by Jody Hedlund
As I swayed in my exhaustion, a servant behind me offered me a chair, which I gratefully accepted.
“Allow me to bathe his forehead, Your Highness,” the manservant said kindly. “Then you may rest.”
I couldn’t resist as he took the cloth from me. He dipped it into the basin of cool water on the bedside table and then gently wiped Edmund’s face. My own hands free, I reached for one of Edmund’s, bent down, and kissed it. As I did so, I laid my head on the feather mattress. The softness beckoned to me in my exhaustion and worry. I closed my eyes, only intending to rest for a few minutes. But I was asleep before I could take another breath.
“Maribel,” a voice croaked my name.
I opened my eyes in a haze, trying to gain my bearings. A strong, musky odor filled my nostrils. Was I in the apothecary room?
“You must go now,” the voice said.
Go where? I blinked and tried to focus, but shadows surrounded me.
“Maribel.” The voice became more insistent. Edmund’s voice.
I jerked upright to find myself sitting in a chair at the edge of his bed. My gaze scrambled to find his. At the sight of his eyes wide open and peering back at me, I cried out with relief and delight and threw myself upon him.
“Oh, Edmund.” I pressed my cheek to his and relished the scruffiness of his unshaven stubble against my skin. “I thought I’d lost you.”
He coughed weakly.
I pulled back and quickly assessed the spots on his arm. From what I could tell, the nodules were smaller and the swelling was gone.
“The medicine worked,” he whispered.
Had it? My pulse hummed with a new thrill. Was Edmund truly safe? At the very least, he was alive and his fever was gone.
How long had I slept? I glanced at the window to gauge the passing of time, but the thick tapestries were pulled to keep the pomander aroma within the chamber. The manservant from earlier was absent, but another servant stood near the door, watching and waiting for my instructions.
Edmund’s gaze drifted to the servant before focusing on me again. “You need to distribute the medicine among the army and the people.”
“I cannot leave you.” I grasped his hand and brought it to my lips. Touching a gentle kiss there, I allowed myself to love this man as I’d never done before. “You are more important to me than anything, even more than my desire to be a physician.”
His beautiful green eyes captured mine in an intense connection.
“I want to be with you, Edmund,” I whispered, knowing I was being bold. But after almost losing him again, I couldn’t bear to leave him for even a minute. “We have much to speak about.”
He squeezed my fingers, albeit weakly, before his lips curved into a smile—a smile which lit his eyes and brought life back to his features. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. For now, you must have the apothecaries make more of your medicine and dispense it with all haste.”
His admonition stirred my compassion for the people. I’d always thought I was pursuing my medical skills to help people and serve God. But over the past days, God had been showing me that I’d been more concerned about my own fulfillment and advancing myself. Could I move forward and do the work not for what I might gain but for what I might give?
“Go,” Edmund said softly. “You’ll be able to save many more if you hurry.”
I nodded and stood, holding his hand a moment longer. I was tempted to ask him if he’d truly meant what he’d said earlier when he thought he was dying, when he’d told me he loved me with all his heart and always would.
But then I realized it didn’t matter. Just as I’d been selfish about my desire to become an important physician, I’d been selfish in my relationship with Edmund. I’d only focused on myself and what I wanted or needed from him. I hadn’t thought about what he needed or what might make him happy. I had to learn to love unconditionally, without having to get something from him in return.
“God gave you the healing gift, Maribel,” Edmund whispered. “When He gives you the opportunity to use it, you cannot say no to Him.”
“You are right.” Maybe I wouldn’t use my gift the way I’d planned, but I could always be on the lookout for the work God would give me to do.
Apparently, satisfied with my answer, Edmund’s lashes fell. From the even rise and fall of his chest, I could see he was slumbering again, this time peacefully.
I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving, bent and kissed his forehead, then left his chamber, knowing exactly where I must go and what I must do.
Chapter
22
Edmund
By the third day of lying abed, I was beyond frustrated with my inability to get up and help Maribel. Every time she came to my chambers to check on me, her beautiful face was lined with weariness. Even though she argued that she was getting enough sleep, my inquiries of the servants revealed that she rarely rested—only when exhaustion claimed her and only for short periods of time.
I learned she had the royal apothecaries busy night and day following her formula and making the healing remedy the servants now called the Cure. Every hour, the servants reported to me the stories of family members, relatives, and friends who’d been saved from death because of Maribel’s medicine. They wept openly, with both joy and relief, and hailed Maribel as a healing angel.
There were still many who had succumbed to the illness, such as Captain Colton, who didn’t receive the dose of the medicine soon enough to heal. And most of the sick, like myself, were still weak and bedridden. But we were alive. The spread of the pestilence had all but ceased. And it was because of Maribel’s intervention.
“You must find Princess Maribel,” I instructed the king’s steward, “and you must bring her back to the palace so she can rest. Don’t let her give you any excuses this time.”
The steward bowed, but not before I caught sight of his face, red from exasperation. “I have tried on every occasion you have ordered it, Lord Chambers. But the princess always insists on going to one more place or visiting one more person.”
I sighed my own frustration at Maribel. The man spoke the truth. No doubt she’d refuse once again to come home.
With only the slightest groan, I pushed up and perched on the edge of the bed. Fighting a wave of dizziness, I forced myself to stand.
“My lord.” The steward rushed to my side. “You should not be out of bed yet. The princess has forbidden it.”
I grabbed the bed frame to keep from buckling. Not only were my limbs like custard, but my head pounded like a church bell. Nausea churned in my gut, and I wanted nothing more than to fall back onto my mattress.
“Please have a horse readied for me.” I swallowed the rising bile and took several deep breaths, pushing away the dizziness and pain. I was strong. Wade had taught me to persevere through adversity, and I would do so now.
“There is no need to trouble yourself, my lord.” The steward held my arm and steadied me. “I shall gladly go once more to fetch the princess.”
I shook my head, my determination taking root. “No. It is past time for me to be on my feet. I’ll be fine after I walk around for a few minutes.”
Within the hour, I was dressed and atop my horse. A small retinue of palace guards accompanied me. Although I was still dizzy, I’d regained enough strength in my arms and legs to move around on my own, even if slower than my usual pace.
As we rode out of the palace gates and through the city, I breathed in deeply, savoring the salty sea air that brimmed with mist from the waves crashing against the granite cliffs. The stench of death and smoking juniper was gone. Instead, a cool north wind drifted from the sea, carrying the scent of fish and brine. The breeze had a bite meant to remind us winter wasn’t yet over, even though the sun shone brilliantly.
The harbor below was silent, with only a few ships awaiting unloading. Most vessels feared weighing anchor so close to a city that still bore the ravages of the pestilence. It would be some time before normal trade and travel
resumed.
The streets were quiet as well, with only a few vendors selling wares and shopkeepers with windows open for business. Our horses’ hooves echoed against the flagstone and against the many shops and homes made from stone. With the sun glistening on the thatched roofs, I was struck by what a beautiful city Brechness was with so many buildings made of granite quarried in nearby mines.
The cathedral spire rose in the air above the rest of the town. Apparently, Maribel had taken up residence in the holy place since that’s where so many of the sick and dying had congregated. As we neared the cathedral, the streets became much busier. By the time we arrived at the entrance to the place of worship, we had to wedge our way carefully inside, stepping over men, women, and children sprawled out on pallets.
Fortunately, many priests and nuns mingled among the sick, feeding and tending to their needs. Whereas the stench of death and despair had lingered in the air only a few days ago, this morning hope and life seemed to stream through the stained-glass windows and hover over the masses.
Near the altar, I spotted Maribel kneeling next to an old woman lying on a pallet. The two guards who accompanied her stood a short distance away, giving her the space she needed to work, but maintaining a boundary just in case Ethelwulf decided to chase Maribel into Norland. I didn’t expect the king would let news of the pestilence stop him from trying to capture her. Likely, he’d only cease pursuing her if she were wed to another. Then she’d no longer be useful to his schemes.
Although we hadn’t discussed marriage since we’d received news of the pestilence, I couldn’t put it off. With the threat of scandal still hanging in the air and the danger from Ethelwulf, I needed to convince Maribel to go through with the wedding soon.
You are more important to me than anything, even more than my desire to be a physician.
I let her words from several days ago roll around my mind, savoring them as I had many times since the impassioned declaration. I didn’t quite know what to make of her admission. Perhaps it had been borne from desperation and fatigue. Even so, I cherished the words, along with the look in her eyes when she’d spoken them, almost as if she’d seen me for the first time as a man.
I’d hoped to see that same look again on the brief visits she’d made to my chambers to check on me, but I hadn’t. I wasn’t disappointed—at least that’s what I told myself. With Maribel, I’d learned to keep my expectations from rising too high.
She stood, pressed a hand to her forehead, then pivoted to scan the people around her as though assessing whom to tend next. At the sight of me in the middle of the nave, she froze.
I stopped and tried to gauge her reaction to seeing me there. I had the feeling she’d scold me severely for getting out of bed. But would she leave the cathedral with me willingly, or would I need to pick her up and forcibly carry her out? I’d told myself during the ride over that today I wouldn’t let her sway me from bringing her back to the palace to rest. If she told me no, I’d find a way to soften her will, just as Christopher had suggested.
Stiffening my spine for the task, I continued toward her, preparing for both her resistance to leaving and the need to make her do so lest she fall ill herself.
Her eyes followed my movement, never swerving from me. Something in her blue depths welcomed me. And as I neared her, my stomach flipped at the realization that the something was desire. She desired me—not just for my companionship and help, but because she’d missed me and wanted to be with me. Was it possible her love for me as her brother and friend had finally deepened into something more passionate?
As I came to a halt in front of her, she peered up at me expectantly. Even though her face was smudged with dust and grime, she’d never been more beautiful. And for several heartbeats, she rendered me speechless.
“You should be abed,” she said quietly.
“So should you,” I managed to reply.
“There is too much work yet to be done.” She swayed slightly from her fatigue.
That was all the incentive I needed. Although still reeling from my own brush with death, I scooped her up, sweeping her off her feet and cradling her against my chest. “You need a respite from your doctoring, Maribel.”
“I cannot leave all these people. They are still so sick.” But even as she protested, she relaxed against me, allowing me to hold her.
I started back the way I’d come, stepping carefully around the pallets filling the floor. “They will get along for a little while without you. But I cannot be without you a moment longer.”
At my tender words, I felt her melt in my arms. And I inwardly smiled, realizing Christopher had been right. Rather than persuade Maribel, I’d simply needed to soften her resolve.
“I have missed you,” she whispered as I carried her toward the door.
“And I have missed you,” I whispered in return, heedless of the dozens of people watching us from all corners of the cathedral.
She smiled, and at that moment I was clay in her hands. She could have asked me for the world and I would have done anything to give it to her.
“I love you, Edmund.”
Her words stopped me. It wasn’t the first time she’d made the declaration. But the way she spoke the words—in a low, almost desperate tone—told me this was real and she wanted to be with me in the same way I wanted to be with her.
She lifted a hand to my cheek and caressed it. “I want to marry you and spend my life loving you. I can think of nothing I desire more.”
My heartbeat pulsed hard at the words I’d never thought she’d say. I almost couldn’t believe I’d heard her correctly. What had made her change?
“The night you almost died of the pestilence,” she answered my unasked question. “I learned a great deal about myself regarding my selfishness.”
In the growing quiet of the nave, I wondered how much of our conversation carried to those around us. I started again toward the door, wanting to protect her from further gossip and scandal.
“Stop, Edmund.” She squirmed in my arms.
I kept moving forward. “We’ll talk more in private.”
“I want to get married before we leave the cathedral.”
This time her words made me stumble so that I nearly dropped her. I halted and studied her face. Was she jesting with me?
“We should do it now.” Maribel’s eyes sparked with sudden excitement. “While we are here and while we have a priest present to marry us.”
I’d been admonishing myself to work harder to convince her to go through with the wedding soon. I’d never imagined she’d be the one to bring it up. And I’d certainly never imagined she’d want to get married this day, at this moment.
Part of me cautioned against doing anything hasty, that Maribel deserved to have a lovely wedding in a pretty gown with her sister present. But the other part of me wanted nothing more than to marry this woman I’d loved my whole life and finally make her mine.
“It would put my mind at ease to have you wed,” I said, trying to keep the waver of my own excitement from my voice. “Then we’d no longer have to worry about Ethelwulf working to steal you away to marry his son.”
Maribel watched my expression as though attempting to read it. “You will marry me foremost for love, will you not? You spoke of your love once when you thought you were dying, but have not spoken of it again.”
I could always count on Maribel getting right to the point and saying exactly what she meant. Even in a room full of people. Since she had no inclination to wait until we were alone to have our overdue conversation, I had to put aside my reservations and speak what was on my heart.
Slowly, I lowered Maribel to her feet so that she stood once more. Then I knelt before her and reached for her hand. “Maribel, I meant what I said on my deathbed. I have loved you with my whole heart for as long as I can remember and I always will. Would you make me the happiest man in all the Great Isle—in all the world—by marrying me and becoming my wife?”
Soft gasps came from al
l around, along with murmurs of delight from among the people. Perhaps this public proposal of marriage would bring even more goodwill toward Maribel.
She smiled down at me, and tears glistened in her eyes. “I accept your offer, Edmund. I only pray one day I will be worthy of the honorable, kind, and noble man that you are.”
Chapter
23
Maribel
I was tired beyond anything I’d ever experienced. But I was also happier than I’d ever been.
King Draybane’s steward had hastily procured a clean gown for the wedding. One of the nuns had helped me wash and change while Edmund spoke with the priest to enlist his services.
Now I stood at the front of the sanctuary, before the altar next to Edmund. And I was getting married.
Word had spread quickly regarding Edmund’s proposal and our hasty wedding plans. Behind us, the nave was crowded not only with patients who seemed eager to witness our nuptials, but also many of the populace who remained in Brechness.
I ran a hand over the tight bodice of my gown, marveling at the tiny stitches of embroidery that decorated the waist. The bright red laced with roses was exquisite and likely belonged to Adelaide. I’d never worn anything but the traditional nun’s habit, so the close-fitting confines and heavy layers of the garment felt strange.
Yet every time uncertainty swelled and threatened to undo me, I glanced into Edmund’s eyes. Although he’d attempted to mask his appreciation of how I looked, he was unable to disguise his fascination and enjoyment of the changes in my appearance.
“Are we ready to begin?” the priest asked. As one of the kindly older men who’d lent his aid day and night for the past week, I could see the fatigue in his face. Nevertheless, he’d agreed to make us man and wife in the sight of God and men.