The Healer’s Apprentice

She found a maidservant and asked her to lead her to Lady Osanna’s room. She took a deep breath and knocked.

 

“Who is it?”

 

“It is Rose, my lady.” Rose waited. The door opened.

 

“Rose! Hello.” Lady Osanna looked at her quizzically.

 

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I—” What should she say? I need your brother, when is he coming home?

 

Lady Osanna stepped aside and revealed Lady Anne standing behind her, staring at Rose as if she were an intruder.

 

“I’m so sorry to intrude on you, my lady, but I need help.” Rose felt the tears prick her eyes as she spoke those last three words. Gunther was in the dungeon, chained to the wall, his only hope the hope of heaven when they hanged him in three days.

 

“What is the matter, Rose? What can I do?” Lady Osanna motioned for Rose to enter the room then shut the door behind her.

 

“I’m not sure anything can be done. I’m so sorry to intrude on you.” Rose placed her hand over her chest, which felt so tight she could barely breathe.

 

“You’re not intruding in the least.”

 

Lady Osanna’s voice was gentle and kind, which only made it harder for Rose to fight back her emotions. Staring at the ceiling, she went on. “My friend, Gunther Schoff, has been accused of killing a man. Duke Nicolaus has sentenced him to death by hanging in three days.”

 

A look of repulsion twisted Lady Anne’s face. Lady Osanna’s expression was only slightly better—one of shock.

 

“But he’s innocent. If Duke Nicolaus understands that he didn’t kill the man, never intended to kill him, perhaps he will release him.”

 

“Oh, Rose, it’s so noble of you to want to save him, but I’m not sure there is anything that can be done. The duke’s sentence is irreversible.”

 

The tears came on stronger than ever. Rose tried to force them down, but one spilled out onto her cheek. Lady Osanna held out a handkerchief to her. Rose took it, wiping her face, then gained control of her voice again. “Can you tell me when Lord Hamlin is expected to return?” She couldn’t look Lady Osanna in the eye, ashamed of what she must look like to her, her eyes red and her face splotchy.

 

“In three or four days. Perhaps he will get back in time and will know something that can be done.”

 

Rose held the handkerchief to her eyes and nodded. “Yes, thank you. I thank you for wanting to help. Please excuse me.” Rose turned to leave, wanting to run out of the room.

 

“I’m sorry, Rose.”

 

Rose nodded again and rushed out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

When Hildy finally stopped crying, her pale face wore a lost, hopeless expression. Rose and Wolfie walked her home to her mother, who met them at the door of their little candle shop.

 

Rose went out to the castle stable. She found Lukas and told him she would pay him if he would run and tell her as soon as Lord Hamlin came home. There seemed to be nothing left to do except wait and pray. And Rose did pray, like she’d never prayed before. She prayed all the rest of the day and most of the night.

 

The next morning was torture. She knew she should go and sit with Hildy, but she couldn’t bear to see her without any good news to cheer her. Instead, she waited until after nones, then ran out to the stable to inquire whether Lord Hamlin had returned. Perhaps Lukas had missed him. But he had not returned, and no one had had any word from him.

 

Rose went back to Frau Geruscha’s chambers. She felt like crying, but her tears wouldn’t save Gunther. She had to do something. Hoping Lord Hamlin would return in time seemed too little, too late. He might not be any more help than Lady Osanna or Lord Rupert had been. In the meantime, she had no choice but to go to the duke and beg him to show mercy to Gunther.

 

The thought sent a stab of fear through her. The big, blustery man and his booming voice terrified her. But she would do it. For Gunther and Hildy.

 

Rose turned and went back to the main castle. She found Bailiff Eckehart sitting on a stool outside the dungeon, cleaning his fingernails with his knife.

 

“My lord Bailiff, sir.”

 

He looked up.

 

“If you please, sir, I would like to speak with His Grace, the duke. Would you ask him if he would speak with me?”

 

“Certainly, fraulein.” His gray brows lowered. “What would you speak to him about?”

 

Rose swallowed. “About Gunther Schoff, sir.”

 

“Very well.” He stood slowly, putting his knife away in its sheath before starting off down the corridor.

 

She waited near the door to the dungeon. What would she say to the duke? He would look at her with those scary eyes, his bushy eyebrows lowered and threatening, grunting his disapproval of her. She would not cower but would humbly beg him to forgive Gunther, to reduce his sentence to something less harsh, due to the accidental nature of the death. She would tell him what a good man Gunther was, kind and gentle. Surely the duke wasn’t completely hardhearted.

 

The bailiff’s footsteps echoed through the hall. Rose braced herself as he approached.

 

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. The duke says he cannot see you today.”

 

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