As he led Shadow down the hill and into the quiet darkness of the trees between them and the castle, Wilhelm told himself to keep an eye out for wolves, but his mind was completely wrapped up in the maiden who so often made his heart ache. He smiled at how she had proposed to sleep in her father’s empty house to keep from being seen with him. She didn’t deserve the whispered judgments of the townspeople, who would have seen and heard of Lord Rupert’s public attentions to her, and would soon notice the sudden cessation of those attentions, drawing the obvious conclusion—that he had used her and then cast her aside. His chest burned at the injustice of such a thing.
Bushes snatched at his legs as the vegetation thickened. He ignored them, glancing up at Rose. Her head and shoulders drooped. She must be tired. He had not asked her how her dress had gotten torn. While she’d claimed it was her doing, Rupert no doubt was at fault there as well. Anger bubbled up inside him so strong that he clenched his fist and silently promised his brother that he would pay for his boorish behavior.
They emerged from the trees into the meadow next to the castle. He ventured another quick look at Rose. He admired her spirit and intelligence, her compassion and character, but God help him, he also found her beautiful. When he’d seen the hurt on her face and her torn dress, then found out what Rupert had said to her, it almost ripped out his heart. He had assured himself that Rose and Rupert would marry, that all her needs would be taken care of, that she would have the protection of the Gerstenberg name. Now that wasn’t possible. Who would marry her and take care of her?
O God, let it be me.
His chest ached with the fervor of his desire—and his impossible request.
Impossible. Impossible. Impossible. The word haunted his mind.
For with God nothing shall be impossible.
The Bible verse entered his thoughts, as though whispered to his spirit.
Don’t taunt me, God. You know I want to do the right thing. What do you mean, nothing is impossible?
A slight breeze brushed his cheek and sifted through his hair, as though God’s Spirit was brushing by him. He listened carefully, straining his ears, but no other words came to him.
They were close enough now to the castle wall that Wilhelm saw it looming in front of them in the moonlight. He led Shadow to the right, toward a small stand of trees that grew to within fifty feet of the city wall.
“I don’t mean to be impertinent,” Rose said, “but where are we going?”
“I’m going to show you something you must never reveal to another soul—not even Frau Geruscha, and especially not Hildy.”
“Of course.” A moment of silence passed. “Is it a secret entrance to the castle?”
The note of excitement in her voice made him smile. “Yes.” They plunged into the trees nearest the wall. He frowned and muttered, “An ill-conceived secret entrance, begun by my irresponsible brother, allowed by my overindulgent father.”
Wilhelm found the tree he was looking for, stood with his back against it, and took two paces forward. He bent to the ground, lifted a dead tree limb, and tossed it to the side. Then he felt around until he found the handle. He pulled it up, got his shoulder underneath the enormous wooden door, and flipped it all the way open.
“A tunnel?”
Rose had dismounted and was bending down to look into the gaping hole.
“Yes. Stay here for a moment.” He jumped down into the hole and set up the wooden ramp that lay nearby, ready for service. Next he felt along the wall for the torch. The pair of flints that were supposed to be in the sconce alongside the torch were missing. Wilhelm winced and walked back up the ramp.
“No torch. But Shadow and I have gone through it in the dark before.”
A band of moonlight filtered between the leaves overhead and shone on Rose’s face, allowing him to see her look of apprehension.
“Or we can go around to the town gate and get the guard to let us in. Whatever you decide.” He half-expected her to be outraged at his suggestion that she walk through the pitch-black tunnel, but apparently she was considering it.
“Are you afraid to walk through the tunnel?” she asked.
“No. I don’t think any animals of significant size could have gotten inside.”
“You don’t think? Does that mean you’re not sure?”
“I’m reasonably sure. But we can always go through the main gate.”
“No, no, I can do this.”
He grabbed Shadow’s reins. “Wait here until I get Shadow in.” He led the horse down the shallow ramp into the tunnel. Inside, the tunnel was only a little wider than the opening and just tall enough for a large horse. Shadow whinnied and snuffled his dislike of the earthen passageway as his hooves clomped on the wooden ramp.
“All right, boy, it’s all right.” He tried to make his voice soothing and low as he patted the horse’s jaw.