Queen of Lost Stars (Dragonblade Series/House of St. Hever) (5 page)

Madelayne heard the
footsteps enter behind her but she didn’t move. She was certain it was a servant, perhaps even someone with her dead son in their arms. Perhaps they’d come to show her, as she’d requested. Sick to her stomach, she didn’t want to turn around and look. Now she was suddenly afraid to look, panic welling in her chest. Perhaps if she didn’t look at the baby, he really couldn’t be dead. She could pretend that someone had stolen him away and she would always hold out hope that, someday, he would come back.

But those were foolish thoughts. Deep down, she knew she was being ridiculous. Taking a deep breath, she forced her bravery and turned around, surprised to see that Mavia had entered the chamber. Right behind Mavia came Thomas, dirty and exhausted from days of fighting. As soon as Madelayne saw Thomas, fear welled in her heart and she struggled to sit up. She felt a good deal of angst at the knight’s appearance.

“Mavia,
nay
!” Madelayne hissed weakly. “You did not tell Thomas, did you? I do not want him to tell Cairn. I must do it!”

Mavia went to her, quickly, trying to soothe her. “Do not trouble yourself, darling,” she said, taking one of Madelayne’s hands and squeezing it. The other hand was on her shoulder, trying to keep the woman on the bed. “I swear to you that Thomas will not… darling, he has come to speak with you. Please be calm. You should not trouble yourself so.”

Mavia was being insistent and soothing, but to Madelayne, she came across as demanding. She was practically pushing her back onto the bed. Madelayne frowned, trying to push the woman away because she seemed too eager to put her hands on her.

“Did Mavia tell you?” Madelayne asked the weary-looking knight. “My son was born this morning. He is dead. I will tell Cairn myself so you must not tell him. Please, Thomas. Do not tell him!”

She was pleading with him. Thomas sighed heavily, mentally preparing what he had to say. Lady Madelayne was pale, her lovely eyes dark-circled, and she had a rather wild-eyed look about her at the moment. He simply couldn’t get past that panicked expression, terrified with the thought that Thomas was going to tell Cairn of his dead son before she could. He held out a hand to her, silently begging for calm.

“I will not,” he said, his voice dull and hoarse. “Lady, surely, I cannot. I wish to God that I could. I wish to God that
you
could, but you cannot. Lady l’Ebreux, God has taken Cairn to heaven to be with him. He fell in the battle at Beeston and he is gone. It is my wholly unhappy duty to tell you this news, especially in light of what happened this morning, but I have no choice. I pray that you can forgive me for the news I bear and understand that your husband died a glorious death.”

Madelayne blinked as if she didn’t quite understand what she was being told. She had not slept in almost two days, long days of laboring to bring forth her dead son, so her mind was muddled. She stared at Thomas as Mavia kept trying to squeeze her hand. She yanked her hand away from the woman, unwilling to be comforted. Her gaze upon Thomas was intense.

“That cannot be,” she said with an odd calm. “He assured me that he would be home in a few days. He assured me that it was a light skirmish. Surely he is coming home; you must be mistaken, Thomas.”

Thomas shook his head sadly. “Alas, I am not,” he replied. “Cairn was set upon by rebels and they took his life. I have brought him home to be buried, now with his son that did not survive. I am so very sorry for your losses, Madelayne. Cairn was a good man.”

Madelayne stared at the man as she came to realize what he was telling her. The news suddenly hit her like a hammer, colliding with her fragile mind, and her eyes widened and the breath left her. She couldn’t breathe at all, now clutching at her throat.

“Nay,” she gasped. “It cannot be true!”

“It is.”

“It is not! He promised to return to me!”

Thomas sighed heavily, hanging his head. “I have brought him home for you to see him,” he said, rather coldly. “He is being taken to the vault. I will take you there when you are strong enough to bear it.”

Madelayne was looking at him but she wasn’t really seeing him; she was looking through him, perhaps seeing all of those dreams she’d had with a happy husband and family, now gone forever. Swept away by the winds of fate, up into the heavens where memories and souls were kept. Cairn was now one of those lost stars, too, those dead souls that nearly everyone she had ever loved had become.

Now, she was truly alone.

Dear God, it couldn’t be true!

… could it?

It was too much to bear. Madelayne fell back onto the bed, closing her eyes tightly and trying to bury herself in the coverlet. She didn’t want to see anyone or face anyone. She didn’t want to see their expressions, an agonizing reflection of what her life had now become in the pitiful trappings of sorrow. Was it really true? Had Cairn really left her alone in this terrible world?

“Madelayne, darling,” Mavia was standing over her now, trying to comfort her friend. “I am so sorry for Cairn but it is as Thomas said; God has called him to heaven. It is God’s will, my darling girl. You may find comfort in that.”

Madelayne was shutting down; her mind, her eyes, her body. Everything was shutting down, buried beneath that coverlet. It was far too painful to face the truth, too painful to realize her husband would never return to her.

“Go away,” she groaned at Mavia. “Go away and leave me!”

Mavia had her hands on Madelayne again, stroking her through the coverlet. What was meant to give comfort only gave pain, the lashings of pity swept upon a woman’s flesh.

“But…!” Mavia gasped.

“
Go!
” Madelayne screamed. “Go away! Go, I say!”

She was growing hysterical and Thomas reached out, grabbing his wife’s hand, pulling her from the room. Madelayne was beyond rational thought at that moment and he knew it. Better to remove his wife so if Madelayne was going to go mad and destroy the room, or worse, even herself, Mavia would not be caught in the maelstrom.

Sometimes, those in grief simply needed to be left alone. Surely none of them could comfort a woman who had lost her husband and son on the same day. Surely there was no relief to be had from that particular brand of anguish.

Even as Mavia and Thomas emerged into the landing beyond the chamber and shut the door behind them, they could hear Madelayne’s mournful sobbing through the very walls.

“You will remain here in case she needs you,” Thomas said to his wife, his voice dull. “I must go see to everything else now. This has been a costly battle, indeed.”

Mavia simply nodded, leaning against the door and hearing her friend weep. As Thomas walked away and headed back down the stairs, Mavia found herself wishing she could give her friend more comfort. It was sad misfortune that the news was delivered by Thomas, a cold and unemotional man. Perhaps if it had been delivered by someone else, someone with feeling, the impact upon Madelayne might not have been so great.

But Mavia knew the truth; the news would have been terrible regardless of who delivered it.

The young, childless lady was now a widow.

CHAPTER THREE

K
aspian was in
terrible shape.

Dolwyd knew that from his first glimpse of the man lying pale and limp on the wagon bed next to Cairn, who was wrapped up in an oiled cloth. The old physic climbed into the wagon bed with surprising ease, pulling back the tarp to look at Cairn first before moving to Kaspian.

The man was essentially stripped from the waist down and the top of his leather breeches had been cut away where the spear had entered the lower right portion of his abdomen. The weapon had pushed leather and chain mail and dirt into Kaspian’s bowels and Dolwyd knew that, more than likely, they were going to lose the man to fever and poison. When the abdomen was compromised, and especially the bowels, that was almost always the case.

But the man wasn’t dead yet. Dolwyd put his hand to Kaspian’s face, feeling the fever, and he inspected the wound that was festering. He caught a whiff of bowel as well, telling him that it had been perforated. It wasn’t a strong smell, but it was there nonetheless. There was no time to waste.

“Take him to his chamber, quickly,” he instructed the knights standing around the wagon. “I must get my medicament bag. Move him quickly and I will meet you in his chamber.”

The knights began to move. Ewan whistled between his teeth, a shrill sound, and a handful of men ran over from the gatehouse to his summons. Soon enough, Kaspian was being carefully moved off of the wagon bed and carried by his men into the keep. He was a very large man, and heavy, which made it difficult for his men to easily carry him. There were five of them doing the heavy lifting with Ewan following along behind. Reece remained back with Cairn and had four soldiers move the man’s body out of the wagon for transport to the vault.

Once inside the keep, it was even more difficult to move Kaspian. His quarters were on the top floor of the keep; literally, the entire top floor because that level only had one chamber and it was a very big one. The spiral stairs that connected the levels were narrow and steep, so it was slow going as they lifted Kaspian up one step at a time. At one point, Thomas met them on the stairs and they actually had to set Kaspian down and drag him up the central portion of the flight leading to the third floor because it narrowed so much. Once he was on the top level, however, the men picked him up again and carried him into his chamber.

His bed was big and messy, as was the chamber in general, the functional abode of a military commander. It smelled like soot and an unwashed male body, typical of a man who lived by himself and wasn’t particularly concerned about hygiene. The soldiers lay Kaspian upon his bed, sweaty and grunting with the exertion of having carried the man up two flights of stairs. Thomas then ushered all the men out but Ewan remained behind to help Thomas strip Kaspian of his boots. They also moved the bed away from the wall so that Dolwyd could get to either side of Kaspian with ease. When all of that was finished, the knights waited uneasily for the old physic to make an appearance.

It wasn’t a long wait, fortunately, for Dolwyd could move quickly when he wanted to. He appeared in the chamber with a satchel full of medicaments and instruments he used in the course of his healing. Already, he began snapping his fingers and issuing orders.

“Ewan,” he said. “Start a fire in the hearth; be quick about it. And Thomas – you will help me with my instruments. Take them out of my bag and set them on Kaspian’s table. Hurry!”

There was a sense of urgency in the room as the knights began to move. Ewan quickly stared a fire in the hearth, igniting the kindling with a flint and stone, as Thomas cleaned out Dolwyd’s bag and set everything upon the big table in Kaspian’s room as he’d been instructed. A small oil lamp with an iron frame on it was set up and upon the frame, over the flame, was a small iron pot that Dolwyd began to immediately put ingredients into. A bit of wine and powder went into it and he stirred it with his finger. Thomas also pulled forth a mortar and pestle, and any number of small sacks containing mysterious and magical ingredients, as least as far as Thomas was concerned. What Dolwyd did had always fascinated him. The man had limitless knowledge, which was going to be put to the test now in the case of Kaspian.

As Ewan’s fire began to blaze and he went to fetch water to boil in the hearth, Dolwyd was busily working at his table, surrounded by his ingredients. Thomas watched over Dolwyd’s shoulder curiously. Dolwyd brewed and mashed, and then he carefully pulled forth an earthenware jug that wasHe is corked tight with a wooden plug. When he popped it open, even Thomas could smell the putrid scent. He pointed in disgust.

“What is
that?
” he asked. “It smells like a man’s arse!”

Dolwyd grinned, unusual for the old man. “It is called rotten tea,” he said. “It is brewed with bread and left to sit and fester in the warmth. It smells horrible and tastes even worse, but if a man has a fever, it will cure him. It will kill whatever poison ails him.”

Thomas watched the old man pour a measure of the black liquid into a cup. “And a man must drink this?” he asked, appalled.

Dolwyd nodded. “Aye,” he replied. “You must help me get some of this into St. Hèver. His wound is already festering and if we cannot cure it, he will die.”

Thomas followed the old physic as the little man shuffled over to Kaspian, who was unconscious on his bed. They both paused a moment, looking down at their once-mighty commander.

“He has grown very weak, very quickly over the past day,” Thomas said grimly. “We have withheld all food and water from him because of his wound.”

Dolwyd nodded faintly, his gaze lingering on the powerful commanding officer. “As well you should have,” he said. “With a belly wound like that, he cannot eat anything. It will only make it worse.”

“What of boiled water?”

Dolwyd simply shook his head. “I fear it will only hurt him.”

Thomas looked at the physic. “Then what?” he demanded. “Do we simply let him starve to death? If the fever does not kill him, the lack of food will.”