You aren’t trying to get me excommunicated with all these questions, are you?”
Rose laughed. “I doubt I’m any safer from that than you.”
“Oh? What damnable philosophies do you adhere to?” He lifted a brow at her as he smiled in amusement.
“I’m a woman who reads the Bible. Isn’t that enough? It wouldn’t be wise to confess the rest.”
“A woman is entitled to her secrets.” He stopped smiling and looked agitated, as if he suddenly remembered something. He was no longer looking at her. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. She wished she knew what he was thinking.
He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. When he spoke, he still didn’t look at her. “Do you remember the boy I found stealing an apple in the Marktplatz on May Day?”
She nodded.
“I discovered who his parents are—or were. His father was a farmer, south of town, who fell to drinking and disappeared a year ago. The boy’s mother died shortly thereafter of a fever. Lukas had been sleeping in a ditch, or in the forest, or in whatever shelter he could find.”
“Oh, the poor thing!” Rose cried. Her heart constricted as she thought about the boy who now helped clean the stables and ate his meals with her and Frau Geruscha in the kitchen. He often asked to pet Wolfie. “I can’t believe his father would leave him. So sad.”
“It’s not uncommon, especially among the lower classes.”
Rose felt a hollow place open in the pit of her stomach. The lower classes? “What do you mean by that? That poor people are less virtuous?”
Lord Hamlin shrugged. “Most nobles believe so. Think of it this way. A wealthier family has more reason to uphold the family honor, more at stake. They’re expected to look out for the interests of God and the Church. It’s their duty. A poor family has no such duty.”
“Every mortal soul has a duty to God. No person of nobility can take that from him.”
“Forgive me if I offended you. It’s a much-accepted theory.”
“I’m not offended, merely sorry that you hold to such a theory.” She clenched her teeth and tried to look cool and unaffected, but already she could feel the tears damming behind her eyes. She crossed her arms and struggled to contain the rush of emotions flooding her.
He didn’t answer her.
She could hardly believe Lord Hamlin…Of course, she knew this was the way the wealthier townspeople thought, always looking down on those who were poor. She had understood from childhood that people judged each other by their occupations, by their clothing, by their wealth or lack thereof. But Lord Hamlin? She had thought he was different.
“So my friend Hildy, because her father died and her mother struggles to feed her family, is not as virtuous as a merchant’s child, who dresses in fine clothes and hurls insults at a beggar?” Her throat hurt from holding back the tears
He didn’t answer, simply cleared his throat as though he was uncomfortable.
She blinked furiously. These cursed tears! She turned her back on him to keep him from seeing them. What was wrong with her? How could she embarrass herself this way? She rubbed the salty drops off her cheeks.
“But Rupert, he’s different. He doesn’t feel that way. He thinks everyone should be treated the same. He’s always felt that way.”
Rupert? Why was he talking about Lord Rupert now?
“I think I should go,” she said, still with her back to him. She called Wolfie, her voice cracking.
“If anyone should go, it’s me.” Wilhelm hesitated, reluctant to leave, but waiting for her signal.
What kind of boorish lout am I? He had made Rose cry. He could tell by the way her shoulders shook and she kept wiping her face. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might make her cry. He felt sick.
“Rose?”
She didn’t answer.
Please forgive me. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, but I’m doing this for you. It was probably a good thing they were separated by the stream. He was tempted to leap across it and try to comfort her. But he couldn’t. He had to stay true to his betrothed, and the only way he could do that—and help Rose—was to convince her that his brother was a good person and that he wanted to marry her.
He cleared his throat. He might as well go through with the rest of his plan and get it over with. “I want to talk to you about Rupert.”
Rose looked up in surprise. Her eyes looked red and puffy. Guilt stabbed him again, but he plunged into his prepared speech.
“I can understand why you would be wary of him, why Frau Geruscha may be a little suspicious of his attentions to you. But he isn’t a bad fellow. Even though he’s young, I believe he’s made up his mind about who he wants to marry.” He stopped and considered how to proceed. Absently, he rubbed his chest, trying to get at the pain there.
Rose stared. “Are you trying to warn me away from him? I know his mother must have an idea who she thinks he should marry—”
“No, no. I’m talking about you, Rose. He swears he will love no one else but you.”
Rose’s eyes widened, then she looked down again. He couldn’t see her face, as a thick strand of hair fell across her cheek. She shook her head. “Why are you telling me this?”
Yes, why am I? He wasn’t doing it to help his brother, even though he’d come to Wilhelm and asked for his help. He was doing it for Rose, to turn her heart toward Rupert. Rupert could protect her, love her. “I thought you would want to know. Rupert spoke to me yesterday and said he didn’t think you trusted him.” He closed his eyes, feeling like a fool. “But you must judge him yourself, of course. I simply wanted to let you know that I now believe his intentions to be honorable.”
“Now?” Rose looked up at him, lifting her eyebrows.
He shrugged. “I know my brother well, and he hasn’t always behaved as honorably as…I didn’t intend to let him trifle with you.” He looked down at his boots, scuffing a tuft of grass with his toe. In character Rose was far above his brother, but what did that matter when Rupert was her best hope for a husband who could take care of her and provide a better life for her?
He looked up and let his eyes meet hers.
He had come searching for her, and when he had found her sitting beside the waterfall with her eyes closed and looking so beautiful, he’d nearly decided to forget his plan. Her lips were parted and her hair fell in a golden brown cascade behind her, shimmering in the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He’d had to remind himself of his prayer from the night before. He’d vowed to help Rupert win her over, and so perhaps God had led him here now so that he could speak these things to her.
“You said you were going to search for Moncore. How long will you be gone?” Her voice sounded muffled.
“A few weeks at least.”
“I hope you find him. I’ll pray for your success.”
His breath caught in his throat. After he had hurt her with his callous, insensitive words, making her cry, she was still willing to pray for him. He had to swallow before he could speak. “I would appreciate your prayers very much.” He was a louse.
Rose moved to a tree and sat, keeping her eyes down.
A memory flashed before him, the look on her face when she saw his gashed-up leg, the determination in her voice and actions. Her look of compassion and her heartfelt prayer. Another memory—the way his heart stopped beating and his knees went weak after he watched her fall out of that tree. And another—the touch of her hand as they danced together. Gazing at he
r now, he couldn’t imagine her married to Rupert.
It was a good thing he was leaving. Perhaps he could contrive to stay away for quite some time.
Feeling the need to talk about Lady Salomea and his betrothal—that had been part of his plan, after all—he thought of the note that came an hour earlier. Mentioning that would at least turn his mind away from dangerous memories.
“Even if I don’t find Moncore, it looks as though my betrothed, Lady Salomea, will be coming here in a few months.”
“Oh?”
“I got a letter today from her father, Duke Godehard of Marienberg. He still intends to bring his daughter out of hiding on her nineteenth birthday, two weeks before Christmas. He’s tired of waiting for Moncore to be caught.” He cringed at his own words, that old feeling of failure rising inside him.
“I see. Will you be getting married soon after?”
“Yes. One week after.” He wondered if Rose was thinking about the fact that he would only know his bride for one week before marrying her. He hoped she wouldn’t ask him how he felt about that.
She frowned as she seemed to remember something. “It seems strange, but Frau Geruscha also got a letter today from Duke Godehard.”
Wilhelm stared at her. “Frau Geruscha? Are you certain?”
“Yes. I saw the seal.”
Wilhelm rubbed his jaw. Why would the Duke of Marienberg be sending missives to Frau Geruscha?
Wolfie crashed through the brush. He splashed across the stream and sat on his haunches in front of Wilhelm, who rubbed the dog’s head.
“I should be going,” Rose said, “before it gets dark.”
“Let me walk with you, to make sure you get back safely.”
“No, that’s not necessary. I walk here a lot. You go and enjoy your last ride. Farewell.” She turned and headed through the trees, not waiting for Wolfie.
He watched her go. The next time he saw her she could be married to Rupert. The pain in his chest grew so intense it took his breath away. So this is what a broken heart feels like.
The Healer’s Apprentice Page 11