It began to rain as they neared Kate’s mother’s house, so Adele and Alejandro stopped momentarily under a tree to lift the hoods of their riding cloaks. Still dazed and somewhat shaken from his leap through the oaks, Alejandro shivered and drew his cloak more tightly about himself, then leaned over and rearranged the folds of Adele’s. As he fussed with her garment, she reached up with one hand and stroked his cheek.
“Tell me why you’re so sad,” she said.
He sighed sadly as he buttoned her collar. “How well you read my mood. You are a lady of many talents.”
“It would take little talent to see the melancholy on your face, for you have no talent in hiding it.”
“I am sad,” he admitted, “and to the very core of my soul. I feel as though we have left Eden, and are cursed with the knowledge of what might have been. We were innocent there, and everything was beautiful; now we know far more than is bearable. And we return to a place where more sorrow awaits us.”
“But we shall bear what we know,” she said softly, “for this is the world in which we must live, not the one we have just left. And look about you. Do you not see beauty here? Consider the beauty of this rain.” She extended her hand to catch a few drops. “I need only hold my hand out and soon I shall have enough to drink. Sweet rain to cool my thirst.”
“It is a cold rain.”
“It is a gift from God, Who would have us know the trees and flowers that even a cold rain brings us.”
“It is autumn, and you have said it grows cold here. I begin to feel it for myself. Will the trees and flowers not turn brown soon?”
“Only to be born again in green with the spring.”
“But why must everything wither and die?”
She shrugged. “Your questions are beyond my simple ken. Surely you would do better to consult a philosopher or a priest on such divine matters. But I will tell you what I have always believed. Things wither and die before us so we may better savor that we live.”
But Alejandro would not be comforted. To him England was a cruel, forbidding, unwelcoming place. He no longer knew where his home was, or to whom his allegiance belonged. To King Edward he was the pope’s spy, cloaked in the guise of physician, yet to the pope he was a Spaniard to be toyed with, one who could be counted on to annoy the English royalty as much as he protected them. “Now I have the promise of a cure,” he said, “but it comes from a place that seems unreal, not of this world, and from a woman who could not be more unlike the other healers I have known. I bring it from the pale, but I must use it in the darkness. And who knows if it will even work! A fortnight’s delay in dying does not necessarily make a cure.”
Adele said quietly, “It will work if it is God’s will for it to work.”
With anger in his voice Alejandro said, “I curse God’s will. All around us lie His Victims.”
She reached out and took one of his hands. Squeezing it gently, she said, “Curse it you may, but you will never change it. Things die because it is God’s will that they should.” She nodded in the direction of their destination and said, “Let us hope that it is God’s will that we get to Kate before He reaches down to claim her.” Without another word she rode off, with Alejandro close behind.
They were admitted to the house by the same servant, whose expression was even more grave than before. “Come in quickly,” she said. “Mother Sarah is here! The very one you rode out to see. Had I known she was on her way already, I would not have sent you out to seek her. To have ridden all that way for naught, when she arrived right after ye left! Can you forgive this poor ignorant wench?”
Alejandro looked at her with genuine bewilderment. “Foolish woman,” he said, “what are these inane mutterings?”
“As I’ve told you, Mother Sarah is here!” she said. “She arrived not a piddle’s time after you left. I’ve been cursing myself since, and I hope you’ll not whip me.”
With their riding cloaks dripping on the wide planks of the entry floor, Adele and Alejandro exchanged confused looks.
“How long has she been here?” he asked the servant.
The servant peered at him suspiciously; “Did ye not hear me, sir? Since shortly after you rode out to seek her, I said.”
He looked at her in shock and disbelief. The servant mistook his expression for anger and continued her pathetic confession of ineptitude. “Oh, forgive me, sir! I didn’t mean to speak so harshly. And now the Mother is saying I’m a simpleton for missing some doses of medicine! The lady refused to drink that yellow swill, and who can blame her? It smells of death itself and would never cross my lips, even for the saving of my soul! Such foulness has never been kept in a vial, for the vial itself would break from the revulsion of containing it.”
Completely confused, Alejandro looked around for Kate, remembering the old woman’s dire prophecy. “Where is the child?” he growled.
“Why, she’s within, as is the Mother, who attends my lady.”
Alejandro pushed roughly past her, followed closely by Adele. They rushed into the bedchamber, not knowing what to expect. There they saw a ragged figure bent over the bed, upon which lay the thin remnants of a once beautiful woman. The child stood against the far wall with a cloth in her hand, her herbal mask discarded, her eyes red and swollen. Upon seeing Alejandro and Adele she bolted away from the wall and threw herself, sobbing, into their mutual embrace.
“Oh, Blessed Virgin be praised that you are here! I am so afraid!”
The physician comforted her as well as he could. God curse the king for ordering this travesty to take place! His conscience be damned, as it well deserves to be! He said to the little girl, “Find your strength, for you must tell me what has taken place in our absence.… Who is this hag attending your mother now?”
She sniffled as she composed herself. “Why, this is no hag, but the midwife!” she protested. “This is the Mother Sarah!”
This cannot be! Alejandro’s thoughts raced wildly. She cannot have left her cottage after we did, only to arrive here before us.…
He stood up, leaving Adele in the corner with Kate in her arms. “Woman, turn around and let me see your face,” he ordered.
Briefly glancing over her shoulder, the crone said impatiently, “Physician, do not order me about as you would some common underling. I am not your apprentice. If things were as they should be in the natural order, you would be apprenticed to me.” She shuffled forward toward the head of the bed. “Sadly, the natural order has been disrupted of late. Now, I have important work here! If you cannot be helpful, take care not to get in the way!”
“This can’t be,” he cried again in disbelief. “We left Mother Sarah at her cottage and came directly here. No one overtook us on the way!”
The bent grimalkin slowly turned away from her work and faced the physician. He studied her closely. It was the same lined and ancient face, the face of a thousand years’ wisdom.
“You must always expect the unexpected,” she said, shaking her finger in his face.
Stunned by her repetition of the remark he had heard so recently, he peered closely at her wrinkled features, searching for some reason to discount the likeness. She stared back at him, overpowering him with the strength and steadfastness of her gaze. With a knowing smile she said, “Now, if you wish to learn, watch closely here. You will see these things nowhere else.”
Shocked though he was by her presence, for he could not believe that she had traveled so quickly, he did as he was told. He came around to the side of the bed and looked more closely at the helpless patient and saw the telltale blue and black blotches on her swollen neck. She is near to death, he thought; yet she has lived so long with the affliction.…
“There is not much time now,” she said quietly. “The stupid wench I trusted to care for her has allowed the lady to pass over dosages of a critical tincture, and now I must use all my skills to undo the damage. Be prepared to assist me!”
The voice, the stance, the clothing, they were as like to those of the woman at the stone cottage as was the face. He had no choice but to believe that she was the same woman. Flustered, he said, “What would you have me do? I will do anything.”
From a nearby tray she took a long reed filled with powdered yellow stone, and gave it to him. “Hold this to the candle,” she said, “but be sure to keep it at arm’s length. Set it in the hole of that stone.” She pointed to a flat gray rock resting on a small table.
He did as she directed, and immediately the room was lit by a blue-white sparkling flame. The light it gave was harsh, and as the blue fingers of flame sputtered out from the tip of the reed, shadows danced eerily. The odor of rotten eggs again filled the air.
He came back to the bedside, and watched as the old woman began a droning chant in a language he had never heard before. He thought it sounded like English, or some combination of that rough language and one containing more Latin, but he could not really understand.
Adele cradled Kate in her arms and watched intently, stupefied by what she was seeing. So stunned was she that she almost failed to hear Alejandro’s urgent plea. “Adele! Please, if you can understand what she is saying, try to remember for me.… I will recall her motions later. Please recall her words for me!”
“I will!” she said, hugging the child closer.
Mother Sarah addressed each of Kate’s mother’s symptoms in turn. “Three crumbs of a crust baked on Good Friday last, to solid up the bowels.” She broke three small clumps off a nearly petrified crust of bread and laid them on the lady’s lips.
From a small vial she dripped seven drops of a milky fluid on the lady’s forehead. “The balm of Gilead, as rare as the gift from Sheba to Solomon.” Alejandro recognized three words from the Torah, and though he did not comprehend the remainder of her invocation, he knew this ritual, for it had been used for centuries by Jewish physicians to treat digestive and melancholy disorders. How had she come by this knowledge?
“A coin of gold, placed in the hand, to buy back the health from the devil.” The old woman pried open the lady’s clenched fingers and closed them again around the coin.
“The blood of the lamb, to ward off the pest, marked upon the lintel as in ancient Egypt.” Mother Sarah dipped her thumb in a small bowl of bright red fluid, then smeared the headboard of the bed with a long streak of the substance.
Now the old woman held the shell of a walnut in her hand, and passed her other hand over it in slow circular motions as she whispered indecipherable chants. She placed the shell on the lady’s abdomen and lifted the upper half, revealing a large black spider with a white diamond on its back. The confused creature scampered immediately toward the lady’s chest and quickly disappeared under the bedclothes. Watching from the corner, Adele crossed herself again and grimaced, and Kate cried out, each one imagining how it would feel to have the furry-legged black thing crawling on her own chest.
Then the old woman bent stiffly and retrieved a small package that had been resting by her feet. The small brown sack was tied with a cord dirtied by many openings. Onto a nearby board she poured out a small pile of a grainy grayish powder. Pinching a quantity between her fingers, she said, “A knuckle’s worth.” She sifted it from her fingers into a small bowl. Then she picked up a vial and said, “Half of a cupped hand.” She poured some of the yellowish water into her cupped hand and allowed it to drip into the bowl containing the powder. Mixing the two together carefully, she made a disagreeable gray-green slurry, which gave off a musty odor and would not be welcomed by even the most desperate patient.
First she dipped her finger in the potion, and smeared a small quantity on the lady’s forehead, then she ladled the rest into the objecting patient’s mouth. Even in her state of great weakness the lady attempted to spit the foul mixture back out again, but the old woman covered her mouth with surprising strength, forcing the lady to ingest the medicine. The weak patient swallowed, then resumed her irregular panting.
Mother Sarah gently wiped the sweat, off the patient’s cheeks and the dribble from her chin. “Soon we shall be through, and you can rest again,” she cooed reassuringly. She slipped a silver ring on the finger of the gasping patient, intoning, “A ring made from pennies begged by lepers!”
Then with a sigh of resignation Mother Sarah pulled the last of her implements out of her satchel. A small woven strip of red cloth, much like a ribbon, was folded once to form a small loop with a crossed tail, and pinned to the nightdress over the patient’s heart. “To ward off the spirit of the plague maiden,” she said, “who fears the color of blood and will not disturb a heart protected by its wearing.”
Finally the old woman collapsed into a nearby chair, depleted and exhausted from her efforts to cure her failing patient. She did not move or make a sound for many minutes; even her breathing was so shallow as to be barely noticeable.
Alejandro shook the old woman’s arm gently. So motionless was her trance that he feared she might have diverted death onto herself from the lady. But her eyes fluttered open, and she righted herself in the chair.
“I can do no more,” she said. “Now we must pray.”
And so they prayed, each in the way of his or her custom, for the lady’s recovery. But as the sun lowered in the sky, it became plain to all that the spirit of the Plague Maiden had not been dispelled. The lady began her journey to the other side of life. Her eyelids began to flutter and her gaze shifted around the room.
The physician knew there was no focus to her gaze, much as the loved ones would like to imagine, and that the patient had little control over herself. He was not surprised when she pulled her legs up near her body as would an infant and lay on her side in a huddled pose, as if protecting her plague-distended belly. He heard her gasp in one last breath, and then saw that she was still, her unseeing eyes staring out from between her slightly parted lids.
In keeping with the local custom Mother Sarah closed the woman’s eyes and placed a penny on each one.
Kate, sobbing uncontrollably, her small body completely enfolded in Adele’s arms, cried out, “Mama!” with pitiful grief and anguish. Alejandro was about to wrap the bedclothes about the dead woman’s body, but Kate begged him to stop.
“Please, Physician, let me kiss her one more time.”
Kneeling down and holding her by the arms, he said gently, “I cannot, child, for the contagion may pass from her lips to yours.”
But her pitiful and plaintive expression was more than he could bear. He watched as she wiped away her tears one more time with the cloth he had given her.
“Kate, kiss your handkerchief,” he said.
Between her hitches and sobs she said, “But why?”
“I will show you.”
She wiped her eyes one more time and then kissed the cloth.
“Now give it to me.”
He reached out with her small hand and placed it in his larger one. He smiled reassuringly and stroked her hair. Then he rose up from his crouch and went to the bedside. He touched the handkerchief to the dead woman’s lips, then tucked it into her hand.
“Now she will take your kiss with her into all of eternity.”
Alejandro stood by, fidgeting impatiently, and watched as Mother Sarah splashed cool water against the wrinkled skin of her face and neck again and again, trying to remove the foulness that had settled into her pores during the failed ritual of healing.
Still bent over the basin, she turned her head toward him and said, “Would you not allow an old woman a moment’s respite?”
“I would question you about—”
“Aye, I know, there is much you wish to ask me.” Water dripped from her face and hands and she wiped them dry on her apron, sighing deeply. “Very well,” she said. “You have my attention now.”
“What I wish to know first is how—”
“Is how it is that you could ride on horses from my home while I stood and watched you leave, and then, horseless myself, arrived here before you?”
“Yes!”
“In truth, young man, it did not happen that way.”
“But I saw it with my own eyes, as did my companion.… Adele!” he called.
She came from the next room with Kate in her arms.
“Please tell this woman what we saw.”
“Alejandro, the child …” she said, concern on her face. “I would not have her hear this. It is blasphemy!”
He took Kate from Adele and handed her to the servant, who took the child away. With Kate safely out of earshot Adele related the events of their earlier ride to the old woman.
“You did not see me pass as you first rode out?”
Alejandro and Adele looked at each other. Adele shrugged, and Alejandro said, “I do not recall seeing a woman such as yourself.”
“But there were travelers on the road, were there not?” the old woman said.
“There were,” he said almost angrily, “but none such as yourself!”
“In my years of treating those with disorders of both the body and soul, I have known many people who see what they wish to see, in total disregard of what is actually before them. It must have been powerfully important to you to see me in that glade today, or surely you would have seen that the house and clearing were quite empty.”
“Woman, I assure you,” he responded, his anger now unbridled, “that my soul, body, and mind are all equally sound and I have no doubt that you were there at that cottage, as my companion has verified.”
He waited for her to respond, but she simply remained silent, her hands folded across her ample bosom.
“Well? What have you to say now?”
“I have to say, impertinent stripling, that though I do not doubt you believe your tale to be true, it is in actuality your recollection of a most pleasing dream. How can one be sure that your weary minds did not conjure up the entire occurrence, simply for the joy of having something wondrous to contemplate in these trying days?”
“I have brought out the things you gave me, the medicines—”
“—which you cannot say for sure that you acquired from me …”
Exasperated by her repeated denials, Alejandro threw up his hands. He paced restlessly around the small room, muttering to himself. Finally he said to her, his voice bitter with disappointment, “Then at least let me understand why your efforts failed to save the life of the lady. By the telling of the servant, she had lived with the affliction for over a fortnight! This is remarkable. I have never seen such success. What went wrong in the final hours? I must know!”
The old woman sat down, and breathed a deep sigh before answering. “Physician, do you ever use your skills on a patient who cannot possibly survive?”
He said nothing, but his thoughts went instantly to Carlos Alderón’s slow wasting.
“Aye, I thought you might have,” she said, recognizing his shamed look. “Your eyes betray you, though you cannot speak of it.”
He hung his head and said, “You are right. I have made such wasted treatments.”
Her voice grew gentler and more soothing. “Never consider those treatments wasted, for their effect on the living is of far greater consequence. If I simply walked away from this lady today, my disregard for those who cherished her would have been as deadly to them as the plague itself. I will not take away the hope of a child. But I would be lying if I claimed to have a cure. I have long delayed the dying, but a cure eludes me.”
Alejandro said, rather rudely, “Then all of those ridiculous charms and incantations were nothing but cheap tricks, when in truth you have no better skills than I!”
She flashed him an angry look but held her temper, then gave him a knowing grin and stroked her chin. “I recall quite clearly, my young friend, that you were as much in awe of the rituals as was the overly pious lady who accompanies you. Do you deny that for at least a while, you had faith in the cure?”
He could not deny it. He recalled the intense fascination he had felt while observing the crone’s performance. She was right. For at least a short while he had believed that the lady would live.
“And that,” she said with confidence, almost smug in her tone, “is the sole source of my healing powers. People are prepared to believe what they want to be true. You are no different from any other in that regard.”
But I want to be different, he thought miserably. I need to believe that because of my training and dedication I can ease the suffering of the afflicted. There is nothing more to my life than that.
She saw his shamed look, and understood what was behind it. “Do not be too hard on yourself, Physician, for you have not had enough lessons from the best teacher, which is nothing more than the daily practice of your art. Experience will teach you more than any patron or mentor. And while there is much experimentation yet to be done, I believe a cure is at hand. Each time I treat a patient, I have come closer and closer to success. I change the proportions of the powder and liquid, for therein lies the key.”
She busied herself with putting away her tools and medicines as she spoke, but left two containers out of her satchel. “Now rise up from your self-pity, young man, and pay attention, for I shall not repeat myself.
“A long time ago I noticed that the animals who drink from the warm spring by which I make my home seem to resist the ravages of all contagions, whereas others of their species fall prey and die rapidly.”
She picked up a large jar of the cloudy yellow water and placed it on a table near him. “I observed that it had a rather noxious odor, which is fainter but similar to that given off by the strange yellow rocks that are brought up with the ore from the copper mines.”
“The ones that remind me of eggs gone bad.”
“Yes, exactly! You are a quick study when you are not mired in sadness! I fancied that the yellow water contained small bits of the yellow rock finely powdered; through what force, I know not, but what matter? The animals who drink from that spring must have large amounts of the pungent yellow rock absorbed in all of their bodily humors by now.”
“What is this yellow powder called?”
“It is called sulphur. When it is burned, the flame sparkles and turns blue. Witches have long used it to dazzle the ignorant into believing in their special powers.”
“As you did today, with the reed.”
“Guilty I am of that sinful chicanery,” she said with a grin, “but all for good cause.” Then she placed the small brown sack next to the jar of water. “You must add this gray powder, for it strengthens as a sword strengthens a knight!”
She took one of his hands in hers and poured a tiny mound of the grainy gray stuff into the palm. Alejandro rubbed it between his fingers and felt its granular texture. He looked questioningly at the old woman.
She whispered with great reverence, “It is the dust of the dead, and it imparts their powers to the ill one.”
The dust of the dead? Surely this is forbidden.…
She continued with her instructions. “Mix a knuckle of the powder into a half a cupped hand of the water, and give the patient a good swallow at sunrise, highest noon, and again at sunset. Should the patient be awake, and yourself as well, one more swallow at midnight will not do harm. But conserve your supply, and use it wisely, for these things are found only by my abode; God alone knows when you may need them again.”
“God alone,” Alejandro repeated, and prayed that such need would never come to pass.
They placed the lady’s body along the side of the road where the teamster could not fail to see it. The five people who had been present at her death watched as the cart came to a stop and the driver dismounted. The teamster and another man picked up the body, still warm and pliable, and callously heaved it to the top of the pile of those who had succumbed that day.
The cart began to sag in the middle from the weight of its gruesome load. One man looked down the road at several additional bodies similarly awaiting their last earthly journey, and said to the other, “That’s all now, the rest’ll still be dead when we come back later.”
“Aye,” his helper agreed, “let’s be off. The stink is addling my brain, and I’ll soon be a simpleton.”
“Soon, you say?” joked the other. “I see no sign of brilliance coming from you now. Although there is always hope of a miracle. I’ll put you in my prayers.”
They climbed back into the front seat and lightly slapped the reins along the horses’ backs. Neighing in protest, the horses began their grim march to the burial ground, carrying Kate’s mother as their last passenger.
They followed the same path as Adele and Alejandro had earlier, and soon came to the open field, near where Adele and Alejandro had visited Mother Sarah; the oaks still stood guard, but now their shadows were long and straight. As the horses dragged the creaking cart across the plain, its wheels bogged in the fresh-dug ground, and the lifeless passengers were jostled quite roughly about, but the teamsters paid no mind, knowing that none was likely to complain. In the course of this irreverent bouncing, the bedclothes covering the lady’s body were loosened, and as she had not yet stiffened, her arm fell free of the wrapping. In her hand was the handkerchief that had carried her child’s last kiss to her lips.
A few meters farther the cart groaned to a stop next to a shallow pit, hastily dug that afternoon in the peaty soil. The teamsters, already aching from the labor of digging the hole, lowered themselves slowly down from the high forward seat, and set to the hideous task of laying the bodies side by side in the open grave. When the pit was full, a priest would be summoned, if one could be found, and the sins of the dead would be remitted en masse. Then the peat would be thrown back into what was left of the pit, and the ground smoothed as much as possible.
“Let’s hope the dogs don’t dig up this bunch too,” said one of the men, and they returned to the cart, ready to make their way back to London’s outskirts, dreading their next load of passengers.
Mother Sarah gathered her strange assortment of cures and talismans and stowed them away in her ragged satchel. She threw a red shawl around her shoulders and took up her walking stick and headed toward the door. But before leaving, she turned back to Alejandro, and admonished him one last time, “Physician, mind you to be prepared. You must always expect the unexpected.”
The stableman rushed out to tend to their horses when they returned to Adele’s estate that night, and the drenched trio ran quickly up the stone steps into the manor house. The roaring fires laid earlier by the overseer had warmed the house and taken the wet chill off the air inside; still, Alejandro trembled as he removed his dripping cloak. He could barely control his shivering, and hurried to the fire to warm himself. Kate followed closely, and held her small hands out to the blaze to soak up the welcome heat, while small puddles of water formed around the hem of her thin frock.
Suddenly, she sneezed, three times in rapid succession.
“Child?” Alejandro said with alarm. “What ails you?”
She sniffled and said, “I am cold, and weary from the ride, and my stomach begs for food.”
Relieved by her ready explanation, Alejandro relaxed. “Well, I am glad that you have only three complaints. By great good fortune all three are curable.” He took her hand and together they sought out Adele. They found her in the kitchen giving instructions to the housekeeper.
“It seems our small companion is cold, hungry, and tired, and I have brazenly promised her a cure for all three afflictions. Can a dry nightdress be found, and some supper?”
Adele nodded. “See to the child,” she said to the housekeeper. “We will speak again later.”
The housekeeper led Kate away, saying, “First we’ll get you dry and warm, then we’ll come back for some supper.”
Kate rejoined them in a fresh nightdress, one Adele had worn as a little girl. After a supper of soup and crusty warm bread, Adele led Kate off to her old room and tucked her safely into the clean bed, singing tenderly to the little girl until she was asleep. When she returned to the table, it was cleared and deserted.
She found Alejandro in the salon, where a flickering fire cast shadows on the walls as it danced in the huge hearth.
“Shall we have some wine,” she said, “to further warm our bellies?”
“I shall never feel warm again, nor dry, I fear,” he said.
“The curse of our fair isle, I think,” she said, pouring the wine. “I have never traveled to your land, but I hear it is warm there, even in winter.”
As she poured the clear dark liquid, a stray beam of firelight sparkled on the ruby cross resting on her bosom. It was nearly the same color as the wine, and the flash of red caught Alejandro’s eye; he took pleasure in the comparison.
As they sat before the fire, Alejandro carefully recorded the rituals Mother Sarah had performed on Kate’s mother, with Adele’s help in recalling the things she had said and done. When the words were all on paper, he made a sketch of the woman herself. He wrote, Mother Sarah, on the page, and showed it to Adele.
“It’s a fair likeness,” she said. “It catches her spirit, I think.”
“Hers is a spirit that will never be completely caught, I fear, but I shall not soon forget it.” He closed the book and set it aside.
Slowly, as the fire warmed his skin and the wine his belly, Alejandro felt the distress of the day gradually leaving his weary body, and he sank back in the cushions to watch Adele brush her remarkable tresses before the fire. He allowed himself a few moments of joyful speculation on what his life could be like if she were his. He watched as she arranged her hair about her shoulders, and realized that she was doing her best to make herself attractive to him. She was having great success in her endeavor, for the physician’s heart beat as if it would burst; they would be lovers again tonight, he was sure of it. Dear God, he prayed, let this journey never end.
Adele rose from her seat before the fire and came toward him. She settled herself on the soft rug in front of him and placed her head on his knees. The thick red hair fell in great waves over his lap, and he ran his eager hands through it again and again; it felt cool and soft and incomparably sensual, and he could not believe his joy.
She lifted her head off his knees, and he opened his mouth to protest its withdrawal, but before he could speak, she pressed one of her fingers over his lips to silence him. “Do not speak,” she said, “for I would busy your lips with other things.” Then she raised herself up and insinuated herself between his legs. She drew him close and pressed her soft body against his trembling one, then gently wrapped her arms around his back and held him tightly against her. They kissed, deeply, with a passion that knows no time. It might have been just one minute, or even ten, that their lips were together. He could not have said if his very life hung on the answer.
And then Adele placed her hands lightly on his shoulders, drawing them down along the front of his chest. He stiffened as her fingers neared the neck of his shirt, beneath which lay the telltale scar, and he was filled with the icy fear of discovery.
Speak! he admonished himself, before the opportunity is no longer yours!
Adele, forgive me for the lie I am about to tell you. It is not my intent to deceive you, only to survive to know your love, he thought silently. He reached his own hands up and gently caught her wrists, then brought all four of their hands together in a loving clasp. She looked at him quizzically, wondering why he had stopped her gentle exploration.
“Adele,” he said carefully, “I am disfigured by a scar, and I would not have its ugliness frighten you.”
She drew back a bit and said with alarm, “What scar is this you speak of?”
He unfastened one button at the neck of his shirt, and pulled the neckline slightly open. There Adele could see only a small portion of circular wound, now pink and well healed. She gasped. “Oh, my dear, how did this happen?”
He was weary of lying, but he knew there was no other choice; the truth would bring all his joy and hope to an end. “There was a skirmish on my journey from Spain to Avignon. I am ashamed of the outcome, and I would not speak further of it. I beg you to understand my modesty. I have kept this from you because I myself find the scar revolting, and I believed that you would find it so as well. And I did not wish to frighten you.” He cast his eyes downward, and said, “I am humiliated before you. Please forgive my deception.”
To his immeasurable relief she said, “It was not your choice to be so scarred. We will not speak of it again, for it has no import to me.”
In her bed they spoke softly of the sweet things that new lovers cherish, each one blushing quite invisibly in the dark room, and finding small sweet surprises of pleasure in the other. Their simple union cemented no kingdoms together, only two people who dearly wished to be so joined.
So accustomed was he to his dreams of Carlos Alderón that to sleep without them was an anomaly to him, and when Alejandro felt a small warm hand touch his cheek just before dawn, he thought it was just part of another dream. But the touch was insistent, and eventually he opened his eyes. He saw Kate standing at the bedside.
“My throat is sore,” she moaned, and touched her neck lightly. He looked at her more closely and saw to his horror the beginnings of a bruise beneath her chin.
Panicking, he began to throw off the bedclothes, then remembered that he was naked except for a light shirt. He said to the child, “Kate, you must do exactly as I tell you now. Return to your bed and I will attend to you as soon as I am decently covered. Do not touch anything as you make your way back to Adele’s room, or speak with any of the servants. Breathe shallowly and try not to cough if the urge should come upon you.”
She nodded, a look of terror in her eyes, and left the dim room, padding lightly away on her small feet. He glanced over at Adele’s sleeping form and decided not to disturb her rest until he had investigated Kate’s complaint further. After drawing up his breeches he searched out the saddlebag containing the gifts Mother Sarah had given him, and went to the pantry for a cup and a spoon.
When he entered Adele’s former bedroom, he was shocked to see how tiny Kate looked in the huge bed. The canopy curtains were wide open, so he closed them at the far side and the foot of the bed, leaving open only the one that faced toward the door of the bedroom.
“Now, let me examine that neck of yours, my fine lady,” he said. “I shall untie the top of your nightdress, but do not fear for your modesty. I am presently only interested in your neck.”
He gently touched the darkened area under her chin. “Does it hurt when I touch you there?”
She winced, and he pulled his hand away. “It hurts there, and in my arm as well.”
He lifted her arm up with one hand and with the other felt the area under her arm. He felt his heart sink as his fingers found the beginnings of a lump.
A curse upon all that walks, flies, swims, or slithers, he thought angrily. A curse upon all that is holy! He heard the soft rustling of a gown behind him, and looked around to see Adele silhouetted in the doorway.
“Rest here, child, and I shall return shortly.” He closed the remaining canopy curtain, and left the room, taking Adele by the elbow and leading her in the same direction.
Her eyes full of fear, she said to him, “I see by your look that the news is not good.”
He confirmed her suspicion with a nod, and she buried her face in his shoulder and wept. As he comforted her, she looked up at him through her tears and said, “I cannot bear to see her die.”
“Nor can I, my love, but for once I am not helpless. At least we have some means to try to save her.”
“The medicine!” she cried. “Where is it? I shall fetch it!”
“It is already in the room, on the bed table.”
“Then let us waste not one minute in treating her.”