Gabe’s entire family waited outside Hohendorf
Castle in the place where the burned-out chapel once stood. A priest stood with them, waiting for the bride to emerge from the castle so the wedding could begin.
“I wish you well, little brother.” Valten embraced Gabe, clapping him on the back.
“So you forgive me?” For once, Gabe couldn’t make a joke out of the situation. He met Valten’s eye, praying for mercy.
“Of course I forgive you. I would have done the same thing had I been in your place.” But Valten looked a bit rueful.
Gabe let out the breath he was holding and laughed.
“I can’t let you best me, though,” his giant brother said. “I’ll just have to rescue my own damsel in distress.”
“You will, big brother. You will.”
Gabe truly did have a wonderful family, as Sophie daily reminded him. And though things had been very tense between the two brothers these past several weeks, Valten had forgiven him for stealing his betrothed.
Thank you, God
.
Duke Baldewin joined them on the grassy knoll, standing before the priest, and then the bride made her appearance. Even though her face was veiled, Gabe had no trouble recognizing his beautiful Sophie. She took his hand as they faced the priest, all of Gabe’s family behind them, along with the servants who’d stayed at the castle and all the villagers of Hohendorf. Gabe tried
to force himself to listen to and comprehend the priest’s words, but it was difficult, as Sophie’s beauty kept distracting him.
Sophie and some other women had planted flowers in a circle, outlining the smoke-stained stones of the chapel that had been demolished. Sophie seemed to have an obsession with flowers. All he had to do to make her happy was bring her an armful, or even a handful, of colorful blooms. Ah, but she was sweet when she was happy.
The priest was still talking about God’s plan for man and woman, and Gabe figured he had a few minutes before he would have to pay attention.
Duke Baldewin had hired a master mason to come to Hohendorf and build not only a new chapel, but also a new castle, as he claimed the old castle held too many bad memories to be allowed to stand. Gabe was to be the mason’s apprentice, to learn all about designing and planning and building. Sophie’s father had promised to make Gabe his heir, but it made Gabe feel better to think of having his own work, his own purpose, and Sophie said she didn’t need to stay in Hohendorf. She wanted to go with him wherever his work led. Besides, based on the way he looked at Lady Petra, Duke Baldewin would be marrying again soon and would have more children of his own. Gabe wanted to make his own way in life.
“… Do you take this woman, Sophia Auriana Gersenda Breitenbach, to be your wife …”
Time to pay attention
. “I do.”
“I’m not finished,” the priest whispered.
“Sorry,” Gabe whispered back.
Sophie pressed a hand over her mouth.
“To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death you do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto plight her your troth.”
“I do.”
Oh yes. Most definitely
.
He breathed in deeply, squeezing Sophie’s hand.
She had her turn, listening to the words of the priest, and then saying, “I do.”
“You may kiss the bride.”
Gabe lifted Sophie’s veil. She was beautiful, with a little extra glow about her, but he didn’t take time to stare at her. He’d have the rest of his life to look at her. Instead, he kissed her, not holding back anything.
If Gabe’s life were a book, it was time for the next chapter. And he was ready.
I want to thank my wonderful editor, Jacque
Alberta, whose constructive advice and way of looking at the overall story is sheer genius. (And thank you, Jacque, for your easy-going, positive vibe! I need it!)
I also want to thank my agent, Rachel Kent, for being so supportive, kind, caring, and great at her job — an all-around nice person. Thanks so much for everything.
I want to thank Sue Williams for always being there for me, and for being a wonderful friend, a great writer, and a really fun traveling buddy. Keep writing!
Thanks to Regina Carbulon for always being willing to pray for me and for being such a great example of faith. You taught me how to start my sentences with, “I’m believing for …”
Thanks to Denita Black and Sherry Slaughter for praying for me and for listening.
Thanks to Caren Fullerton, Jamie Driggers, and April Erwin for critiquing and encouraging. I love you girls.
Thanks to Linore Burkard and Debbie Lynne Costello for being such great friends. A three-strand cord is not easily broken.
Special thanks to Carol Moncado for always being ready to brainstorm with me, read my stories and critique, or just listen. You are the hardest-working writer I know! It’s only a matter of time, girl.
And another special thanks to Cory Kohl for her great horse sense, and for answering so many of my questions, especially with my next book. Thank you!
Thanks to Chriscynethia Floyd, Sara Merritt, Jonathan Michael, Gwen Hendrickson, and all the wonderful people in the Zondervan marketing department. You go above and beyond, and I’m so thankful for you. Thanks to everyone at Zondervan, in all departments, who work hard to make my books look good and sell well. I am forever grateful for your vision.
And thanks once again to Mike Heath of Magnus Creative, the genius who creates my book covers and trailers. I love them so much!
I want to thank all my writer friends in ACFW who are quick to help in every way possible; quick to encourage, quick to give a hug, and really quick to take up for me. You make me laugh and lift my spirits, and you’re a big part of the reason I am where I am.
And to all my friends in Seekerville … thanks for all the cyber hugs, and for chastising me when I want to be lazy or whiny. Your love is a lifeline!
I have to say that I’m very grateful to Taylor Swift, who writes such great songs. I plotted this entire novel, over many months, while listening to “Love Story” and “Enchanted.”
Thanks most of all to my readers, and especially those who take time to send encouraging Facebook messages and emails through my website. I couldn’t keep doing this if it wasn’t for you. You readers are the most important links in the process, the beginning and the end.
And to God who sustains and blesses me. Thank you for helping me keep it all in perspective. I can’t live or move or breathe without you.
Enjoy this sample from Melanie Dickerson’s
The Healer’s Apprentice
Spring, 1386. Hagenheim. The Harz Mountains, Lower Saxony
.
The townspeople of Hagenheim craned their
necks as they peered down the cobblestone street, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Duke of Hagenheim’s two handsome sons. The top-heavy, half-timbered houses hovered above the crowd as if they too were eager to get a peek at Lord Hamlin and Lord Rupert.
Rose shifted her basket from her left hip to her right and wrinkled her nose at the stale smell of sweat from the many bodies pressed close, mingled with the pungent scent of animal dung. Chickens and children skittered about, the clucking and squealing adding to the excited murmurs.
“I’ll wait with you to the count of one hundred, Hildy, then I’m leaving.” Rose couldn’t let Frau Geruscha think her apprentice was a lazy dawdler.
“Are you not curious to see if they’ve changed?” Hildy asked, her green eyes glinting in the sun.
“No doubt the duke’s sons have developed into humble scholars after two years at Heidelberg’s university.” Even as she spoke, she glanced up the street. In spite of wanting Hildy to think her indifferent to the young noblemen, Rose was glad she had a good view.
Rose’s dog, Wolfie, began barking so zealously his front paws lifted off the ground.
“
Hist
. No barking.” Rose leaned down and rubbed the ruff of fur at the back of his neck.
“Rose!”
Her heart leapt at the horrified tone in Hildy’s voice, and she stood and faced her friend.
“You didn’t even wear your best dress!”
Rose glanced down at her green woolen kirtle. “Oh, Hildy. As if it matters.”
“At least your hair looks beautiful.” Hildy ran her hand down Rose’s loose mane of brown curls, only partially hidden by her linen coif. “How do you ever hope to get a husband if you don’t pay more attention to your clothing?”
Rose scowled. “I don’t hope.”
How many times would she have to explain this to Hildy? When Rose was a little child, Frau Geruscha had taken a liking to her. Now that Rose was grown up, the town healer had chosen Rose to be her apprentice — an honorable life’s work that would prevent Rose from being forced to marry. Frau Geruscha, having grown up in a convent, had not only taught Rose about medicinal herbs, but also how to read Latin — a skill Rose was very proud of. But it was a skill most men would hardly value in a wife.
“You don’t fool me, Rose Roemer. Every girl wants to be married. Besides, look across the street at Mathias.” Hildy pointed with her eyes. “He speaks to you every chance he gets, and he’s quite handsome.”
Rose harrumphed at Hildy’s dreamy tone. “The blacksmith’s son?”
With his lecherous grin?
“He only wants one thing from me, and it isn’t marriage.”
“How can you be so sure …”
Hildy’s voice trailed off at the crowd’s whispered exclamations as six men on horseback came into view around the bend in the narrow street.
Hildy grabbed her thick blonde braid and draped it over her shoulder then chewed on her lips to redden them. “You should at least try to catch their eye.”
Rose shook her head at Hildy. “You know Lord Hamlin is betrothed — as good as married — and Lord Rupert must marry an heiress.” Rose took hold of her friend’s arm. Someone had to be the voice of reason. “I hate to dampen your excitement, Hildy, but if either of the noble sons takes a single look at us, I’ll be vastly astonished.”
Hildy smirked. “I won’t be.”
The approaching clop-clop of hooves drew Hildy’s gaze back to the street. “Shh. Here they come.” She set her basket of beans, leeks, and onions on the ground behind her and smoothed her skirt.
The throng of people fell silent out of respect for their young lords.
The duke’s elder son, Wilhelm, Earl of Hamlin, led the way down the street on his black horse. His younger brother, Lord Rupert, rode beside him. Two bearded knights on cinnamon-colored horses followed three lengths behind the young men, with two more bringing up the rear.
The knights were simply dressed, but the noble sons were covered from neck to toe in flowing robes. Rose stifled a snort. They were only returning home. Did they think they were on their way to the king’s court?
Yet as he drew nearer, she saw that Lord Hamlin wore not a robe after all, but a plain cloak of dark wool. His bearing and the proud tilt of his head were what made him look so regal.
In contrast to his brother’s outerwear, a fur-trimmed surcoat of lustrous sapphire silk hung over Lord Rupert’s lean frame, with only the toes of his leather boots peeking out. The disparity between the brothers went beyond their clothing. Lord Rupert’s light brown hair was long and curled at the ends, and a blue ribbon gathered it at the nape of his neck. A jaunty glint shone from his pale eyes. Lord Hamlin’s black hair hung over his
forehead, and he seemed oblivious to the crowd. He focused his gaze straight ahead, toward Hagenheim Castle, whose towers were visible over the tops of the town’s tallest buildings.
No, she’d say they hadn’t changed at all.
“
Willkommen
!” Hildy called out. “Welcome back, my lords!” She waved her hand high, as though hailing a messenger.
All eyes turned to Rose and Hildy. A spear of panic went through Rose. She wanted to hide, but it was too late. Lord Hamlin’s eyes darted in their direction, alighted on Rose, and held. His expression changed and his features softened as he looked at her. Then his gaze swept down, taking in her basket and her dress. He quickly faced forward again.
He realizes I’m nobody, a peasant girl
. Heat spread up Rose’s neck and burned her cheeks.
Lord Rupert’s huge blond warhorse walked toward Rose and Hildy as the crowd suddenly took up Hildy’s cheer. “
Willkommen!
Welcome back!” The horse came within three feet of the girls and stopped, stamping his hooves on the cobblestone street and sending Wolfie into a wild fit of barking.
Rose threw her arms around Wolfie’s neck to hold him back. Her temples pounded at the sight of the warhorse’s powerful legs.
The younger nobleman swept off his plumed hat, bowing from his saddle. His eyes roved from Hildy to Rose, then he winked. “I thank you, ladies, for your kind welcome.” He grinned and swung his hat back on his head, then spurred his horse into a trot and caught up with the others.
“Did you see that? Did you see it?” Hildy pounded on Rose’s shoulder.
Wolfie calmed as the men rode into the distance. Rose let go of him and stood up, glaring at Hildy. “I can’t believe you called out to them.”
“Lord Rupert actually spoke to us.
To us
. And did you see how Lord Hamlin looked at you?” Hildy clutched her hands to her heart, gazing at the clouds. “Are they not the most handsome
men you’ve ever seen? I could hardly breathe!” She turned and smiled at Rose. “I knew they’d like what they saw once they caught sight of you.”
“Would you keep your voice down?” Rose urged Hildy to start walking toward the
Marktplatz
. She glanced around, afraid the townspeople would overhear their embarrassing conversation. She imagined the miller’s skinny wife, who walked ahead of them, snorting in derision at Hildy’s compliment. The shoemaker’s buxom daughter, striding down the other side of the street, would laugh out loud.
Hildy and her romantic notions of love. She was a candle-maker’s daughter, dreaming about the local nobility as if she had any chance of inspiring a serious thought in them. As a woodcutter’s daughter, Rose held no grand illusions about her own prospects.