Authors: Katherine Kingston
“What do you truly want for this man?”
That he live or die, mean you?
“The choice is yours.”
Chapter Six
She felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. This was no such responsibility she would want. Though she had to wonder if she just imagined the voice and the promise it implied. Perhaps it was just her imagination?
But if it were so?
Temptation slashed a burning path into her gut. He was so very ill, so very close to death anyway. His passing would likely bring her what she wanted most in the world right now. She wouldn’t have to do anything at all, in truth, save fail to pray for his life. She could gain so much by it.
But
Henrik
would lose so much. His dream of travel and adventure would be smashed. And clearly he cared much for his brother.
Ranulf’s
death would bring
Henrik
terrible pain.
Fianna
shut her eyes but she couldn’t shut out the vision of her patient dying and what it would mean for her. Tears leaked from beneath her lids and traced burning streaks down cheeks.
“Nay.”
She said that word aloud.
I cannot wish for his death. I’m a healer. Do I not give my best effort to help him
recover,
I lose more than a patient. I lose the most important part of what I am.
She would lose her soul.
She placed the dagger back in its sheath, closed her eyes and prayed to whatever gods might be listening for
Ranulf’s
healing. When she heard
Henrik
speaking to someone in the next room, she wiped the tears off her face with the sleeve of her dress and resumed sponging off the patient. He continued to mutter and occasionally writhed or flailed his arms.
Henrik
came back into the room, bearing blankets, clean linen and a bucket of water.
He knelt next to her. “How does he?”
“Holding on.
I fear his fever is rising.”
Henrik
took the cloth from her. “I’ll stay with him for a time. There’s food, drink, water to wash with and some fresh clothes for you in the other room.”
Startled that he would think to do all that for her, she looked up at him. Shadows lurked in the depths of his light eyes, worry and concern for his brother, but there was also a hint of care and concern for her. It warmed her right down to her toes.
“I won’t be long,” she promised as she stood up.
No one else was in the other room, but a trencher bearing bread, fruit preserves and strips of dried meat waited for her. The water in the pitcher was warm and bore a light rose fragrance.
Fianna
splashed it over her face and
hands,
used a cloth nearby to clean the rest of her body. It felt wonderfully refreshing. A plain, clean linen blouse and skirt hung over a chair. By drawing the ribbons on them tight, she was able to fit them to her body. Even the length was right. Someone had gone to a good bit of trouble on her behalf, and it wasn’t hard to decide who it must have been.
His kindness and thought for her increased the guilt that unworthy thoughts about his brother had even entered her mind.
She thought more on that as she ate the food left for her. The Church taught that the devil was ever ready to pounce on one’s weaknesses to tempt one to evil. She’d never faced that sort of temptation before. Was it a weakness that she was coming to care for
Henrik
too strongly? Possibly, but she had to believe she could find strength there as well.
She ate quickly, only realizing how hungry she was when she began and could barely get the food to her mouth quickly enough. Once it was gone, she went back into the other room.
Henrik
was swabbing
Ranulf’s
face while the man tossed and turned on the mat.
“We need fresh water and more fuel for the brazier,” she told him.
Henrik
nodded and went to get it. When he returned, she prepared an infusion of bark and herbs that was often effective in fighting fever and set it to heat. While the mix boiled over the brazier, she sponged
Ranulf
off yet again. When he suddenly started shivering, she wrapped a blanket around him.
“Why do we make him cold with the water then make him hot with blankets?”
Henrik
asked. “This is good for him?”
“We’re not making him hot or cold. His body itself does that. We’re trying to keep him from getting too hot or too cold. Those are not good for him. So when he gets too hot, we cool him off, and when he gets too chilled, we make him warm.”
Henrik
nodded. “That seems right.”
Ranulf
was being fairly calm for the moment, so
Fianna
used the time to change the dressing on his shoulder and inspect the wound. The swelling didn’t look dangerous. The discoloration remained in the vicinity of the injury and didn’t seem to be spreading. The red streaks radiating from it had gotten neither worse nor better. Before she put on a new bandage, she spread more of the salve she’d used yesterday on the wound. The recipe for both the salve and the infusion had come from Marla.
Henrik
wrinkled his nose at the odor of the salve. “What is in that? It smells worse than the pig stocks.”
“If I told you, you would not permit me to use it. ’
Tis
a healer’s secret. But it is often helpful in preventing ill humors from gathering in a wound such as
Ranulf
has.”
He looked dubious. “Your infusion smells almost as bad. Must all medicine reek to be effective?”
“Be glad you don’t have to drink it. It tastes worse than it smells.”
“It will truly help him?”
She heard the plea that underlay the question but wasn’t sure how to respond. “These medicines are often helpful,” she answered carefully. “But nothing can guarantee a cure.”
Pain lanced through her when she saw the way he looked at his brother. The anguish in his face cut into
her own
heart. Clearly there was more here than just his wanting
Ranulf
to recover so he could go his own way. He cared desperately for this man he hadn’t seen for so long. She wished there were something she could say or do to ease him.
She stood up, moved closer to him and put a hand on his arm. When he turned toward her, she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head rested against his chest.
For a moment he just stood there, tense and unmoving. Then he sighed deeply, relaxing a bit out of his stiffness and put his arms around her to hold her to him. His breath was ragged and uneven.
Her first reaction was a wave of tenderness that he trusted her enough to reveal even this much of his pain and let her share it with him. But then, wrapped in his arms, tight against his body, a powerful tide of longing for more complete union suddenly surged through her, making her shake.
Would it always be thus with this man?
His mere touch sent ripples of awareness, like sparks snapping against her, all over her skin. Once he was gone from her life, would she continue to long for the sound of his voice, the way he looked at her?
He tipped back her head and kissed her, deeply, tenderly, hungrily, until her knees were unsteady and all she wanted was to rip off clothes and impale
herself
on him. Would her body ever forget how he made the heat spread wildly through her, the way the pressure gathered in her loins when he held her?
Footsteps sounded from the other room, coming toward them. He released her when she moved back away.
The older man who’d been in the other room when they’d arrived the previous day pushed the curtain aside and peered in.
Henrik
said something to him in Norse and the man entered. His gaze focused on
Ranulf
. When he noted he was no better, the older man’s shoulders slumped and his body tensed up. The questioning expression on his face turned to something harder and less readable, keeping his feelings shut inside.
He and
Henrik
exchanged words and glanced occasionally toward her. While they talked,
Fianna
turned to the brazier and removed the small pot holding the boiling mixture to a clay plate set nearby for the purpose.
“
Fianna
?”
She turned to face
Henrik
.
“My father would like to make himself known to you and thank you for your care of
Ranulf
.”
The older man nodded and came toward her, took her hand and struggled to say her name, “Fee-ah-
na
.”
She nodded and bowed her head, giving him the respect due his age.
He said something more to her in Norse.
“My father is
Hjallmar
, and he thanks you again for coming to care for his son,”
Henrik
translated. “He also wishes me to convey his apologies for my rude treatment of you yesterday.”
“Tell him there’s naught to be concerned about,”
Fianna
asked. “I understand you were unhappy and worried about your brother and so acted in a way not normal for you.”
She shot a glance at
Henrik
. “It was not normal, was it?”
He shrugged. “I am not very trusting of strangers.”
“Except when she solicits you for a night of sex?”
“Perhaps especially so then.”
“You didn’t act like you were suspicious of me then.”
“You may not have noticed how careful I was.
Until I had you helpless in the throes of a need as strong as mine.”
Henrik’s
father broke the tension building between them when he asked a question in Norse. He and
Henrik
spoke back and forth for a few minutes.
“He wants to know if there’s aught he can do to help?”
Henrik
translated.
Fianna
was about to say no when she had a thought. “Tell him it might help if he would sit with
Ranulf
for a while and speak to him of how much he wants him to get better. Though it seems not so,
Ranulf
might be able to hear and understand, and it might serve to draw him back and encourage him to fight harder to recover.”
Henrik
relayed her suggestions to his father. The older man nodded and, with
Henrik’s
help, settled on the floor beside the mat. He took his son’s hand in his and began to speak, in a low, soothing, caring tone.
Fianna
poured out some of the liquid infusion into a cup. “I have to get him to swallow some of this,” she said to
Henrik
. “It tastes terrible and he’ll resist. Can you help me get it into him?”
He nodded, but they waited while
Hjallmar
sat at his son’s side and pleaded with him to keep fighting for life. Finally the old man sighed and stood up again. He spoke a few words to
Henrik
, nodded to her and left.
“My father has things to attend to,”
Henrik
said, “but he’ll return after a while. He thanks you again for your efforts to save
Ranulf
.”
Fianna
nodded and held up the cup. “
Ranulf
needs to drink some of this.”
Henrik
lifted
Ranulf’s
head and pushed in lightly on his cheeks while
Fianna
carefully dribbled the liquid into his mouth.
Ranulf
grimaced and tried to pull away, but
Henrik
held him firmly.
Henrik
closed his brother’s mouth when he tried to spit out the bad-tasting liquid, keeping his lips together until he swallowed. They repeated the process several times until
Fianna
was satisfied that enough of the infusion had gotten into the sick man.
For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, they continued to try to keep
Ranulf’s
temperature stable. She was pleased when half an hour or so after they’d fed him the infusion, his fever abated somewhat and he slept quietly for a while.
Henrik
left her, saying he needed to take care of some business, but he sent a woman who spoke a little bit of her language to stay with her while he was gone. He asked that he be notified of any change in his absence.
The room seemed darker and emptier without him in it. She hoped it was merely that he was the only familiar person in this settlement of strangers, but she suspected that wasn’t the case. Had this room been full of the townspeople she’d known all her life, his leaving it would still make it feel colder and lonelier. It disturbed her to consider how important he’d become to her in such a short period of time. She couldn’t afford it.
Henrik
returned briefly early in the afternoon to let her know there was food in the other room. He looked at his brother and nodded when he saw him sleeping quietly.
“Come with me,” he said, looking at
Fianna
. “You need a rest.
Erawyn
can stay with
Ranulf
for a while. She’ll let us know if there’s any change.”
Fianna
debated, but her patient was resting quietly and there was little more she could do for him for a while. She let
Henrik
help her to her feet. As usual the sparks jumped between her flesh and his where they touched. Even with her worry for
Ranulf
, the pressure built in her loins just from looking at him.
They stopped to eat in the other room where a tureen of an aromatic stew and several bowls waited. The food was as tasty as it was filling, but an even greater hunger was building in her as she watched
Henrik
. He ate with near, careful precision, and was unfailingly courteous, though he was also tense and worried.
When they were finished with the meal, he escorted her out of the building.
Fianna
blinked in the bright sunshine. Her eyes had difficulty adjusting to the light after so much time spent inside in the dimmer light. They made a quick trip across a piece of the open area at the center of the settlement, between two buildings to another one built some ways back from the rest of the houses.