155. Castle Pulchra Mane
Whitgyl Ucede muttered imprecations
on midwives, superstitious peasants, wealthy guildsmen (often just as
superstitious as the peasants, in the doctor’s opinion), army commanders, scribes,
castle nobility (especially the mysterious Lord Martin, whose ill-formed beliefs
about medicine threatened to kill Queen Mariel), and every other class of idiot
he could think of. But he kept his
curses very much under his breath, since he rode toward Pulchra Mane accompanied by castle servant Bestauden Winter and
Felice Hale, the midwife. The midwife
and her little horse trotted on the right side of Bestauden Winter’s great
destrier, while Ucede rode on the left.
Ucede was glad for the separation.
The conspiracy of stupidity of which Felice Hale was a part had kept
Ucede from the Queen’s side for ten days.
By some miracle, Mariel still lived, and now—now they wanted him to see her.
The three riders stopped at the west
door of Pulchra Mane. Ucede looked up at Bestauden on his tall
mount. “She opened her eyes? When?
Why wasn’t I summoned immediately?”
The castle servant swung down from
the saddle with the ease of a young athlete.
“Five days ago, I believe.” Bestauden’s
manner was so solemn that it checked Ucede’s next question. The youth received reins from midwife Hale and
the doctor when they dismounted. “Merlin
Torr asked me this morning to find you and the midwife. That’s all I know.” He snickered to the horses and led them
toward a stable.
Doctor Ucede looked at the castle
door, as if to ignore Felice Hale, but she wouldn’t allow it. “‘Why wasn’t I summoned immediately?’ You pompous ass! You practically killed the Queen by draining
the poor woman of the little blood she had.
Avice Montfort put a stop to that, and the gods spared Mariel’s
life. After ten and seven days, she opens her eyes and naturally Master
Aweirgan and Claennis and me and Commander Torr—well, we all thought she was getting
well, didn’t we? But she said naught in
four days, nor moved her hands, nor anything else. The truth is, we didn’t know what to do, and
yesterday Aweirgan Unes says we ought to ask you. And here you are, though little hope it
brings. That’s what I say.”
“That’s what you say.” Ucede sighed.
There was no point in voicing his frustration aloud. “And perhaps I agree with you. There is little hope. But not no hope. Let us enter.” Ucede inclined his head and let Hale lead the
way. A nervous armsman admitted them
into Pulchra Mane.
“Doctor Ucede! And Mistress Hale!” The speaker was one of the castle servants,
Bayan the Red. Someone had told Ucede
that Bayan and his wife, Elfgiva, had moved into Pulchra Mane and that Elfgiva
was nursing Prince Eudes.
The
elderly scribe, Aweirgan Unes, rose from a table as the castle door shut behind
the midwife and the doctor. “Fair
morning. Welcome.” Unes bowed politely. “Has Felice explained the Queen’s condition
to you, Whitgyl?”
“She explained nothing,” Ucede answered.
“But she has described
Mariel’s condition. It sounds like a
stroke.”
Aweirgan Unes frowned slightly. “Can anything be done?”
Ucede snorted. “What?
You haven’t consulted with Avice Montfort? Or the great Lord Martin?”
If Aweirgan felt anger, he didn’t
show it. “It takes time for a rider to
reach Tutum Partum and return. Commander Torr worries that our messengers
will be intercepted on the way. And he
begrudges the weakening of his forces by even one rider. In spite of that, I did send a man, but he
has not come back.”
Ucede pursed his lips. He knew well that Commander Torr had been
making sheriffs of almost all the able-bodied young men in the city. “Will the city be attacked?”
Scribe Unes held up a piece of
paper. “We received an ultimatum this
morning. Four lords say that Merlin Torr
and I have conspired to murder the Queen.
If we do not surrender Prince Eudes in two days, they will take that as
proof of our conspiracy. The lords
Wadard, Giles, Beaumont, and Mowbray will attack the city.” Unes glanced at the paper. “The lords, of course, will not attack personally. They are all safe at home in their
castles. The commander of their combined
army is a man named Allard Dell, from Caelestis
Arcanus. They claim, of course, that
their chief concern is for the safety of the prince. If we surrender Eudes, Lord Wadard offers to
foster the child at his castle until he is old enough to command Pulchra Mane. Soldiers of the four lords will inspect the
castle and patrol the city, in an attempt to discover where we have hidden the
Queen’s body. And, naturally, Commander
Torr and I must be surrendered to them.”
Ucede’s mouth felt dry. He licked his lips and swallowed. “You haven’t asked me here to cure Mariel.”
“No.” The corner of Aweirgan’s mouth lifted briefly.
“Then what?”
“We desire your opinion. The Queen is alive. Her eyes are open, and she watches.
You can see that she is watching things.
But she cannot move or speak.”
Doctor Ucede nodded. “Aye.
Midwife Hale told me. What do you
want to know?”
“There!” Aweirgan pointed suddenly at the magic wall
of the castle. A light was blinking in
the middle of the wall. Not a surprise;
Ucede had witnessed Mariel using Videns-Loquitur
more than once. “Some lord is trying to
speak with Mariel. If we bring her here
and place her hands on her knob…” The scribe’s voice caught in his throat and
his face twisted; the old man wept.
“Will it kill her? That’s what you want to know.”
Aweirgan nodded. “Aye.”
Ucede’s resentment and anger drained
from him. He felt compassion for the old
scribe. He loves Mariel. It’s not about the kingdom, or the prince, or the
city—or maybe it’s about all those things.
He put a gentle arm around Aweirgan’s shoulders. “I don’t know what will happen, Aweirgan. But if they come into the castle, they will
kill Mariel and blame you. You have to
make the attempt.” He turned to Felice
Hale. “I suppose you have willow extract
in your bag.”
The midwife’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected the doctor to exhibit
good sense. “Aye.”
“Very good. We will make a tea. After Mariel drinks some, we’ll bring her here.
Then, when the magic wall lights, I will place her hands on her knob.”
“Bayan is young and strong,” said
Aweirgan. “He can do it.”
“No!” Ucede smiled wryly. “I’m the physician. If there is danger I will dare it. Besides, if this works, I will be famous.”
They positioned Mariel’s favorite
chair, built like a throne, close to globum
domini auctoritate. Made of yellow
pine polished to a golden sheen, the chair matched her hair. With a cushioned footstool in front of it,
and lined with blankets, Mariel’s chair was made as comfortable as
possible. Bestauden Winter and Bayan the
Red carried the Queen on a litter, descending the stairs slowly and gently.
To no one’ surprise, by the time
everything was ready the light in the magic wall had vanished. “We will be ready the next time,” said
Aweirgan. “It’s all we can do.”
And so the last watch over Mariel
Grandmesnil began. Felice Hale, Whitgyl
Ucede, and Aweirgan Unes took turns sitting with the Queen. Bestauden Winter and Bayan the Red came and went,
bringing news from the city and reports from Merlin Torr of the city
guard. Elfgiva Red cared for the babies
and visited the great hall when they slept.
Blythe and Claennis brought food and drink from the kitchen to any who
wanted it.
On the morning of the second day,
Commander Torr sent a message to Aweirgan Unes.
On the intervening day the four lords’ army had taken up positions on
the north, south and west sides of the city.
Torr believed that Allard Dell left the east side open deliberately;
many folk were fleeing Pulchra Mane
into the mountainous country on that side.
A knight under flag of truce had delivered Dell’s final ultimatum. If Prince Eudes were not surrendered by noon,
the army of the four lords would attack.
Aweirgan thanked the messenger for
his service and scribbled a quick note, telling Torr to defend the city as best
he could. Then, just as Mariel’s scribe
handed the note to the messenger, a light began blinking in Pulchra Mane’s magic wall.
Copyright © 2015 by Philip D. Smith.
All rights reserved. International copyright secured.
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