Wilhelm laid down another coin on the table but kept his hand over it. “Are you sure you never heard of him?”
“Well, now.” Her gaze shifted toward the door then made a pass around the room. When she seemed satisfied no one was listening, she leaned forward. “He was in town last winter. Haven’t seen him since.” She looked over her shoulder then went on. “He has a friend, one Dietmar, lives near the mill.”
She stared pointedly at his hand, and Wilhelm lifted it. She snatched up the money.
He nodded to her. Only when she left the room did he allow himself to smile at this bit of information.
Rose marched out ahead of Frau Geruscha. When they arrived at the dungeon, Geruscha talked to Bailiff Eckehart and convinced him to allow Rose a few minutes with the prisoner. He led Rose to the wooden door at the top of the dungeon stairs and unlocked it with two huge metal keys. It creaked on its hinges as the bailiff pushed it open. The odor of unwashed bodies, excrement, and dead, decaying rats wafted out at them. Rose’s hand flew to her nose, but she yanked it back down by her side.
She turned to Frau Geruscha. “There’s no need for you to go too.”
“I’ll go back and check on Hildy. Bailiff Eckehart will take care of you.”
The bailiff lit two torches and gave one to Rose. He placed a cloth over his nose and mouth then led the way down the uneven stone steps. Rose again fought the urge to cover her nose and instead raised her head. She would brave the smells and not let Gunther see her cowering at the odor.
The stones of the walls glistened with the damp, and far below she could hear water dripping. They continued their descent until Rose began to wonder if they would ever reach the bottom. She heard an occasional scuffling near her feet. Rats. Even with the two torches, she couldn’t see farther than a couple of steps in any direction.
Finally, Bailiff Eckehart said, “Excuse me, Fraulein Rose. You stay here while I go make sure the prisoner is decent.”
Rose hugged herself while waiting on the step. Her arm brushed the cold, wet wall, and she drew it back with a gasp. She didn’t want to bring anything back upstairs with her.
After a moment, the bailiff and his torch came into view again. “You may proceed.”
She stepped down carefully, as the last few steps were wet and slippery. The bailiff placed her torch in a sconce on the wall. He took the other and started back up the steps without a word.
Gunther sat slumped against the stone wall, his red-blond head bowed. His feet were anchored to the wall with thick metal chains around his ankles. His wrists were chained as well.
He lifted his head and his eyes met hers.
Her throat closed. She swallowed hard to force out her words. “Gunther? Are you all right?” Tears of pity stung her eyes, but she was determined not to let him see his own pitiable state reflected in her gaze.
He slowly raised himself to stand, his chains rattling—a sickening sound. “Rose. I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” Dried blood plastered his hair to his head above one eye. What had they done to him?
She tried to sound cheerful. “But these are temporary surroundings.”
“Very temporary, since I am to be hanged in three days.” His voice sounded flat and unemotional.
“Gunther, tell me what happened.” In her urgency Rose laid her hand on his shoulder.
Gunther looked her in the eye, pain clearly etched in the lines of his face. “I’m so sorry.”
When he didn’t go on, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I suppose I did kill him. But I didn’t intend to.”
“How? What happened?”
“David and I found him the night after I talked to you. He was sitting on the riverbank, drinking. He didn’t even put up much of a fight, he was so drunk. I beat him senseless and left him lying there, on the bank.” Gunther shook his head. The chain on his wrist clanked as he put his hand over his face. “I think he must have rolled into the river and drowned.”
Rose closed her eyes. “So is that what you told the bailiff?”
“Yes.”
“And the duke still sentenced you to die?” Rose spoke the last word in a whisper and immediately wished she had not uttered it.
“Yes.”
“But surely he understood you were simply defending Hildy. It was an accident. He was drunk. He fell in the river and drowned.”
Gunther shook his head. “You were right. I should have gone to the bailiff with our complaint against Arnold Hintzen. The duke was furious that I took the law into my own hands.” His voice trailed off absently, as if he’d forgotten anyone was listening. He held out his hands, palms up, pulling taut the noisy chains. He stared at his hands, his expression full of misery and anguish.