The Healer's Apprentice

by Melanie Dickerson

  She bit her lip. “I can’t.”

  He pulled on her hands, as though to make her open her eyes and look at him again. “Tell me the truth, then. Say you love me.”

  She couldn’t lie to him, staring into his beautiful dark eyes, but it wasn’t right to tell him she loved him when he was going to marry someone else.

  “Can you truthfully say you don’t love me?” He squeezed her hands so hard it hurt. “Rose! Answer me.”

  She choked back a sob. “All right. I love you. I never loved Rupert. Only, always you.”

  He smiled, his eyes brightening. He bowed his head again, pressing his lips against her knuckles.

  Her heart leapt, coming alive again at the tender touch of his lips. “But I can’t let you give up your birthright for me.” The words ached in her throat as she said them, and tears slipped down her face. “It would be wrong.”

  He lifted his head. “What’s so wrong about it?” His brows lowered. “Rose, listen to me. Trust me. Our love will make everything right.”

  The pleading tone in his voice intensified the ache in her heart. “You love honor. You need respect and a sense of pride in fulfilling your duty toward your people. If you gave that up for me…I want you to fulfill your duty and be happy.”

  “Can’t you let me be the judge of what I love and need—of what will make me happy?” He reached up with one hand and gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  His tender touch broke her heart. She could let him convince her, accept what he was saying and ignore what her head was telling her. She would fall into a haven of bliss if she only let herself tell him Yes. He would hold her and kiss her and smile. She could make him happy.

  She looked down and tried to ignore the way he was looking at her, the feel of his fingers on her cheek. O God, help me. Help me.

  She thought of her mother, the pain her resentment and lack of love had caused her. All her life Rose had longed for someone to love her, striven to earn her mother’s approval. What had it gained her besides pain and disappointment? No, she couldn’t let her desire for Wilhelm’s love cause her—and him—so much pain.

  “Your resentment would hurt me too much.” She stared down at him, kneeling in front of her. How would it feel to run her fingers through his dark hair? Would it be soft or coarse? Would he gaze at her with passion in his eyes? Would he kiss her? She would not find out.

  She forced herself to continue. “If God wants us to be together, then he will make a way for us. I don’t want to go against his will, not again. I tried to force my will on God once, thinking I knew what was best for me. But it seems to be God’s will that you marry your betrothed. If we try to force something else to happen, God will not bless it. Even now God has the power to change our future, and if your marriage to Lady Salomea is not to be, then God will prevent it.”

  Duke Wilhelm bowed his head. He was still and silent for a long time. What was he thinking? Her chest felt hollow and empty. How she wanted to comfort him. Why didn’t he speak?

  Finally, his grip on her hands loosened. He released her and stood up, avoiding her eyes. “I’ll try to stop loving you, Rose, but I’ll always be your friend…if you should ever need me.”

  “It’s better if I go away.” Rose whispered the words then wished she had kept the information to herself.

  “Go? Go where?”

  “I know not.” She shook her head and decided not to tell him her plan to go with the Meistersingers. He might try to stop her. And it wasn’t a lie. If she went with them, she didn’t know where she would be going.

  “Please don’t go, not because of me. Stay here with Frau Geruscha. Please.”

  Tears stung Rose’s eyes again. She wanted to beg him to understand what a failure she was at her work with Frau Geruscha. She had to leave. And her leaving would spare him pain. He could learn to love his new wife without her around. But she saw the tears glistening in his eyes and stopped herself.

  He leaned over her. “I vow I will never do anything again to…Only please don’t go.”

  Rose clasped her hands and stared into his eyes, loving him, drinking in his love for her, for the last time.

  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Farewell, Rose. God be with you.” He strode to the door and retrieved his cloak. He walked out without looking back.

  The pain in her chest was so intense, she wondered if she was dying. She bent over, pressing her hands to her throat, which ached from holding back tears. She could still feel his lips on her fingers.

  He loves me. A castoff foundling raised by a woodcutter. He was willing to give up everything for me, and what did I tell him? No.

  She sank to her knees on the floor. “O God, what have I done? I’ve broken my heart and his too. I’m so unsure now.”

  Maybe she should run after him. Surely their love would be enough. How did she know he would resent her? That was just her fear making her think that. Wilhelm was too good a person to resent her. He loved her. Hadn’t he proved it, being willing to give up his title and responsibilities to his brother?

  She could catch up to him before he got far. She would throw her arms around him and wipe that half-angry, pained expression off his face with a kiss. She would tell him she’d changed her mind. That she loved him too much to give him up, that she’d always wanted his love, that she couldn’t live without it. His eyes would light up with joy and he’d sweep her into his arms.

  “God, help me. Don’t make me give him up. I need him.” She began to sob, the stone floor digging into her knees. Her chest throbbed with pain.

  She couldn’t give him up, not after everything he was willing to give up for her. She needed his love. And he needed her too. What if his betrothed was a cruel, heartless woman who wouldn’t love him and who’d treat him badly?

  “O God, I want him. Please don’t take him away from me.”

  Maybe God wanted her to go after him, find him, and tell him she’d made a mistake, but no. The thought gave her a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  She had done the right thing. She had released him to do his duty, the thing that would bring him honor and peace of mind.

  She rested her forehead against the cold stone floor. “O God, did I do the right thing?”

  Yes.

  Rose couldn’t exactly say she’d heard the word, but it was there, in her mind. Had she imagined it? Was it from God? She remembered someone in the Bible asking for a sign.

  “God, if it’s you, and if I did the right thing, then give me a sign.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She pulled herself up and walked to the window of the chamber. She squeezed her eyes closed. “Give me a sign, God, please.”

  She held her breath and opened her eyes, searching through the open window.

  A line of sunbeams in the shape of a perfect arc broke through a thin cover of clouds, pink and yellow rays stretching from heaven to earth.

  Rose stared. She had never seen anything quite like it. The tears stilled on her cheeks. A peace beyond her comprehension overwhelmed her senses.

  Her heart still ached, thinking of what she could have had. But God would take care of her. Somehow, God would make a way for her to keep on living, to serve him and not be completely miserable. God was with her.

  O God, please give him the same assurance. Please take away his pain. I don’t want him to hurt.

  “My precious Wilhelm.” The sobs came again. She heard Frau Geruscha coming down the stairs and forced herself to take a deep breath. She couldn’t let her mistress see her this way. The last thing she wanted to do was tell her what had just happened.

  She looked out the window again. The perfect arc was still there, pointing to heaven.

  Chapter 25

  Moncore watched the door of the southwest tower from his hiding place behind the blacksmith’s stall in the courtyard. He felt his blood pulsing through his body, throbbing in his neck, as he watched Rose and her dog leave the castle and pass through the gatehouse into town. My
perfect opportunity at last. He had seen Frau Geruscha leave several minutes earlier. He would finally begin the process of making Duke Godehard of Marienberg pay for his crimes against him, for taking away the income he’d enjoyed under Godehard’s father and expelling him from the region. How he hated him, and how sweet would be his revenge when Duke Godehard learned his only daughter had been driven mad by demons.

  For a while he hadn’t been sure if Rose was the one he sought. But once he’d finally discovered Frau Geruscha’s whereabouts, as Hagenheim’s town healer, it had been almost obvious that her new apprentice was Lady Salomea. Besides, when he finally got a good look at the girl they called Rose, she looked so much like her mother the duchess that he had been certain she was the one.

  After his failed attempt to pour the ash over her head and say the incantation, which would have begun her torments, he knew it was no longer safe for him to stalk her openly. Since then, he’d never seen her alone. If no one else was with her, it was her dog, that cursed animal, by her side. And dogs seemed to have a special sense. They hated him and knew when he planned to hurt their owners. Loyal beasts, dogs were, and they would fight to the death to protect someone they loved.

  So he had waited patiently, thinking his revenge would be all the sweeter if he waited until just before Lady Salomea’s wedding

  to the young Duke Wilhelm. If he timed his attack just right, Duke Godehard would reach Hagenheim just as it was too late to help his daughter. He’d be furious that Geruscha and Duke Wilhelm hadn’t been able to protect her, with her right under their noses all the time. And if he got a good opportunity, he would kill all three of them—Godehard, Geruscha, and Wilhelm. As for Lady Salomea…once she was completely under demonic possession, she would be at his mercy.

  Moncore pulled the cowl of his coarse brown monk’s tunic over his face. He tucked his hands inside the folds of his garment and bowed his head, careful to walk at a normal pace so as not to attract attention.

  He had to stifle a gasp as he pushed open the door. It wasn’t locked. Without pausing to look around, he casually entered, flipped off his hood, and rushed across the room and up the stairs to the tiny bedchamber that had to be Rose’s. He pulled a flask from an inside pocket and sprinkled black ash all over the floor around her bed. He chanted an incantation in Gaelic, rotating slowly around until he had made a complete circle in the ash with his foot. He grinned at the thought of the nightmares she would have because of the demonic spirits he had just unleashed in her bedchamber. Just a small hint of what he planned to cast into her soon.

  If only he could stay and watch that insipid Geruscha’s face when she realized her failure to protect her precious charge.

  He hastened down the steps then threw his hood back over his head as he closed the door behind him.

  Rose went to her room to get ready for bed. Barely enough moon-light filtered through the window to help her find her night clothes. She began to undress. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, as if someone was behind her, watching her. She spun around, but no one was there. She quickly donned her nightgown and slipped into bed, her breath coming fast and shallow. She scolded herself for her foolishness, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of an evil presence filling the room.

  She clutched the blankets up to her chin and prayed, O God, please be with me. Jesus, protect me. As her fear had not subsided, she decided to pray out loud. “Lord Jesus, save me. O God, I am your child. Protect me.”

  Her eyes darted around the room, searching for anything moving or lurking in the darkness, but she saw nothing. “Yea, though I walk

  through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” I will not fear, I will not fear…What is wrong with me? There was nothing there to be afraid of.

  Rose took a deep breath. No one was in the room but herself, and God was with her. She closed her eyes and refused to open them again.

  Rose awoke with a start, her heart pounding and her breath short. She sat up and opened her eyes wide, trying to see something, anything, in the dark room. I was only dreaming. But her heart wouldn’t calm down. In her dream an evil spirit hovered over her, a blackness with orange eyes and a green mouth, then wrapped around her body and squeezed, taunting, “You’ll never get away.”

  Rose shuddered, sinking down again into her bed. At first she believed it had been a demon, come to her in her sleep. But then she told herself it was only her imagination that had caused the dream, a product of becoming frightened when she was getting ready for bed.

  She huddled under the covers, her eyes searching every dark corner of her chamber. She wanted to run into Frau Geruscha’s room but was too afraid to get out of bed. Instead, she lay shivering and praying, “God, help me. Jesus, help me. Holy Spirit, help me.”

  “Did you sleep well?” Frau Geruscha asked as they walked to the kitchen to break their fast.

  Rose turned to look at her. She didn’t normally ask her if she slept well. “No, I didn’t. I had a horrible nightmare. You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

  “Hear anything?”

  “Or know of anyone entering my room lately?”

  “No. Why do you ask?” Frau Geruscha stopped, making Rose pause on the path to the kitchen.

  “There is something strange on my floor. It looks like ashes, as if someone had drawn a circle and made some strange markings.”

  Frau Geruscha’s face went white. She grabbed Rose’s arm as if to steady herself.

  “What is it?”

  “Probably nothing, but I’d like to see this. Let’s go back now and look at it.”

  Why was Frau Geruscha so concerned? The back of her neck prickled as it had the night before.

  Frau Geruscha examined Rose’s floor. The ashes were strewn about from Rose’s walking across them, but though indistinct, the crude circle was still visible.

  Frau Geruscha, after bending down and staring at the floor, searched about the room, itself in the shape of a semicircle as part of the cylindrical southwest tower. Then she got on her hands and knees and looked under Rose’s bed.

  She got up slowly, taking Rose’s arm to help pull herself up from the floor. “Someone must have come into your chamber.” Her eyes were dark and her brows were pulled down. With a quick, deliberate motion, she used her foot to smear the ashes around, messing up the circle and any other markings that might have been there. “We need to start barricading our door, Rose. I’ll ask Bailiff Eckehart to have a crossbar placed on our door. You haven’t seen anyone around—that Peter Brunckhorst or anyone suspicious looking, have you?”

  “No. What do the ashes and the circle mean?”

  “I’m not certain. But don’t worry about it. Some servant probably spilled them there unintentionally.” Frau Geruscha’s voice seemed falsely cheery. “Let’s go on and have some food. Then I’ll go ask the bailiff for that lock.”

  She watched Frau Geruscha’s face until she turned away and went down the stairs ahead of her. A shiver passed over Rose’s shoulders. Frau Geruscha knew more than she was telling her. How strange.

  Wilhelm needed some activity. He wandered out to the stable to saddle Shadow for a ride. He had hardly said two words to anyone in the last week, since he asked Rose to marry him and she refused him. He hated to admit it, but she had hurt his pride, and anger mingled with the pain of his heart shattering into thousands of tiny pieces.

  His knights, Sir Georg and Sir Christoff, insisted on coming with him on his ride. They said his new status as Duke demanded that he be escorted wherever he went. But Wilhelm refused. He even sent the groomsman and stable boy out on errands while he tended to Shadow’s brushing himself. He started with the horse’s black mane.

  Rose was right. He did love honor and duty and the respect of his people. Heaven above, she had seen through him and into his very soul. She might have even been right about him coming to resent her. His heart twisted painfully at the thought. He remembered Paul’s wo
rds. O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?

  A mean, dirty trick life had played on him, forcing him to choose between his duty to his people and his love for Rose. But hadn’t he chosen her for all the right reasons? Yes, he loved her for her beauty, but he also loved her for her mind and her heart, her compassion, and her ability to see people as equal. Even as God did. And he wanted Rose to be safe and happy and protected.

  But his love for her was selfish too. He loved her because she would make a good wife. He just plain wanted her, and he had been willing to sell his people short so that he could have what he wanted.

  But God obviously wanted him to marry his betrothed. Anger welled up inside him. Anger at God? That must be the worst sin there was.

  Shadow whinnied, and Wilhelm realized he’d been brushing the poor horse’s back over and over in the same spot. He moved to Shadow’s other side.

  Rose was nobler than either Wilhelm or his brother. She didn’t want to be responsible for turning the region over to Rupert, for taking Wilhelm away from his duty and causing him to break his oath of betrothal.

  But he had let her down. She loved him, and yet he couldn’t make a way for them to be together. And he’d betrayed his betrothed by wanting to be rid of her. He couldn’t even save her from Moncore, the man who wished to destroy her. In addition, he’d let his father down by not capturing Moncore in time.

  O God, I’m an utter failure. He threw down the brush and clenched his fists, pressing them into his eye sockets until he saw only white light. Not only could he not protect Rose as she deserved, but he couldn’t protect his betrothed either.

  What did it matter now? He would be forced to marry Lady Salomea whether or not he found Moncore. And perhaps now Moncore would come to him.

  Try as he might, he couldn’t imagine marrying the Duke of Marienberg’s daughter in three weeks. When he pictured the wedding, he saw Rose in the bridal gown, standing with him before the priest