Rose stepped out of the southwest tower the next morning into the courtyard, blinking at the bright sunlight. The plaintive strains of musical instruments playing in the distance sent a tingle of excitement through her. Her feet moved of their own accord toward the sound.
Hildy trotted toward her from the gatehouse, grinning and waving. They linked arms and hastened toward the Marktplatz for the May Day festivities, Hildy chattering about who they might see at the festival and whether there would be jugglers, dancing bears, and acrobats performing in the square.
When Rose and Hildy emerged from the gate into the large Marktplatz, they found themselves in a crowd of people—some buying, some selling, and some merely gawking. Rose’s heart beat faster as the trill of flutes and clang of tambourines grew louder. To their left a tall, skinny man juggled three balls. The jongleur wore parti-colored hose—left leg was red, the right, blue. His shirt was the opposite—left sleeve, blue and the right, red. She smiled at the tiny bells that hung from his pointed hat and jingled merrily as he kept all three balls spinning in the air. The people gathered around him gasped as he added a fourth ball to his act.
She soon grew tired of watching the jongleur and tugged on Hildy’s arm, urging her toward the music. Three musicians stood in the middle of a tight circle of people. Rose and Hildy nudged their way to the front. One man pulled a bow across the strings of a rebec, while another played a shawm, his fingers dancing over the holes. The third strummed a lute and sang about a knight and his lady love.
Rose’s chest swelled with joy at the harmonious sounds of the instruments. Music was food for the spirit, and she closed her eyes to better feed upon it. She so seldom got the opportunity to hear music, she didn’t want to miss a note.
Too soon Hildy was ready for something else. “Let’s go see the miracle play.” Rose allowed her friend to lead her several paces away from the troubadours, consoling herself that she would still be able to hear them.
The play was just beginning. Several performers stood on the flat bed of a wagon. A man wearing dirty rags, his face smeared with mud, cried out to a tall bearded man, “What have I to do with thee, Jesus, thou Son of the Most High God? Torment me not!”
The bearded man pointed his finger at him and said, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit! What is thy name?”
The ragged man said, “My name is Legion, for we are many.”
The voice sounded so unearthly, Rose had to remind herself it was only a play.
“I beseech thee, do not send us away from this region. Rather, send us into the swine.”
“I give thee leave. Go!” The bearded Jesus turned his finger to six actors who crouched in a huddle on the ground.
The supposed possessed man convulsed violently, his body jerking in all directions. Finally, he threw himself down and lay still, his eyes closed.
The six actors on the ground began squealing like pigs. They scurried around on their hands and knees then fell over onto their backs and ceased their pig noises. Their hands and feet moved slowly forward and back, clawing the air.
The Jesus figure turned to the man lying at his feet. He held out his hand and commanded, “Stand up.”
The man’s eyelids fluttered open and he sat up, taking Jesus’ hand. He stood, blinking and shading his eyes as though blinded by a bright light. The audience cheered and applauded. Rose clapped as well while Hildy turned to speak to the woman beside her, who was a friend of Hildy’s mother.
At that moment, a hand clamped down on Rose’s shoulder. Peter Brunckhorst towered over her.
“You have decided to disobey your mother and refuse to marry me?”
Where was Wolfie? “Take your hand off me.”
Rose tried to shrug off his grip, but his fingers tightened on her shoulder. He bent down, bringing his sallow, sunken cheeks and pointy chin close to her face.
“I asked your mother if I could take you to the May Day festivities, but she said you haven’t yet agreed to marry me. Methought Hagenheim’s maidens were more obedient to their parents’ wishes.” He exhaled a putrid breath in her face.
She turned her head and spoke through clenched teeth. “Pray excuse me, but I am not obliged to marry you.”
Peter Brunckhorst’s face stretched into an ugly grin, revealing a row of brown teeth. “Come now. You have no hope of wealth, and I can help your brother get an apprenticeship.” He reached out his long, bony fingers and stroked Rose’s cheek. She jerked back, but he leaned closer. His eyes were devoid of color and filled with darkness.
Chapter 3
“What’s the meaning of this?” Hildy asked. “You’re frightening my friend.”
The man glanced at Hildy. “I’m not trying to frighten anyone. You both mistake me.” He fixed his eyes on Rose again. “But perhaps that is intentional.”