The Healers Apprentice (25 page)

Rose ran up to her room.

For four days Rose thought constantly about her mother’s words. Her father wasn’t her father, her siblings weren’t her siblings, and her mother wasn’t her mother and had never wanted her. She felt unloved, a castoff, an orphan. Even as a baby, had she been so unworthy of love? She couldn’t bear the questions inside her, and she decided to confront her father with what she had learned.

Rose headed out with Wolfie into the forest. She inquired about her father’s whereabouts from another woodcutter and his son. She found him not far away, chopping steadily at a large beech tree.

“Father? May I speak with you?”

He looked up. “Of course, Rose.” He placed the ax head on the ground and leaned on the handle. “Your mother sent you a message four nights ago saying she wanted to talk to you. Have you been well? We haven’t heard from you.”

Rose took a deep breath. “Father, I know I’m not your daughter. I want to know who my parents are and how you came to raise me. And why did you never tell me?”

A flicker of pain had crossed his face as Rose spoke. When she finished, he sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know. I wanted you to always be my daughter. And you are my daughter, just as much as my other children.”

“But Mother doesn’t feel that way, does she?”

He gave her a disapproving look. As always, certain topics were forbidden. One shouldn’t even think about them, and to talk about them was worse.

Rose felt the tears gathering behind her eyes. But she didn’t care. She was determined to say what she had come to say, even if she had to choke the words out.

“I know what my mother wants. She wants me to marry a man who will improve
her
children’s status and prospects.” Angry tears spilled down her cheeks. “But you can tell her I’m not interested in anyone she tries to foist me off on.”

“Now, Rose, that’s disrespectful and you know it. She raised you from a baby—”

“Who were my real mother and father? I think I have a right to know that, at least.”

Thomas shook his head. “I know not.” Rose waited, but he said nothing more.

“Why don’t you know? Did you find me on the road? In the woods? Under a chicken coop?”

He gave Rose another severe look. “No, but it doesn’t matter, Rose. You needed a home and I was happy to take you in. Your mother and I both were. We thought she was barren.”

“So when she discovered she was with child, she began to wish she hadn’t taken me.” The tears came faster.

“Rose!”

The emotion in her chest rose higher and higher. If she had to listen to one more of his unsatisfying answers, to his scolding tone and see his disapproving look, she would explode. She had to be alone, to sob out the huge weight in her chest. She turned to go.

“Rose, wait.”

Rose shook her head and ran.

A few mornings later, in Frau Geruscha’s chambers, Lord Rupert stopped talking and looked annoyed. “What’s the matter, Rose? Are you ill?”

“No.” Rose gave him a smile. “I’m sorry. Only having a little trouble with my mother. It’s nothing. Go ahead and tell me about your hunting trip.”

“There is something else I need to discuss with you.” He lowered his voice. A glimmer of excitement shone in his eyes, and something she’d never seen before. Was it nervousness? She hadn’t known he was capable of the emotion.

“Rose, you know by now that I love you,” he whispered. He leaned close to her ear, keeping an eye on the storage room where Frau Geruscha was working. “I need to talk to you. Can you meet me later?”

“Later?”

“Please, Rose. Something has been decided. I don’t want to talk about it here. I need to ask you something very important. Your answer,” he said slowly and deliberately, “will determine my future joy.”

The solemn expression of his eyes fascinated her. “Where do you want to meet?”

“In the rose garden.”

“I’ll try to meet you this evening, a few minutes before vespers.”

Lord Rupert smiled. He leaned down slowly, covered one side of her face with his hand, and Rose knew he meant to kiss her. She didn’t move. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers.

The thrill of her first real kiss sent a tingle all the way down to her toes. Her heart tripped at the thought of Geruscha suddenly coming in and seeing them.

Lord Rupert pulled away, a tender gleam in his eye. He leaned in and kissed her again, then ran his fingertips along her cheekbone.

“Until this evening.” He stood and left.

Rose lifted her hand to her face, cherishing the lingering sensation of his touch. She closed her eyes. What could Lord Rupert possibly have to ask her? What, except those much-longed-for words—
Will you marry me?

Unbidden, Lord Hamlin’s face appeared before her eyes.

What was wrong with her? She had to forget about him, stop wondering what he was doing every day, stop wishing to tell him every time something good or bad happened to her. Anyway, he would be married, to his precious Lady Salomea, in a few months.

She closed her eyes and imagined marrying Lord Rupert. She had a few misgivings about his attitude toward certain things—responsibility, for instance—but if what Hildy had said about marriage was true, she would be able to overlook all of his faults.

Rose anxiously waited for six o’clock to
draw near. In order to get away without raising Frau Geruscha’s suspicions, she planned to make an excuse about having to visit her parents. Their new home was very near the castle gatehouse, and she would visit her parents, but only to leave Wolfie with her sisters. She thought Lord Rupert would appreciate being completely alone with her when he asked her to marry him. After he asked her, she would go back to her parents’ to fetch Wolfie and tell them the happy news, that she would soon marry the most coveted man in the region of Hagenheim.

Maybe her mother—the only mother she had ever known—would finally be proud of her.

Frau Geruscha approached her. “Rose, I’ve wanted to talk to you about what you said about your parents.”

Not now.
She needed to leave soon. “Yes, Frau Geruscha?”

“Rose, sit down.” They both sat on the bench. “I know it must have been devastating to learn that you were not born to your father and mother. But that fact doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”

Rose stared out the window at some clouds and patches of blue sky. “I understand that.”

“You are a wonderful maiden, with excellent qualities, virtues, and talents.”

So you’ve told me before.

“It doesn’t matter who your parents are. That doesn’t determine your worth, Rose.”

“According to the wisdom of the world, it does.”

“But not according to God’s wisdom.”

Rose spoke softly. “I know that.”
Do we have to talk about this now?

“Your father loves you very much, and you have always been a blessing to him. You owe your parents love and respect, but you don’t owe it to your mother to marry a rich husband. You don’t have to marry anyone, Rose. You can stay here with me, helping me with my work.”

Rose looked into her eyes. Would Frau Geruscha be hurt if Rose said she wanted to marry instead of becoming the next healer? “I know you don’t want me to marry…”

“It isn’t that, my dear. I do want you to marry—to marry the person you love, who loves you in return.”

Could she mean Lord Rupert? She sighed in happy relief. “Thank you for saying that.”

Frau Geruscha patted her hand and smiled. “All right, child.”

“May I go for a visit now, to my parents’ home?”

Frau Geruscha looked surprised. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Frau Geruscha. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Rose ran toward the door, and Wolfie jumped up and followed her.

“Be careful, Rose.”

Rose’s sisters, Agathe and Dorothye, met her when she opened the door. “Rose! Wolfie!” they squealed, throwing their arms first around Rose’s neck, then around the dog’s.

“Listen. Can you keep Wolfie here for a little while? I’ll be back to fetch him before bedtime.”

They nodded, their words tumbling over one another. “Come back, I have something to show you.” “Me too.” “Hurry back, Rose!”

Rose gave them each a kiss on the cheek and scurried away. She paused in the street just long enough to pull her bracelet from her pocket and fasten it onto her wrist.

The iron gate to the rose garden hung ajar. Shadows stretched long as the sun hung low in the west. Her heart fluttered. She opened the gate and walked in, shutting it behind her.

Lord Rupert stood in front of a huge red rose bush, the vines of which covered the wall behind him, studding the gray wall with dark red roses. His eyes glinted. A jaunty smile on his face, he stepped forward, took her hands, and led her to the iron bench.

He spoke with fervor, gazing into her eyes. “Rose, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Her heart jumped inside her. His ice-blue eyes held her prisoner in the glimmer of twilight.

“You see,” he said, turning her hand over and playing with her fingers, “the Bishop of Hagenheim died two days ago.”

“Oh?”
What does that have to do with us?

Lord Rupert stared down at her fingers. “My father has granted me what I’ve always wanted, Rose.” He looked up. His pale blue eyes pleaded with her, giving Rose a strange feeling of foreboding.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m asking you to become my wife, Rose, in spirit, because we won’t be allowed a legal wedding. My father has appointed me to be the new bishop.”

In spirit?
Rose instantly understood his meaning. The breath rushed out of her. She jerked her hands out of his grasp.

He spoke quickly, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “But we will be no less married, Rose. You know as well as I do that the Church’s doctrine against priests marrying is unfair and unbiblical. Rose—”

She recoiled from him, leaning back against the armrest of the bench. Her stomach twisted in horror. It was as though a curtain had been pulled and she now saw him as a vile, traitorous snake instead of the tender lover of mere moments before.

“Rose, truly, no one will think of you as anything other than my wife. You will be respected—”

“Stop it.” Rose’s voice came out raspy and foreign, even to her own ears. “I will not be your mistress. Never.” She stood, clenching her fists in defiance. “I will not be anyone’s mistress, do you hear me?”

“Rose, listen to me!” He stood toe to toe with her, grasping her arms hard in his hands. “I’ll make you happy. You shall have all the music, all the beautiful clothes, everything you could want. You can run the household, read books—”

“Let go of me.” Her body went rigid. She could barely see. Tears of rage blurred Lord Rupert’s image. She glanced down and her eyes focused on the bracelet he had given her, glinting on her arm. Her face burned as she grasped it and ripped it off. She threw it at his feet. “You think I’m a nobody, nothing. How dare you ask me to live in sin?”

“Stop saying that and listen to me! It isn’t like that, Rose!”

“It is! It is! And you know it is.” Rose suddenly hated him, hated his detestable fingers gripping her arms. She had to get away from his voice. She couldn’t bear to listen to another word out of his mouth.

Rose violently twisted her upper body and wrenched herself out of his grasp, throwing herself backward. He made a wild grab and caught her sleeve. She heard the fabric rip as she landed on the ground on her left hip. Cool air brushed her shoulder. Her right sleeve was torn and hung awry across her upper arm. She grabbed it and held it up in a feeble attempt to cover her exposed shoulder as she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the hand he offered her.

“You’re being unreasonable—”

“You stay away from me.” Rose gave him her fiercest look, determined to scratch his eyes out if he touched her. “Don’t ever come near me again. Do you hear me?”

She turned and ran out of the rose garden, leaving the gate swinging on its hinges. She skirted behind the castle, across the courtyard, and through the castle gate, keeping her head down as she made her way out of town and then ran across the meadow toward the forest.

She ran as fast as she could, until her chest burned as though her heart were on fire. She reached the beech trees and turned to make sure Lord Rupert wasn’t following her. Then she plunged into the evening shadows of the forest.

Tears coursed down her face and she panted for breath. Not caring where she was going, she kept running, only wanting to get far away. She came out on the other side of the trees, into the waning sunlight, and started toward the beech tree at the top of the grassy hillock.

Her shoulders shook with her sobs. She could barely see where she was going as she stumbled up the hill and sank to the ground under the tree.

She leaned against the tree’s gray trunk and wrapped her arms around it. Her heart throbbed, hurting more with each heaving breath she took. Her throat ached and her eyes burned, but the pain inside was the worst. How could she have ever thought Lord Rupert, son of the Duke of Hagenheim, could possibly marry her? Frau Geruscha had been right all along. She never should have trusted him. He never intended to marry her. Humiliation pierced her and forced out the tears, doing nothing to relieve the ache in her heart.

Rose heard only her racking sobs as they wrenched her whole body. Then, suddenly, horse’s hooves were pounding up the hill toward her. The animal was nearly upon her when she tore herself away from the tree to face the rider.

Wilhelm held Shadow’s reins loosely as they
walked back to the castle through the dense brush and trees. A faint noise toward the west stopped him. He listened but couldn’t identify the sound. Urging Shadow forward, he followed it.

They emerged from the forest. Someone lay crumpled at the base of the beech tree on the hill. His breath caught in his throat as he realized it was Rose, weeping.

He grasped the reins and catapulted onto Shadow’s back, urging him into a canter up the incline. They closed the distance in a few seconds. Wilhelm dismounted before the agile beast had even come to a stop.