The door opened and someone walked in. Rose turned to face the mother and watched the woman’s features crumple as she read Rose’s expression. She flew to the child’s side and picked her up, holding her against her chest and cradling her head.
The father stood near the door, motionless. “Our only comfort,” he said quietly, his face stony, “is that the priest spoke the sacred rites over her yesterday.”
Rose began to shake all over. She turned and walked up to her room, passing Frau Geruscha on the stairs. Rose didn’t say a word, simply closed the door to her room and sank to the floor by the bed.
Why? I prayed for her, Frau Geruscha prayed for her. I didn’t want her to die. Why, God? Did you do it so that she wouldn’t have to endure future hardships and pain? I don’t understand.
Rose stayed in her room all day and night and refused to eat what Frau Geruscha brought her. The next morning she came down and told Frau Geruscha, “I’ve decided to join the Meistersingers.”
Frau Geruscha merely stared. Finally, she said, “Come, let’s go eat something.”
Rose ate a hearty meal of eggs, fried pork, and bread.
When they returned to Frau Geruscha’s chambers, Rose stopped her just inside the door. “So you don’t object to me joining the Meistersingers? They’ll be here at Christmas. I plan to ask to join them then.”
Frau Geruscha’s top lip twitched. “Rose, that’s no life for a respectable maiden like you. You’ll see. God’s plan for you isn’t traveling the countryside with vagabonds.”
“They’re not vagabonds.” Anger crept into Rose’s voice, and she suddenly knew how a caged animal felt. Words and feelings expanded inside her, determined to find release. “You don’t understand. I can’t stay here, Frau Geruscha. I can’t. I can’t stand another winter of sickness and death. I’m not like you. I’m no good at helping people. I hate the sight of blood, I get sick when I see it gushing out of people’s heads or oozing from some gashed-up body part. I asked God to change me, but he didn’t. I can’t do it. If I stay here another year I’ll either die or go insane.” Tears streamed down her face and sobs shook her. She covered her face with her hands.
Frau Geruscha’s arms wrapped around Rose and she patted her on the back. “Now, now, everything will be well, my dear.”
“Everything won’t be well.” Rose pulled out of her embrace and faced her. “I’m not like you. I’ll never be able to do this.”
“You’re just upset. Come and sit down.” Frau Geruscha took her arm and led her to a chair. “Now listen to me, Rose.”
Rose struggled to control her sobbing.
“I want to suggest something. You think you want to meet up with the Meistersingers in a few weeks when they come to perform for Christmas. Well, you shall.”
Rose wiped her face with her apron.
“When they come, I’ll arrange it. You can talk to them and decide if that’s what you want to do. Can you wait that long, Rose?”
Rose nodded. Only two and a half more months. Since Lord Hamlin’s betrothed was supposed to come out of hiding and be presented to him and his family two weeks before Christmas, she wouldn’t be able to avoid that dreaded event. But as long as she knew she would soon be getting away—away from him and his wedded bliss, and away from sickness, blood, and death—she could stand it. But for today, she didn’t want to stay around Frau Geruscha’s chambers, sensing her pity, and even amusement, at her wanting to run away with the Meistersingers.
“Can I take Wolfie and go for a walk?”
Frau Geruscha hesitated. “I don’t think you should.”
Rose felt her composure crumbling again.
Frau Geruscha must have seen her distress, because she quickly added, “It isn’t safe for you, since they haven’t captured Peter Brunckhorst yet, and Lord Hamlin is still searching for Moncore, who may be nearby.” Now Frau Geruscha looked distressed.
“Wolfie will keep me safe. You know he would never let anyone hurt me. And I promise not to be gone long.”
Frau Geruscha didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally she sighed. “All right. You may go. But don’t wander far and be back before nones.”
“Thank you.” Rose wiped her nose, feeling some measure of hope. She longed to fill her lungs with fresh air. That would make her feel even better.
Wolfie followed her out the door. It was the warmest day they’d had since early September. She hastened through the castle gatehouse and down the street to the town gate. She drew in a deep breath of crisp autumn air then sighed in relief at being alone in the open meadow, heading for the woods and the stream.
Her head was starting to ache, probably because of her fit of crying. The thought of splashing some water from the stream on her face made her quicken her pace.