Frau Geruscha looked at her with pain in her eyes and took hold of Rose’s arm. “Lord Rupert is Duke Nicolaus’s son, but that doesn’t make him any different from other men. You have the option to say no to anything he asks, do you understand?”
Rose wondered why Frau Geruscha felt the need to remind her again of Lord Rupert’s reputation.
“Yes, Frau, of course. I won’t do anything foolish. I only want to be with Lady Osanna.”
Frau Geruscha looked at her for another moment then patted her arm. “Go on, then.”
Chapter 9
Rose and the noble sister and brother walked to a section of the meadow on the north side of the castle, opposite from where Lord Rupert had taken her riding. A stone fence separated them from the grazing area, where a boy guided a group of sheep with a stick. Wildflowers in shades of blue and purple carpeted the ground, and beech trees loomed on two sides.
Lady Osanna and Rose spread the wool blanket on the grass, then spread a smaller linen cloth on which they placed the food. Sitting together as they were, Rose was unable to separate herself from Rupert by more than a couple of handbreadths. Wolfie lay on the grass right beside her, his paw touching her leg. He kept his eyes on Lord Rupert.
The basket contained chunks of cooked pork, chicken, and cheese, bread and pastries, as well as toasted walnuts, raisins, and apples cut in quarters. A flask of wine completed the repast, along with a pewter cup that they all shared.
As they began to eat, Rupert picked up a large piece of pork and held it out to Wolfie. The dog pulled his head up and back, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Here, boy, take it.” Rupert tossed the chunk of meat at Wolfie’s front paw. Wolfie sniffed then wrapped his jowls around it. He chewed twice and swallowed.
“That’s right, see?” Lord Rupert said. “I’m your friend.”
Wolfie licked his black lips. Rupert picked out another nice-sized bite. He held it out, this time waiting until Wolfie inched forward and took the meat from his hand.
“I knew you would learn to like me,” Lord Rupert said with a satisfied grin, but his eyes settled on Rose when he said it.
They ate quietly. Rose didn’t eat with much appetite, aware as she was of Lord Rupert’s eyes on her. She was determined to act naturally, but Hildy’s words about him kept repeating in her head. “I think he’s in love with you…motives are being attributed to him which may not be his own…You have what every noble family wants.”
“Are you writing a new story, Rose?” Lady Osanna asked. “I saw you working on something in Frau Geruscha’s chamber.”
Rose turned to Lady Osanna. “Yes, a new one.”
“Oh, do tell us about it.”
Lord Rupert leaned in. “Do tell.”
Rose smiled and tucked her hands underneath her, trying not to fidget. “Well…it’s about a farmer whose wife constantly complains. She complains when it rains, she complains when it doesn’t. Either the chickens lay too many eggs, or not enough, and her bed is always too lumpy, until her husband decides to cure her of complaining.”
Rose smiled at the way their eyes were focused on her. The meadow around them was quiet except for the rustle of the leaves as the wind blew over the nearby trees.
“So one night after she goes to bed and falls asleep, her husband wraps himself in a white sheet and drapes a veil over his face. He lights three candles and holds them just in front of his chin so that his face appears to be glowing. He calls her name to wake her up. She sits up, clutching her throat, her eyes wide. He tells her he is the angel Gabriel and God has sent him to rebuke her for all her complaining. She must never complain again, for when she does, she will fall down dead on the spot. Instead, she must be thankful for rain and sunshine, food to eat, and a bed to lie in.”
“So what happens next?” Lady Osanna asked.
“The angel—her husband—commands her to lie down and go back to sleep. She falls onto her pillow and closes her eyes. The next morning is cloudy and misty. Her husband greets her with, ‘Good morning, good wife. It’s a lovely day, think ye?’ She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again. She says nothing for a long moment. Then she says, ‘So it is.’ She goes about her usual chores the entire day but doesn’t speak another word. Finally, that night, when they go to bed, she speaks.”
Rose paused again.
“What did she say?” Lord Rupert asked.
“She said, ‘I hope that angel comes back tonight so I can ask him what I’m supposed to say to my husband now. I can’t think of a single thing.’”
“Oh!” Lady Osanna clapped her hands.
Rose popped a shelled walnut into her mouth and looked down at her skirt, hoping she wasn’t blushing noticeably.
Lord Rupert smiled then laughed. His eyes sparkled and his voice was rife with enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful! You must finish writing it so I can read it to everyone.”
Rose brushed a piece of grass off her skirt, embarrassed at his praise.
“You have a gift for stories,” Lady Osanna said.