CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jeremy wasn’t healing.
That was Scott’s first thought when he saw the man spread out over the pallet that had been fashioned for him in one of the smaller guard rooms near the northern gatehouse. He was initially asleep when Scott came in, breathing heavily and steadily, clearly indicative of a body that was trying to heal. As Scott stood over the man, he could see that the entire left side of his face was a giant, bloodied blister.
Gordon was with his son. He hadn’t left him since they’d moved him into the guard room and he came to stand next to Scott as the man visually inspected Jeremy.
“He has been sleeping since we moved him,” Gordon said quietly. “He will awaken if I shake him, but then he falls back to sleep promptly.”
“Is he with fever?” Scott asked.
Gordon shook his head. “I do not believe so, although the wound is warm to the touch.”
“Has he eaten anything? Did you give him watered wine as I told you to?”
“He would not drink it.”
Scott sighed faintly; the signs weren’t good. He still didn’t regret beating Jeremy to a pulp but now he was going to have to do something about it or Jeremy might not recover. It was Stewart who had mentioned that Lady du Rennic might not like that her brother was suffering, which was truthfully the only reason Scott was here. But now the situation was rather serious. The healer in him began to take over.
“I must examine his face,” Scott told Gordon, “but I am sure he will not be amiable to it so you will go and find his fellow knights. They may have to hold him down. Meanwhile, I am going to procure what I need to tend that swelling on his face. Return here as quickly as you can.”
Gordon, looking rather fearful, nodded and fled the room. With a lingering look on Jeremy, Scott started to follow the old man out of the chamber when a quiet, hoarse voice stopped him.
“What are you going to do to me?”
Scott paused by the entry, turning to see that Jeremy was awake. As Scott watched, Jeremy rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He looked at Scott with eyes the same color as his sister’s; with Jeremy’s injury, the intensity of the color increased. Just by looking at the man, Scott could see the pain he was in. He made his way back over to the pallet.
“I must get a closer look at the swelling on your face,” he said quietly.
“Why do men need to hold me down?”
“Because you have a blister full of blood on the side of your head that must be lanced. It will not be without pain when I do it.”
Jeremy held his gaze a moment longer before looking away. “Let me be,” he muttered. “Mayhap the swelling and the pain will finish the job you started.”
“What job?”
“You want me dead, don’t you?”
Scott shook his head. “I do not,” he replied. “Huntley, you and I were allies once. We have fought together on several occasions. I am not entirely sure what has changed so much other than Nathaniel’s death that should see us at such odds, but I do not want you dead. I never did.”
Jeremy rolled onto his side again, staring off into the darkness of the chamber. “Can you honestly say you do not know what has changed between us?”
“I would not say it if it was not true.”
“A man died for you. The finest man I’ve ever known next to my father. You are not worthy of his death.”
“And I agree with you. But you were there; you saw what happened. I did not push Nathaniel into the path of the arrow. At no time did I ask him to sacrifice himself. He happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am not sure how you can blame me for that.”
Jeremy was silent for a moment. “Because it was meant for you.”
“Then if that is the case, you can blame every king who has ever lived for all of the men who died fighting for him,” Scott said. “Those battles were not personal to those men; they were meant for the king, yet men died just the same. Huntley, if I could have exchanged my life for Nathaniel’s, I would have done it without question. But I cannot, and Nathaniel is dead. The sooner you come to grips with the situation, the better it will be for all of us. Because of you, Canaan is in turmoil and her men, who are so desperate for leadership in the wake of Nathaniel’s death, have none because you are on the rampage. Do you think that gives them comfort to see that?”
Jeremy didn’t reply; he continued to stare off into space. But the truth was that he was reflecting on what Scott had said. It was difficult not to. He hadn’t considered Canaan’s army in all of this, only his own feelings of loss. He was in turmoil and didn’t care if anyone else was because of it, but he knew that he should be.
God’s Bones, was it possible that de Wolfe was actually making some sense?
“It does not matter now,” he finally said. “Longbow told me that I am to be exiled from Canaan when I have recovered. I will no longer be an issue.”
Scott folded his big arms across his chest. “If you did not behave so poorly, I would not have to exile you,” he said frankly. “If you cannot regain your wits and assume your post as the commander of Canaan’s army in a rational and wise fashion, what other choice do I have? If you were in my position and a man of responsibility was openly rebelling, what would you do?”
“I would try to understand his position.”
“Very well. Tell me your position.”
Jeremy turned his head slightly, looking at him. “I have already told you. You are not worthy of Nathaniel’s death.”
“And so I am not, but I am here nonetheless. I am appointed by the king to oversee Canaan. If you have issue with me, then talk to Edward. There is nothing I can do.”
“You can leave.”
Scott lifted his hands in a confused gesture. “And you think that would solve the issue? Your sister has already been gifted to a new husband. When he comes, are you going to throw a tantrum for him, too? He has ever legal reason to be here. I told you this once – you have no claim here. This is not your castle. I am not sure what you think your rebellious attitude will accomplish.”
Jeremy knew all of this; increasingly, he was becoming resigned to it but he was kicking and screaming all the way. He didn’t want to see Canaan in the hands of someone else. He wanted things to remain the way they had been. He didn’t like the change and he didn’t like taking orders from any man other than Nathaniel du Rennic.
That was really what this was all about – he didn’t want to take orders from others.
“Is that all you have to say?” he finally asked. “I grow weary of this conversation.”
Scott could feel his frustration rise. He was truly hoping, at some point soon, that he and Jeremy could have some kind of understanding.
“As do I,” he said, unfolding his arms and moving closer to the pallet. “It is the same conversation with you over and over again. I understand that Nathaniel gave you a good deal of power at Canaan and the truth behind all of your behavior is that you do not want to lose that power. It is unfortunate that you have not realized that it is already gone; you have no power. But it is because of your behavior. Had I come to Canaan and you had been respectful and receptive to the changes that are to come, then I can promise you that you would still be in command of Canaan’s army and in a position of respect. But you did this to yourself, Huntley – I had no choice to do what I did because you gave me no choice. I always thought you were a better man than that but I see that I was wrong. This will, therefore, be the last time we have this conversation. If you cannot amend your behavior, then you will, indeed, be exiled when you are feeling better.”
With that, he turned on his heel and quit the chamber, heading off to his own chamber where his saddlebags contained the things he would need to heal Jeremy’s face. But the whole time he walked, he was angry. Angry that Huntley was being so stubborn, angry that the man seemed to have his own reasons for his rebellious behavior. None of the reasons were logical and that was probably what angered Scott the most. One could not rationalize with an irrational man.
The bailey was cleared out for the most part of the men he’d taken with him to Kendal and the sky above was darkening, turning shades of purple and dark blue now that the sun was nearly gone. The smell of roast meat, the smell that Scott had pointed out to Stewart, was hanging heavy in the air along with a layer of smoke from the kitchen fire in the courtyard. But Scott moved through it all, his mind on his anger, taking the narrow, spiral stairs to the second floor and passing through the guard rooms on his way to the chamber he’d confiscated.
The moment he entered the short corridor that led to the family rooms, however, things changed. He could hear the puppy barking and Stephen yelling excitedly. He no sooner turned the corner than the puppy came running past him with Stephen close behind, and Scott had to throw himself against the wall to avoid crashing into the pair. When they ran past, he thought it might be safe but Sophia suddenly bolted past him as well, so he remained plastered against the wall as the two children chased the excited puppy up and down the hall.
“He will not stop!” Stephen stopped long enough to yell at Scott happily. “He wants to run!”
Scott nodded his head, a smile tugging on his lips. “I can see that,” he said. “But you must stop him and give him some food and water. He will be hungry and thirsty after his long trip.”
Stephen nodded and tore off again, chasing his sister who had now chased the puppy into another room. Scott could hear Avrielle’s voice lifted in surprise, now in irritation, and it made him grin. He even heard her shriek, which made him laugh. He was just heading into his chamber when Avrielle emerged from one of the rooms, the puppy in her hands.
“You!” she said when she saw Scott. “You did this!”
Scott found himself fighting off the giggles. “Aye, Madam, I did. I have already apologized for it.”
Avrielle’s eyes widened. “Fiend!” she hissed. “This creature has not only peed on my floor, but he has shredded Stephen’s breeches with his tiny, puppy teeth.”
Scott had to cover his mouth because he was in danger of laughing aloud. “My lady, I would be happy to assist you, but I have more pressing duties at the moment. Surely you can handle one small puppy without my help.”
Her eyes flashed. “Your day will come, Sirrah,” she threatened. “Just you wait. One day, this puppy will pee on you and I will not lift a finger to help you.”
Scott couldn’t help it now; he started laughing as she handed the puppy over to Stephen, who whisked the animal away from his angry mother. When the children dashed off, Scott spoke.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly, but he was grinning. “I truly thought the animal would give your lonely son some companionship. Do you want me to take the puppy away?”
Avrielle waved him off. “It would crush Stephen if you did,” she said, looking at him and seeing that he was laughing about it. She tried very hard not to laugh, too. “This is not funny, Scott. You should see the mud and pee that dog brought up from the bailey. It is all over Stephen’s chamber.”
Scott continued to snort, reaching out to grab the woman and pull her against him. He kissed her on the lips, deliciously, quickly releasing her before someone saw them.
“Be brave, Mother,” he said, licking his lips because he could still taste her. “Dogs and children are nature’s way of keeping us from growing bored with life.”
Avrielle was still feeling his kiss as Scott turned away and went into his chamber. She followed.
“What are you doing now?” she asked.
He tossed his saddlebags onto the bed and began digging through them. “I am off to help your brother,” he said. “The swelling in his face has gotten worse. I fear I may have to lance it.”
She came into the chamber, concern on her features as she watched him pull items out of his saddlebags.
“God’s Bones,” she breathed softly. “Is it really that bad?”
“It is.”
“We do not have a surgeon. Do you?”
“My surgeon does not have the skill that I do.”
It wasn’t an arrogant statement; it was the truth. Avrielle paused a moment before abruptly turning around and heading for the door.
“Then I am going with you,” she said firmly. “He is my brother. You may need my help.”
She was already out of the room in the chamber next to his and he could hear her banging about. “I do not believe it is necessary,” he said loudly.
“Nonsense,” she shouted from the other room. “Do you have bandages?”
Scott looked around his saddlebag, coming up with a very small wad of them. “Not many.”
“I do,” she called back. “What else will you need?”
“What do you have?”
There was a pause before she answered. “Mostly items to tend the children when they are injured,” she said. “I have a good deal of bandages. I also have blue bread and white willow powder.”
Scott knew what blue bread was; some healers used it to make something called “rotten tea”, which most often took away the risk of a fever and poison in a wound. It was a truly remarkable substance. “Bring it all,” he said. “I may need it.”
In just a few seconds, Avrielle was back in his chamber, her hands full of bandages and other things. Although Scott had second thoughts about bringing her with him, he reckoned that her presence might calm her brother so perhaps it was wise that she come. In any case, he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep her away. She seemed determined that way.
Checking to see what she had in her hands, Scott was satisfied with her supplies and touched her sweetly on the cheek before quitting the chamber. Avrielle scurried behind him, carrying her precious supplies. And as they left the family chambers, they could hear the nurse with the children, scolding the dog and lamenting the shredded breeches. But those sounds soon faded as they made their way down the spiral stairs and out into the cool spring night beyond.
*
The lancing of the blister had been rather brutal.
By the time Scott and Avrielle returned to the guard’s room where Jeremy lay on a pile of old straw and blankets, he was surrounded by his father and most of the du Rennic knights. Scott immediately went to Jeremy’s head and knelt down beside the man, setting the stuff he’d brought with him aside. Since he hadn’t used his healing skills since before Athena’s death, he didn’t have as much with him as he would have liked. Even so, he intended to do what he could.
“Huntley,” he said. “I have returned.”
Jeremy was lying on his right side again, his left side exposed upward so Scott could see the injury clearly at this point. At the sound of Scott’s voice, he stirred.
“So you have,” he said, struggling to open his eyes. “What are you going to do?”
Scott looked at the injury. The initial swelling had somehow turned into that giant blister, filled with blood, and Scott knew it had to be lanced or Jeremy’s recovery would be greatly impeded.
“I have to drain the blood,” he said. “You must remain as still and quiet as you possibly can. I will try to work quickly.”
Jeremy grunted, his eyes closing again. “Do what you must, de Wolfe. I am sure you are taking great joy in causing me more pain.”
“Why do you say such things, Jeremy?” Avrielle demanded. She was standing over Scott’s shoulder, trying not to flinch at the terrible wound on her brother’s face. “He is not intentionally causing you pain. He is here to help.”
Jeremy opened one eye, peeping at his sister. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to help.”
Jeremy closed his eye. “Go away,” he muttered. “I’ll not have you seeing my agony.”
Avrielle’s brow furrowed but she didn’t retort and she didn’t leave. She remained there, looking at her brother’s swollen face and angry that he was being so stubborn. But that was normal with her brother, especially as of late. She leaned down and whispered in Scott’s ear.
“What can I do?” she asked. “How can I help?”
Scott began to arrange the items they’d brought – bandages, the blue bread, the willow powder, and other smaller items.
“You can put the blue bread in hot water,” he told her. “Go to the kitchens and get a small bowl of hot water. You can also bring back wine or ale; I do not care which. Hurry, now.”
Avrielle fled, leaving Scott to continue arranging what he needed in order to heal Jeremy. When he was finished with that, he leaned over Jeremy to get a good look at the blister on the man’s face. In fact, his entire face and jaw were swollen but Scott thought there was something more to it. It didn’t look like something that would have come from a beating.
After much coaxing, he convinced Jeremy to roll onto his back and open his mouth. With Gordon’s help as the man held a taper to light the darkness, Scott could see that the blows to Jeremy’s face had caused his teeth to puncture his cheek. The blister wasn’t so much a bruise as it was drainage from the wounds to the inside of his mouth.
Now fully aware of the damage to Jeremy’s face, Scott impatiently awaited Avrielle’s return with the hot water and the wine. But she arrived soon enough, panting because she’d run the entire way. Scott had Gordon rinse the blade of a razor-sharp dagger with the wine while Avrielle put the blue bread into water and let it soften and steep. They were all busy, preparing to help Jeremy any way they could.
As this was going on, the du Rennic knights were watching closely. There was some tension there, perhaps even some doubt, but they managed to keep their mouths closed about it. There was no angry posturing from them as there usually was. Adam was missing, but George and Kristoph seemed very interested in what was going on. It was in stark contrast to men who had been greatly resisting anything Scott had done since his arrival to Canaan. In truth, that had been Jeremy’s doing more than anything but, now, Jeremy didn’t seem so resistant to the man he professed to hate. It wasn’t as if he had much of a choice; he was hurt. De Wolfe was compelled to help.
The lines in the standoff between du Rennic and de Wolfe seemed to be blurring.
It was an odd dichotomy, really; the du Rennic knights spent so much time loathing and railing against de Wolfe that to see him helping a man that he had injured left them somewhat confused. The knight they’d fought alongside for some time, a man who Nathaniel du Rennic gave his life for, wasn’t someone to be reviled. Deep down, they knew that. But, still, it was an odd sight to see as de Wolfe bent over Jeremy, carefully touching the blister on the side of Jeremy’s face.
It was time to go to work.
“Now,” Scott said, looking up at Gordon and the du Rennic knights, George and Kristoph. “I am going to roll him onto his back while you three hold him still. Lady du Rennic, I will need you to hold the taper so that I will have light to see by.”
Everyone began shifting around as Scott and Gordon rolled Jeremy onto his back. Scott had a wad of bandages with him as he took the dagger that had been cleansed by the wine and took a position next to the left side of Jeremy’s head. Gordon, George, and Kristoph took their places around Jeremy and grasped his limbs, preparing to hold tight. When Scott saw that they were all in position, he doused the side of Jeremy’s face with the wine and took the sharp dagger to the very bottom of the blister. Quick as a flash, he nicked it.
Jeremy stiffened with pain but he didn’t utter a sound as Scott firmly pushed down on the blister, draining it all out into the bandages he held against Jeremy’s face. He was methodical and quick, but Jeremy remained coiled with pain throughout the process. When Scott was sure that all of the fluid had been drained from the blister, he doused Jeremy’s face with wine to ensure that any poison was cleansed from his skin. He’d been taught that wine and beer contained an agent that killed any poison on the surface and he used it liberally. He also had Jeremy rinse his mouth out with it. When all of the cleansing and draining was finished, Scott sat there with a wad of the bandages over the opening in the blister as it continued to drain and ooze.
“There,” he said quietly, looking to the men holding Jeremy firm. “It is over for now. You can release him.”
The men stood up, and that included Gordon, but he hovered over Jeremy with great concern.
“Thank you, my lord,” he said to Scott. “For helping him… you have my thanks.”
Scott simply nodded his head, holding the bandages over the blister and watching the oozing lessen. “I will not stitch this cut,” he said. “The wound needs to continue draining, so I will bandage his face for now. We will have to remove the scab now and again to let the wound continue to drain. Also, we will cleanse it with wine regularly and force him to drink the liquid from the blue bread. Do not let him refuse it; his life may depend on it.”
Gordon nodded eagerly. Then, he put his hand on Scott’s shoulder in a show of gratitude that words could not express. There was tremendous appreciation in that touch. Scott knew how much his actions meant to the old man and he wondered if now, finally, they might be able to move on from the two factions of angry knights in Canaan. Was it possible that his gesture with Jeremy might heal the rift? For his own sanity, he hoped so. He was just about to lift the bandages to take another look at the wound when he caught a glimpse of someone standing in the entryway.
Glancing up, he couldn’t quite see who it was until the man stepped forward into the dim light. Then, he could see simply by the shape of the man that it was Stewart. As Stewart came further into the room, their eyes met and Scott was immediately on guard. He didn’t like the look on Stewart’s face.
“My lord,” Stewart said in a low voice. “I realize you are heavily engaged, but do you have a moment to give? It is important.”
Given the conversation earlier with Milo, Scott could only imagine that something new had come about. He instructed Avrielle on how to hold the bandage to her brother’s cheek and left her in charge of Jeremy’s wound while he went to Stewart. But Stewart wasn’t content to speak in the small chamber; he pulled Scott out into the night beyond.
“What is it?” Scott demanded quietly.
Stewart spoke softly. “Adam de Ferrar has just returned riding on the very horse that two of our sentries identified as having left the fortress earlier today,” he said. “The one and only rider that has left the fortress, I might add.”
Scott looked at him with surprise. “De Ferrar?” he repeated. “He is a du Rennic knight.”
Stewart nodded. “He is.”
“So it is he who Stanley followed?
“Indeed, my lord.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the stables, tending to his horse,” he said. “But more importantly, Stanley has not returned.”
Scott didn’t like the sound of that at all. “I see,” he muttered. “Surely it is not possible that de Ferrar caught Stanley following him and has done something to him. Stanley is too smart for that.
Stewart shrugged. “I am sure anything is possible,” he said. “If Stanley does not return in the next few hours, then we should ask de Ferrar what he knows.”
Scott was becoming increasingly concerned about Stanley’s absence. “Agreed,” he said. Then, he sighed heavily. “I cannot believe that Stanley would be overwhelmed by a knight half his size.”
“If he was caught unaware…”
Scott understood the point, as much as it distressed him. “I hope you are not right,” he said. “Meanwhile, I have the rest of the du Rennic knights with me, helping me with Jeremy’s wound. I will keep them with me as long as I can. I do not want de Ferrar meeting up with them if there is some collusion going on. I believe it would be best to keep Adam isolated for now.”
“Agreed.”
“In fact, go ask de Ferrar where he has been. I am curious to know his answer.”
“You do not believe it will make him aware that we are suspicious of him?”
Scott shook his head. “The man left the fortress and was seen,” he said. “There are over a thousand men in this castle and surely one or more would have seen him leave. It is, therefore, a logical question, one that should have a simple answer if he is not doing anything he would not want us to know about.”
It made sense. With a knowing look, one that suggested he approved of that command, Stewart headed off to the stables to find Adam while Scott returned to the guard room with most of the du Rennic knights inside. Knights that could quite possibly be in collusion with de Ferrar, but something told Scott that whatever the young knight was doing was something strictly on his own. For the men he’d just worked with in helping Jeremy Huntley didn’t seem as if they were nervous or rebellious. In fact, they’d been just the opposite – he’d seen their concern for Huntley and Gordon had clearly been grateful for the medical attention Jeremy had received.
Nay, these didn’t seem to him like men who were planning something beneath his nose.
But he also couldn’t take the chance that they were.
He would have to plan his next move carefully.