Gunther carried the sleeping child in his large arms. The boy, who was dressed in expensive clothing with ornately dyed threads and solid gold buttons on his shirt, was definitely a part of the upper crest of the nobility. He could only pray that the child's parents would listen to him and not jump to conclusions. He really couldn't afford to be put into prison, or worse, face execution.
"Who is this?" The elderly doctor who had been riding in the first wagon asked. A wizened hand reached up to stroke his long, white beard as he peered down at the boy in curiosity.
A nurse with her honey-blonde hair tied up in a braided bun ran forward. "Is the child injured?" Her pistachio green eyes were wide with worry.
Gunther shook his head, strands of his long green hair that had fallen loose from the tie clung to his face. "There are no visible injuries but I do believe he has been given a sleeping draught."