Warriors Of Legend (35 page)

“Good God,” John said in horror. “Those who die of fits are said to be possessed or—”

“Cursed,” Micah growled.

“The huntsman’s curse, the merchant was terrified of it because he saw one man drop dead in the street suffering a fit,” John added, nodding.

“John,” Kate said, returning to Micah. “I need to know how much poison Sarah used. If she put it in all of the wine cups then the dose was small. Micah is young and strong. By catching it early I might be able save him.”

Micah swallowed hard. “You mean there is a chance…”

Tears gathered in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. “You could die, Micah.”

Chapter Twelve

Micah closed his eyes, his face turning gray. Kate, her jaw aching and her throat tight, forced down the agonizing fear within her. She had to stay calm and keep a level head.

John hurried out the door. “Hubert!” he bellowed.

“We need to make emetics quickly,” Marjorie said.

Kate returned to her herb bag and pulled out a small jar with finely ground powder.

Marjorie’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. “Bryony Root?”

“You know as well as I do it’s the only thing strong enough to completely purge Micah’s stomach.”

“Kate,” Micah said his voice soft and his eyes wide. “Are you sure? I thought Bryony Root was a poison too.”

Kate swallowed hard, praying she made the right decision. “It will only be a small amount, Micah. But we must rid you of as much poison as possible.”

He slowly nodded. Kate made the tea while Marjorie returned downstairs to tend to the other men. Micah drank the tea and soon cleared his stomach. He fell back on the bed, gasping for air.

“I am sorry, Micah,” she whispered, smoothing his hair from his face. He looked at her a moment then squeezed his eyes closed, grimacing in pain.

“It makes sense,” he said weakly. “After we married, MacLeary had to change his tactics. Kidnapping you will serve no purpose. I must be eliminated.”

Kate shivered. “I’m not going to let you die, Micah.”

His lips lifted slightly. “I believe you. But if you become a widow, MacLeary will make a bid for his son to marry you. With enough gold the Scottish church will support him.”

She rose, trying not to think of his terrifying words, and returned to the table to make another tea. Her hands shook and she fought to still them.

“Not again,” Micah muttered.

“Nay,” she said softly. “This is a tea of Heart Trefoil.”

“Good.”

She gave Micah the tea and he finally fell asleep but his fever increased. A bit later John and Hubert returned.

“We found Sarah,” John said. “You were right. She used Savin Oil. She’s in the dungeon.”

Kate leaned against the wall, praying it would keep her from falling.

“Sarah only put a couple of drops in each cup,” Hubert said. He paused and looked at Kate a long moment. “Someone paid her but she refuses to say who.”

Micah groaned and Kate flew to his side. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body convulsed, his limbs twisting upon themselves. Kate’s heart dropped like a stone and tears fogged her vision.
What have I done? I am killing him.
She forced herself to think logically. Savin oil caused fits, not Bryony root. Above all, she dare not lose her faith in her abilities or she would lose Micah. Kate quickly shoved a stick in his mouth, so he would not bite his tongue. She, John and Hubert did their best to keep Micah from hurting himself.

The fit passed and Micah collapsed incoherent, fighting to breathe. Kate held him, bathing his face and chest with a cool cloth while he drifted into a fevered delirium.

Hubert lightly gripped her shoulder. “Fear not, lady, the baron is a strong man.”

“Aye, Kate,” John added. “I’ve seen him survive much worse than this.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

***

Micah stood at the edge of a black abyss. Pain rocked through him and he fell, spiraling downward, plummeting into agony. Bright light and awful visions tormented him, flashing across his sight, blinding him. Still he tumbled, spinning out of control.

His descent stopped and Micah blinked open his eyes. Darkness shrouded his vision. Smoke from battlefield fires choked his throat. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe. He held his sword tightly. Somehow he had lost his shield in the mayhem. His armor was badly damaged, blood flowed from various wounds. Micah staggered under the weight of his mail. He thought he searched for someone but he couldn’t remember who.

The terrible visage of his uncle rose before him, sword held high. “‘Tis a shame that now you must die,” he roared.

Micah brought his weapon up. His body screamed in pain. He lunged, his sword ripping through his uncle’s gut, blood splashing over his hands. Smoke blew across Micah’s face, he choked and gagged, trying to breathe. He staggered back, losing his grip on his weapon. His eyes watered and he blinked to clear them. The smoke faded. He saw a crumpled form on the ground, his sword rising from the body. Micah crawled forward.

“Uncle, why? Why did you betray me?”

The form moved. Kate stared up at him, blood trickling from her mouth, her hands clutched futilely at the sword in her belly.

“Micah?” she whispered. “I loved you. Why did you do this to me?”

Horror coiled around his heart, ripping it open with terrible claws.

“
Chérie?
Oh, God,
ma chérie
…what have I done?”

“Why, Micah? Why have you killed me?”

He reached for her. Her body decayed before his eyes, melting into a skeleton that turned to dust, blowing away in the wind.

“Kate!” he screamed, his soul wrenching in agony.

The flames of Hell jumped around him. He heard Kate call his name but she sounded so far away. Hope burned through him.
Please let her be alive.
He clawed his way toward her voice, through the awful flames.

“Kate!” he bellowed.

“I’m here, Micah,” Kate said. He felt her caress his face lovingly.

The flames vanished and he opened his eyes again. Kate held him close. Pain ravaged the core of his being. How could he find the strength to fight it? Kate’s cheeks glistened with tears, tiny drops of silver. He caught one on his finger, as precious as a pearl. He had to fight if only for her, he would not leave her a widow. He would not leave her to face MacLeary alone. Micah closed his eyes and slipped back into the darkness.

***

John returned later but Kate was not sure how much time had passed. She stood at the table preparing another tea.

“What is that?” John asked.

“I’m mixing some Chervil to soothe his liver and stomach after the Bryony Root. I’m also adding some Blue Gromwell for his kidneys. Savin Oil runs a high risk of making the kidneys stop working. I’m also putting in Fennel and Willow Bark for good measure.”

“Fennel? Isn’t that what they give babes with colic?”

“Aye.” She smiled only to keep from sobbing. “Right now the poor baby has an awful bellyache.”

John gazed at her a long moment. “Lady, Micah is lucky to have you.”

Kate turned away. “I don’t know.”

“You doing all you can…you have great knowledge.”

“Thanks to Marjorie. She taught me much. My mother was also a gifted healer. Some say she had the Sight like Marjorie does. I wish…” She stopped. Did she dare say how much she wished her mother was here?

“At least Micah has the best of care.”

Kate shook herself and filled the cup. “How fare the other men?”

John shook his head. “One died already. He suffered a fit and stopped breathing. Marjorie could do nothing. She fears two more will soon pass away. I sent a man to fetch a priest from Byland.”

Kate’s gaze returned to Micah. “He can’t die, John. I won’t let him.” She stepped forward with the tea. “Will you help me?”

“Aye, lady.”

***

John stayed with her. Kate appreciated his company for in the early morning hours, two more violent fits wracked Micah. When they passed, Kate put her head on Micah’s chest and cried like a child. John gently gripped her shoulder.

“Kate, you need to get some rest.”

“Nay,” she said firmly and brushed her tears away. “I can’t leave him, John. Not now.”

He nodded reluctantly.

She looked back to her herbs on the table and wrung her hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“Micah’s fits grow more violent. I must stop them or at least lessen them or they will be the cause of his death.”

“How?”

She bowed her head but the words froze in her throat.

John stood. “Kate, if it’s something you need just tell me and I will get it. I will hunt down a unicorn if I must.”

Terror gripped her heart and her mouth went dry. Kate clenched her fists so tightly that her nails buried into her skin. The cure might prove just as dangerous as the poison. But she had to stop the fits…did she dare try? Kate returned to the table and stared at the pouch that could help…or could kill.

She closed her eyes wishing she never had to make this decision. Surely someone else could. Perhaps Marjorie. But she was overworked dealing with the other men.

“Kate,” John said. “What is it? If you can ease the fits then do it, please.”

“Hemlock.”

John staggered backward. “What are you talking about? That will kill him for certain.”

“Hemlock, in tiny amounts can help with fits. It is given to those who suffer from mania and the falling sickness. But you are right, John, in his weakened state I could kill him.”

He thought for a long moment, dragging his hand through his hair. “Kate, if you know how to use the plant, then do it. If Micah has a chance for life, give it to him.”

Kate looked again at Micah. It would do no good to speak to him. When they did get him conscious to drink the teas he was incoherent. She whispered a silent prayer and turned back to the table. Taking a leaf from the pouch, she a tore a small piece from it, dropping it into the mortar, ground it up and scraped an even smaller amount into Micah’s tea. She handed the mortar and pestle to John.

“See that this is destroyed. I have another in the storeroom, with some other medicinal supplies. My keys are on the wall peg. If you will fetch it, I will be grateful.”

“Aye, lady,” John said and turned to the peg. “Kate, where are your keys?”

She turned, surprised not to see the keys hanging on the wall. “They should be right there.”

John frowned and glanced around the floor. “I don’t see them.”

“God only knows where I put them during all this. Break the lock if you have to.”

“Worry not, I will take care of it.”

“Thank you, John.”

Kate managed to get Micah awake enough to drink his tea. She cradled him to her like a child and caressed his face. Fear raged within her along with an emotion that she never thought to feel. But it remained vibrantly real. Exhaustion battered Kate and she did not have the strength to fight it. Instead, she embraced it, only now seeing that what she felt made sense. Unfortunately, the realization caused her grief to stab even more deeply. “Please, Micah,” Kate whispered. “You must live…you must survive this.” She paused and took a deep breath, tears streaking down her face. “I love you.”

***

John ground his teeth against the rage burning within him.
Three days!
A total of four men had succumbed to the poison and Micah’s life hung by a thread.

“My lord?” A servant said timidly.

“What is it?”

“The priest from Byland has just arrived.”

John bolted to his feet. “It’s about time,” he growled. The four men who died had done so without absolution. John hoped they had managed to make their peace with God. They had been good soldiers. He walked to the bailey to see the priest dismount from his mule.

The priest was of average height and build. He wore a simple brown cassock. He bowed as John approached. “Greetings, my lord, I am Father James.”

“Well met, Father. I am Sir John Warin, Constable of Appleby. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Your messenger had us all alarmed. Is it true someone poisoned the baron and his men?”

“I’m afraid so, Father.”

The priest crossed himself muttering. “My brethren at the abbey are keeping all of you in their prayers. How may I be of service?”

John fidgeted. “We have two men who require absolution as the healer does not think they will survive the night.”

“How about the baron?”

“I don’t know, Father James.” John turned and led the priest into the keep.

To John’s shock, absolution also included bleeding. The priest insisted the church accepted bloodletting as practical healing and had saved many. The evil spirits plaguing the body had to be purged. John’s puzzlement turned into shock, then helpless rage. He had seen too much death on the battlefield from blood loss. How could slicing a vein be beneficial to the patient? Yet he held his tongue.

Marjorie also seemed highly agitated. She said nothing either, lest the priest brand her a witch and order her death.

Father James then asked to see Micah. John swallowed hard, trying to think of some excuse but nothing viable came to mind. Slowly, he led the priest upstairs, staring at the blade used to gouge patients.

John knocked softly and opened the door. Kate vaulted to her feet, looking pale and absolutely exhausted.

“The priest is here from Byland,” John said softly. “Baroness Kate de Montfort, this is Father James.”

She inclined her head but obviously did not have the energy for a proper greeting. Father James patted her arm. “My condolences to you, your excellency. I see you are working yourself to exhaustion.”

“It has been a long three days, Father James.” She spied the dagger and bowl he carried. “What is that for?”

“Ah,” he said smoothly. “I use these for bloodletting—”

“What?” she screeched.

The huge weight slid from John’s shoulders.

Kate puffed up like a little cat, barely able to sheath her claws. “I have spent days trying to keep my husband’s blood in his body. He has retched enough of it from his stomach.”

“That is because it is tainted with evil and the poison. His body is trying to purge itself. Bloodletting only helps the process.”