“Good. I’ll go tell the bailiff.” Frau Geruscha flew out the door.
But later that day, when the bailiff came to talk to Rose, he said that her mother had not been able to provide any helpful information, having no knowledge of where Brunckhorst came from or of his family. The man who called himself Peter Brunckhorst had met her on the street and mentioned an interest in Rose, so Rose’s mother had invited him to her home, where he made an offer of marriage. Seeing his expensive clothes, she gave her consent and promised to try to procure her daughter’s. She also admitted to his giving her a small bag of coins—a secret gift, he had said.
“I know nothing else about him either,” Rose said.
Bailiff Eckehart looked puzzled. He abruptly ended their conversation and left.
Rose’s heart took a long swim in the pit of her stomach for the rest of that rainy day. Not only had they not found Peter Brunckhorst, there was no Peter Brunckhorst. She sat by the window, listening to the steady fall of the raindrops.
But the man who had accosted her was real. And he’d filled her with a very real terror.
Rose imagined herself dressed in chain mail and heavy metal armor, like she had seen Lord Hamlin and his knights wear once during a tournament. She imagined the armor protecting her against Peter Brunckhorst and his schemes, keeping her safe, as she fought him off with her sword and shield.
It was a silly thought. Women never wore armor. She must think seriously. If Peter Brunckhorst tried to harm her again…she had no control over what the man would do next. Perhaps she would be able to fight him off again. But what hope did she have against a grown man like him? He was stronger and bigger than she was. She’d been fortunate to have gotten away from him this time. She didn’t think she would be so fortunate if there was a next time. Please, God, protect me. Don’t let him get me.
She refused to think any more ugly thoughts. She let her mind wander to more pleasant memories, to the tender and respectful way Lord Rupert had behaved for the rest of Midsummer’s Eve. At the end of the festivities in the Marktplatz, he had walked her back to the southwest tower. Rose had heard Wolfie scratching from the inside, letting out a bark and probably waking Frau Geruscha.
“Thank you for the Meistersingers, Lord Rupert. I enjoyed dancing with you.”
Rupert brought her hand to his lips, then straightened. “You are welcome, my beautiful Rose.”
“Good-bye.” Rose put her hand on the door, inching away.
“Farewell, my love.”
Rose went inside and bent down to rub her dog’s head. She petted him and echoed Lord Rupert’s words, “My love.” She sighed. “Well, Wolfie, how would you like to move out to the country, to a manor house?”
The next morning, sitting in front of the window with the rain pouring down, Rose suddenly wondered if Lord Hamlin was safe and warm and if he had found and captured Moncore. She no longer felt angry at him, she realized, about the words he’d spoken that last day in the forest. He couldn’t help his upbringing, after all, any more than she could help hers. So she decided to pray for him. Taking up the prayer beads that hung from her waist, she clasped her hands tightly in her concentration and prayed silently.
Someone touched her back and Rose jerked away. She turned and saw Frau Geruscha.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, Rose. I have something to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“I think it’s best if you not leave the castle courtyard, at least for a while.”
Rose stared. “Why? Wolfie always keeps me safe. I only left him here that day because I was going to church.”
“I know.” Frau Geruscha frowned, something she did quite often these days. “I’ve received permission for you to attend the chapel with me so you don’t have to go to the cathedral. I want you to be safe. It’s only for a few weeks. You don’t mind so much, do you?”
“I suppose not.” At least she would have a good excuse not to visit her mother, who still hadn’t forgiven her for refusing to marry the supposedly wealthy wool merchant. She shuddered whenever she thought of Peter Brunckhorst—or whatever his name was—out there somewhere.