The Healers Apprentice (13 page)

Rose jumped up to help. As she leaned over, pinching off stems one by one, a leather boot came into view next to her. She straightened, tossing her hair over her shoulder and out of her eyes. Lord Rupert stood holding out a fistful of poppies, a big smile on his face.

“For you.”

Rose hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wolfie with his nose buried in the grass, probably trying to sniff out a partridge or hare. Lady Osanna was also several feet away. She had fetched the food basket and was stuffing flowers into it.

The look in Lord Rupert’s eyes was so eager she couldn’t disappoint him. She reached out and took the handful of red poppies. He then wrapped his hand around the multicolored wildflowers she had gathered in her other hand, letting his fingers rest against her own for a moment. His chest, covered by his sleeveless crimson doublet, was at eye level and much too close. She took a step back.

Lord Rupert turned and walked over to his sister, and Rose started to breathe again. He placed the flowers Rose had picked into his sister’s basket, then strode straight back to Rose and reached out his hand. Before Rose knew what he was about to do, he pulled out a single red poppy from the bunch he had given her.

“May I?” His voice was low and gentle. He didn’t wait for her answer, but placed the flower in her hair next to her temple. “Now it is even more beautiful.”

Rose looked away from him. “I’d better go see if Lady Osanna has enough flowers.”

“Wait.” The smile left his face. “I know you don’t trust me, Rose. I suppose that’s wise of you.” He looked at her with a pained expression, his brows creasing his forehead. “You aren’t like other maidens, Rose. You’re enchanting, clever, confident. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Me? Confident?
Rose considered him with raised eyebrows.

“And you’re the most beautiful—”

“Rose!” Lady Osanna called.

She jumped. “Yes?” Stepping around Rupert, she walked toward Lady Osanna.

“Oh, I didn’t see you on the other side of my ox of a brother. Aren’t those poppies lovely?”

Rose looked down at the bunch of flowers in her hand.

“Rupert picked those for you, didn’t he?” Lady Osanna half frowned, half smiled, and shook her head. “He’s such a trifler. Pay no heed to him.”

Rose glanced up at Lord Rupert, who had walked up beside her. His expression turned dark at his sister’s words.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Osanna cocked her head and thrust her hand onto her hip.

With visible effort, he lightened his expression and turned his gaze on Rose. “My sister likes to malign me unfairly. It’s her way of jesting. Humorous, isn’t it?”

Lady Osanna shook her head. She hung the basket full of flowers over one arm and slipped her other hand through Rose’s arm. “Shall we go?” They started back toward the castle, its five cylindrical towers of grey stone the only things visible above the surrounding wall.

“What about the blanket and food?”

“Oh, I’ll send a servant to retrieve them.”

Rose glanced over her shoulder and saw Lord Rupert still standing in the same spot, staring after them.

Wilhelm enlisted the help of Lukas to saddle Shadow. The boy was eager to learn all the steps to grooming and saddling a horse. Rose would be pleased at how happy the child seemed. He wished she could see the smile on his face now as Wilhelm praised him, how the boy’s cheeks had filled out now that he was eating regularly. He would love to see the look on her face when she realized Wilhelm was taking good care of him.

But what was he doing, thinking about Rose, desiring her approval? He was treading on dangerous ground.

His father was conducting a large hunt to entertain himself and an earl who had come for a visit. As usual, it was a massive event. A crew of dog handlers, falconers, archers, and assistant huntsmen moved to and fro about the stable and courtyard. Rupert was striding toward them as well. His brother had always enjoyed the hunt as much as anyone. Rupert had felled many a stag, decorating the wall of the Great Hall with several big racks of antlers. A buck was a great prize, but Wilhelm usually let someone else do the killing. He didn’t especially like destroying the noble creatures.

Someone was approaching him from behind and Wilhelm turned around as Rupert clapped him on the shoulder. “Ready for the chase?”

Rupert was smiling and friendly. He must want something.

“Georg, Christoff, and I are going wolf hunting and leaving you and Father to the deer.” Wilhelm knew how much Rupert loved stag hunting—and despised hunting wolves. Wolf hunting was much less exciting, and usually less fruitful.

“Some sheep have gone missing.” Wilhelm turned back to his
horse, yanking the saddle’s girth. “We’ve heard reports of a wolf in the area, killing lambs and pigs.”

After a short pause, Rupert said, “I’ll go with you.”

Wilhelm stopped and turned to study his brother. Rupert looked strangely earnest. What was he up to? “As you wish.”

Duke Nicolaus entered the yard, followed by a servant carrying his bow and arrow. His presence infused the scene with instant energy as all the men scurried about, making sure they were ready the moment the duke mounted his horse.

A servant had prepared Gregor for Rupert, and he swung into the saddle. He hung back with Wilhelm and the two knights.

Two huntsmen on foot with several of the dogs were first to enter the forest. The duke and the other stag hunters started after them.

Remaining behind with Wilhelm and Rupert, Jakob, the assistant huntsman, held the leashes of a greyhound and two white alaunts—thin hunting dogs as tall as ponies—who would help them track the wolves. After the stag hunters and their dogs were almost out of earshot, Wilhelm and his party started off toward the east and the Harz Mountains.

“We’ll head into the hills to search among the caves for the den,” Wilhelm said over his shoulder.

Rupert’s expression looked woeful. Why was he here, missing the chase for a stag? They were likely to be out all day, charging through the trees to hunt for a wolf they probably wouldn’t even find. Rupert hated the terrain of the mountains, which was slow and tedious, not at all like crashing through the forest, ducking limbs, and following the shouts of the other hunters.

Wilhelm wondered again what his brother was up to.

When the sun had climbed high into the sky, they stopped to let the horses rest and take a drink from a stream that tumbled down a rocky slope. Wilhelm stood by his horse as he drank. Georg and Christoff were out of earshot, checking the stream bank for wolf tracks.

Rupert approached him. “Brother, I want you to know that I have the best intentions toward Rose.”

Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed as he looked at him. Finally, he turned away, staring into the beech trees across the bank. “I’m listening.”

“I know you think I’m not to be trusted around women.”

Wilhelm continued to look straight ahead. Maybe this was why
Rupert had come with him. But he had a bad feeling about what his brother was about to say.

“I suppose I deserve that reputation. But I’ve confessed my past sins. Perhaps you think me incapable of committing to only one woman.”

Wilhelm glanced at Rupert. He was starting to sweat, and he looked uncomfortable, as though he was choosing his words carefully.

“You would be wrong to think that about me, Wilhelm. I know Rose is the maiden I want to commit to, and I swear I won’t betray her.” He wiped his face with his sleeve.

Wilhelm kept his head turned away, hoping Rupert couldn’t read the thoughts racing through his mind. His throat suddenly felt thick and dry and he swallowed, hard. His brother sounded sincere, but that thought only made him remember all the shallow, selfish things Rupert had done in the past.

“Why are you telling me this?” Wilhelm turned suspicious eyes on him.

“Because Rose doesn’t trust me, and you and Osanna are doing nothing to improve me in her eyes. If you aren’t going to help my suit, you could at least not make me out to be a scoundrel.”

There was a long pause as Wilhelm wrestled with memories, of both his brother and of Rose.

After a long pause, Rupert said, “I swear I’ll be good to her. I know she’s a favorite of yours.”

What made him say that? Guilt soon gave way to anger, but Wilhelm strove to make his voice sound calm and even. “I think of her as a sister. That is all.”

“She is the one for me. If she’ll have me, I vow to love her only and to take care of her for the rest of her life. Please believe me.”

“If that is true, then I wish you joy.” He grabbed the reins of his horse. “Let us be off,” he called to his men. He swung his leg over his horse’s rump and guided them toward the wolf’s trail.

The rest of the castle had long retired to sleep, but Wilhelm paced back and forth over his bedchamber floor, still clothed in his white shirt and hose. He never allowed his servant to undress him. He disdained the idea of allowing others to do things he could do himself.

Wilhelm liked to think of himself as competent, able to accomplish any task worth doing. But now…

He was helpless against this ache in his chest—in his heart.

He would force himself to picture Rose with Rupert, imagine them married, holding hands, kissing. Even though it made him feel like retching. He would think of her as the future mother of his nieces and nephews. He must think of her this way, since he could never have her. If she married Rupert Gerstenberg she would at least be safe and well cared for. The name alone would protect her. No one could molest or harm her, and she would be able to live comfortably. It was the best thing that could happen to her.

But why did it feel like the worst thing that could happen to him?

He was betrothed. He had a future wife of his own. Never had he struggled with his thoughts for a woman. Not like this. Why did she affect him so much?

Because he cared for her.

If he were completely honest, he didn’t want Rupert to marry her, because he wanted to marry her himself. It was a grievous sin indeed.

He would confess this sin in the morning to the chapel priest. But no. He couldn’t wait until morning. He would confess it now, to God, in his own chamber. He fell to his knees in front of the slit of a window. The moon’s light, void of any warmth, fell on his face as he clasped his hands.

“O God, I am a miserable wretch. I vowed to remain pure for my betrothed, but my feelings for Rose…” He closed his eyes. “Forgive me. I will conquer this. I can’t avoid her, but I will think of her only as a sister. I will, God. And she is blameless. It was I who looked at her too long, who chose to dance with her, who, like a fool, allowed my mind to dwell upon her. Forgive me, God. I will try not to think about her, and I will never touch her again. I will marry Lady Salomea. I cannot, now or ever, marry Rose.”

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.”

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.