by Jody Hedlund
She is too caught up in her own life to think about anyone else. The rest of Colette’s whispered words resounded through my mind. How could she say such a thing? All I wanted to do with my life was to serve others by being a skilled physician. I wasn’t selfish. I was merely determined. Wasn’t I?
“No.” My voice echoed against the low ceiling and close walls of the cave. “Edmund loves me as a friend. He knows how much I want to become a nun, and he respects that. I must not read more into Colette’s words.”
The disquiet of my thoughts and the rumbling in my stomach pushed me to my feet. I headed outside the mouth of the cave and found a smaller attached cavern. Rocky wasteland spread for miles all around me. If this was the location of the labyrinth, then perhaps many of the large stone formations were a result of excavations from long ago.
Covered with ice and snow, it was as silent as it was barren. Although I scouted the area for anything edible, all I found were a few dried yarrow plants. Without a pot for boiling, I gnawed the roots and ate snow.
With hunger still clawing my insides, I knew I needed to stay busy in order to keep my mind off my pain and empty stomach as well as Edmund’s condition. So I created a torch and investigated the cave.
To my disappointment, I wasn’t able to go far before coming to a dead end. Edmund would have been proud of me for using the hilt of my dagger to tap against the stone and listen for any hollowness that might indicate a false wall. But I couldn’t hear any differences and finally gave up to search elsewhere.
By eventide, I’d hiked the hills and ravines surrounding the cave, exploring for other tunnels or caves that might lead to the maze, the Labyrinth of Death. Surely that was where Sheba had brought me. It’s where Edmund expected to meet up with me—if he made it away from the soldiers.
Yet if the maze was nearby, I didn’t see any signs.
Once I returned to my cave, I couldn’t contain a smile as I stirred the fire and added the fuel I’d collected. If Edmund had been with me, he’d have already located the labyrinth entrance. He never overlooked a detail and would have noticed something I’d missed.
My smile faded and a sob rose in my chest. “Oh, Edmund,” I whispered thickly.
A flap and the rush of cold air startled me. I tensed, my knife at the ready. At the sight of Sheba perched at the mouth of the cave with a winter hare in her beak, I expelled a breath. “Sheba,” I said. “I didn’t have the chance to express my gratitude for your saving my life yesterday.”
Her dark eyes surveyed me as though making sure I was still well. Then she dropped the hare to the cave floor before moving to take flight again.
“Wait!” I ran after her. “Do not go yet.”
But she lifted her long, gray wings and soared away, leaving me standing in the fading daylight watching her. She circled ahead then looped back around as though to tell me she wouldn’t be far away, that she was guarding me. Perhaps she was. Edmund had probably asked her to do so in his absence.
If only I knew at least a little bit of the language of animals, I’d be able to ask her how Edmund fared. And I’d order her to go back to him, wherever he was, and try to help him.
I stooped and retrieved the hare, grateful for the eagle’s offering that would fill my belly this night. During my searching earlier, I’d dug up additional edible roots and accumulated a sufficient amount of snow to refill my leather drinking gourd. I’d fare well enough. I was warm, dry, and safe. And now, I had a hot meal to look forward to. I could only pray Edmund would arrive soon, within the two days he’d specified. I didn’t want to go on without him.
Yes, I’d miss his companionship and help. But more than that, I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it. That thought alone puzzled me the most.
By nightfall of the second day, dread crept out to taunt me. I’d been holding it at bay by staying hopeful and keeping occupied by further exploring the area. But as I sat in front of the fire, I shivered even though I was warmed all the way through.
I’d eaten the last of the hare for supper and hadn’t seen Sheba all day. I’d attempted to gauge the passing of hours so I could pray at regular intervals the same way I did at the convent. And while I tried praying for Colette and the other sisters, my heart invariably kept returning to Edmund.
At last, I lay down next to the fire, wrapped in my cloak, my cheek resting on my arm. “I shall not go to Norland without him,” I said. “I shall travel back the way I have come and search for him.”
For a long moment, I waged an inner war, knowing Edmund would want me to travel on regardless. That’s why he’d risked himself—so I’d have the chance to escape. He’d be angry if I returned to the convent and gave myself over to King Ethelwulf.
At the same time, Colette’s whispered words haunted me. She is too caught up in her own life to think about anyone else.
All this time, I thought I’d been aspiring after noble and good deeds by helping those who were sick. But had I also been attempting to make myself look better?
Ever since childhood when I’d learned of King Ethelwulf’s massacres, I’d longed to be an instrument to bring about healing. After Sister Agnes’s passing, my desires had only escalated. I’d needed to devote my life to saving people even more and in doing so, perhaps one day, atone for her death.
However, was there a part of me—even a small part—that wanted the glory of helping save lives, the accolades, the praise, the prestige?
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. Colette had been right. How had I allowed myself to become so selfish?
A howl sounded outside the cave entrance, and I bolted up and unsheathed my knife. My heartbeat rammed against my ribcage, and all I could think about was the starving cougar that had nearly attacked me a few days ago. The wild creatures were hungrier than I was and wouldn’t hesitate to claim me for a meal.
As a form slinked into view, I tossed a twig onto the fire, hoping the blaze would provide a barrier. Even so, I held out my knife and yelled in what I hoped was my fiercest voice. “Go away!”
The animal came closer into the mouth of the cave, low to the ground, its glowing eyes all I could see. It released another howl, this one louder . . . and almost sad. Certainly not the vicious call of a hungry beast.
My outstretched hand shook, the knife wobbling. I was a lifegiver, not a lifetaker. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to harm the creature even in self-defense. Nevertheless, I hoped it would see the weapon and leave me alone.
The wild animal crept forward several more paces until the firelight illuminated its speckled gray fur, sharply pointed ears, and long, spindly legs. At the sight of the white patch on its chest that looked like a star, I let my hand drop.
“Barnabas.” I pushed to my feet. “What news do you have for me? Where is Edmund?”
He gave another short howl and then turned and trotted back to the entrance.
“Will you not tarry a moment longer?”
His ears flickered, keenly in tune to every sound. But he didn’t stop and instead disappeared into the darkness of the night.
“Barnabas! Wait!” I scrambled to gather my belongings and light a torch before hurrying after him. Outside, I lifted the flame over the rocky ground, hoping to find his tracks. I was surprised to see him only a dozen paces away, looking at me as though waiting.
“Come back.” I held out a beckoning hand, but he bounded onward a few more feet before halting and peering at me again.
He was clearly attempting to communicate. Did he want me to follow?
I walked toward him, and he repeated the pattern of moving forward and then pausing. We traversed that way for some time before he began to trot faster, enough so I had difficulty keeping up.
On several occasions, I thought I lost him, but he always stopped just in time so I could spot him. I didn’t know what he was doing and guessed that somehow Edmund had communicated with the wolf to lead me to another safe place.
I stumbled along the rocky terrain even when I grew cold an
d tired. Finally, Barnabas yipped and streaked off. I tried to run, but the uneven ground and sharp rocks made my movements difficult.
“Barnabas!” I called out, raising the torch high, praying I would catch a glimpse of him. Thankfully, down a hundred feet, I saw his outline. Instead of looking back at me, this time he hovered over a motionless form.
I began descending the embankment. Had the wolf killed a stag for me?
When Barnabas nudged the shape with his muzzle and then gently licked it, my veins constricted, and my blood pulsed in choppy bursts.
“Edmund?” I called.
The figure lifted his head.
“Oh, angels and saints have mercy!” It was Edmund. And something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
I couldn’t finish climbing to him fast enough. Upon reaching him, I knelt and held the torch above him, assessing him from his head to his toes. A broken arrow shaft stuck out of his shoulder. His cloak was saturated with blood around the wound—some dry and some fresh.
I probed him gently.
At the contact, he groaned. His lashes lifted, and glassy eyes met mine. “Maribel,” he rasped.
I unplugged my drinking gourd and poured the liquid past his parched lips. He drank greedily before letting his head fall back.
Barnabas nuzzled Edmund, bumping his hand as though urging him to get up. I could feel the wolf’s concern, for it matched mine. We needed to get him out of the elements where I could tend to his wound.
“Do you think you can walk?” I asked.
“No. Not far.”
“The cave is close.” Not entirely true, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, I slid an arm underneath him. “I shall help you to your feet.”
I had to practically lift him. But somehow we managed to move forward. With his uninjured arm around my shoulder and my arm about his waist, we inched up the slope.
As we continued back the way I’d come, we had to stop every few minutes for Edmund to rest. By the time I glimpsed the light from the tiny fire I’d left burning in the cave, he was barely conscious. He used the remainder of his energy and strength to climb the last of the distance. And when we finally staggered into the cave, he passed out.
Exhausted myself, I slowly collapsed under his weight, bringing him with me as I went to my knees. Then I blinked away my weariness, breathed in a lungful of air, and laid Edmund out as carefully as I could in front of the fire.
I wasted no time cutting away his cloak, shirt, and linen shift so I had access to the spot where the arrowhead had penetrated his flesh. I shuddered to think that if the arrow had hit two inches lower, it would have punctured his heart and killed him. I probed the wound and felt the sharp corners of the tip. It wasn’t embedded too deeply, and thankfully it was a thin head, the kind suited for attacking chain mail. I could make a few incisions with my scalpel and cut it out without damaging muscle.
However, he’d be fortunate if his wound didn’t putrefy. From what I could tell, he’d been injured hours ago, if not the night we’d encountered King Ethelwulf’s soldiers. I was surprised Edmund hadn’t attempted to pull the head out for himself and guessed he’d been afraid he’d pass out or become too weak to travel.
With precise slices, I extricated the metal and flushed and cleaned the wound with a few drops of a wine tincture I’d concocted. Then I applied a poultice of dried yarrow, packing it directly into the incision.
One of his leg injuries from the spider attack was festering with pus. If I’d had my jar of leeches, I would have drained him of the bad humors. As it was, I could only clean the area and reapply the healing poultice.
Finally, I did my best to boil water in the tin cup I found in Edmund’s satchel and made a tea of willow bark, which I made him drink in tiny sips to ease the pain that was sure to come when he regained full consciousness.
With Edmund settled, I toiled throughout the rest of the night to produce a stronger healing ointment. It was a project I’d been working on in the convent’s apothecary over the past months—testing various herbs together. Even though I’d left my latest formula behind and was missing nettle, I did have sage, wormwood, vervain, and several other ingredients to recreate the remedy. Without a pestle and mortar for grinding, I made do with two stones. And by the time the sky began to turn pink with dawn, the ointment was ready.
Once again, I cleaned the wounds with the wine tincture, and then I applied the new ointment. Edmund’s coloring was normal, his breathing even, and his heartbeat steady.
Leaving the injuries open to dry, I sat back and yawned. The anxiety that had been driving me all night began to ease. Maybe Edmund would survive. He was strong and healthy, unlike Sister Agnes, who’d been older and suffering from many maladies already. Surely, my methods and medicines wouldn’t fail this time.
Sheba brought more game. But I was too tired to prepare a meal. So, I added several pieces of wood to the fire and stretched out near Edmund.
I’d only just closed my eyes when he moaned and started thrashing. I crawled to his side and rested my hand against his cheek. He wasn’t hot with fever. But I suspected he was feeling the pain even in his deep sleep. I smoothed his forehead, brushing back his hair, and then caressed his cheek again. At my touch, he quieted and grew motionless.
Another shuddering yawn racked my body, and my lids drooped with the heaviness of exhaustion. I needed to sleep if I wanted to remain useful to Edmund. With my hand still upon his cheek, I curled up next to him, closed my eyes, and let slumber claim me.
Chapter
10
Edmund
The pain in my shoulder woke me. I wanted to cry out at the burning. But I bit back my agony. Instead, I slowly counted to ten, as Wade had taught me to do, and took a deep breath. If my mentor had discovered I’d passed out, he’d have scolded me severely. He’d drilled into me that a strong soldier always remained alert, no matter the injury, no matter the circumstances, no matter the personal torment.
At a soft brush against my cheek, my inner tirade and attempt to control my pain came to an abrupt halt.
My eyes flew open. The first thing I saw was the low, dark ceiling of a cave. For a moment, I was disoriented and couldn’t make sense of where I was. Warmth enveloped me, stretched along my side, and softly tickled my chin.
I dropped my gaze to find fine silky strands of golden hair spread out in disarray and Maribel curled against me. Her arm lay across my waist, and her hand gently cupped my cheek. She’d rested her head on my uninjured shoulder, using it as a pillow. I couldn’t see her face, but from the slow rise and fall of her chest, I knew she was still asleep.
Bits and pieces of the previous night came back to me. How I’d grown too weak to travel and had collapsed and been unable to get up. How Barnabas had nipped me and scratched at me to keep going. How I’d grown so cold and stiff.
But I couldn’t remember how I’d made it to the cave. I was fairly certain I hadn’t crawled there on my own. Had Maribel come after me?
I flexed my injured leg and my shoulder and sucked in a breath at the sharp pain. Even so, I could tell she’d removed the arrowhead and had put my body on the course toward healing. The scents of her many herbs hung heavy in the air, informing me I was slathered in one poultice or another.
Her fingers caressed my cheek in a soothing motion, a movement that was likely reflexive for her, one meant to bring comfort. But for me, the touch was so much more. I leaned my head into her hand, each stroke of her fingers striking something deep within me.
When she stilled, I suspected she’d allowed herself to sink back into oblivion, which was just as well. I wanted to enjoy her nearness for as long as possible without having to put on the mask and play the part of being only a friend.
She’d spread her cloak over the both of us, trapping our body heat. And suddenly, I realized why she was so close, why she was wrapped against me. It wasn’t because she’d wanted to embrace or show her affection. No, she’d done it as she did most things, to help me and e
ase my discomfort. In tending my wounds, she’d removed my breeches and shirt so that I wore only my shift and braies. Then, in order to keep me warm, she’d lent me her body heat.
I started to sigh, but swallowed my disappointment. Now was neither the time nor the place to think about my desires for Maribel. We were in too much danger. Ethelwulf’s elite guard was pursuing me.
I’d managed to evade them and cover my tracks and scent for at least the first day of traveling. But yesterday, in my weakness, I’d grown sloppy. It wouldn’t be long before they picked up my trail again. And when they did, they’d follow it straight here.
Panic bubbled in my stomach. I wouldn’t be strong enough to travel as fast as we needed. I’d only slow Maribel down. That meant I needed to ask Sheba to carry Maribel once more. This time all the way to Norland. It would be difficult for the mighty eagle to go the long distance. But she’d managed to bring Maribel here, so perhaps she could do it if she rested often.
I glanced at the cave opening to the brightness of the day. From the way the shadows fell, I guessed it was early afternoon. I didn’t know how much time we had before Ethelwulf’s men arrived, but we couldn’t wait a moment longer.
Slowly, I shifted, attempting to move without waking Maribel. But the motion sent fiery agony through my shoulder—and caused Maribel to stir. She burrowed against me, nuzzling her nose into my neck and releasing a warm sigh that bathed my skin.
I shut my eyes and fought the urge to wrap her closer and bury my face into her hair. Instead, I waited a moment before again attempting to slip away from her. I managed to pull only halfway out from under her when she spoke.
“You need to lie still, Edmund, or you will tear your wound open.”
I chanced a glance over to find her propped on one elbow, her long lashes drooping with the heaviness of sleep, her hair falling in tangled waves about her, and her lips quirked in a half smile.
I hadn’t seen her with her hair down in years—not since she’d been a little girl. And now, with it freed from the usual plait and spilling over her shoulders, she was stunning. Her beauty took away every coherent thought and rendered me speechless.