The Healer's Apprentice

by Melanie Dickerson

  “Thank you, Mother.”

  Rose sat up straight on the low stool in her new dress. Hildy stood over her, piling Rose’s curls on top of her head.

  Outwardly, Rose was nearly ready, but every time she thought about entering the Great Hall and facing a room full of elegantly dressed people, her stomach threatened to heave its contents.

  She’d thought she wouldn’t know anyone at the ball. Ha! The maidens from town, especially the daughters of the guild presidents, were sure to single her out for ridicule. Then there was Osanna, Lord Hamlin’s sweet sister. While she appeared to like Rose, Osanna couldn’t possibly realize what a bumpkin Rose was, someone who fell out of trees and would probably look just as clumsy attempting the dances.

  Lord Hamlin. He had talked to her as though she were his peer, but perhaps only because he had happened upon her outdoors—certainly an informal setting. Would he ignore her at the ball? She was beneath his station in life. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t even acknowledge her tonight.

  And yet, if she had not panicked and run away from him that day under the beech tree, how long might they have talked? He was chivalrous in both the way he behaved and the way he looked at her, so different from other men. He seemed so honorable, she felt safe with him.

  Besides, he was betrothed.

  And then there was Lord Rupert. She had only glimpsed him a couple of times since he and Lord Hamlin arrived home three weeks ago—until the day before, when he’d given her flowers.

  She wasn’t sure what to make of him. Lord Rupert had the polished manner of a person from whom compliments were free-flowing, but she had to admit, it felt good to be called “beautiful” by the son of a duke.

  “Stop fidgeting!”

  She sat still and let Hildy finish her hair. She couldn’t see herself, since Frau Geruscha didn’t own a looking glass, but she felt like a peasant dressed up to look like someone else. The dress had turned out beautifully. The gold silk skimmed the floor and the brocade bodice was studded with tiny pearls. The enormous sleeves hung from her wrists to the floor and were lined and cuffed with a dark cinnamon-red fabric.

  Frau Geruscha would escort her to the ball. Her mistress didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the prospect. Rose wondered again about Frau Geruscha’s family. She hadn’t yet summoned the courage to ask her about her background, but her family must have been wealthy, since she could read and write Latin and had lived in an abbey in preparation for becoming a nun. She wondered what had caused her to leave the abbey.

  Frau Geruscha may not have felt intimidated by the nobles and prominent burghers who would attend the ball, but Rose did. She hoped she could find a hiding place in the Great Hall where she could listen to the music without being seen.

  The thought of seeing the tradesmen’s daughters, who considered themselves in a higher class than she, made the sick feeling in her stomach worse. She thought of meeting Lady Anne, the daughter of a duke, possibly Lord Hamlin’s betrothed. Her stomach balked at that too, so she closed her eyes and tried to think of nothing. That didn’t work, as Lord Hamlin’s face immediately appeared in her mind.

  “Oh, Hildy, I’m scared to death to go to this ball. You should go in my place.”

  “I only wish I could go. There!” Hildy took her hands away from Rose’s hair, staring at Rose from head to toe. “You look absolutely beautiful.”

  As if on cue, Frau Geruscha entered the room. Rose turned to face her mistress and watched her gray eyes grow round. “Rose, you look truly…like a princess.” Frau Geruscha smiled.

  Rose smiled back. “You look very elegant too.” The rich green of her mistress’s velvet gown shimmered in the firelight.

  Frau Geruscha held out her hand. “Shall we go? I hear music.”

  Rose took a deep breath, turned to Hildy, and hugged her.

  “Don’t!” Hildy shrieked. “You’ll wrinkle your gown.”

  “Thank you, Hildy, for doing my hair. You’re the best friend anyone could have.”

  “So are you.” Tears stood in Hildy’s eyes.

  Looking at Hildy, Rose vowed silently that if there were to be any more balls in her future, she would figure out a way for her friend to attend the next one.

  But tonight she had to face the crowd without her. She walked toward Frau Geruscha and linked arms with her. I can do this. I can do this. She held her head high—she could hardly do otherwise, since her hair made her neck ache when she bent her head in any direction.

  Breathing deeply, she willed herself to stay calm. She glanced at her mistress from the corner of her eye. So content and casual were her features, Frau Geruscha looked as though she were simply walking to the market to buy herbs. She must have been at least five and forty years old, but her skin was smooth, and she was a handsome woman.

  As they walked slowly down the castle corridor toward the Great Hall, Rose whispered, “Frau Geruscha, I’m afraid. Promise me you won’t leave my side.”

  “Be not afraid, child. All will be well.”

  Rose’s heart pounded harder than ever. The blood pulsed at her temples and she took another deep breath. I can do this. I can do this.

  As they approached the door of the Great Hall, she heard the band of musicians start to play another tune. Frau Geruscha patted her hand. “Just enjoy the music.”

  Chapter 6

  Wilhelm glanced up just in time to see Rose walk in. His jaw fell. Her hair, her dress, her face…She made everyone else in the room look pale and lifeless.

  He’d better close his mouth before someone saw him staring.

  Her gaze turned in his direction and he smiled to let her know he approved.

  He suddenly realized that he had stopped playing in the middle of the song. He looked down and tried to concentrate on his lute. But his mind was filled with her image.

  A pang of guilt stabbed him. He must stop this nonsense. It was unwise to…well, to even look at her.

  He tried to concentrate on the music, but when he glanced up again, Rupert was striding from the other side of the room toward Rose. He reached her, bowed, and placed his hand over his heart. He must be asking her to dance. A knot tightened around Wilhelm’s chest.

  So this is how jealousy feels.

  Though on the outside Rose managed to control her trembling, her insides were quaking. The Great Hall seemed to stretch on forever. She’d never seen a room so large. The musicians played, sitting on stools near the south wall. People stood talking in small groups all around the room.

  Lord Hamlin’s eyes found hers. She was a little surprised to see him with the musicians, but she forgot about that as her heart flipped at his gentle smile. At least she had one friend in the room, even if he couldn’t come and talk to her.

  She observed him for a moment while his deft fingertips strummed over the lute’s strings. Watching him play comforted her, and some of her anxiety slipped away.

  She pretended not to see Lord Rupert staring at her from across the room, walking toward her. He couldn’t possibly be coming to her. But when she could no longer doubt that he intended to speak to her, she turned to face him.

  He bowed first to Frau Geruscha. Then he bowed to Rose, one hand over his heart. “Rose, we are honored that you have come tonight. You are the most beautiful woman here.”

  “I thank you, my lord.” She curtsied, her face tingling. Frau Geruscha’s expression grew cold, almost angry.

  Lord Rupert’s eyes stayed locked on Rose. “Will you do me the honor of being my partner for the next dance?” His teeth were straight and perfect, just like his brother’s, as he smiled at her. He leaned forward, as though hanging on her every word.

  “Of course.”

  Lord Rupert excused himself, saying he’d be back when the next song started.

  O Lord, did he truly just ask me to dance? Let me not forget the steps of the dance, or trip, or step on his foot.

  Rose could hardly believe the son of the duke and territorial prince had asked her to dance. Most peopl
e attending this dance would not even be seen speaking with someone like her.

  She looked uncertainly at Frau Geruscha. “Did I do the right thing, agreeing to dance with him?”

  “Yes, my dear.” The frosty look did not leave her mistress’s face, and she raised her eyebrows at Rose. “Be careful, though. Young Lord Rupert has a reputation for debauchery. You aren’t to leave this room with him, do you understand?”

  Rose swallowed. “Yes, Frau Geruscha.”

  Frau Geruscha’s shoulders relaxed. “I don’t mean to frighten you, child. You’re perfectly safe. Lord Rupert is sometimes careless with his attentions, and I simply want to put you on your guard. Go ahead and dance. Have a good time.”

  Rose drew courage from her mistress’s smile. She glanced around the room and caught a wealthy yarn merchant’s wife staring at her. The woman’s eyes darted back to her companion, the wife of the butchers’ guild president. They were probably discussing their wonder at Lord Rupert coming to talk to her. What would they say when they saw them dancing together?

  An older woman approached Frau Geruscha and began to talk about an ailment, something about a pain in her side. They moved away as the woman’s voice grew low and confidential.

  Rose watched the dancers twirling in time to the music. She caught glimpses of Lord Hamlin as the guests bobbed back and forth between her and the musicians. Some girls standing several feet away were staring at Rose. When she looked at them, they burst into giggles.

  Her stomach twisted into a nervous knot. She continued to scan the room but saw no friendly face. She decided to focus on her surroundings and practice describing them to Hildy.

  Colorful tapestries, as well as several banners and flags, hung above a wooden table and on the center of the wall opposite the door. Some of the flags were battle-scarred, others were bright and perfect. One displayed the Gerstenberg coat of arms. The others were variations on the family colors of red, gold, and green.

  Rose was most intrigued by a scene painted on the stone wall, stretching the whole length of the room. She strolled closer to get a better look. Knights in armor sat astride sleek horses. Gray hunting dogs ran ahead of them. Some knights jousted while others knelt before ladies in pale, flowing gowns with voluminous pointed sleeves that hung to the ground. A stream and a lake, along with mountains and a forest, graced the background.

  She was admiring the beautiful fresco when she saw Lord Rupert approach.

  “This was commissioned by my great-grandfather, Bertolf,” he said, coming to stand at her left elbow. He pointed to a man in the picture whose head was bared, his helmet by his feet. He had Lord Rupert’s rather long chin. “That is he, Bertolf Gerstenberg. And this one here is my grandfather, Conrad.” He pointed to a younger man standing nearby with a shield in one hand and a lance in the other.

  Just then Lady Osanna joined them, standing beside her brother. Rose couldn’t help admiring her sea-green gown trimmed in gold. Her eyes matched her dress, the cut of which enhanced her slim waist and delicate shoulders. Her light brown hair was tightly braided and wound into a bun at the back of her head, covered by a net of gold thread.

  “It’s good to see you again, Rose.” Lady Osanna clasped Rose’s hand. “You look beautiful.”

  “As do you.”

  “I see you’ve met my rogue brother.” She shifted her eyes toward Rupert.

  Lord Rupert feigned an indignant look. “Pay no attention to such flippant remarks.”

  Lady Osanna grinned as the song ended and the dancers began to arrange themselves into two lines. She inclined her head toward Lord Rupert. “I believe my brother wishes to dance with you, Rose. When you’re finished, I shall introduce you to Lady Anne.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” Rose said the words automatically then realized they weren’t exactly true.

  Lord Rupert held his hand out to Rose, looking impatient to be off to the dance. She placed her hand on his forearm and allowed him to lead her. They fell in line with the others, Rose beside the ladies and Lord Rupert beside the men, the two lines facing each other. She was surprised her knees weren’t buckling underneath her as she prepared to dance the Carolingian Pavane with Lord Rupert.

  The music and the dance began.

  I wish I were dancing with Lord Hamlin.

  The unbidden thought made her catch her breath. She tried to ignore it and concentrate on the steps.

  Lord Rupert never once glanced away to look at his feet or at any of the other dancers, but kept his eyes focused on her face. If she didn’t know better, she would think he was truly enamored of her.

  They came to the part of the dance where the men had to kneel while their partners danced around them in a tight circle. Lord Rupert went down on one knee so quickly it startled Rose. His head tilted up to her, and he placed his hand over his heart. His eyes held hers.

  Rose’s heart skipped a beat at his flirtatious look. Of course, that’s all it was. He was flirting with her, and after the dance was over he’d go dally with someone else. This was his way of enjoying himself at a party, no doubt.

  Rose danced around Lord Rupert then took her place in front of him. Now it was his turn. She stood still as he began his slow dance around her.

  Her insides were quaking again. Everyone was staring at them, the woodcutter’s daughter and the only eligible son of the ruling prince of Hagenheim. She took a quick peek at the musicians. Lord Hamlin was looking down at his lute. He lifted his head and Rose quickly looked away, not wanting to see his reaction.

  When the dance was over, Lord Rupert took her hand and bowed over it, gazing up into her eyes. “I thank you, dearest Rose, for dancing with me. You are a most…delightful…partner.” He tucked her hand inside his elbow. “Come. Let me introduce you to my mother. She’s anxious to meet you.”

  Rose resisted the urge to bolt for the door. Instead, she walked slowly, as Frau Geruscha had taught her, with her shoulders back and her chin high.

  Heads turned as they walked by, but Rose looked straight ahead, too afraid of what she would see in the guests’ faces. When she glanced up at Lord Rupert, he smiled.

  The duchess stood conversing with Osanna and Lady Anne. They turned to face Lord Rupert and Rose as they approached.

  “Mother,” Lord Rupert said, “I would like to present Rose, our gifted healer and storyteller.”

  “I am delighted to meet you, Rose.” The duchess took Rose’s hand from Lord Rupert.

  “Your Grace.” Rose curtsied, her heart in her throat.

  “I wish to thank you for your service to Lord Hamlin.” There was a coldness in the woman’s eyes that did not match the graciousness of her words.

  “It is my pleasure to serve.”

  “Lady Anne, this is Rose. She is our healer’s apprentice. Rose, this is Lady Anne, daughter of Alfred, Duke of Schweitzer.”

  “A healer’s apprentice. That sounds like interesting work.” Lady Anne was as tall as Rose, rather attractive, with delicate features. Her skin was so pale it was transparent, revealing bluish veins between her eyes and on her neck. A small cap hid most of her light brown hair, and little gold bells dangled from a belt around her waist.

  Rose recalled Hildy telling her that bells were very much in fashion.

  “I hope you will like it here at Hagenheim Castle,” Rose said.

  “I thank you.” Lady Anne smiled back.

  At least she wasn’t cold or haughty, if she did turn out to be Lord Hamlin’s betrothed in disguise.

  “Rupert.” The duchess’s face brightened. “I insist you take Lady Anne as your partner for the next dance. Go and be a good host to our guest.”

  Lord Rupert hesitated, glancing at Rose. She hoped he didn’t anger his mother by slighting Lady Anne—especially on her account.

  Finally, he held out his hand to Lady Anne.

  Lady Anne smiled and took his hand. He looked back at Rose, but she avoided his gaze and focused on Lady Osanna and her mother. Lady Anne’s bells jingled as she and Rupert
crossed the room to join the dance.

  Just then a young man in a fashionably cut doublet and enormous puffed sleeves approached Lady Osanna. “Will you honor me with this dance?”

  “Yes, I thank you.” Lady Osanna turned to Rose. “Pray excuse me, Rose.” They hurried away as the music started.

  The duchess folded her hands over her waist and faced Rose, boring into her with blue-gray eyes. “I trust you are enjoying yourself?”

  “Yes, your grace. I enjoy music and dancing.” Rose’s head started to ache, whether from holding up her hair, or from the strain of trying not to say or do anything wrong in front of the duchess, she wasn’t sure.

  “Let me introduce you to some people.” The duchess’s glance settled on a red haired young man standing alone. She beckoned him with a slight “come hither” movement of her fingers.

  The young man arrived with a bow. The pleasant smile on his freckled face put Rose at ease. “Your Grace.”

  “Gunther, I’d like you to meet Rose, Frau Geruscha’s new apprentice. Rose, this is Gunther Schoff. His father is a scribe.”

  She said those last words so archly, Rose was sure she meant, “This young man is closer to your social status.”

  “How do you do?” Rose said.

  “Most pleased.” He bowed politely. “I’ve always been interested in the healing arts.”

  “I’m afraid I’m still new to the practice. Frau Geruscha is just beginning to teach me.”

  “I’m sure you already know quite a lot. But since I seem to be healthy today and have no medicinal needs, would you like to dance? I don’t think it’s too late to join.”

  Rose smiled at his gracious speech.

  “Oh, no, it isn’t too late.” The duchess flicked her wrist. “Go on.”

  Gunther crooked his elbow and Rose took his arm. As they scurried away, Rose let out a deep breath at having escaped the duchess. Gratitude warmed her to Gunther.