“Here, boy, take it.” Rupert tossed the chunk of meat at Wolfie’s front paw. Wolfie sniffed then wrapped his jowls around it. He chewed twice and swallowed.
“That’s right, see?” Lord Rupert said. “I’m your friend.”
Wolfie licked his black lips. Rupert picked out another nice-sized bite. He held it out, this time waiting until Wolfie inched forward and took the meat from his hand.
“I knew you would learn to like me,” Lord Rupert said with a satisfied grin, but his eyes settled on Rose when he said it.
They ate quietly. Rose didn’t eat with much appetite, aware as she was of Lord Rupert’s eyes on her. She was determined to act naturally, but Hildy’s words about him kept repeating in her head. “I think he’s in love with you…motives are being attributed to him which may not be his own…You have what every noble family wants.”
“Are you writing a new story, Rose?” Lady Osanna asked. “I saw you working on something in Frau Geruscha’s chamber.”
Rose turned to Lady Osanna. “Yes, a new one.”
“Oh, do tell us about it.”
Lord Rupert leaned in. “Do tell.”
Rose smiled and tucked her hands underneath her, trying not to fidget. “Well…it’s about a farmer whose wife constantly complains. She complains when it rains, she complains when it doesn’t. Either the chickens lay too many eggs, or not enough, and her bed is always too lumpy, until her husband decides to cure her of complaining.”
Rose smiled at the way their eyes were focused on her. The meadow around them was quiet except for the rustle of the leaves as the wind blew over the nearby trees.
“So one night after she goes to bed and falls asleep, her husband wraps himself in a white sheet and drapes a veil over his face. He lights three candles and holds them just in front of his chin so that his face appears to be glowing. He calls her name to wake her up. She sits up, clutching her throat, her eyes wide. He tells her he is the angel Gabriel and God has sent him to rebuke her for all her complaining. She must never complain again, for when she does, she will fall down dead on the spot. Instead, she must be thankful for rain and sunshine, food to eat, and a bed to lie in.”
“So what happens next?” Lady Osanna asked.
“The angel—her husband—commands her to lie down and go back to sleep. She falls onto her pillow and closes her eyes. The next morning is cloudy and misty. Her husband greets her with, ‘Good morning, good wife. It’s a lovely day, think ye?’ She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again. She says nothing for a long moment. Then she says, ‘So it is.’ She goes about her usual chores the entire day but doesn’t speak another word. Finally, that night, when they go to bed, she speaks.”
Rose paused again.
“What did she say?” Lord Rupert asked.
“She said, ‘I hope that angel comes back tonight so I can ask him what I’m supposed to say to my husband now. I can’t think of a single thing.’”
“Oh!” Lady Osanna clapped her hands.
Rose popped a shelled walnut into her mouth and looked down at her skirt, hoping she wasn’t blushing noticeably.
Lord Rupert smiled then laughed. His eyes sparkled and his voice was rife with enthusiasm. “That’s wonderful! You must finish writing it so I can read it to everyone.”
Rose brushed a piece of grass off her skirt, embarrassed at his praise.
“You have a gift for stories,” Lady Osanna said.
She shrugged. “It’s a short one.”
They continued eating while Lord Rupert and Lady Osanna discussed which of Rose’s stories was their favorite. After a few minutes, Lady Osanna said, “Lady Anne is sick a lot. Perhaps Frau Geruscha could prepare something, a remedy for her, some kind of herbal concoction that would make her stronger.”
“I’m sure she could.”
“She is so often tired. But I’m very happy Wilhelm asked her to come and stay with us for a while.”
“Wilhelm—I mean, Lord Hamlin—asked her to come?”
“He decided to send for her when I told him she was so lonely there at the abbey. Wilhelm handles a lot of decisions like that now. If something happens to Father, it will all fall on his shoulders anyway.” Lady Osanna sighed. “Sometimes I pity him.”
“Why?”
“He’s so serious. He won’t let himself forget his duties, even for a short while, and enjoy himself.”
Rose could have argued the point with her, remembering the way he’d played his lute all afternoon so Gunther and Hildy could dance.
“He never does anything solely for himself. He has a heavy sense of his responsibility. Don’t you think so, Rupert?”
“Yes, my brother’s a prude, a priest in layman’s clothing.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Lady Osanna glared. She leaned back on her hands and stared thoughtfully at the sky. “He’s…determined. And he would never break his word or do anything unchivalrous.”
“And he wants to make sure the rest of the family doesn’t, either.” Lord Rupert half closed his eyes and reached out to pet Wolfie, but the dog pulled back out of reach.
“True. He feels responsible for the family’s honor.”
What a heavy burden. But Lord Hamlin seemed capable of bearing it. Rose sensed he accepted his responsibilities almost with relish. Would they some day become cumbersome to him? She couldn’t imagine it. Rupert, on the other hand, would chafe under such a load of responsibility.
“Well, he isn’t responsible for me.” Lord Rupert stood up. He walked a few steps away and began picking the red-orange poppies that grew nearby.
“He’s always trying to find Moncore. He feels so accountable for his betrothed, for her safety. He’s never even met her, but he fully intends to marry her. I worry about him being too serious,” Lady Osanna said. “You understand my meaning, don’t you, Rose?”
“I think I do.”
“You’re the oldest in your family, and you’ve been working with Frau Geruscha for a while now. Do you have that problem? Is it hard to throw off the mantle of responsibility every now and again?” She chewed absently on some raisins.
“Perhaps, but I don’t have a region to rule like your brother will. I’m sure he is quite capable of bearing the mantle of responsibility. I believe it makes him happy to do his duty, for the good of his people.”
“Yes, duty, that’s it. And you’re right. He’d never be happy if he shirked his duty, but…” Lady Osanna sighed. “I suppose he’ll be happy enough some day, when he’s married to Lady Salomea. It’s only the strain of trying to capture Moncore that weighs so heavily on him, I suppose.”
Rose was sure Osanna was right, but thinking of Lord Hamlin married to the unknown Lady Salomea cast a pall over her spirits. A dark cloud drifted over the sun, blocking its rays for the first time since they’d started on their little jaunt.
Lady Osanna watched Lord Rupert as he gathered a handful of flowers. “That’s a good idea. I could pick some flowers to decorate the table tonight.” Rising, she wandered away toward the assortment of pink, blue, and lavender wildflowers that covered the meadow.
Rose jumped up to help. As she leaned over, pinching off stems one by one, a leather boot came into view next to her. She straightened, tossing her hair over her shoulder and out of her eyes. Lord Rupert stood holding out a fistful of poppies, a big smile on his face.
“For you.”
Rose hesitated. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wolfie with his nose buried in the grass, probably trying to sniff out a partridge or hare. Lady Osanna was also several feet away. She had fetched the food basket and was stuffing flowers into it.
The look in Lord Rupert’s eyes was so eager she couldn’t disappoint him. She reached out and took the handful of red poppies. He then wrapped his hand around the multicolored wildflowers she had gathered in her other hand, letting his fingers rest against her own for a moment. His chest, covered by his sleeveless crimson doublet, was at eye level and much too close. She took a step back.
Lord Rupert turned and walked over to his sister, and Rose started to breathe again. He placed the flowers Rose had picked into his sister’s basket, then strode straight back to Rose and reached out his hand. Before Rose knew what he was about to do, he pulled out a single red poppy from the bunch he had given her.
“May I?” His voice was low and gentle. He didn’t wait for her answer, but placed the flower in her hair next to her temple. “Now it is even more beautiful.”
Rose looked away from him. “I’d better go see if Lady Osanna has enough flowers.”
“Wait.” The smile left his face. “I know you don’t trust me, Rose. I suppose that’s wise of you.” He looked at her with a pained expression, his brows creasing his forehead. “You aren’t like other maidens, Rose. You’re enchanting, clever, confident. I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Me? Confident? Rose considered him with raised eyebrows.
“And you’re the most beautiful—”
“Rose!” Lady Osanna called.
She jumped. “Yes?” Stepping around Rupert, she walked toward Lady Osanna.
“Oh, I didn’t see you on the other side of my ox of a brother. Aren’t those poppies lovely?”
Rose looked down at the bunch of flowers in her hand.
“Rupert picked those for you, didn’t he?” Lady Osanna half frowned, half smiled, and shook her head. “He’s such a trifler. Pay no heed to him.”
Rose glanced up at Lord Rupert, who had walked up beside her. His expression turned dark at his sister’s words.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Osanna cocked her head and thrust her hand onto her hip.
With visible effort, he lightened his expression and turned his gaze on Rose. “My sister likes to malign me unfairly. It’s her way of jesting. Humorous, isn’t it?”
Lady Osanna shook her head. She hung the basket full of flowers over one arm and slipped her other hand through Rose’s arm. “Shall we go?” They started back toward the castle, its five cylindrical towers of grey stone the only things visible above the surrounding wall.
“What about the blanket and food?”
“Oh, I’ll send a servant to retrieve them.”
Rose glanced over her shoulder and saw Lord Rupert still standing in the same spot, staring after them.
Wilhelm enlisted the help of Lukas to saddle Shadow. The boy was eager to learn all the steps to grooming and saddling a horse. Rose would be pleased at how happy the child seemed. He wished she could see the smile on his face now as Wilhelm praised him, how the boy’s cheeks had filled out now that he was eating regularly. He would love to see the look on her face when she realized Wilhelm was taking good care of him.
But what was he doing, thinking about Rose, desiring her approval? He was treading on dangerous ground.
His father was conducting a large hunt to entertain himself and an earl who had come for a visit. As usual, it was a massive event. A crew of dog handlers, falconers, archers, and assistant huntsmen moved to and fro about the stable and courtyard. Rupert was striding toward them as well. His brother had always enjoyed the hunt as much as anyone. Rupert had felled many a stag, decorating the wall of the Great Hall with several big racks of antlers. A buck was a great prize, but Wilhelm usually let someone else do the killing. He didn’t especially like destroying the noble creatures.
Someone was approaching him from behind and Wilhelm turned around as Rupert clapped him on the shoulder. “Ready for the chase?”
Rupert was smiling and friendly. He must want something.
“Georg, Christoff, and I are going wolf hunting and leaving you and Father to the deer.” Wilhelm knew how much Rupert loved stag hunting—and despised hunting wolves. Wolf hunting was much less exciting, and usually less fruitful.
“Some sheep have gone missing.” Wilhelm turned back to his horse, yanking the saddle’s girth. “We’ve heard reports of a wolf in the area, killing lambs and pigs.”
After a short pause, Rupert said, “I’ll go with you.”
Wilhelm stopped and turned to study his brother. Rupert looked strangely earnest. What was he up to? “As you wish.”
Duke Nicolaus entered the yard, followed by a servant carrying his bow and arrow. His presence infused the scene with instant energy as all the men scurried about, making sure they were ready the moment the duke mounted his horse.
A servant had prepared Gregor for Rupert, and he swung into the saddle. He hung back with Wilhelm and the two knights.
Two huntsmen on foot with several of the dogs were first to enter the forest. The duke and the other stag hunters started after them.
Remaining behind with Wilhelm and Rupert, Jakob, the assistant huntsman, held the leashes of a greyhound and two white alaunts—thin hunting dogs as tall as ponies—who would help them track the wolves. After the stag hunters and their dogs were almost out of earshot, Wilhelm and his party started off toward the east and the Harz Mountains.
“We’ll head into the hills to search among the caves for the den,” Wilhelm said over his shoulder.
Rupert’s expression looked woeful. Why was he here, missing the chase for a stag? They were likely to be out all day, charging through the trees to hunt for a wolf they probably wouldn’t even find. Rupert hated the terrain of the mountains, which was slow and tedious, not at all like crashing through the forest, ducking limbs, and following the shouts of the other hunters.
Wilhelm wondered again what his brother was up to.
When the sun had climbed high into the sky, they stopped to let the horses rest and take a drink from a stream that tumbled down a rocky slope. Wilhelm stood by his horse as he drank. Georg and Christoff were out of earshot, checking the stream bank for wolf tracks.
Rupert approached him. “Brother, I want you to know that I have the best intentions toward Rose.”
Wilhelm’s eyes narrowed as he looked at him. Finally, he turned away, staring into the beech trees across the bank. “I’m listening.”
“I know you think I’m not to be trusted around women.”
Wilhelm continued to look straight ahead. Maybe this was why Rupert had come with him. But he had a bad feeling about what his brother was about to say.
“I suppose I deserve that reputation. But I’ve confessed my past sins. Perhaps you think me incapable of committing to only one woman.”
Wilhelm glanced at Rupert. He was starting to sweat, and he looked uncomfortable, as though he was choosing his words carefully.
“You would be wrong to think that about me, Wilhelm. I know Rose is the maiden I want to commit to, and I swear I won’t betray her.” He wiped his face with his sleeve.
Wilhelm kept his head turned away, hoping Rupert couldn’t read the thoughts racing through his mind. His throat suddenly felt thick and dry and he swallowed, hard. His brother sounded sincere, but that thought only made him remember all the shallow, selfish things Rupert had done in the past.
“Why are you telling me this?” Wilhelm turned suspicious eyes on him.
“Because Rose doesn’t trust me, and you and Osanna are doing nothing to improve me in her eyes. If you aren’t going to help my suit, you could at least not make me out to be a scoundrel.”
There was a long pause as Wilhelm wrestled with memories, of both his brother and of Rose.
After a long pause, Rupert said, “I swear I’ll be good to her. I know she’s a favorite of yours.”
What made him say that? Guilt soon gave way to anger, but Wilhelm strove to make his voice sound calm and even. “I think of her as a sister. That is all.”
“She is the one for me. If she’ll have me, I vow to love her only and to take care of her for the rest of her life. Please believe me.”
“If that is true, then I wish you joy.” He grabbed the reins of his horse. “Let us be off,” he called to his men. He swung his leg over his horse’s rump and guided them toward the wolf’s trail.
The rest of the castle had long retired to sleep, but Wilhelm paced back and for
th over his bedchamber floor, still clothed in his white shirt and hose. He never allowed his servant to undress him. He disdained the idea of allowing others to do things he could do himself.
Wilhelm liked to think of himself as competent, able to accomplish any task worth doing. But now…
He was helpless against this ache in his chest—in his heart.
He would force himself to picture Rose with Rupert, imagine them married, holding hands, kissing. Even though it made him feel like retching. He would think of her as the future mother of his nieces and nephews. He must think of her this way, since he could never have her. If she married Rupert Gerstenberg she would at least be safe and well cared for. The name alone would protect her. No one could molest or harm her, and she would be able to live comfortably. It was the best thing that could happen to her.
But why did it feel like the worst thing that could happen to him?
He was betrothed. He had a future wife of his own. Never had he struggled with his thoughts for a woman. Not like this. Why did she affect him so much?
Because he cared for her.
If he were completely honest, he didn’t want Rupert to marry her, because he wanted to marry her himself. It was a grievous sin indeed.
He would confess this sin in the morning to the chapel priest. But no. He couldn’t wait until morning. He would confess it now, to God, in his own chamber. He fell to his knees in front of the slit of a window. The moon’s light, void of any warmth, fell on his face as he clasped his hands.
“O God, I am a miserable wretch. I vowed to remain pure for my betrothed, but my feelings for Rose…” He closed his eyes. “Forgive me. I will conquer this. I can’t avoid her, but I will think of her only as a sister. I will, God. And she is blameless. It was I who looked at her too long, who chose to dance with her, who, like a fool, allowed my mind to dwell upon her. Forgive me, God. I will try not to think about her, and I will never touch her again. I will marry Lady Salomea. I cannot, now or ever, marry Rose.”
He knew what he had to do. Rupert had asked Wilhelm for his help, and he knew it hadn’t been easy for him. He would be glad Rupert had apparently given up his avaricious goal of becoming the next bishop. As surprising as it was, Rupert truly must want to marry Rose. And Wilhelm would help him convince Rose that Rupert’s intentions toward her were good. Rupert hadn’t used the word “marriage,” but he said he wanted to commit to her, to love her and only her for the rest of his life. It was the best thing for Rose—and more than other maidens in her position in life could ever hope for.
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