The Healer’s Apprentice

“A woman is entitled to her secrets.” He stopped smiling and looked agitated, as if he suddenly remembered something. He was no longer looking at her. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth and pursed his lips. She wished she knew what he was thinking.

 

He stood up and rubbed the back of his neck. When he spoke, he still didn’t look at her. “Do you remember the boy I found stealing an apple in the Marktplatz on May Day?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I discovered who his parents are—or were. His father was a farmer, south of town, who fell to drinking and disappeared a year ago. The boy’s mother died shortly thereafter of a fever. Lukas had been sleeping in a ditch, or in the forest, or in whatever shelter he could find.”

 

“Oh, the poor thing!” Rose cried. Her heart constricted as she thought about the boy who now helped clean the stables and ate his meals with her and Frau Geruscha in the kitchen. He often asked to pet Wolfie. “I can’t believe his father would leave him. So sad.”

 

“It’s not uncommon, especially among the lower classes.”

 

Rose felt a hollow place open in the pit of her stomach. The lower classes? “What do you mean by that? That poor people are less virtuous?”

 

Lord Hamlin shrugged. “Most nobles believe so. Think of it this way. A wealthier family has more reason to uphold the family honor, more at stake. They’re expected to look out for the interests of God and the Church. It’s their duty. A poor family has no such duty.”

 

“Every mortal soul has a duty to God. No person of nobility can take that from him.”

 

“Forgive me if I offended you. It’s a much-accepted theory.”

 

“I’m not offended, merely sorry that you hold to such a theory.” She clenched her teeth and tried to look cool and unaffected, but already she could feel the tears damming behind her eyes. She crossed her arms and struggled to contain the rush of emotions flooding her.

 

He didn’t answer her.

 

She could hardly believe Lord Hamlin…Of course, she knew this was the way the wealthier townspeople thought, always looking down on those who were poor. She had understood from childhood that people judged each other by their occupations, by their clothing, by their wealth or lack thereof. But Lord Hamlin? She had thought he was different.

 

“So my friend Hildy, because her father died and her mother struggles to feed her family, is not as virtuous as a merchant’s child, who dresses in fine clothes and hurls insults at a beggar?” Her throat hurt from holding back the tears

 

He didn’t answer, simply cleared his throat as though he was uncomfortable.

 

She blinked furiously. These cursed tears! She turned her back on him to keep him from seeing them. What was wrong with her? How could she embarrass herself this way? She rubbed the salty drops off her cheeks.

 

“But Rupert, he’s different. He doesn’t feel that way. He thinks everyone should be treated the same. He’s always felt that way.”

 

Rupert? Why was he talking about Lord Rupert now?

 

“I think I should go,” she said, still with her back to him. She called Wolfie, her voice cracking.

 

 

 

 

 

“If anyone should go, it’s me.” Wilhelm hesitated, reluctant to leave, but waiting for her signal.

 

What kind of boorish lout am I? He had made Rose cry. He could tell by the way her shoulders shook and she kept wiping her face. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might make her cry. He felt sick.

 

“Rose?”

 

She didn’t answer.

 

Please forgive me. You’re the last person I would ever want to hurt, but I’m doing this for you. It was probably a good thing they were separated by the stream. He was tempted to leap across it and try to comfort her. But he couldn’t. He had to stay true to his betrothed, and the only way he could do that—and help Rose—was to convince her that his brother was a good person and that he wanted to marry her.

 

He cleared his throat. He might as well go through with the rest of his plan and get it over with. “I want to talk to you about Rupert.”

 

Rose looked up in surprise. Her eyes looked red and puffy. Guilt stabbed him again, but he plunged into his prepared speech.

 

“I can understand why you would be wary of him, why Frau Geruscha may be a little suspicious of his attentions to you. But he isn’t a bad fellow. Even though he’s young, I believe he’s made up his mind about who he wants to marry.” He stopped and considered how to proceed. Absently, he rubbed his chest, trying to get at the pain there.

 

Rose stared. “Are you trying to warn me away from him? I know his mother must have an idea who she thinks he should marry—”

 

“No, no. I’m talking about you, Rose. He swears he will love no one else but you.”

 

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