The Healer's Apprentice

by Melanie Dickerson

  Wilhelm wouldn’t let him hurt her, and he wouldn’t let him get away, either. He would kill him for what he had done to Rose, whatever he had done.

  Surely God would heal her. But he couldn’t think about that now.

  As Moncore slowly backed through the courtyard with Frau Geruscha, Wilhelm came after him, matching him step for step, Georg at his left, Christoff at his right.

  “Get back, I say!” The fiend pressed the knife against Frau Geruscha’s throat, forcing her head back. “Let me leave the city now or I’ll kill her.”

  Wilhelm kept moving forward.

  “Get back!”

  Wilhelm’s eyes locked with Frau Geruscha’s. She pressed her lips together. Her whole body sank straight down in one swift movement, startling Moncore. He grabbed for her and missed.

  The knife cut her neck when she went down. Blood appeared under her chin and dripped onto her dress. She darted to her left and Wilhelm lunged forward, taking Moncore’s attention away from Frau Geruscha, allowing her to run out of his reach.

  “Give up!” Wilhelm yelled.

  “You will have to kill me!”

  He guessed what Moncore was about to do—launch a dagger at his heart. As it flew through the air, Wilhelm leapt to his right, and the dagger sliced through his shirt sleeve. He landed hard on his hip. He felt the cut on his arm but ignored it.

  Georg and Christoff drove forward with their drawn swords. But instead of running away as expected, Moncore stood his ground. Wilhelm watched as the conjurer began babbling, “Fight and live or fight and die. Fight and live or fight and die.” As he spoke, he reached inside his cloak, surely reaching for another weapon.

  Christoff reached the evil man first, his sword poised for the kill. Moncore, eyes wild, drew out a flask and flung powder in Christoff’s face. Christoff lunged forward blindly, striking the conjurer in the chest.

  Moncore sank to his knees, gurgling and coughing. He fell to his side, clutching the sword, which stuck out through his chest and back. “They’re coming for me!” he cried. “No, no, don’t take me!” Blood gushed out of his nose and mouth. He held his hands up before his face, as though to ward off an attacker.

  Wilhelm and his knights stared in silence at the man dying before them. They all crossed themselves at the same time.

  A strange mist began swirling above Moncore as he lay on the hard-packed dirt of the courtyard. The mist congealed into several ethereal heads, shoulders and arms, all reaching out toward the bleeding, gasping man. Wilhelm raised his sword. He focused his eyes on the evil spirits, for that was all he could think to call them. Their faces contorted, they looked only at Moncore. They seemed to claw at him while he screamed. Wilhelm held his breath, chills racing over his arms and down his back as he watched, half-disbelieving his own eyes.

  Moncore continued to scream as the demons hovered above him. Finally, his voice gave out. His head fell back, his eyes closed. And the spirits disappeared.

  Wilhelm shot a look at his men. They glanced back at him, their faces as gray and sickly as newly shorn sheep.

  “Holy Jesus, save us,” Georg whispered hoarsely.

  Christoff’s throat bobbed convulsively, and both knights crossed themselves again.

  Rose. Wilhelm sheathed his sword and ran back to the healer’s chamber.

  When he entered the room, Geruscha was kneeling at Rose’s side, supporting her head. Black liquid dribbled out of the corner of her mouth.

  O God, let her not be dead.

  Wilhelm crossed the floor and dropped to his knees by her side. “What did he do to her?”

  “Some kind of potion.” She swept her finger over Rose’s tongue, continuing to remove any of the poison that had not gone down her throat.

  Rose moaned. Then her arms and legs began to thrash around weakly.

  “Rose.” Wilhelm leaned over her. Please don’t die. Please open your eyes.

  “Get her up on the bed,” Geruscha said. The cut under the healer’s chin looked like it had stopped bleeding, although red drops stained her dress front.

  Wilhelm picked Rose up and placed her on the bed. He gently brushed back the long strands of hair that had fallen across her face. She stopped moving.

  Frau Geruscha went into the storage room and came back with an empty bucket and a cup of some liquid. “Lift her up.”

  He slid his arm beneath her and held her in a sitting position. Her head lolled on his shoulder. Frau Geruscha tried to get her to drink the cup of liquid, but most of it spilled out of her mouth and onto her chest. Finally, Rose moaned softly and parted her lips. She took a big gulp. As soon as she did, she leaned over and vomited. Frau Geruscha was ready with the bucket.

  Rose’s eyes were wide open now, but she didn’t seem to see either Frau Geruscha or Wilhelm as Geruscha wiped her face with a wet cloth. Instead, her eyes were wild and searching, darting from one end of the room to the other, her mouth twisted in a look of absolute terror and horror.

  “Rose, what’s wrong?” Wilhelm asked.

  She began babbling incoherently, cringing and staring at something over Wilhelm’s shoulder. “What?” He turned and tried to see what she was looking at, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Certainly they were the only three people in the room. So what was she staring at?

  Wilhelm leaned over her. “Rose? Look at me! What is it? Do you see something?”

  She took no notice of him, but shrank back on the bed, as though something monstrous was coming at her. She screamed, throwing her hands over her face.

  Wilhelm’s heart raced and the hair on the back of his neck tingled, sending a crawling sensation across his shoulders. He turned to Geruscha. “What is it?” Had Moncore done as he’d boasted? Had he driven her mad with his potion? Had he sent demons to torment her?

  Frau Geruscha’s face was stricken and pale. She put her face so close that Rose couldn’t avoid seeing her. “Rose. What is it? What’s wrong? Rose, look at me. Rose.” Frau Geruscha persisted. “Do you see me?”

  Rose half-gasped, half-sobbed as she finally made eye contact with Frau Geruscha. Then she seemed to try to talk, opening her mouth. Nothing came out at first, then a few sounds that could have passed for words—if they had made any sense.

  What could be terrifying her? It was as though she were having a nightmare, but her eyes were wide open. She saw something that Wilhelm and Geruscha could not see. But what?

  Wilhelm leaned toward Frau Geruscha, his brain bursting with anxiety. “Don’t you have some herb, some remedy to help her?”

  Rose screamed again. Dear God, he couldn’t bear it! There had to be something he could do besides stand around helpless, watching her suffer, hearing her scream.

  Frau Geruscha turned suddenly and grabbed Wilhelm’s arm. Her

  eyes grew wide. “Demons. That fiend said he would demonize her. There must be demons in the room.”

  “Why can’t we see them?”

  “Perhaps she can see them because of the poison Moncore gave her.”

  He drew nearer to Rose. She shuddered and shrank back, her face full of horror. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “It’s me. Rose, don’t look at me like that. I won’t let them hurt you.”

  He looked around the room and shook his fists. He glanced back at Geruscha. “How do I fight demons?”

  “You must cast them out.”

  “How?”

  “The name of Jesus. He gave us authority over the demons. Command them in the name of Jesus to leave.”

  Wilhelm searched the room again, trying to follow Rose’s gaze, to see the evil spirits that were tormenting her. But he saw nothing, only felt an eerie presence that made his skin crawl as if covered with a thousand spiders.

  Clasping Rose’s hand, he said, “In the name of Jesus, I command you demonic spirits to get away from this maiden, now.” His voice echoed through the room.

  Rose’s breath rasped in her throat. Her expression seemed calmer, but her eyes continued darting around the ro
om. She suddenly fixed her gaze on a back corner of the chamber and pointed, shrinking back.

  Dear God! They were still there. Wilhelm scanned the room. “Show yourselves!” He shook his fists at them. But he had no power against them. Except of course the power of Jesus’ name. He was a child of God, so that gave him the power and protection of Jesus, didn’t it? Perhaps the demons couldn’t really hurt her, they could only scare her. He then remembered a verse from the Bible, which spoke of a believer’s ability to cast out any demon in his name. He had commanded the demons to leave her alone. Maybe he just needed to cast them out of the entire region.

  “In the name of Jesus, I cast you out, demons! I command you by the power of Jesus to leave this room, this castle, and this region forever.” His flesh still crawled but he felt suddenly invincible. And he knew. In the name of Jesus was more power than Moncore could ever dream of.

  He turned his attention on Rose. Her eyes swept the room again, but she looked peaceful. She slumped back onto the pillow and closed her eyes, her face pale.

  Frau Geruscha leaned her head down until her ear almost touched Rose’s mouth. Her eyes met Wilhelm’s. “She’s sleeping.” Geruscha picked up the cup.

  He sank to the floor on his knees and held Rose up while the frau gave her water. This time she swallowed without retching. She drank without opening her eyes, and Wilhelm placed her back on the pillow.

  He watched the ever-so-slight rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to pick her up and never let her go. God, I pray that the potion will not hurt her any more. Help her wake up, God.

  He glanced up at Frau Geruscha. “Will she live?”

  The frau sighed. “I hope so. She expelled a lot of the poison, so that is good. We shall have to wait and see if she awakens.”

  He let out a deep, calming breath, then clasped his hands tightly in front of his chest. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. “O God, you are mighty. We are witnesses of your great power. Oh, Jesus, thank you. Your name has cast out the demons from this place.” He paused, unable to go on for a moment. A dry sob escaped him. “Please don’t let her die. Block the poison from hurting her. Don’t let her die, God. Save her from this poison.”

  He wasn’t sure how long he knelt there. He tried to grasp all that had happened. Moncore was dead—that was for certain—and could never harm her again. But…why would Moncore want to harm Rose?

  Wilhelm fastened his eyes on Frau Geruscha, who stood behind him, watching Rose. He slowly got to his feet and faced Frau Geruscha, forcing her to look up at him.

  “Is Rose my betrothed?”

  Her lips parted as she stared back at him.

  “Is she? Is she the daughter of the Duke of Marienberg?”

  “How…how would I know?”

  He wrapped his hands around her frail shoulders, willing himself not to shake her. “Tell me the truth. Do you know who my betrothed is?”

  Distress deepened the creases around her eyes and forehead. She shook her head. “I cannot tell you,” she whispered desperately. “I swore an oath.”

  “Then it is Rose.”

  “Please, Your Grace. Have mercy on me.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

  Wilhelm let go. He turned to look at Rose. His heart seemed ready to leap out of his chest. Could it be? Rose? His Rose. It was too good to be true.

  He knelt by her side, watching her breathe, watching her chest rise and fall. Frau Geruscha knelt beside him and, with her shears, she cut his sleeve at the rip.

  “Leave it. It’s nothing.”

  “It must be tended to, my lord. Your whole sleeve is soaked in blood.”

  Wilhelm looked at his arm for the first time and saw she was right. “You’re cut too.” He had to bend down to look at her neck. The blood had dried in a thin line under her chin.

  “Merely a scratch.” She smiled as though she had just been in a fist fight and won.

  Frau Geruscha probed his cut with her fingers. The pain in his arm suddenly intensified.

  “Take off your shirt.” Geruscha stood and walked to the shelf where her bandages were stored. “I’ll need to tend to your wound.”

  “What about Rose?”

  Geruscha went into the storage room and came back with a bowl of water. “I will keep giving her water, which should help the poison move out of her body. But it is good that she sleeps. We must pray and hope…Now take off your shirt.”

  He didn’t move from his spot by Rose’s bed, but removed his doublet and pulled his shirt over his head, wincing with the movement.

  Frau Geruscha cleaned the cut on his upper arm. “It’s deep enough that I’ll need to close the wound. Do you want to lie down while I sew it up?”

  “No.” As Geruscha stitched up his arm, he held Rose’s hand, stroking her fingers and gazing at her face, which helped take his mind off the pain.

  Frau Geruscha finished stitching up his wound. As he was putting his shirt back on, he heard someone at the door, which was dangling open on its broken hinges, letting in the freezing air.

  “I have a message for His Grace, the Duke of Hagenheim.”

  A man dressed in the purple and gold livery of the Duke of Marienberg stood in the doorway.

  Reluctantly, he got up from Rose’s bedside and faced him. “I am he.”

  The messenger bowed. “Your Grace. A message from the Duke of Marienberg.” He stepped forward and handed him the folded piece of parchment. Wilhelm broke the wax seals and quickly scanned the message.

  The duke was less than a day’s ride from Hagenheim. He had decided to come early, not having heard any word about his upcoming introduction and subsequent wedding of his daughter, Lady Salomea.

  Not now. Why now? Wilhelm closed his eyes. He had forgotten to write to the duke. That’s why he was angry and coming a week early, practically unannounced.

  Not wishing to portray any negative feelings in front of the duke’s servant, but still trying to think what to do, Wilhelm looked up and said, “Pray, give my heartiest welcome to the duke. I shall…prepare a feast for his arrival. Convey my sincere wish to find him in good health and spirits.” He frowned. Unwise to trust the servant to remember his message word for word. “Wait.”

  He glanced again at Rose. She lay still, her eyes closed.

  “Frau Geruscha, may I trouble you for some parchment and a quill?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” She hurried into the storage and came back with both, as well as a pot of ink.

  He sat down at Rose’s desk then asked over his shoulder, “Do you have any beeswax?”

  He dashed off the note as fast as he could write. In his haste, he splattered two spots of ink. He quickly blotted them with the heel of his hand, waved the letter in the air a few times to make sure it was relatively dry, and folded it. He held the beeswax candle in the fire for a few seconds and then pressed it against the parchment to seal the letter closed. Wrenching his father’s signet ring from his finger, he pushed it into the soft wax.

  He handed the letter to the messenger. “Take this to the duke. I thank you.”

  The man took the letter and was off.

  Wilhelm had been so distracted lately, so disturbed at having to marry someone besides Rose, he had forgotten to send an official invitation to the duke. The wedding was supposed to take place in two weeks.

  His head spun with all the things he would have to do—and at such short notice it was nearly impossible. He would have to warn the kitchen staff, who would be hard-pressed to prepare enough food for the duke and all his retinue before their arrival. Extra beds and chambers would have to be made ready. His mother should know what else would be required.

  He stepped to the door and called out to a servant passing by. “Tell Duchess Katheryn that Duke Godehard is coming today. He will be here in a few hours. She will know what instructions to give for the meal and such. Go now and tell her.”

  He came back inside, clenching his fists at the duke’s bad timing. But at least he would find out whether Rose was his betrothed�
�today.

  Could it be? After all, Moncore was a crazed lunatic. Could a woodcutter’s daughter and healer’s apprentice be Lady Salomea, the daughter of the Duke of Marienberg?

  He fastened his eyes on her and again knelt by her side. She looked so pale. “Please God,” he prayed aloud, “please help her wake up. Please let her be well. Please heal her.” Tears dimmed his eyes but he blinked them back. She was so lovely. If she was not his betrothed, if Moncore had insanely believed her to be someone she was not, he might never get this close to her again. He might never again have the pleasure of touching her.

  He stared at her perfect lips. “God, if you have made a way for us to be together,” he whispered, “then let me awaken her with this kiss of true love.” Slowly, he leaned toward her, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to hers.

  Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled softly then reached up and touched his cheek.

  He covered her hand with his. “You are well?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathy. “Thank you. But if it’s all right, I think I will sleep a bit more.”

  “Thank you, God.” He watched her face relax as she drifted into sleep again. She had awakened and spoke. He believed it was a sign from God that he had answered his prayer. She would be healed of the poison’s effects.

  He watched her sleep, knowing Duke Godehard would arrive very soon. His mother would need his help. He would need to gather some knights to ride out and meet his guest, to try to repair the damage caused by his negligence to the Duke of Marienberg. There was much to do and little time.

  Releasing Rose’s hand and stumbling to his feet, Wilhelm turned and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and walk out.

  Chapter 27

  Rose slowly emerged from a heavy fog of sleep. She lifted her head and propped herself on her elbows. “Did they capture Peter Brunckhorst? He didn’t get away, did he?”

  Frau Geruscha came over and patted her shoulder. “No, child, he didn’t get away. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aye. He’s dead.”