with her beautiful golden-brown hair flowing down her back. He tried to block her out, to picture someone else, someone with black hair, or blonde, or red, to think of a different face, with a different smile. But when he was able to force Rose out of his mind, he saw nothing but an empty veil.
God, where is your help in all of this?
He turned and began to saddle his horse. Clenching his teeth, he focused his concentration on Shadow and wrenched it away from the vicious circle of pain to which his mind kept returning. The crisp air nipped at his bare hands, reminding him that he had forgotten his gloves. He grasped Shadow’s reins and hauled himself into the saddle. He steered his horse through the edge of the courtyard toward the gatehouse.
The hair stood up on the back of his neck. Was he imagining it, or was that Moncore standing two feet from the castle gate?
Wilhelm’s pulse thumped in his ears as he spurred Shadow on, leaning forward in the saddle. The man turned and ran, disappearing around the gatehouse.
Wilhelm urged his horse into an all-out gallop, then turned him sharply to the left where he’d seen the man run. But upon rounding the corner, all Wilhelm saw was the empty side street behind the Rathous.
He jumped off his horse and drew his sword, running toward the alley behind the buildings that bordered the Marktplatz. He pushed himself to run faster. No one was in the narrow street, but perhaps he could overtake him down the next one, between the guild hall and the Rathous.
He splashed through the sludge and filth that stood ankle deep in the narrow passageway. He came to the back corner of the guild hall, not even pausing to look before streaking around into the alley between the two buildings.
There. He caught a glimpse of him at the end of the street just before he disappeared around the next corner to the left.
Wilhelm poured every ounce of his strength into moving his legs faster, never taking his eyes off the end of the alley.
He burst into the light of the Marktplatz and looked all around. Moncore must have gone inside the Rathous. Wilhelm darted into the gray building.
The light was dim inside the town hall, but Wilhelm’s eyes adjusted. O God, don’t let him get away!
He had to make a decision. Either he searched the ground floor or he headed up the steps to the second or third floor. He chose to search where he was, hoping Moncore couldn’t get past him, since there was only one door leading out.
Holding his sword in front of his body, he moved toward the back of the large hall, trying to make his footfalls as quiet as possible.
He threw open a door, thrusting his sword into the chamber as he entered. No one was there. In the same way, he went through each room on the bottom floor but found no one.
He made haste to mount the steps to the second floor, taking them two at a time. He searched the rooms there, snatching open several creaking doors but finding nothing.
He bounded up to the third floor. If Moncore wasn’t here, he’d gotten away. If only he could split himself up and look in two places at once! There were more chambers on the third floor than the other two. He snatched the doors open, looking into every room, but still found no trace of him.
Wilhelm let out a roar of anger and gritted his teeth. The villain had escaped.
He ran back down the steps and into the streets. The towns people stared curiously as he ran past them. He reached the town gate and seized the guard’s attention with his look of urgency. “Has anyone gone out of this gate in the last five minutes?”
“No, Your Grace. No one.” The burly, bearded guard was all attention, his back straight and stiff as he waited for his master’s instructions.
“Close the gate. Don’t let anyone out until I tell you otherwise.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The man put his shoulder against the heavy door and pushed it closed then slammed down the huge crossbeam.
Wilhelm stalked back to the castle to retrieve Shadow and to organize every available knight and soldier at his disposal into searching the town for Moncore.
Rose screamed. She sat up in the bed, jerking her head first to the right, then to the left. Was it still in the room?
Frau Geruscha burst in. “What is it?”
“Do you see it?” Rose’s terror was so strong she could taste bitterness in the back of her throat. “It was just here. Did you see it?”
“What, Rose? See what?”
“Something was here, right here by my bed. I saw it!”
“What did it look like?”
Rose shuddered. “It was a small, white man, and I could see right through him. It was here. It looked me straight in the eye.”
“Were you dreaming? Because nothing is here now.” Frau Geruscha searched the room as she spoke. “And your door was closed.”
A dry sob escaped her. “I know not. I only know I was terrified. Oh, I’m so tired of these nightmares.”
“It’s time we took some stronger action.” Frau Geruscha narrowed her eyes, looking ready to do battle. “Hold my hand and say these words with me. ‘In the name of Jesus, I command all evil spirits to leave this room and never return.’”
Rose took her hand and repeated the words with Frau Geruscha. After saying them, she felt a measure of peace. She told herself that Jesus was more powerful than any demon. But her skin still crawled at the thought of being alone in her room again. “Can I sleep with you, in your bed tonight?”
“Yes, my dear. In fact, tomorrow I’ll find a servant boy to come and move your bed into my room.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Moncore waited in his dark, dank cellar for night to fall. He cursed and gnashed his teeth at the voices in his head. Now that he had been seen, his plans would have to be moved up. He couldn’t wait. Lady Salomea would be brought out of hiding in two weeks. He had to act sooner, before he was found out and captured.
You’re a failure if you don’t get this right.
Sometimes he hated the voices. But they were always there for him, always supporting him in his goal of revenge.
No one respects you. If you don’t want to be a blighted failure, you must kill Duke Wilhelm.
Moncore didn’t argue with the voices, as he knew they were right. After all, the spirits of darkness were in a position to know everything, weren’t they?
He remembered the monk, Gustav, who had befriended him and given him a place to sleep when Moncore was a boy. Gustav told Moncore that his voices were lies, of the Devil. But Moncore felt the voices had chosen him, an orphan with few prospects for the future. They helped him learn to place curses, to enforce his will on those he didn’t like. They gave him power. So he gave himself over to them. In turn, they helped him ascend to a level of respect in the household of the Duke of Marienberg when the old man was still alive. But his son piously cast Moncore out.
It was that Geruscha’s fault. She convinced him my services were evil.
But finally revenge was in sight. He’d located Duke Godehard’s only daughter, had even fooled that simpleton family she’d been living with into leading him straight to her. Very soon, he would send powerful demons to possess her and completely destroy her sanity. Then he would kill Geruscha and Wilhelm, taking special pleasure in exterminating the annoying man who had kept him on the run and hiding these last seventeen years, interfering with his work as a conjurer to the rich nobility.
The bells began to toll, announcing curfew. Moncore waited, to make sure no one in the house was likely to hear or see him emerge from the tiny cellar. Finally, he crept up the steps.
A spider’s web caught him across the mouth. He angrily clawed it away, cursing the spider under his breath. He moved silently, bending down to keep from bumping his head on the low ceiling as he crossed the floor toward the front of the house. He peeked out the window that faced the street and immediately saw two guards. They looked to the right and left of them, peering down the alley between the buildings across the street. One of them rested his hand on the handle of the sword at his hip.
&n
bsp; Moncore ducked away from the window as they came closer. He smiled maliciously. He could wait a few days, until the watchfulness of the guards began to slacken. Then he would make his move, and no one in either the Duke of Hagenheim’s family, or the Duke of Marienberg’s, would ever feel safe again.
Chapter 26
Rose picked up the bucket and opened the door, hunching her shoulders and bracing herself against the cold wind. Wolfie jumped up from his corner and followed her out. He seemed exhilarated by the bitter cold, standing with his face to the wind then running around in circles, jumping and barking. The cold had the opposite effect on Rose. Most days, after taking her noon meal in the kitchen, she longed to curl up with a blanket and take a nap. Sleep was the only friend that could temporarily take away the pain of losing Wilhelm’s love.
She was still sleeping in Frau Geruscha’s room, only going inside her own chamber in the light of day to get her clothes. Even walking past the door made her shiver as she remembered the horrible night she had seen the demonic creature by her bed. Whether it was merely a dream or not, she wasn’t sure. She only knew she never wanted to see it again.
She reached the well, let the bucket down, and drew it up again, dripping with ice-cold water. She pulled it off the side of the stone wall and it tilted more than she had intended, spilling a big splash onto her shoe. The icy water immediately soaked through to her foot.
Rose sucked in a quick breath as the aching cold bit into her toes.
Wolfie barked, as though to encourage her. She lugged the heavy bucket back to the tower.
“Oh, child.” Frau Geruscha emerged from the storage room. “You didn’t have to get the water. Let me find a stable boy to do that chore for us, now that it’s winter.”
Rose shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? I have nothing else to do.” She pulled off her wet shoe and rubbed her half-frozen foot.
“Why don’t you write another story? You could give it to Lady Osanna, and it would cheer her. She’s been so low since her father’s death. Laughter is what she needs now. The Proverbs say, ‘A merry heart doeth good like medicine.’”
“Yes, but the Proverbs also say, ‘Even in laughter the heart is sorrowful; and the end of that mirth is heaviness.’”
“Oh, Rose, you love to best me with the Scriptures.” Frau Geruscha smiled and shook her head.
Rose felt a prick of guilt. “Do I do that?”
Her mistress laughed good-naturedly. “No, child. I mind it not. The Word of God has an answer for everything, and you have a fine head for remembering it.”
Why was Frau Geruscha always in such an infernal good mood lately?
Moncore hid in a cart that had stopped in the Marktplatz, as he’d overheard its owner say that his destination was the castle. The guard recognized the owner and waved him on through. Once inside the gate, Moncore slipped out unnoticed. He stood watching Rose fetch water from the well, and he cursed her faithful dog. If it weren’t for that animal, he would dash in now and wreak his havoc on her world. Well, he’d simply have to find a way to separate dog from girl.
He couldn’t wait. He wanted to hurt her, to hurt them all, and he was ready to do it now.
It had been a week since Wilhelm had chased the man who looked like Moncore, and no sightings of him had been made since. Perhaps he had found a way to escape over the town wall. Wilhelm himself had, every day, stood at either the castle gate or the town gate watching the guards check every person coming in and going out, but the effort so far had been fruitless.
Wilhelm, Sir Georg, and Sir Christoff strode to the stable where they would get on their horses and go patrol the town. As he passed the window in the Great Hall, Wilhelm’s eyes darted to Frau Geruscha’s chamber door. He stopped short when Rose appeared with Wolfie and her bucket. He watched her turn the windlass and then struggle with the full bucket of water. An urge pressed him to go to her and carry her load for her, but he held back. It would make for an awkward moment for both of them. They hadn’t spoken since his proposal. And besides, by the time he reached her she would be almost to her door.
He couldn’t help recalling another time when he had taken the bucket from her, when he had gone to get his stitches out. He wished he could injure himself again just so he’d have another excuse to be with her.
He let out a sigh of disgust. He had to stop thinking about Rose. He was getting married in two weeks, meeting his bride in seven days, and he didn’t want adultery—lusting after Rose in his heart—to be his first sin against the wife God was giving him.
Rose disappeared inside the chamber.
“Your Grace?”
Wilhelm turned. Georg and Christoff stood behind him.
“Ready to set out?” Sir Georg asked.
Wilhelm nodded and led the way.
Moncore’s joints stiffened as he crouched behind the blacksmith’s stall. His extremities felt nearly frozen. The voices in his head attacked and mocked him. He had to get his revenge now—now—or it would be too late.
A potter with his cart stopped in the middle of the courtyard and called out to the guard. He decided it was as much distraction as he could hope for. He had to act, to stop the voices.
He stood and began walking at a normal pace toward the southwest tower. He reached the door without anyone acknowledging him. He opened it barely a crack and peeked in.
Good. He didn’t see anyone inside except the dog. He leered at the animal, hoping it would take the bait and come to him.
The dog laid his ears back and growled low in his throat. Moncore taunted him with a menacing stare. Finally, the shaggy animal stood and crept toward him, crouching low and growling quietly as he went.
That’s it. Just a little farther.
When the dog was almost to the door, Moncore jumped back. The dog leapt out the door, lunging for Moncore’s throat. Moncore sidestepped the animal then jumped inside, closing the door in the dog’s snarling face. He bolted it from the inside, the ferocious barking muffled on the other side.
Moncore was in. The dog was out. But the voices intensified. He breathed hard, a gasp of laughter escaping his throat.
He whirled around and saw Rose, standing across the room, her mouth open. He leapt toward her. She turned to flee but he caught her by her long hair and yanked her head back.
She screamed.
He jerked her against his chest and clamped his hand over her mouth while he fished out a vial of poison. He spoke the ancient incantation, then jerked the cork out with his teeth. Hooking his arm around her shoulder, he pinched her nose with one hand and poked the vial into her mouth with the other. He poured its contents down her throat.
She gagged, choked, and clawed at his hand. But he held her fast against him, covering her nose with one hand and pinning her arms with the other.
The voices in his head screamed with laughter.
Her thrashing and twisting grew weaker until she collapsed into a faint. When he let go, her body slumped to the floor.
Geruscha came hurrying down the steps and burst into the room. When she saw Moncore she shrieked and came running at him, her fists up. He had to laugh at the picture she made, a small woman, barely as high as his chest, her wimple bobbing up and down, her fists flailing. As if she could stop him. He caught her hands and pushed, sending her sprawling to the floor with an Oof.
“What did you do to her?” she said hoarsely, staring at the girl.
At that moment a loud pounding came from behind him, someone beating at the door, shouting and demanding entrance.
Curse that dog. His barks had brought the ever watchful Duke Wilhelm, no doubt.
Trapped, trapped, trapped. The voices taunted him. Don’t let them take you alive. Fight and live, or fight and die!
The pounding on the door was so mighty, it shook the whole tower. Only a battering ram could do such violence. They would soon break the crossbar.
He turned and seized Geruscha by the neck and under her arm, hauling her to her feet. He pulled his dagger from its
sheath and held it to the woman’s throat, dragging her to the door, yanking her when her feet slipped. He flipped up the crossbar and stepped aside. Duke Wilhelm and two of his men crashed through.
He held Frau Geruscha in front of him like a shield, pressing the blade of his dagger against her throat. Exultation rose up inside him. He smiled.
Wilhelm drew his sword the minute the door flew open.
Moncore stood with a knife to Frau Geruscha’s throat. But where was Rose?
“Welcome, Duke Wilhelm. As you can see, you’re too late. I’ve just made sure that your precious maiden will have demons to keep her company for the rest of her life. She’ll never be any use to anyone—unless you want a mad woman for a wife.” He laughed as if crazed.
Wilhelm stepped farther into the room and saw Rose crumpled on the floor behind Moncore. His blood ran cold as a calm presence of mind overtook him. “What did you do to her?”
“I demonized her, precisely as I promised I would.” He leered with an evil grin. “You see, I have powerful friends in the spirit world, dark forces much more powerful than you, and certainly more powerful than the impotent Duke of Marienberg. I swore I would avenge myself on him, and I have succeeded. And now I curse you, Wilhelm Gerstenberg, I curse you! May your house be left to you desolate!”
It took all Wilhelm’s willpower not to lunge forward and slice into him. But he couldn’t risk Geruscha’s life. His mind raced through all the possibilities while he held his sword poised and ready.
“I will be leaving you now to tend your pathetic future wife.” Moncore jerked Frau Geruscha forward as he started toward the door. “Stand aside and order your men to do so as well.”
The evil man’s voice shook, and so did the hand in which he held the dagger. Wilhelm nodded to his men and they moved aside, their faces twisted in ruthless glares.
Moncore slowly dragged Frau Geruscha out the door. Frau Geruscha’s expression was defiant.