Alice recalled the laughing, dark-haired little boy she had seen playing outside the miller’s door. “Of course I will come with you but I do not know what I can do. If Sister Katherine has no answers, then I doubt that I will have any.”
“Prioress Joan thought that you might have learned of some special medicine from your mother’s work.”
Alice stilled. “My mother was a very learned woman but some of her recipes are dangerous.” Some can kill.
“Prioress Joan and the healer believe that Young John is dying, my lady,” the second woman said quietly. “They say there is nothing left to lose.”
“I understand.” Alice picked up her skirts and turned to climb the tower stairs. “I will fetch my mother’s handbook of recipes and bring it with me.”
When she returned a few minutes later, Dunstan moved out of the shadows.
“I will escort you to the miller’s cottage,” he said brusquely.
“There is no need,” Alice said.
“There is every need,” Dunstan muttered. “Sir Hugh would likely hang me from the keep’s battlements if I allowed you to go out alone at night.”
• • •
A short time later Alice rushed into the miller’s small cottage just as Katherine placed a cool cloth on Young John’s fevered brow.
Alice was horrified by the changes the illness had wrought in the lively boy she had seen scampering about only that morning. His eyes were closed. He lay wan and limp on top of the bedding, his small body hot to the touch. His breathing was labored and desperate. He whimpered fretfully once or twice but he seemed unaware of those who hovered anxiously around him.
“There is nothing more I can do.” Katherine rose to her feet. “He’s in God’s hands now.”
Her face was more somber than usual but there was no other sign of emotion in her features. She seemed distant, Alice thought, almost detached, a healer who knew and accepted the limits of her medicines. How different her own mother had been. Helen had never surrendered until death had claimed its victim.
Joan crossed herself.
The miller’s wife cried out with a mother’s anguish and burst into fresh tears. Her husband, a barrel-chested, kind-faced man, gathered her close and awkwardly patted her shoulder.
“There, there,” he whispered over and over again. He looked helplessly at Alice over his wife’s shoulder. His own eyes were damp. “Thank you for coming, my lady.”
“Of course,” Alice said absently. Her attention was on the small patient. She went to stand beside his pallet. Her mother’s words came back to her as she gazed down at Young John. Determine all the symptoms before you apply the remedy.
Joan spoke softly from the other side of the pallet. “I realize there is likely little to be done but I could not abandon all hope entirely until we had consulted with you.”
“I know the usual remedies for fevers of the lungs,” Alice said quietly. “As does Sister Katherine. I assume you’ve applied the appropriate ones?”
“Aye,” Katherine said stiffly. “All that I know. But this fever does not respond to medicines.”
Young John’s mother sobbed louder. The miller closed his eyes in pain.
Joan’s eyes met Alice’s. “You told me that your mother was a learned healer and that she had developed many unique potions and tonics. Do you know of anything that we can try?”
Alice tightened her grip on the leather-bound handbook she carried. “There are one or two infusions that my mother created for strange fevers that are accompanied by lung infections. But she advised great caution in their use. They may be very dangerous.”
“Can anything be more lethal than what this child faces?” Joan asked simply.
“Nay.” Alice looked down at the youngster and knew that death was even now reaching out with icy hands to claim him. “That rash on his chest—”
“What of it?” Katherine asked quickly. “Have you seen its like before?”
“Nay, but mayhap my mother did.” Alice knelt beside the pallet and felt for Young John’s pulse. It was weak and much too fast. She looked at the miller. “Tell me everything you can about this sickness. When did it come upon him, John?”
“This afternoon, m’lady,” the miller whispered. “One minute he was dashing about chasing the chickens and the next he did not even want to eat a bit of the pudding his mother had made.”
Alice opened the handbook and quickly turned the pages until she found the section on strange fevers of the lungs. She studied it for a time. A redness of the chest. Harsh breathing. Great warmth.
“My mother notes that she tended a small child with such symptoms once.” Alice turned the page, frowning.
The miller’s wife moved slightly in the circle of her husband’s arm. She wiped tears from her eyes. “Did the other child live?”
Alice looked at the woman. You must give hope as well as medicine, her mother had once said. Hope is as crucial to the cure as the right herbs. “Aye,” she said gently. “He lived.”
“Then we must try this remedy,” the woman begged. “Please, my lady.”
“We will,” Alice assured her. She turned to Katherine. “I shall give you a list of the herbs I will need. Please bring them as quickly as possible.”
The healer’s mouth tightened. “Aye, my lady.”
Alice wondered if she had offended Katherine by taking command of the situation. If so, there was nothing to be done about it. She looked at Joan. “I will need a pot and some fresh water.”
“I shall get them,” Joan said quickly.
“Set them on the fire.”
Young John’s fever broke shortly before dawn. His breathing quickly grew less labored. By the time the first light of the new day had appeared it was obvious that the child would live to chase chickens again.
The miller and his wife wept unashamedly with relief.
Alice, exhausted from the lengthy vigil, crouched beside the pallet one last time to check Young John’s pulse. She found it steady and strong.
“I think he will soon be wanting a bit of pudding,” she said quietly.
“Thank you, Lady Alice,” Joan said softly.
“Do not thank me.” Alice looked down at Young John. The boy’s color was good. His sleep appeared normal. “‘Tis my mother’s work.”
Katherine gazed at her for a long while. “Your mother must have been a very learned woman.”
“Aye. She corresponded with the wisest and most skilled herbalists in Europe. She collected their wisdom and added it to her own discoveries. And she put all that she learned into this book.”
Joan’s eyes were warm as they met Alice’s. “Such a book has no value unless it be used by one who has a talent for identifying diseases through an analysis of symptoms. Such a talent, I have discovered, is uncommon.”
Alice did not know what to say.
“Your mother would be proud of you, my lady,” Joan continued softly. “You have learned how to make use of the knowledge she provided in that book. And tonight you used that knowledge to save this boy. ‘Tis a great gift you have received from your mother.”
Alice looked at the handbook Helen had written during the long, lonely years of her marriage.
Alice thought of how she had sometimes resented her mother’s passion for her work. There had been so many times when it had seemed to bring the melancholy Helen far more solace than her children could ever provide.
But tonight the contents of Helen’s handbook had saved a child’s life.
There was a price to be paid for such a valuable gift. Alice knew that, in her own way, she had paid part of that price. So had Benedict. Helen had paid the highest price of all.
Yet tonight a little boy lived because of it. He was not the first one to be saved because of Helen’s work, Alice reminded herself. He would not be the last.
Somewhere deep inside Alice a gentle warmth blossomed in a place that had known only resentment and sadness.
“Aye, Prioress. You are right. For some re
ason, I did not realize what a great inheritance my mother had left to me until now.”
Young John stirred on his pallet and opened his eyes. He looked up at his mother. “Mama? Why are there so many people here?”
His parents answered with shaky laughter and went down on their knees beside the pallet.
Alice held her mother’s handbook close to her heart. Thank you, she said silently.
Alice stood in the center of the great hall and concentrated intensely. There was a fire on the hearth but the chamber was cold. “There is something missing from this hall, Julian.”
“Stolen, do you mean?” Julian put down the harp he had been plucking in a negligent manner. “Not likely. No one would dare steal anything from Hugh the Relentless. The devil knows that there would be no peace for the poor thief.”
“Not stolen. Just … missing.” Alice waved a hand to indicate the barren walls and rush-covered floor. “This is where Lord Hugh dines every day with his men. It is where he sits to judge matters of law on Scarcliffe. ‘Tis where he will entertain his guests. And it lacks a certain aspect. It needs something.”
“Ah, now I comprehend you, my lady.” Julian grinned. “The word you are groping for is elegance.”
“Elegance?”
“Aye. This hall lacks elegance, grace, charm, and fashion.”
“All of that?” Alice bit her lip as she studied the chamber.
“All of that and more. Lord Hugh is skilled at many things, my lady, but he has no interest in matters of fashion and elegance and, no offense, it shows.”
“I do believe you are correct.”
“The problem, as I see it,” Julian continued, “is that Lord Hugh orders everything from his boots and tunics to his messenger’s travel cloak made up in only one color. Black.”
“Hmm. He does seem to have a strong preference for it. I do not believe that he would care to return and discover that everything had been done over in sky blue or pumpkin orange, however.”
“I would not dream of suggesting that you get rid of the black.” Julian began to stroll around the hall, examining it in some detail. “Black suits Lord Hugh in some way. But what if we were to enliven it with another color?”
“What color do you suggest?”
“Green or red, mayhap. The contrast would be most effective, I believe. White would be interesting, too.”
Inspiration struck Alice. “Amber.”
“My lady?”
Alice smiled with satisfaction. “Amber is the color of Lord Hugh’s eyes. ‘Tis a lovely hue. Almost gold. We shall use amber in contrast to the black.”
Julian nodded thoughtfully. “A rich amber would suit this room rather well.”
“I shall order a canopy made of those colors to go over the head table.” Alice’s enthusiasm grew swiftly as images formed in her mind. “And I shall have a new tunic made up for him in amber and black.”
“‘Tis almost time for Sir Hugh to order new garments for his men,” Julian said smoothly. “He does so every year. ‘Twould be an excellent occasion to change the colors of their robes also.”
“Of course.” She was not particularly skilled at this sort of thing but it was clear that Julian had a talent for it. “See to it, will you, Julian?”
Julian swept her a deep bow. “With great pleasure, my lady. Shall I order a new gown for you also?”
Alice had a vision of herself greeting Hugh in a gown sewn in his new colors. “Aye. That would be most appropriate.”
In London Hugh steeled himself against the gloom and despair that seemed to emanate from the very walls of Erasmus’s private chamber.
“Ah, Hugh.” Erasmus looked up from his chair near the fire. His smile of welcome was weak but it conveyed his pleasure. “‘Tis good to see you. Who is this with you?”
“This is Benedict, my lord.” Hugh motioned for Benedict to step forward. “He is the brother of my betrothed.”
“Welcome, young Benedict.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Benedict made a proper bow.
“Come here so that I may become acquainted with you,” Erasmus said. “Tell me what you and Hugh did down at the docks this morning.”
Hugh exchanged a glance with Erasmus’s wife as Benedict obediently went toward the hearth. Eleanor was a fine-looking woman who was not much older than Hugh. She gave him a brave little smile as Erasmus spoke quietly with Benedict, but nothing could hide the shadows in her eyes. Hugh knew that Eleanor was very fond of her lord. The couple had two children, a boy and a girl.
“There has been no improvement?” Hugh asked her quietly.
“The attacks grow worse. I dismissed the doctors.”
“Always a sound notion,” Hugh muttered.
“Aye. I am convinced that they were doing him more harm than good with their vile instruments. I vow, they were going to bleed him dry. And those terrible purges.” Eleanor shook her head in disgust. “They did no good at all. He has reached the point where all he wishes to do is die in peace.”
Hugh looked at Erasmus. His liege lord had aged ten years in the last few months, he thought. The strong, compelling figure who had been the center of Hugh’s life during his youth and the man to whom he had given his loyalty and sword as an adult was now pale and thin beyond belief.
“I cannot believe we are losing him,” Hugh said softly. “He is only in his forty-second year and he has always enjoyed good health.”
“He barely sleeps at all at night,” Eleanor whispered. “And when he does manage to fall asleep he awakes with a terrible start. He rises, shaking, and paces until dawn. His greatest fear is not that he will die, but that he may be going mad.”
“My betrothed sent these herbs and this letter of instructions.” Hugh reached into his black leather pouch and took out the contents. “I do not know if they will be effective but it cannot hurt to try. She has a certain skill with medicines.”
Eleanor frowned slightly. “I do not wish him to suffer any more from harsh remedies.”
“My liege lord is a warrior at heart,” Hugh said. “Whatever this sickness is, it will not have altered that fact. Let him fight one last battle before you abandon all hope.”
“Aye, you are correct, Sir Hugh.” Eleanor closed her hand very tightly around the herbs and the letter.
Erasmus raised a hand. “Hugh, come here. I would speak with you for a few minutes.”
Hugh walked toward the fireside, his heart heavy with impending grief.
Alice surveyed the warm, bustling kitchen with a critical eye. Two massive iron caldrons, each packed with various stews, stuffed chickens, and savory puddings, simmered over the large cook fire. Sweat beaded the brows of the scullions who turned the handles of the roasting spits. Meat pies browned on a hot plate set at the edge of the flames.
“See that the caldrons are completely emptied, cleaned, and scoured every sennight, Elbert,” Alice said briskly. “I do not favor the common practice of using them continuously for months on end without scrubbing them well.”
“Aye, m’lady.” Elbert’s face was set in an earnest, intent frown.
In the five days that Hugh had been gone, Scarcliffe Keep had been cleaned from top to bottom. Every linen chest and wardrobe had been emptied, dusted, and fitted out with fresh herbal scent bags. Each chamber, from the one where Hugh slept to the smallest storeroom, had been opened and assessed. Elbert had been at her side during the entire process. He had made careful notes on his wax tablet as she rattled off an endless list of instructions.
Alice had saved the kitchens for last.
“Make certain that the scullions are given other tasks on a regular basis. I do not want any of them to spend too long near the fire. ‘Tis hot, uncomfortable work.”
“Other tasks.” Elbert made another note with his stylus. “Aye, m’lady.”
The sweat-streaked scullions grinned.
Alice walked through the busy kitchen, pausing at various points to observe certain things more closely. She smiled at the cooks, who
were clearly awed and excited by her presence. Alice knew that they were also quite anxious. It was the first visit she had paid them. Their only other contact with her had been via Elbert, who had brought them the precise instructions and menus she had made up for her personal meals.
Alice studied a worktable where a cook was chopping onions. “I want the special green pottage that you make for me served once a day to Lord Hugh and everyone else in the keep.”
“Special green pottage,” Elbert repeated. “Served to everyone. Aye, m’lady.”
“‘Tis very healthful,” Alice explained. “Also, I want at least three vegetable dishes served at the midday meal.”
“Three vegetable dishes. Aye, m’lady.”
“Do not allow the cabbages to be boiled for too long.”
Elbert made another note. “Aye, m’lady.”
Alice peered down at the wheat and milk concoction cooking in an earthenware bowl. “Have the frumenty sweetened with honey, ‘Tis rather plain without it.”
“Honey in the frumenty.” Elbert’s stylus skimmed across the tablet.
“I shall provide you with a list of ingredients for a sauce made with cloves and cardamom and another made with ginger and saffron. Quite tasty. They should be used on dishes of boiled fish or on the roast meats.”
“Aye, m’lady.” Elbert glanced at her with sudden anxiety. “As to the spices, m’lady, how should we go about obtaining them?”
Alice looked at him in surprise. “What do you mean? Sir Hugh has a vast quantity of excellent spices stored in chests here in the keep.”
Elbert cleared his throat cautiously. “His lordship keeps the keys to the storerooms. He has given strict instructions that I am to come to him whenever spices are needed in the kitchens. But on the two occasions that I went to him to request the spices the cooks wanted, he was most annoyed.”
“Why?”
“He, uh, complained of the quantity that was requested,” Elbert said unhappily. “He said that I had no notion of economy and that I was encouraging the cooks to be wasteful.”
“I see.” Alice chuckled. “Lord Hugh enjoys dining well, but he has never been obliged to actually prepare his own meals, let alone plan dishes for a household this size. These cooks must feed forty people daily. More on special occasions.”