The Healer’s Apprentice

And I should have tried to stop you. The guilty thought stabbed Rose like a knife.

 

“I am responsible for his death, Rose,” Gunther said, as though reading her thoughts. “Only I am to blame.” He shifted his feet, clanging his leg irons. “I had a dream last night. I had been praying, asking God to forgive me. In my dream, an angel came to me here, in the dungeon, and said, ‘God has heard your prayers and has forgiven you.’” He slowly shook his head as he looked her in the eye. “So don’t cry for me, Rose. God has forgiven me.”

 

A tear slipped off her chin and disappeared in the darkness. No, I mustn’t cry. I have to think. She pressed her hand against her trembling lips. “Oh, Gunther, I promise I’ll try to get you out. We have three days. There must be a way.”

 

“Don’t worry. My soul is at peace.”

 

She grabbed Gunther’s limp hand. “I haven’t given up hope of saving your life, and you mustn’t either.”

 

He looked her in the eye. “Tell Hildy I’m sorry, and that I love her. I had hoped to make her my wife…someday. Farewell, Rose. You’re a good friend. Promise me that you will always be Hildy’s.”

 

“I promise.” Rose stifled a sob and squeezed his hand. She tried to say, “Farewell,” but her voice had left her, and she was only able to mouth the words. Lifting the torch from its stand, she shuffled toward the stairs.

 

As she climbed the steps, she tried to think of her options. What could she do to help Gunther? She couldn’t let herself feel hopeless. There had to be something she could do.

 

She reached the top of the steps and knocked on the door. Her only thought was to find Lord Rupert. After all, he was the duke’s own son. Perhaps he could help her win favor with the duke and plead Gunther’s case.

 

Bailiff Eckehart’s keys clinked against the lock and he opened the door to her. She handed him the torch and moved past him down the castle corridor.

 

 

 

 

 

The rain had not let up since the night before in the little northern hamlet. The streets—if such they could be called—had turned into a muddy soup. Wilhelm’s boots slipped and sank into the sucking mire. Raindrops trickled down his neck, chilling him all over. But if Moncore was here, or if there was information of him to be had, Wilhelm would have it.

 

He, Georg, and Christoff had found another, cleaner inn on the other side of town and returned there to devise a plan.

 

“I’ll disguise myself,” Wilhelm said, “and go to Dietmar, asking for Moncore.”

 

“No, my lord,” Georg spoke up. “It’s too dangerous. You might be recognized.”

 

“Better that one of us should do it,” Christoff said.

 

“I won’t be recognized,” Wilhelm said. “Nobody here has ever seen us before.”

 

“Better that one of us should do it.”

 

“Very well. Christoff, you go to Dietmar, and Georg and I will be nearby if you need us.”

 

Morning was a slow time of day for the inn, and, due to the rain, the big downstairs room was empty. Wilhelm and Georg waited inside while Christoff started across the street to see what he could discover from Moncore’s reported friend, Dietmar. After he was a good distance down the street, they started out behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

Wilhelm hunkered against the wall of a mill which faced Dietmar’s little house. He took out his dagger, picked up a small tree limb from the ground, and began to whittle, glancing now and then at Dietmar’s door. Georg was positioned on the other side of the street, under the overhanging roof of an abandoned hut.

 

Wilhelm whittled so long, he almost forgot where he was for a moment. His shoulders began to ache from the cold and wet and from hunching over. He straightened, flexing his shoulders. Where was Christoff? He couldn’t imagine what he and Dietmar could be talking about at such length. But perhaps it only seemed like a long time because he was weary, in both mind and body. He hadn’t been able to sleep well most nights of the trip for thinking about Rose.

 

The farther away he traveled from home, the more he thought about her. It was tiring to try to force her from his mind, to try to focus on something else. Again and again his thoughts went back to the moment in the forest when Rupert had sworn his commitment to her, saying, “I vow to love her only and to take care of her for the rest of her life.”

 

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