“Do you think yours is bleeding again?” He didn’t answer, so she added, “What would your healer say? Would she have stitched the wound closed?” Sophie knew people also sometimes cauterized wounds, using a piece of metal heated in the fire to burn the wound, creating a scar that would close it up and keep it from bleeding. She shuddered inwardly at the thought of such painful treatment.
“I don’t know … Possibly.”
She tried to sound courageous for him. “If there’s anything you need me to do, I will do it.” She remembered how she had hesitated to pull the arrow from his shoulder. But if Walther had not been there, she was sure she could have done that for Gabe. God would have given her the strength.
She pulled out her wooden cross and clutched it tightly in her hand. She prayed silently for God’s mercy on Gabe, that God would heal him as he had healed those who had touched the hem of Jesus’s garment. If God could heal a man born blind, he could heal Gabe’s fever and wound.
She was still praying when Walther stopped, and they all dismounted for their early afternoon meal. Gabe was the last to dismount, and even though Sophie was helping him, he still stumbled. Sophie put her arms around him and let him lean on her.
Even Walther had a worried look on his face as she kept her arm around Gabe and helped him walk away from the horses and sit on the ground. He closed his eyes and lowered himself the rest of the way down to lie on the grass. “I just need … to lie here … for a little … Not hungry.”
Sophie sank down beside him and stroked his feverish forehead, brushing back his hair.
O God, please help us. Please provide a safe place to stop and a healer who can help Gabe. Help us find the Cottage of the Seven and Dominyk the Wise, and please make him able to help us.
She glanced up at the darkening sky. And please let it not rain on us.
Gabe lay on the ground, grateful for the grass underneath him. He knew he was frightening Sophie, but it couldn’t be helped. If he could just rest for a few moments, he felt he could go on and ride the rest of the day, at least until they found the Cottage of the Seven or a place to camp for the night.
Sophie was beside him again, bathing his face. Her gentle touch and the cold water soothed him. He opened his eyes a tiny slit. She hovered above him, and there seemed to be an aura around her, like an angel illuminated by the cloudy sky behind her.
He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.
Sophie stroked Gabe’s forehead until she realized he was asleep.
“Sophie,” Walther said, nudging her arm as he handed her a strip of dried deer meat. “Eat.”
She took the food he offered and ate while she watched Gabe, not tasting a thing. She sent up desperate prayers with each slight rise and fall of his chest. They let Gabe rest after they finished eating, Walther stretching out on the grass himself. But finally, he got up and started tying his bag to his saddle. “I could ride ahead and try to find this Cottage of the Seven myself. Then I could come back for you and Gabe.”
Sophie bit her lip. She hated to wake Gabe, but the sooner they left, the sooner they would find help for him and a bed in a warm, sheltered house. She was sure it was about to rain, and she couldn’t let Gabe stay out in that.
She touched Gabe’s face, careful to avoid his bruised cheekbone. He didn’t wake. She glanced behind her and saw that Walther had gone to relieve himself behind a tree. She bent down and whispered, “Gabe? Can you travel? Or should we send Walther ahead to find the Cottage of the Seven?” Gabe opened his eyes and stared up at her. He raised his hand and caressed her jawline, sending ripples of warmth all through her. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“Can you travel?” There was no real shelter for them here, and if they could only get to the Cottage —
“I can travel. I can do anything for you, Sophie.”
It was the fever talking. He was half out of his mind with pain. That was why he was looking up at her that way, making her heart ache. “Let’s go, then. Before we get drenched.” She got behind his good shoulder and pushed him into a sitting position, then she helped him the rest of the way to his feet. Walther came and helped them both onto Gingerbread’s back.
As they started on their way, Sophie took the reins again and tugged Gabe’s right arm around her, urging him to relax and lean on her for support. He rested his cheek against the top of her head as Gingerbread followed Walther’s horse.
She felt a few sprinkles around mid-afternoon, but then the rain stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief. But an hour later, the sky let go of the heavy raindrops it had been holding back. Gabe lifted his head and looked down at her. He gave her a lopsided smile when she turned to peer up at him. “It’s raining.”
Even when his eyes were bright with fever, he took her breath away. She lifted her hand to feel his forehead. He didn’t feel as warm as before, but it may have only been because of the cold rain falling on their heads. She was at least encouraged by his smile.
She noticed he was staring at her lips. She turned back around and bowed her head, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. This way she couldn’t see his face and neither of them could do anything foolish.
The rain was coming down steadily as they continued their trek through the heavily forested river valley. Walther didn’t slow their pace for the rain and Gingerbread continued to follow Walther’s black gelding.
Soon Sophie was soaked through. Her hair was plastered to her head and rain ran down her neck, over her face, everywhere. It was getting darker and colder. She wasn’t sure, but Gabe’s fever seemed to have lessened. He wasn’t radiating heat like he had been earlier this morning.
After riding in the rain for at least an hour, they came to the first house they’d seen in days. It was large — two stories — plastered white and painted all over with colorful flowers. The thatched roof looked dense enough to keep out the hardest rain.
Walther turned in his saddle and shouted, “I think this is it!” Rain dripped off his nose and slung off the ends of his hair when he turned.
If indeed this was the Cottage of the Seven, which Sophie prayed it was, it was very large. She hadn’t realized how tired she was, how much her shoulders ached and how miserable her cold, wet clothes felt until she anticipated having a safe place to stop and rest.
Behind her, Gabe began to shiver uncontrollably. Waves of shudders passed through his body.
O God, please let this be the place Petra told us about. Please let them invite us in. And please let there be someone here who will know what to do for Gabe.
They dismounted and Sophie helped Gabe walk to the door. He was shaking violently, and instead of looking flushed, he now looked pale. Walther knocked.
The door creaked open, but Sophie couldn’t see around Walther’s huge bulk.
“We’re looking for Dominyk the Wise and the Cottage of the Seven.”
“You’ve found both,” the gruff voice answered. “Who sent you? Why are you here?”
The voice seemed to be coming from down low, as if the person were squatting while he talked. Sophie tried to peer around Walther but couldn’t if she wanted to continue supporting Gabe.
“We were sent by Petra at Hohendorf Castle. She said you could offer us a safe place to sleep.” Walther stepped back and gestured toward Gabe. “This is Duke Wilhelm’s son Gabe. He’s injured and needs help.”
Sophie finally saw who had opened the door. It was a man, but he was shorter than any man she had ever seen. She was fairly certain she had heard stories of men like him, who were called dwarfs. He seemed to be about middle age, and he stared up at Walther with a crusty look on his face.
“Petra? How do you know her?”
“She is the cook for Duchess Ermengard of Hohendorf. She and this girl, Sophie, work together.”
The man scowled, then shifted his gaze to Sophie and Gabe. His harsh demeanor softened as he stared at them. “Very well.” He stepped back. “You may come in.”
Chapter 15
Gabe l
eaned heavily on Sophie as they walked inside. Sophie breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the cheerful room and the roaring fire in the large stone fireplace.
Then she realized the room was positively filled with men of all heights, ranging from Dominyk’s, who stood only as tall as Sophie’s waist, to a shaggy-haired giant standing at the rear of the room with his mouth open.
The men all stared at them. Then Dominyk barked out, “Siggy, Vincz, take this man” —Dominyk pointed at Gabe — “to the west room and give him dry clothes and put him to bed.”
Two average-sized men came toward them and, nudging her out of the way, half carried Gabe, one on each side, up the stairs at the left end of the large room.
Sophie watched them go, taking a step as if to follow them, unsure what to do. “His left shoulder is injured,” she called after them. One of the men turned back and stared at her. Then he turned around and continued up the steps with Gabe.
Another man, who wore a rough woolen tunic that went all the way to his ankles, similar to a monk’s garb, bowed his head and followed after them. His gait seemed unusual, and when Sophie looked down at his feet, the sight almost didn’t make sense to her. His feet were bare and misshapen, turned inward in such a way that he had to walk on the sides of his feet as if he were on stilts or clubs. He didn’t look up at her, and she was glad, since she was rudely staring.
“Bartel will see to his injury,” Dominyk said.
After the three men went upstairs with Gabe, the four that were left stood staring at Sophie and Walther. She sensed in her heart that these seven were good men and would treat Gabe kindly. Tears of relief and gratitude pricked her eyelids. Thank you, God.
Dominyk, who was obviously their leader, turned to a man with a massive scar on the side of his head where no hair grew. “Gotfrid. You and Dolf go and prepare a bath for the lady.” He made some hand signals to the young man with neat brown hair and a kind face, who hurried out of the room. Gotfrid, his scalp shining in the firelight, scowled and grumbled under his breath as he followed Dolf out of a door at the back of the room.
Sophie would be so thankful for a bath. She hadn’t had one since before she and Gabe had escaped from Hohendorf. Was that only three days ago? It seemed like months.
She wrapped her arms around herself as she was beginning to tremble with cold and fatigue. Now Sophie and Walther were alone with Dominyk and one last man — the shaggy-haired giant who was standing behind the much-smaller Dominyk. Dominyk turned to him.
“Heinric, go get some rags to clean up the water they’re dripping on the floor. Go. Rags.”
Smiling ear to ear, Heinric ran out the back doorway, then came running back in, his arms full of cloths.
Sophie looked down at her feet and saw that she and Walther were making a mess, dripping water on the floor. Heinric came toward them, grinning at her, and fell to his knees at her feet.
“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Sophie said.
Heinric grinned up at her as he wiped up the water on the floor. Then he started wiping her feet. And she was sure he would have gone on to wipe her legs too, but Dominyk said firmly, “That’s enough, Heinric.”
Heinric stopped and looked back at his short leader. “Enough?”
“Yes, Heinric, enough. Very good. Now wipe the floor — only the floor — at the man’s feet.”
Heinric moved over to Walther and began wiping the floor around his feet.
“I believe we have some clothes that will fit you,” Dominyk said, addressing Walther. “Go upstairs and into the first room on the right. You’ll find clean clothes and a basin to wash in. We will have supper in an hour, when you and the young maiden are ready.”
She and Walther exchanged glances, then Walther went upstairs, Heinric watching him go and saying, “Bis bald. Bis bald. Bye-bye. Bye-bye.”
Dominyk gestured to Sophie, as if he didn’t notice Heinric’s behavior was somewhat strange. “Come into the kitchen, my dear. Gotfrid and Dolf will have your bath ready.”
Sophie followed him meekly, not sure what to think about having strange men serve her in this way, but she sensed that these men were trustworthy. Besides, Petra wouldn’t have taken the time to tell all three of them — Sophie, Gabe, and Walther — to come here if she wasn’t absolutely sure it was a safe place.
“You seem to know Petra, but she hasn’t told me anything about you.”
Dominyk looked up at her from beneath bushy gray eyebrows that grew all the way across, like one giant, hairy caterpillar. “Petra and I must be careful what we say to and about each other. The duchess has ears and eyes everywhere.”
Before she could question what he meant by this, he went through the door into the smoky semidarkness of the stone kitchen. Gotfrid and Dolf were busy pouring water from a giant iron kettle into a large metal basin, large enough for Sophie to sit in and be covered up to her shoulders. After pouring hot water into the basin from the steaming kettle, they poured cooler water in from a bucket on the floor. Then, after Dominyk instructed them to put up a blanket that hung from a rope to partition off the corner of the room, they left her.
Sophie checked to make sure the blanket was secure and the room was completely empty before taking off her clothes and the bandage on her arm. She sank into the warm water and could hardly believe how good it felt. Until the water touched the cut on her arm; she jerked her arm out at the burning sensation it caused.
A bar of soap lay on the side of the tub. She picked it up and sniffed it. Heavenly! Instead of the stinky soap she and the other servants made out of ashes and lard at the castle, this soap smelled of lavender and something else she couldn’t quite name, something fresh and clean and wonderful, like fresh air and flowers. Sophie quickly rubbed it all over herself, being careful to be gentle with the long cut on her arm, and then scrubbed herself with a cloth. She washed her hair as well, rubbing her scalp with her fingers, then dunking her head in the water.
She hated to leave the relaxing haven of the water, but she was also afraid to linger. It made her nervous to be so vulnerable, even if she did mostly trust the seven strange men. Besides, she wanted to check on Gabe, to see if the terrible shivering had stopped once he had gotten out of the wet clothes. She hoped that Bartel would know what to do to make him well.
Suddenly, she realized she had no dry clothes to put on, as what she had worn into the cottage was still soaked. She began drying herself with the towels the men had left for her while she debated what to do.
A knock at the door sent a jolt through her. She was safely behind the curtain, but she held the towel in front of her like a shield. The knock came again.
“Yes?” Sophie called.
“I am putting some dry clothes by the door,” Dominyk’s voice called out on the other side of the door. The door creaked open, then shut again.
Sophie cautiously peeked around the curtain and saw the pile of clothing. She grabbed them before retreating behind the curtain.
A long shirt, some hose, and a rope for a belt. Men’s clothes. Her heart sank. To wear men’s clothing in front of men? Petra would certainly disapprove.
She dressed quickly and then, after finding a pile of clean cloths nearby, rewrapped the ugly wound on her arm. She also paused long enough to stir the pot of stew that was bubbling over the fire.
As Sophie reentered the main room, two men were coming down the stairs. When they finished descending the stairs, they bowed respectfully. One of them came toward her.
Sophie nodded back. “Guten Tag. I am Sophie.”
“G-g-guten … Tag. I am … S-s-siggy,” the tall, slender, handsome blond man said.
“Hello, Siggy.” She smiled, grateful for a kind face.
The second man came toward her and bowed as well. “Fraulein Sophie, I am Vincz.” He was shorter than Siggy, with dark hair and dark eyes framed by droopy eyelids. “Bartel is still upstairs with Gabe. He wanted me to tell you that Gabe has been asking for you, and that he is well. The fever is probably caused
by the wound, which is usually a bad sign —”
Sophie inhaled audibly and then pressed her lips together, hard.
“But he is well,” Vincz rushed on, obviously trying to reassure her. “His heart is strong and the wound is not in a life-threatening place. The arrow missed any vital parts of the body. As I said, the fever is sometimes a bad sign, but Bartel says he sees no sign of sepsis in the wound. Perhaps now that Gabe is able to rest, the fever will go away.”
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Is Bartel a healer?”
“He learned the healing arts from the brothers — he lived in a monastery.”
“May I see Gabe?”
Vincz and Siggy led her up the stairs and stopped in front of one of the doors.
At that moment, Sophie heard Gabe’s muffled voice calling her name from inside the room. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder as she quickly turned the knob.
The room was lit by a fire in a fireplace and a candle by the bedside. Bartel was leaning over Gabe, but he stepped back when Sophie entered the room.
Sophie hurried to the bed where Gabe lay with his head and shoulders propped up on pillows.
“Where’s Sophie?” Gabe’s eyes were closed as she approached the bed.
“I’m here, Gabe. It’s Sophie. I’m here.” She picked up his hand, which was lying on the blanket, and squeezed it gently.
His eyes flickered open and fastened on Sophie’s face. “I didn’t know where you were.”
“All is well. Don’t worry. We are safe here,” she said soothingly, bending low to look into his eyes. “These men are good. They will help you get well.” As she spoke, she laid her hand on his forehead to check his fever. Still warm.
Bartel held a cup of something toward her. “He needs to drink this. Healing herbs and wine.”
Sophie took the mixture from Bartel, and with his help, propped Gabe up straighter. When Sophie held the cup to his lips, Gabe drank it all in three swallows.
“Now he needs to sleep,” Bartel said quietly.