Foremost (The Lost Princesses Book 2)

by Jody Hedlund

  In little time, we caught up to the queen and Christopher, who had dismounted and were talking with the messenger. From the exhaustion lining his young face and the foam lathering his steed’s mouth, he’d obviously ridden unceasingly to reach us. And from the creased foreheads and grave expressions of the royal couple, I guessed the news had not been good.

  “’Tis the pale pestilence,” the queen said. “The disease is sweeping through Norland and has already infiltrated the army.”

  I recoiled at the same moment as Maribel. We may have been sheltered, but like everyone else, we knew about the pestilence, how devastating it could be, and how quickly it could spread. The word itself was enough to instill fear in any heart.

  Whenever there had been outbreaks of the pestilence, the news Wade had brought back to the convent had always been devastating and haunting—whole villages dying, entire city streets perishing, graveyards piled high with bodies waiting for burial.

  Christopher met my gaze. “We must find a safe place for Adelaide and Maribel.”

  I nodded my agreement. Their well-being was of the utmost importance. We hadn’t escaped Ethelwulf’s clutches only to die in Norland from disease.

  “We shall deliver Maribel to safety,” Adelaide said, “but I shall proceed to Brechness straightaway and do what I can to be of assistance.”

  Christopher scowled. “You cannot risk it. You will be no good to the people and your army dead.”

  “The people and my army will not need me as queen if they all perish. After travailing to recruit and train our army, I cannot abide standing by and doing nothing.”

  The largest group of the queen’s rebel army lived in barracks in Brechness alongside King Draybane’s army. I could feel her desperation and fear at the possibility of the pestilence spreading among the men. The disease was no respecter of age, class, or profession. It could reap the seasoned warrior as easily as an infant.

  If the pestilence infiltrated her knights, how would she be able to attack Ethelwulf? Her army, though growing, was not nearly as large or strong as Ethelwulf’s. Even if King Draybane lent his men to her cause, she wouldn’t outnumber Ethelwulf’s seasoned army. Already, she was at a disadvantage and couldn’t afford to lose a single man.

  “King Draybane and the court have left Brechness by ship,” the messenger said, “and are traveling south to Loughlin. He bids you meet him there and take refuge until the worst of the pestilence has passed.”

  “Yes,” Christopher responded quickly. “Ride ahead to Loughlin. Inform the king we shall join him within a day.”

  The queen nodded to the knights who had reined a short distance back and now awaited the news. “Lord Chambers will accompany Princess Maribel, along with the rest of the men. But Lord Langley and I shall ride on to Brechness.”

  Christopher’s expression was granite. “I shall speak with the queen in private.” He grasped the queen’s arm and led her a dozen paces away, not nearly far enough to conceal their animated and heated conversation.

  As I helped Maribel down from our steed, she gripped my hand with determination. “I must go to Brechness in my sister’s stead.”

  “No, Maribel,” I said. “You heard the queen—”

  “You know as well as I do if anyone can lend aid, it is I.”

  “No one can stop the pestilence.”

  “I may not be able to stop it, but I may be able to ease the suffering of the dying.”

  “And risk catching it yourself?” I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Maribel observed the queen and Christopher argue a moment longer before clutching my hand harder and peering up at me with her beautiful, bottomless blue eyes. “If I go, then we might be able to persuade Adelaide not to.”

  The earnestness and sincerity of Maribel’s statement reached inside and gripped my heart just as firmly as she held my hand.

  “What if this is why I was born? What if this is why God allowed Sister Agnes to save me? So I could, in turn, save Adelaide?”

  If Maribel wanted to make this sacrifice for her sister, how could I argue with her? Past experience had taught me not to. I didn’t want her going to Brechness and submerging herself into a city riddled with the pestilence. But I wasn’t forceful and outspoken like Christopher, whose frustration radiated from every tense muscle in his body.

  I had no doubt he’d physically restrain the queen if he needed to. I, on the other hand, couldn’t say no to Maribel, not even now when I wanted to.

  Christopher jammed his fingers in his hair and shook his head.

  “She will go unless I step in for her,” Maribel whispered.

  “He won’t let her,” I whispered back.

  “Then at least her mind will be at ease to know I am in the city doing all I can for the sick and dying.”

  I nodded, and my chest swelled with love for this woman before me. This was one of the many reasons I treasured Maribel. Because she wanted to help others. She truly cared about the hurting and the hopeless. That’s why I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t squelch her beautiful inner spirit.

  “Your Majesty,” I called. “My lord.”

  The couple glanced at me, their anger and frustration with each other evident in the way they stood apart, arms crossed, and shoulders stiff with defiance.

  “Maribel and I shall go to Brechness in your stead,” I said. The two began to protest, but I continued regardless. “Maribel is a skilled physician and may be able to provide comfort to the dying. She’ll go and represent you among the people, spreading your goodwill and concern.”

  “I give you my word that I shall work day and night to bring relief,” Maribel added. “I have developed many herbal remedies over the years that can reduce pain and perhaps even slow the spread of the disease.”

  This time neither spoke. Instead, they studied Maribel and me until I began to squirm under their scrutiny.

  “I would not put the princess at risk any more than I would the queen,” Christopher started.

  “But it is a wise plan,” Adelaide interrupted never taking her eyes from Maribel. “You will use your gift of healing to comfort the dying and bring order to the chaos. On behalf of King Draybane, we bestow upon you access to the royal apothecary along with any other supplies you may need.”

  Maribel bowed her head in subservience, but I could see the excited glimmer in her eyes. Even with the danger we would face, Maribel relished another adventure and the opportunity to help those in need.

  As always, I’d be right by her side protecting her and shielding her and keeping her out of harm’s way as best I could. I’d been her guardian since we’d been little. Perhaps that’s all I’d ever be. And perhaps I’d have to be satisfied with that.

  Chapter

  20

  Maribel

  I knelt next to a dying soldier and swung an aromatic pomander above his head. I’d had dozens of waxy balls crafted and strewn through the barracks. Made with musk, ambergris, and civet, along with rosewater and aloes, the fragrance was meant to fend off disease. But so far it had failed to stop the spread of the pale pestilence, as had my other remedies.

  I’d hardly slept since Edmund and I had arrived in Brechness two days ago. As one of King Draybane’s primary residences and Norland’s greatest seaport, the city was set upon rocky cliffs overlooking the East Sea. The high position provided a natural defense against King Ethelwulf, who had terrorized and attacked Norland oft throughout the years in his quest to gain all of the Great Isle.

  The granite cliffs might have saved Brechness from King Ethelwulf, but they couldn’t protect the city from the ravages of the pestilence. By the time we’d arrived, those who could flee from the city had, leaving behind the weak and infected, along with the poor and those who had no place else to go.

  I lowered the pomander and rested a hand against the soldier’s forehead. He shook with the chills even as his face perspired from fever. His arms and legs contained the telltale signs of death—pale, onion-sized lumps that were
painful to the touch. His breathing was labored, and he coughed intermittently, beginning to spew blood. I feared there was nothing more that could save this soldier. He’d been ill when I’d arrived and would likely die soon. His body would be added to those already piled up outside the barracks awaiting transport to the cemetery.

  I released a frustrated sigh past the mask of rosemary and flower petals that covered my nose and mouth. Then I moved to the soldier on the next pallet. The dining hall had been transformed into a makeshift infirmary and was now lined from wall to wall with infected men.

  “You didn’t expect to see me here this morning, did you, princess?” came the soft-spoken voice of Captain Colton, who’d greeted us when we’d first arrived at Brechness. He was a kind, middle-aged man who hadn’t left the sides of his dying men over the past two days.

  At the sight of him lying motionless on the floor, his weather-crusted face flushed with fever, I gave a cry of protest. “Not you, Captain Colton. You cannot get sick. We all need you too much.”

  He offered me a small smile, one that was tight with the pain he was attempting to hold back.

  I turned to Edmund, who knelt next to me. He’d been with me every moment, following my instructions as he aided me in tending the patients. The dark circles under his eyes attested to his lack of sleep. Nevertheless, his expression contained a determination that matched mine, as well as compassion.

  “What do you think?” I whispered. “Shall I try the new tonic on Captain Colton?”

  I’d given the royal apothecaries detailed ingredients for several of the remedies I’d developed at the convent. Fortunately, the palace was stocked with every herb I’d ever heard about and even some I’d never known existed. The apothecaries had located all the dried herbs necessary to make my concoctions, including blessed thistle, butterbur, and cloves.

  Yesterday, I’d administered the tonics and ointments among the soldiers at the barracks and then later at the cathedral where many of the sick and dying had been brought, hoping for a miracle.

  But as far as I’d been able to tell, none of the remedies had made a difference. Dozens of people had died overnight anyway, and now their lifeless corpses awaited pickup from the grave diggers who came through town with their carts to collect and bury the dead. Smoke from the torches of burning juniper on every street corner could hardly mask the stench of death and decay.

  In desperation, I’d spent all of last night working on my healing tonic, the one I’d been trying to perfect ever since it had failed to revive Sister Agnes. I’d combined many herbs including sage, rosemary, rue, camphor, garlic, clove, lemon, cinnamon bark, eucalyptus, and several very rare Eastern herbs.

  As I’d worked, I’d been haunted by the possibility my tonic had actually accelerated Sister Agnes’s death. The wrong dosage of just one of the ingredients or the negative interaction of a compound with another could have a deadly effect.

  Of course, I’d told myself Sister Agnes had been dying, that I couldn’t sit back and simply watch her waste away without trying something. Even if my medicine had still been largely in its experimental phase, I’d needed to find a way to offer a remedy. Had I been wrong to test the medicine upon her?

  Since that time, I’d made some adjustments in the tonic, but what if it still wasn’t ready? What if it hurt rather than healed the sick?

  Edmund’s expression behind his rosemary-and-flower-petal mask was grave. I had no doubt he sensed my inner turmoil and understood it. “You’ve worked hard all these years to find the right ingredients in the right amounts.” The mask muffled his voice. “These sick men will surely die without the medicine. They may still die with it. But you won’t know until you try.”

  “What if it aids their dying or causes them more pain?”

  “You’ve been careful, Maribel. Besides, if it does either of those things, it would be minuscule compared with their current pain and suffering.”

  Edmund’s rationale calmed the nervous flutter in my chest. He held my gaze for a moment, the green of his eyes both soothing and encouraging. Then he handed me the bottle. His expression told me he believed in me and supported my decision.

  I took the vial and nodded my thanks, hoping he could see how much I valued him. Returning my attention to Captain Colton, I uncorked the bottle. “Captain, you are a brave man. Would you be willing to take a dose of my latest creation? I cannot guarantee it will help you, but I would certainly like to try.”

  I hadn’t been able to ask Sister Agnes for her permission, and I regretted that as well. She’d already been delirious by the time I’d decided to give her the tonic.

  The captain’s lips trembled before he replied. “I’d be honored to try, Your Highness.” His eyes pinched closed, and the muscles in his face contracted with a fresh wave of pain. His chest began to rise and fall rapidly with the effort of breathing.

  I poured a scant amount of the medicine into a tin cup. Edmund lifted the captain’s head from his pallet, and I emptied every drop from the cup into his mouth before Edmund lowered him.

  “Whatever happens, Your Highness,” the captain rasped in a stilted voice, “you have brought comfort and peace and kindness in the midst of our turmoil and sorrows. That is truly enough. And we thank you for it.”

  It wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to do so much more. I wanted to ease the suffering of the people. I wanted to represent Adelaide well and bring her honor. And I wanted to help save her army and, in doing so, salvage the rebellion.

  For long minutes, I remained by the captain’s side waiting for any sign the medicine might be working, praying it would at least bring him some relief from his pain. When he released a loud wheeze, my head jerked up, and I realized I’d fallen asleep in my exhaustion. I rubbed my bleary eyes and then gasped at the sight of the captain’s nearly blue face.

  “He’s not breathing!” I called to Edmund. Without waiting for Edmund’s help or response, I shook the captain.

  He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink.

  I felt for the pulse of life in his neck and his wrist but found none. I opened his mouth and checked for obstructions to his breathing but there was nothing. I pressed my ear against his chest and heard only silence in place of a beating heart.

  He was dead.

  I cried out in dismay. Had my tonic killed him?

  The brown vial in my hands seemed to burn my flesh. Suddenly I hated it, hated myself, and hated medicine. Why had I ever thought I’d be good at being a physician? Why had I assumed I could bring healing to anyone? Why had I believed God had gifted me?

  I hadn’t been able to make a difference when it really mattered. I’d failed to develop a medicine that could truly help. In fact, I seemed to bring more trouble than good everywhere I went. After all, Edmund had been injured numerous times because of me. I’d even brought trouble to the sisters at the convent.

  Would they all have been better off without me? With another cry, I raised the bottle, wanting to dash it to pieces against the wall.

  Edmund’s hold restrained me. “It’s not your fault, Maribel. The pestilence took him, not the medicine.”

  “No, it was the medicine.” Tears clouded my vision and brought an ache to my throat. I tried to throw the bottle again, but Edmund wrenched it from my hand.

  Before I knew what he was doing, he uncorked it, pushed away his mask, lifted the vial to his lips, and took a long sip.

  I screamed in panic and grabbed at the container. “No, Edmund! You must not have any!”

  But I was too late. He swallowed hard and then tugged up his shirtsleeve revealing two pale, swollen lumps.

  My heart ceased beating. “You have the pestilence.”

  He nodded.

  Only then did I notice the perspiration on his forehead, the tremor in his hands, and the pain in his eyes. He’d withheld the symptoms from me for hours. He’d stayed next to me faithfully tending the sick even though he’d been suffering himself.

  My tears slipped over and a s
ob rushed out before I could stop it. I threw myself at him and clung to him. “No, no, no.”

  He slid his arms around me in return and hugged me as if saying good-bye.

  The tears flowed faster. “Edmund, you cannot leave me. Please.”

  His hold sagged, and he swayed. I could sense he was losing consciousness, perhaps even losing his life the same way Captain Colton had.

  He rested his head against mine. “I have loved you with all my heart, Maribel.” His words were a breathless whisper. “And I always will.”

  Then his body slackened, and his dead weight pressed upon me.

  Chapter

  21

  Maribel

  Edmund was dead and I hadn’t been able to say good-bye and tell him everything pouring into my heart—a cascade of overwhelming emotions, mainly that I loved him in return. Not merely as a friend and companion. Not merely as my brother. Not merely as a man. No, I loved him with my entire being, with everything that was within me.

  Perhaps my love had always existed. Or perhaps it had been slowly growing. Whatever the case, I knew now that my selfishness had prevented me from acknowledging it. I’d been too consumed with my future ambitions. I’d been too caught up in what I’d wanted and hadn’t considered his feelings or needs.

  Now it was too late. I could only hold him as silent sobs wrenched my chest.

  Suddenly I felt something. The faintest twitch in one of the muscles in his arm.

  I sat up. Was he still alive?

  When he released a soft moan, I gulped down my sobs. “I need help with Lord Chambers!” I called to the servants who were present at the barracks and distributing bread and water to the patients well enough to eat. “He yet lives, and we need to transport him to the palace immediately.”

  An hour later, Edmund was still alive in his chamber. I hovered above him, wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. Across from me, a manservant bathed Edmund’s arms and chest with cool water. Edmund’s temperature was slowly dropping as the fever left his body. The pale lumps on his arms and legs also seemed to be diminishing in size, but I was afraid in my desperate need to see him well again, I was only imagining the change.