The Healer’s Apprentice
Melanie Dickerson
Chapter 1
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 topheavy, 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?