Feeling warm, clean, and tended, Emllyn sat down on the bed with her leg elevated and indulged in more mulled wine, cheese, bread, and dried apricots. She was full of food and good wine when the door opened but instead of Elyse returning, it was Merradoc.
The old physic barged into the room with his satchel clutched under his arm, immediately waving a careless hand at the serving girl.
“Wine!” he snapped. “Enough for two. Bring it now, you silly wench, before I grow moss on my north side from having been kept waiting too long.”
The serving girl fled and Emllyn sat up straight on the bed as the man approached. Merradoc went right up to her and put a fat hand on her forehead, paused, then felt the pulse of her wrist. After a moment of feeling the strength of her heart, he peeled back her right eyelid and looked into her eye. Satisfied, he set his bag down on the bed next to her and began rummaging around. The first thing he pulled out was a long, black strip that looked like leather. Then he pulled out a second one. He handed her one of the strips.
“Chew it!” he barked.
Emllyn immediately put it in her mouth, fearful of what would happen if she didn’t. Merradoc began chewing on the second strip and within the first few chews, Emllyn made a horrible face.
“What is this?” she asked.
“Licorice root,” the old physic told her. “Children and imbeciles like it.”
Emllyn didn’t like it at all but she continued chewing it. “It’s terrible,” she said. “What is it good for?”
“Nothing,” Merradoc said. “I just thought I’d give it to you. Now, tell me how you feel and no lies. I will know.”
Emllyn took the licorice root out of her mouth because it was truly foul. She made a face and stuck out her black tongue.
“I felt better until you gave me that odious root,” she said, licking her lips of the disgusting taste. “But I suppose I do feel much better. My leg aches but I am sure that is a normal occurrence.”
With the root sticking out of his mouth, Merradoc lifted up the edge of her robe and began unwrapping the wound. Emllyn watched apprehensively as he unwrapped it completely and then eyed the wound intently. She strained to catch a glimpse of the cut, now sutured up with fine white silk thread. It was still red, but the swelling had gone down considerably. The physic eyed it for a few more moments before returning his attention to his satchel and digging around again.
Emllyn watched him curiously as he rummaged about. The serving girl returned with a crystal decanter of wine and two fine cups, and she set it upon the table next to the bed. Merradoc downed two cups in swift succession before removing a bladder from his satchel, popping open the plugged top, and pouring the dark contents into an empty glass. He filled it about half full before sealing up the bladder and lifting the cup to Emllyn.
“You will drink this,” he said.
Emllyn wasn’t so apt to take it after he’d tricked her with the licorice root. “What is it?”
“Rotten tea,” the physic replied. “You must drink it three times a day for the next five days. It will cure the poison in your leg and heal you completely.”
Dubious, Emllyn peered at the dark liquid but when she went to smell it, the stench nearly knocked her over.
“God’s Blood,” she hissed, pinching her nose. “What is this terrible stuff?”
Merradoc had no time for her foolishness. “I told you, silly goat,” he said brusquely. “Rotten tea. It will cure you. Do you want to live?”
“Of course, I do, but….”
“Drink it!”
He nearly roared at her and, fearful, Emllyn instinctively downed the tea in one big gulp. It was horrible and she nearly vomited it up back up again but the physic handed her a glass of the fine wine, ordering her to drink it immediately, and she did. It killed most of the terrible taste, but not completely. She burped and the taste came up again. She almost gagged.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, hand at her throat and an awful expression on her face. “What is that made from?”
Merradoc shrugged as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “Bread is rotted until it grows green fuzz, and then the bread is put into water and kept warm for days on end. It creates a liquid that cures almost anything.”
Emllyn exposed her tongue as if the air would dry away the awful taste. “If that potion does not kill me, I will surely be surprised.”
Merradoc set the bladder with the rotten tea in it on the table next to the bed. “I would not worry over the taste,” he said. “If we do not cure the poison in your leg, you could lose it. Is that what you want? To be a one-legged maiden? No man will want you then because you will be both freakish and revolting.”
Emllyn looked at the man, horrified and disgusted. “By God, man, you surely speak your mind in crude and ghastly ways,” she said. “Have you never been told this?”
Merradoc fought off a grin. “All of the time,” he said. “But they need me around here so I can say what I please. If you do not like it, then do not drink my potion and I shall have to cut your leg off. I shall make it extra painful, too, to teach you a lesson.”
Emllyn could see he was trying to get a rise out of her and she refused to give it to him. He was, in truth, rather humorous; or at least he would have been had he not been saying those hateful things to her. To another, it would have been great fun.
“I will not give you the satisfaction,” she declared. “I will heal and you’ll not take a knife to me, you bloodsucker. Leave this room before I slap your face.”
Merradoc let out a crow of laughter. “My lady, I retreat in terror,” he said, throwing up his hands. Then he poured himself another cup of wine and downed it in one swallow before collecting his satchel. “Mayhap you will overcome your violent tendencies by the time I return later tonight to see how you are faring. It will be another opportunity for me to shove more of that terrible brew down your throat.”
She scowled at him. “And I’ll not give you the satisfaction for that, either,” she said. “I will drink the potion before you come so you shall not see me suffer. You shall get no more gratification out of me, wicked man.”
Merradoc laughed all of the way to the door. He put his hand on the latch. “I do hope you survive this, my lady,” he said. “I rather like you.”
“Well, I don’t like you!”
He howled with laughter as he quit the room. Emllyn could hear him laughing as he descended the stairs and it made her grin. She had to admit that she was looking forward to his return, if only for the entertainment it brought. Now that she understood him a little, it would make conversations with him much more interesting.
Once the laughter was gone, she sat upon the bed and finished off what was left of the wine. The serving wench remained crouched by the hearth, keeping the fire stoked and boiling water in a small iron pot over the fire. She was also doing something else, which actually looked like baking, but Emllyn couldn’t tell. In truth, she wasn’t much interested because it occurred to her that Elyse had not yet arrived with Devlin. His retrieval was taking some time.
As the night deepened and still no Devlin, Emllyn began to seriously worry. She had no idea what would be keeping both Elyse and Devlin unless something terrible had happened. Not knowing the layout of the castle or even the town, it wasn’t as if she could go out looking for them. She would have no idea where to look. Furthermore, she suspected she wouldn’t get very far on her bad leg. Therefore, there was nothing left to do but wait.
… and wait….
Chapter Twelve
In the wee hours of the morning, de Noble and his men retired to sleep, leaving Devlin seated by the fire with about ten dogs surrounding him. He even had one on his lap. De Noble had told Devlin to find a place to sleep in the hall and that he would see him in the morning, so Devlin bid the man a polite good sleep and watched him trudge up the spiral stairs that led to the upper floors where Emllyn was.
The hall was cold now, with phantoms lurking in the corners and odd shadows dan
cing on the wall as the firelight reflected on the stone. It was a fearsome and evil place, this English nest in Irish lands. Devlin sat and debated about going upstairs to where Emllyn was, but he wasn’t sure where de Noble’s chamber was and he didn’t want to risk running into the man, so he continued to sit by the fire and brood about the twist the situation had taken.
He was to spy on Black Sword. It wasn’t the intelligence gathering for the English that concerned him, for he knew that he could concoct a great bit of gossip that would see de Noble play right into his hands. It was the sheer fact that any such betrayal would harm Emllyn should she remain here. Already they had their claws in her and didn’t want to let her go. It was a fearsome scenario he kept rolling over and over in his mind, keeping Emllyn safe while destroying the English. He wasn’t sure how it could be done but he would have to figure it out.
As Devlin stared into the snapping flames and pondered the situation, he heard footsteps coming from the stairs. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see a small woman appearing in the shadows of the hall. As she drew closer, he could see that it was the Lady Elyse. Shoving the dog off his lap, Devlin bolted up from his chair and went to her.
“My lady,” he greeted with eagerness in his voice. “How does Lady Emllyn fare?”
Elyse smiled up at the very big and very handsome Irishman. She thought it was very sweet the way he worried about Emllyn, and she knew the feeling was very mutual; Lady Emllyn was just as concerned for her protector. It had the stirrings of a tender romance that touched her young and idealistic heart.
“She is much better,” she assured him. “I have promised her that I would bring you to her, but you must listen to me carefully; my father would never allow you to be alone with an unchaperoned lady, so you must be very quiet. I am going to take you to another chamber where you and Lady Emllyn may stay. But you must be completely silent and remain in the chamber no matter what. If you leave, you risk running into my father and that would not do. Is this clear?”
“Aye, m’lady.”
With a faint smile, she collected her skirts and beckoned for him to follow. Devlin was as quiet as a ghost as he followed her up the stairs. His big feet, clad in peasant boots of rough leather and bindings, made soft footfalls against the stone. Up they went on the narrow spiral staircase to the third floor where the Lady Elyse’s chamber was. Exiting the stairwell, Devlin could immediately see the partitioned chambers to his left, rooms that had been fashioned with partial wooden walls. He could hear snoring.
Elyse took him past those rooms and past the door to her chamber where Devlin last saw Emllyn. Devlin eyed the closed chamber door curiously, wondering if Emllyn was behind the panel, but Elyse took him behind a massive supporting pillar to a door on the other side. Quietly, and in the darkness, she pushed it open.
There was a small chamber beyond, tucked into the corner of the keep where the main portion of the building and one of the oddly designed wings joined. The room had one big window that had oiled cloth curtains covering it, a built-in window seat that made the entire window design look like a modified oriel window, and pillows strewn across the window seat. On either side of the window were two large iron wall sconces that contained an earthenware jar filled with oil and a burning wick. Thin trails of black smoke drifted up to the ceiling, and the room was well lit.
Over in the corner of the chamber was a large and very well furnished mattress but no bed frame; the mattress sat on the ground but was covered in a great feathery coverlet, fine linens, and mounds of pillows. To the right of the bed was a small table and two chairs, containing a pitcher and cups and a bowl of small red apples, and then behind the door where they were standing was a smaller mattress that was less luxurious but nonetheless well furnished. In all, it was a very well appointed chamber and very comfortable. Devlin looked around the room before turning to the woman with some confusion.
Elyse was gazing back at him with an expression filled with hesitation. She was staring at him as if trying to decide if her actions were of the correct course. Honestly, she didn’t know, but she would not go back on her word to Emllyn. She finally sighed heavily.
“I should not be doing this,” she said with disapproval in her tone, “but Lady Emllyn has been nearly frantic to see you and I promised her that I would let the two of you remain in the same room. She has assured me that you are her watchdog and nothing more.”
Devlin nodded. “That would be a fair statement, m’lady.”
Elyse cocked a dubious eyebrow. “And you swear you will not molest her?”
“I swear.”
She sighed heavily again. “If my father finds out, I will be in for a row.”
“He will not find out. And I am grateful for the kindness, for I am leaving tomorrow and it may be some time before I see the lady again, if ever.” He paused, his dark blue eyes glimmering with worry. “You… you will take care of Lady Emllyn, won’t you? Since I will be leaving and unable to watch over her, you will do it, won’t you?”
Elyse cocked her head with concern. “Where are you going?”
Devlin didn’t want to tell her what he had discussed with her father so he skirted the truth. “Your father has asked me to leave and I must comply,” he said. “I worry over the lady’s safety while I am gone.”
Elyse shook her head, putting a gentle hand on his wrist to comfort him. “Do not worry,” she said. “I will take care of her. She is in good hands.”
Devlin nodded, feeling depressed and resigned. “You have my thanks.”
Elyse remove her hand from his wrist. “It is my pleasure,” she said. “Lady Emllyn seems like a kind and lovely woman.”
“She is, m’lady.”
Elyse smiled at him, sensing his morose mood, and moved for the chamber door. “I will go and get her now,” she said softly. Then, she glanced around the room. “This is usually an alcove for the servants but I made it as comfortable as I could in what short time I had. I hope it is enough.”
“It is finer and lovelier than anything I have ever seen.”
Elyse smiled demurely, a practiced gesture. “Thank you,” she said, lifting the latch on the door. “You will stay here and I will return shortly with Lady Emllyn.”
She left Devlin standing in the middle of the lush chamber, surrounded by stone walls, fine silks, and softly glowing lamps. A gentle breeze blew at the curtains, lifting them slightly and sending wisps of cold air into the room. He noticed there was an elaborate brazier near the smaller of the mattresses and it was giving off a fair amount of heat. It made the small chamber rather cozy.
As he faced the larger bed, inspecting the myriad of lush silk pillows thrown about it, he heard the door latch lift. By the time he turned around, Emllyn was moving stiffly but quickly into the chamber. He could see Elyse outside as she guided the woman in and then shut the door silently behind her. The moment the door was shut, his attention riveted to Emllyn.
Clad in the blue brocaded robe and with her hair artfully arranged, she looked beautiful and ethereal. It was as Emllyn was always meant to be, a glorious angel in the midst of a colorless world. Devlin just stood there and stared at her, a million words running through his head. He could hardly grasp just one. But when she smiled timidly at him, everything came crashing down around him and his heart leapt into his throat. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in his entire life.
“Are you well, Emllyn?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “Much better,” she said. “My fever is nearly gone and my leg is doing very well, thank you.”
He smiled faintly at her, his heart beating so loudly that he could hear it in his ears. His chest was tight and his arms tingled. He was all shades of giddy at the sight and sound of her.
“De Noble, the commander of Glenteige, has ordered me to leave on the morrow,” he said, his voice strangely tight. “Somehow, our great plans are not happening as they should.”
The smile vanished from Emllyn’s face. “You are leaving?” she gasped. �
�Why? What has happened?”
Devlin could see how the idea crushed her so. It crushed him as well. The more he stared at her, fumbling for an answer, the more everything crushed down upon him until he could hardly breathe.
In two giant strides he was upon her, his big hands cupping her face and his lips slanting hungrily over hers. It seemed the most natural of things to do, a kiss that was the best and purest kiss he had ever given, meant only for her. There was no lust in it, no selfishness. It was honest and true, an expression of his feelings for her, feelings he hadn’t fully realized until this very moment.
Once his captive, she was now much more. She was all. Everything came spilling out before he could stop it.
“Forgive me,” he breathed. “You were right, Emllyn; you were so right. I was brutal and barbaric when we first met and I took what did not belong to me. I took a possession, a prize, an object and nothing more. In the heat of battle you represented everything I hated and everything I was fighting against, but now… God forgive me for what I did to you. I am so very sorry. I tell you this because… because I have missed you so terribly. I thought never to see you again with all that has happened and now that you are here, all I can feel is utter happiness. Please… for what I have done to you in the past, I beg your forgiveness.”
Emllyn’s hands were on his wrists; they had been since the moment his lips had claimed hers, clinging to him as he held her head and kissed her. There was joy and relief in her heart that she couldn’t begin to describe, a euphoria that was enveloping her in a warm and liquid embrace until she could hardly stand. In fact, her knees gave out and Devlin picked her up, holding her against him as his mouth ravaged her. Emllyn wrapped her arms around his neck as if to never let go, tears of joy and adoration falling from her eyes.
Lords of Ireland II Page 19
