The Healers Apprentice (11 page)

Rose’s father had always been too poor to own a horse. That hadn’t stopped her girlish fascination with them. Many times she had gazed into the big brown eyes of the wealthy burghers’ horses. A favorite game was deciding if the animal was gentle and sweet, or strong-willed and wily, simply from the way he looked back at her.

Rose patted the mare’s shoulder and then stroked her forehead. She crooned softly near the horse’s ear, “What a fair lady you are, so strong and sleek.”

“Ready?” Lord Rupert came over to her. His eyes were wide, reminding Rose of her little brother when he was excited about something.

Rose nodded.

“Put your foot into my hands and I’ll give you a boost. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

He looked so solicitous. It was ridiculous—almost as ridiculous as having her sit beside him at the high table during a feast.

“I’m ready.”

He touched the pommel of the sidesaddle. “Put both hands here to help pull yourself up.”

Rose grasped it and took a deep breath. Lord Rupert bent low,
laced his fingers together, and held them, palms up, by her leg. Not believing she was doing this, Rose placed her leather-clad foot into his hands. He boosted her, and Rose felt herself leave the ground. The next moment she was sitting in the saddle, gazing down at Lord Rupert.

“I did it!” Exhilaration filled her and she laughed. She was actually sitting on a horse.

Lord Rupert beamed. “You executed that perfectly.
Horsewoman extraordinaire
will be your new title.”

Rose’s heart soared right out of her chest. Of course, it was daft of her, but his words of praise made her feel good.

A “humph” sounded from her other side and she turned to look. Frau Geruscha was mounting her own horse with the help of the groom.

Rupert gave Rose a few more instructions on how to guide the horse. “Whatever you do, hang on and don’t fall off. We’ll go at a slow walk until you grow accustomed.”

Rose held on to both the reins and the saddle. She wished she could sit straddle, like a man. As it was, perched on her sidesaddle, she felt as though she would slide off at the slightest unexpected turn or jolt.

Lord Rupert sat much higher on his massive horse, Gregor, but he stayed very close to Rose, giving her instructions—and multiple compliments—as they slowly headed out through the gatehouse onto the cobblestone Marktplatz.

“That’s it. You’re doing wonderfully.”

The horse obeyed her gentle nudges and one-word commands as they made their way through the town gate to the meadow where the shepherd boys grazed the sheep and cows. Rose couldn’t help smiling, sitting high atop her horse. And Lord Rupert couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. He taught her, in rapid succession, the command to turn the horse around, to go left, to go right, and to stand still.

“Are you ready to practice different gaits?” He hovered beside her.

Rose nodded.

First they went from a walk to a trot, surprising Rose with how much the slight increase in speed jolted her. When she grew somewhat accustomed to the rhythmic motion of the horse, he encouraged her to speed up to a canter. She did, gently pressing the mare’s side with her heels. She liked the feel of the wind blowing her hair, but her heart
stayed in her throat. One false move and she’d hit the ground with a painful thud.

“How do I slow down?”

“Why do you want to slow down? You’re doing fine.”

How would she stop? He hadn’t taught her that either. She felt completely at his mercy.

Lord Rupert drew his horse even closer to hers. Eight powerful legs pounded beneath them. What if the legs got tangled up? They’d bring her, Rupert, and the two horses down in one mass. Her heart thumped hard against her chest.

“Lord Rupert, I want to stop.”

He didn’t speak, only reached over and grabbed her reins, pulling back gently. “Whoa.”

Both horses slowed and halted.

Rose held on to the pommel with both hands. Her breath came in gasps and she marveled at how easily Lord Rupert had managed to slow the powerful beasts to a halt.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you.” Rupert still held her mare’s reins. He covered her hand where it rested on the saddle. “Forgive me.”

Rose looked into his eyes. “Of course.”

He was relentless with his flirting. She knew she should feel irritated, but instead, his words made her feel like cooked pottage—warm and weak. What a ridiculous romantic she was turning out to be—as bad as Hildy.

Lord Rupert removed his hand from hers and Rose blinked hard, trying to clear her mind. The sun bore down on them from high in the cloudless sky. She brushed a strand of hair back from her temple.

“Where’s Frau Geruscha?” She turned and spotted her mistress behind them, the scowl on her face so threatening it made Rose’s heart sink. “We’d better head back. I would not upset Frau Geruscha.”

“As you wish, my lady.” He turned his horse around.

Rose had trouble turning her horse. It took her three tries before the gray mare obeyed and followed behind Lord Rupert and his big mount. She was startled when he suddenly stopped his horse and slid off. He walked to the edge of the meadow and bent down.

He was picking flowers.

Lord Rupert came toward her, holding a handful of purple, pink, and white wildflowers. If he wanted to flatter her and make her feel special, he certainly knew what he was doing.

It was the second time in her life someone had given her flowers, and he was the giver both times.

“I thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.” His voice was an octave lower. Even though she had reached out to take the flowers, he continued to hold them then let his thumb lightly stroke the back of her hand.

His touch irritated her, for she was afraid that Frau Geruscha would see him touching her. Her mistress was still several horse lengths away but getting closer.

She should not be letting him do this. What would he try next? Her face burned at the thought. Letting him touch her hand went beyond propriety’s boundaries. Besides, she didn’t like the way his touch made her feel—alarmed and out of control.

“Lord Rupert, I would not mislead you. You know my social position is not comparable to yours—”

“Rose, please.” The hurt look on his face affected her much more than she wanted it to as she gazed down at him from atop her mare. “I know what you must be thinking, Rose, but I swear, I—”

“Lesson’s over for today.” Frau Geruscha had closed the gap between them, and her tone brooked no argument. “We thank you, my lord.”

Rose noticed her stern look. She glanced down at Lord Rupert. His pained expression made her feel worse, as compassion for him suddenly welled up inside her.

She must harden her heart. He was like all men, merely wanting what he couldn’t have.

O God, help me.

A week later, Rose sat beside Hildy on the bench in the southwest tower of Hagenheim Castle. Hildy’s mother was minding their candle shop today, giving Hildy the day off and a chance to spend time with Rose. She’d brought some mending with her. Their needles moved in and out of the fabric on their laps while they talked, and when the conversation was at a lull, Hildy hummed while she sewed.

Rose’s thoughts drifted to her family. She had gone, just that morning, to remove her few remaining possessions still at her family’s cottage, since she was sleeping at the castle now. Her childhood memories had been stirred, and she remembered how her father came home
each evening with his ax slung over his shoulder. No matter how tired he was from chopping wood, he always had a smile for her and her sisters and brother. Her mother, on the other hand, was always yelling and scolding, complaining bitterly about the work she had to do. Rose pitied her mother even as she longed to escape her. Her high-pitched voice, raised frequently in anger and frustration, filled Rose with an ache of desperation.

Now that she had escaped, the ache strangely remained, as though she’d escaped physically, outwardly, but inwardly she was still affected. She only hoped her little sisters and brother would not feel the brunt of her mother’s sharp harshness. She had always been kinder to them than to Rose.

Rose was shaken back to the present by the sounds of Frau Geruscha, who was nearby in the storage room putting away some herbs and making a list of those she would need to replenish. Hildy then leaned over and whispered to Rose, “After all you’ve told me about Lord Rupert, I think he must be falling in love with you.”

“That’s silly, Hildy. Even if he is,” Rose hissed back, “he wouldn’t want to wed me.”

“Why ever not? You’re beautiful, and you have what every noble family wants—a body capable of bearing children.”

Rose snorted and rolled her eyes heavenward. Leave it to Hildy to point out things Rose would rather not think about.

“Not
every
thing a noble family wants,” Rose said. “Lord Rupert is accustomed to privilege and wealth, and yet he will not inherit any of it. You know the law. It all goes to the eldest son.”

“So?”

“So he will need to marry an heiress. He wouldn’t be happy with only the manor house his mother has entailed to him.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me at the feast that he should like to be as wealthy as Bishop Albrecht. He doesn’t want to be poor, and he would gain nothing from marrying me. And besides, no one seems to trust him—not his brother, not Frau Geruscha. What does that indicate to you?”

“That the poor man is being treated unfairly. That motives are being attributed to him that are not his own.”

“Oh, Hildy.” Rose sighed and shook her head. She had no illusions about what men desired from women of her class or about the lengths to which they would sometimes go to get it.

She thought of Lord Rupert’s face as he stood near her, of the flowers and of his words before he was interrupted by Frau Geruscha. “
I know what you must be thinking, Rose, but I swear, I
—” How would it feel to be loved by the son of Duke Nicolaus of Hagenheim? To be loved for herself, her thoughts, her values?

It would feel good…very, very good.

She closed her eyes and the image of Lord Hamlin appeared, of his earnest expression. The thought never made it into words, but it was there, in her mind.

There was no comparison between the two brothers.

But she would not even allow herself to imagine how it would feel for Lord Hamlin to love her. He was betrothed.

Rose shook her head again. “I’m afraid it’s more likely that Lord Rupert is hoping to use me for dishonorable purposes.”

“Rose, I know you like to be realistic, but have a little faith in people. Besides, stranger things have happened.”

“Name one.”

Hildy frowned and fell silent for a moment. “What about the duke’s nephew? He married that maiden who sold berries at the market.”

“Only because she was pregnant with his child. And then he abandoned her, secured an annulment from the pope, and married a duke’s daughter from Bavaria.”

“Oh.” Hildy’s frown deepened. “I forgot about that.”

Rose squeezed her eyes closed and rubbed her forehead.

A maiden caught giving away her virginity to someone other than her husband would be publicly humiliated, placed in the stocks in the Marktplatz for all to see and heckle—if the man was not in a position to marry her. But for Rose, something even more important was in jeopardy. If she allowed herself to be duped by Lord Rupert, if he pressured her and she gave in, she would disappoint her father, Frau Geruscha, and worst of all, God. The prospect was too horrible to contemplate. Rose shuddered.

“You’re not getting a chill, are you, Rose?”

“No.” She would heed Frau Geruscha’s warning. She would stay away from Lord Rupert.

“I can imagine that Lord Rupert was a wonderful dancer. Did you enjoy dancing with him? Oh, tell me again what it was like.”

Rose hadn’t told her she’d also danced with Lord Hamlin. For
some reason, she couldn’t bear to tell Hildy about that. It would be like publicly showing off one’s most treasured possession. Some things weren’t meant to be shared.

“Dancing with Lord Rupert was very exciting.”

“Did he kiss your hand?”

“No.”

“Tell me again what he was wearing.”

Frau Geruscha emerged from the storage room. “Rose, I’m going into town to look in on Adelheide Bulger. She had a high fever yesterday. I may not be back until nones.”

Rose nodded and listened to her mistress’s instructions until she left, closing the door behind her.

Rose regaled Hildy with more details of everyone’s dress, from Lord Rupert to the duchess, to Lady Osanna and other girls who were there.

Hildy sighed deeply. “Oh, it would be heavenly to be able to dance and wear beautiful clothes and be admired.”

Rose hoped that Hildy would get her chance some day.

Someone knocked at the door. Rose got up and opened it to find Gunther Schoff.

“Good morning, Rose.” He smiled and bowed.

“Gunther! Come in, please.” Feeling almost as giggly and excited as Hildy often looked, Rose pulled Gunther inside. “Gunther Schoff, I present to you Hildy, daughter of Hezilo the chandler.”

“Good morning.” A look of interest flickered in his pale blue eyes. His sandy red hair and freckles made him boyishly handsome. “I came to see Frau Geruscha about some herbs for my mother.”

“She’ll be back later.” An idea came to Rose. She smiled and arched her eyebrows. “You have time to wait, don’t you? I want to teach Hildy to dance. It would be hard without a man to serve as her partner. Would you…?”

A smile spread across Gunther’s face, and Hildy’s cheeks turned pink.

Rose and Hildy set their sewing bundles in the corner. The chamber where Frau Geruscha and Rose tended the sick and injured was spacious. They pushed the benches against the wall, leaving plenty of room for a couple to dance.

Rose clapped to provide the rhythm while Gunther instructed Hildy in the dances, starting with the Maltese Branle. Rose watched
with approval as Gunther gently guided his pupil, who caught on quickly to the order of the steps. The air was cool for May, and a breeze blew through the open windows and fanned the dancers’ cheeks. Rose hoped Gunther noticed the alluring tendrils of blonde hair that had wriggled loose from Hildy’s braid and fluttered at her temples.