Julie Garwood - [3 Book Box Set] Read Online Free Page B

I understand what is causing the fever. We will need more water, but this time it must be hot, just to boiling, please.”
    The vassal nodded and hurried out of the room. Within minutes a steaming kettle was placed on the floor next to Elizabeth. In truth, Elizabeth dreaded what she must do, had seen her mother do countless times in the past for those with similar injuries. Repeating a prayer for guidance, she dipped a clean strip of cloth into the kettle and grimaced from the discomfort it caused her hands. She ignored the pain and rung the cloth of excess water. She was now ready, and yet she hesitated. “You will need to hold him down, I fear,” she whispered, “for this will pain him considerably . . . but it needs be done.” She lifted blue eyes to meet the vassal’s anxious frown and waited.
    The companion nodded his understanding and placed both of his hands on the broad shoulders of his leader.
    Still she hesitated. “I must draw the poison out or he will surely die.” Elizabeth wasn’t sure if she was convincing the vassal or herself that the pain she was about to cause was necessary.
    “Aye,” was the companion’s only response. If Elizabeth had listened closely, she would have heard the gentle understanding in his voice, but she was too distraught over the agony she would soon inflict.
    Taking a deep breath, she placed the steaming cloth full upon the open wound. The leader’s reaction wasswift and furious. He tried to lift the branding cloth from his back with a fierce jerk, but the vassal’s hold was great and he was unable to shed his torment. The agonized cry from the leader tore at Elizabeth’s heart and she closed her eyes in distress.
    The door to the bedroom burst open and the two guards rushed inside, swords drawn. Fear and confusion showed in their expressions. The vassal shook his head and told them to put their weapons away.
    “It must be done.” The words from Elizabeth calmed the guards and they retreated to their posts outside the door.
    “He would never cry out if he was awake,” the vassal said to Elizabeth. “He does not know what he is doing,” he explained.
    “Are you thinking it makes him less a man to vent his agony?” Elizabeth asked while she placed a second cloth over the wound.
    “He is a fearless warrior,” the vassal replied.
    “The fever rules his actions now,” Elizabeth answered.
    The companion’s nod made Elizabeth want to smile. She turned back to her patient and lifted both strips from the wound, bringing yellow and red residue with them. She repeated the procedure countless times, until only bright red blood oozed from the deep opening. By the time she was finished, her hands were as red as the wound, and blistered. She rubbed them together in an effort to ease the sting, and then reached for her bundle. Speaking more to herself than to the vassal, she said, “I do not think there is need to seal the wound with a hot knife, for it bleeds clean and true and not overmuch.”
    The leader was unconscious, and for that Elizabeth was thankful for she knew that the medicine she must pack the wound with was not soothing. She applied a liberal amount of the foul-smelling salve and then bandaged his entire back. Once this was done, thecompanion turned the leader for her and she forced water containing crushed sage, mallows, and night-shade roots down his throat.
    There was nothing more to do. Elizabeth’s muscles ached from the strain and she stood and walked to the window. She lifted the fur blocking the wind and was surprised to find that darkness had descended. She leaned wearily against the stone and let the cool air revive her. Finally she turned back to the companion, noting for the first time how tired and haggard he appeared. “Go and find some rest. I will watch over your leader.”
    “Nay,” he replied. “I can sleep only when the Hawk has recovered. Not before.” He placed another log in the fire while he spoke.
    “By what name are you called?”