Blaze Wyndham

by Bertrice Small

After they had eaten, the captain came to Blaze and told her, “The innkeeper, is, of course, terrified, but he says there is an old barn in which he stores hay for the horses that come and go here, just a half mile or so down the road, my lady. He offers to let us shelter there until Heartha is well enough to travel. I’ve given him the silver we would have paid him for the night’s lodging, and he has agreed to see that we are supplied with food. I think we have no choice, and I apologize for the roughness of the accommodation, my lady.”

  Blaze laughed weakly. “We will have a roof over our heads, Captain, and for that I am grateful. I have seen the inside of a barn before, you know, but what of water?”

  “There is a well in the barnyard that the innkeeper swears is potable.”

  “Let us go then, Captain. I want to get Heartha as comfortable as possible as quickly as possible.”

  The barn was small, but sound. Heartha was carried from the carriage by two others of the men-at-arms who had recovered from the sweating sickness at various times during their lives. Of the twelve men with Blaze, five had not had the sickness, and these men Blaze ordered to return to RiversEdge to lessen the danger of their contamination. This was not a gift she wished to bring her people from court, and then there were her children. They were so little, both of them, and she shuddered to think of her infant son contracting such an illness, let alone her only legacy from Edmund, their daughter, Nyssa.

  “Send the man to me who will be carrying the message tomorrow,” said Blaze before she entered the barn, and when he came she told him, “You are to tell the earl that the children must be moved to Riverside with Lady Dorothy until this is all over. Do you understand?”

  “Aye, my lady!” the man answered her.

  She felt better then, for although Blaze had never seen the sweating sickness in her life, she knew how virulent it could be. There was scarce a village in England that had not suffered from this strange disease, which had first appeared during the reign of Hal’s father, the late king. Ashby, because of its very isolation, had escaped the scourge in the years that it had appeared, but the Morgans had heard of it, as had all Englishmen.

  Blaze went into the barn, where poor Heartha had been placed by the men upon a pile of fragrant hay over which the servant’s cloak had been spread. Blaze took off her own cloak, and asking one of the men to bring her a bucket of cold water, knelt down next to her servant.

  “You’ll need some help getting her out of her clothes,” said the captain, kneeling next to her.

  Together they worked to get Heartha’s bodice, heavy skirts, and several voluminous petticoats off her. Blaze pulled her servant’s shoes from her feet, but left the stockings and chemise on.

  “Take her cap off, and loosen her hair out so the sweat will not be contained, my lady. I always remember my old mother saying that the sweat should not be contained. She always said the more a body sweat, the better, for all the poisons were washed away then.”

  “Thank you,” said Blaze, and did as he had bid her.

  “We will take turns watching her, my lady,” said the captain. “Go and rest now, for you look tired with your day’s ride.”

  “No,” said Blaze. “I will watch until I feel the need for sleep. Heartha is my friend, Captain. I cannot desert her, for she has never deserted me.”

  The captain nodded, and leaving her, went to the opposite side of the little barn, where the other men, having stabled the horses, had now rolled themselves into their cloaks to sleep. Only the five who had not ever had the illness slept outside, including the coachman’s assistant.

  Blaze sat pensively sponging her tiring woman with cool water on cloths she had gotten from the innkeeper. Poor Heartha was simply burning up with her fever, and despite all that Blaze could do, the fever seemed not to abate. Still Blaze tried, dipping and wringing the cloths until the water was finally cloudy, the salt of the sick woman’s sweat which ran in rivulets down her body, soaking her chemise, soaking her cloak beneath her. Heartha began to shiver uncontrollably after several hours had passed, and Blaze covered the poor woman with her own cloak, but she could not stop the racking shudders that tore through the servant’s body. So it went through the night, until finally Blaze saw light coming through the cracks in the barn walls and knew that morning had come. Heartha was still alive, but seemed no better at all.

  “Why did you not call me, my lady?” The captain was at her side, his tone accusatory. “If anything had happened to you, the earl would have my life.”

  Blaze smiled at him. “I am not tired,” she said.

  “Nonetheless,” he replied, “you must rest. It is just dawn, and our messengers are ready to depart even now.”

  “They must eat,” Blaze fretted.

  “There was food left from last night that we brought with us, my lady. The men have that. They will not suffer. I will watch for you now and care for your woman, but you must rest.” He put his cloak around her, and pointed her toward a deserted section of the barn.

  She did not argue with him, for she suddenly realized that despite her brave words, she was indeed tired. How fortunate for her that the captain was wise enough to see it since she was not. Gratefully she lay down, pulling his cloak around her, and was instantly asleep. She did not know how long she had slept, but no sooner had she awakened than one of the men was bringing her bread and cheese and a chicken’s leg with some wine. The captain had obviously kept a good watch. She ate, chewing slowly and giving herself time to clear her head. When she had finished she slipped from the barn to find a hidden place where she might relieve herself. It was late afternoon, and the day was as beautiful as the two before it had been.

  Returning to the barn, she found the captain still sitting with Heartha. “How is she?” Blaze asked, looking down at her servant, who appeared no better.

  “Still alive, but then she’s a tough old bird, my lady. I think she may survive this, for she’s lasted this long, that’s a good sign.”

  “Go and eat,” she told him. I will watch her now.” As the captain moved off, Blaze sat down again next to Heartha. The servant was less restless than she had been the night before, but Blaze did not know whether this was a good sign or not. Although she was still dripping with sweat, it did not seem to Blaze to be as heavy a flow of moisture as the previous day, and her shaking head had stopped for the time being.

  Dear Heartha! Her tiring woman, aye, but her friend and her confidante ever since Blaze had come to RiversEdge. Dear Heartha, with her maternal wisdom, who could always sort out any situation no matter how difficult it seemed. She could not die! She must not die! Blaze had released her tenacious hold upon Edmund Wyndham’s memory, but she was loath to release one of her two remaining links to Edmund and her past.

  Blessed Jesu, she silently prayed. You really have no use for my Heartha, but I do. Were such prayers heard? Blaze wondered. Blessed Mary, pray for my Heartha. She dipped one of the cloths into the bucket of cool water and wringing it out, laid it on the older woman’s forehead. Heartha lay still and pale, her breathing labored and harsh. Soon Heartha began to shake violently again, and it took two of the men-at-arms to hold her to prevent her from injuring herself. Blaze had to bite her lip until it bled to keep herself from weeping with her frustration. It seemed no matter what they did, Heartha remained exactly the same, unconscious, alternating between fits of sweating and fits of tremors. All they could do was sit by her, forcing liquid down her throat, and changing the cooling cloths as the monotonous hours crept by.

  Night fell once again. The captain sent one of his men to relieve Blaze, and took her out into the warm evening twilight, where the scent of honeysuckle and woodbine was perfuming the air. Almost instantly her spirits were revived. It was such a beautiful evening. An evening for being alive! An evening that gave rise to the promise of a fairer tomorrow. Surely her prayers would be answered!

  Servants came down the road from The King’s Arms bearing food and a small cask of ale, which they immediately set into a cradle
and broached for Blaze and her men. The captain settled his lady upon a three-legged stool he had found in the barn, and brought her a pewter plate containing a piece of rabbit pie, still hot and steaming from the inn’s kitchen, oozing with rich brown gravy; a warm cottage loaf; a wedge of sharp, hard cheese; and a pewter goblet of tangy brown ale.

  “There’s more when you’ve finished that,” the captain said with a smile.

  Blaze thanked him, and began to eat, spooning the rabbit pie into her mouth rapidly as she discovered her hunger. She tore the cottage loaf apart, using some of it to sop up the warm gravy. The rest she saved to eat with her cheese. When she had finished every crumb upon her plate, she discovered that she was yet hungry, and getting up, wandered over to where the captain and his men sat. They gave her a piece of ham, and more bread and cheese, which she finished up. Finally sated, she found herself sleepy once more, and finding the captain said, “I will sleep until midnight, but you must wake me then, that I may sit with Heartha through the night. Promise me, Captain.”

  “I will wake you then, my lady,” he said.

  Blaze went back into the barn, and curling up in the captain’s cloak, quickly fell asleep. She awoke instantly at the captain’s touch on her shoulder, asking, “How is she?”

  “There is no change, my lady,” he said, “but each hour longer she lives is to the good. By tomorrow the earl and his men will reach us. As for Mistress Heartha, she will either be alive or dead, for the sickness rarely is longer than two days.”

  The night seemed to go so slowly. In the barn only the snores of the sleeping men and the rustlings of the rats in the straw seemed evidence of life. Blaze carefully nursed the small candles she had, which were her only source of light. She had to be so careful with them lest she set the barn with all its stored straw and hay afire. Heartha moaned now and then, but she seemed to have ceased her great thrashing. She still burned with fever, but the quantities of sweat that had previously poured from all her pores seemed to have eased to a mere dampness upon her skin.

  Toward dawn Blaze struggled to keep her eyes open. Her huge supper had not set well upon her nervous stomach. Several times her head fell forward upon her chest, and twice she had to splash water from the bucket onto her face to keep herself awake. Finally, unable to help herself, she dozed, awakening with a start to the deathly silence of the barn, suddenly devoid of noise of any kind. Frightened, she reached out her hand to feel Heartha’s forehead, for although she could see that the tiring woman was still breathing, her breathing was quiet.

  “M’lady?” Heartha’s voice! Considerably weakened, but Heartha’s voice nonetheless, and her eyes were open! Open for the first time in several days. Open, and looking up at Blaze!

  “Oh Heartha! You are alive!” Blaze cried joyously. “You are alive, and you have survived!”

  Heartha somehow managed a wan smile at her mistress, and then, closing her eyes, she fell into a completely natural sleep.

  “She’ll make it now,” said the captain, who was kneeling beside Blaze. “She just needs rest to gain her strength but the sweating sickness is gone from her, praise God!”

  Blaze began to weep with relief, while the captain, rising to his feet, shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Though his instinct bade him comfort her, for she was naught but a woman, his sense of propriety forbade such an intimacy, for she was his better. To his great relief, her tears were brief, as if she recognized his predicament.

  “I am all right, Captain,” she said, “but if you would have someone watch Heartha now, I need to get outdoors and clear my head.” Without even waiting for his answer, she arose and moved out into the budding day.

  To the east the dawn was even now breaking, and the horizon was stained with a vibrant red-orange that gave way to a swath of coral pink that was followed by a band of deep purple that ran into lavender and was edged in a ribbon of gold that seemed to run across the entire horizon. Blaze watched with pleasure as this wonderful display heralded the great red ball of the rising sun. Suddenly she became aware of two things. The birds were singing, and there was the distinct sound of hoofbeats on the western road. The hoofbeats of a large party of riders. Her heart began to hammer with excitement even as her husband and his men came into view.

  “Captain!” she called excitedly. “Captain! The earl has come!”

  The horsemen swept into the barnyard, and leaping from his horse, Anthony gathered Blaze up into his arms. “Thank God, you are safe!” He breathed. “Thank God!” and then he kissed her, to the cheers of his men. Then he asked, “Heartha?”

  “The crisis has come and passed,” Blaze said. “She will survive, the captain tells me. She is sleeping now.”

  “Good! We must get you both home, my angel.”

  “The children? You sent them to Riverside as I bade you? The danger is not over yet, Tony. Not until I am certain that we have brought no other contagion from Greenwich.”

  “They were gone with my mother within an hour of your message, Blaze. I value their lives every bit as much you do.”

  “Tony, there is so much I have to tell you,” she said. “When I was at Greenwich—” she began, but he cut her off.

  “Time to talk on it, madam, when we are home again. Heartha needs a more comfortable place to regain her strength than this barn, and you, I suspect, would like a bath. How near is this inn your messengers spoke of to me?”

  “But down the road and around the bend,” she answered.

  “I shall send some of the men to purchase two additional teams of carriage horses. With four teams drawing the coach, we should be able to reach RiversEdge by midnight. See to Heartha now, that she is ready to travel, my angel.”

  He had seemed glad to see her. Even grateful that she was unharmed, yet suddenly his manner was brusque. Blaze turned away from her husband, and returning to the barn, gently woke Heartha.

  “You must help me to get you back into your clothes, Heartha, for the earl has come to take us home,” she said, and the tiring woman nodded. Together they managed to give Heartha some semblance of order in her dress.

  “Thank you, my lady,” said Heartha, her voice sounding a bit stronger than it had previously.

  The extra horses were brought from The King’s Arms and the eight beasts were harnessed to the vehicle, which was made ready for its departure. The captain carried the now conscious Heartha to the coach and settled her onto one of the seats. She was weak, but yet able to drink the egg beaten in wine that Blaze had also had her husband’s men bring from the inn along with the additional teams. Other food had been brought, and the account settled with the innkeeper. The men ate heartily, but Blaze was still feeling queasy from her meal of the night before, and the thought of having to ride within the coach did not encourage her to add more food to that already souring in her stomach. Someone, however, had to sit with Heartha, and Blaze did not feel it fair to ask one of the captain’s men, for they had been so helpful during the last two days.

  Dutifully she climbed into her carriage to endure the long hours and many miles of the ride to RiversEdge. The coachman climbed upon the box, and with a lurch they were off. Anthony had hardly spoken to her. There was so much she had to say to him, yet he had not given her the chance. Suddenly it occurred to her that in reaching out to him for help she might have endangered him as well. She had no idea whether or not he had ever had the sweating sickness. What if in her need she had infected him, and he grew ill and died? The worry began to niggle at her as the carriage rumbled along the road. If only Anthony would call a halt to this journey so she might ask him. She shifted edgily in her seat. The coach, despite its lowered windows, was stifling. She felt a trickle down her back. Across from her seat, Heartha seemed not to mind it, snoring peacefully. Blaze loosened her laces so she might undo her bodice a little. There was no one to see, and she would correct her dress when they stopped.

  Riding in the forefront of their party, Anthony silently thanked God that she was all right. When the mes
sengers had arrived, he had been in terror that anything should happen to her. All he wanted to do now was get her home safely. Relentlessly he rode on, until finally his captain, drawing his own mount abreast of the earl’s, called out to him over the thunder of the hoofbeats, “My lord, we must stop! The horses must be rested or they will not last.”

  The earl signaled his party to a halt, heeding the advice of his captain. The men tumbled from their horses, relieved, while Anthony went to the coach to check on his wife and Heartha. Heartha was still sleeping, but Blaze, relacing her bodice, seemed restless and edgy.

  “This coach is unbearable,” she complained to him. “I am dying of the heat. Heartha is safe by herself for the next few hours. I want to ride, Tony!”

  “You are not too tired?” he fretted, thinking that she really did look hot and flushed.

  “Nay.”

  “I will have your horse brought then,” he agreed. “Would you like some wine?” and he offered her some from the leather wine bottle that he carried.

  Blaze drank several eager swallows, “I am so damned thirsty,” she said as she handed it back to him. “You were right, earlier. I want a bath! A lovely cool bath, for it is much too warm for May.”

  They rested for close to an hour, allowing the horses to browse in the meadow that bordered the road. Heartha was awakened and fed some wine and a little bit of bread soaked in wine before she fell back into another restful sleep. The captain appointed one of the younger of his men to ride within the coach with the recovering tiring woman.

  “She should have someone with her, my lady,” he said, and Blaze thanked him.

  Their journey began again, and at first the air upon her skin was refreshing, but as the afternoon faded into evening and the sun sank behind the hills, Blaze realized that she felt no cooler. If anything, she was growing warmer by the minute, and then suddenly she felt the moisture break as it ran down her back in several streams.

  “Anthony!” She could barely hear her own voice over the pounding of the horses’ hooves. “Anthony!” She was growing dizzy, and she couldn’t seem to hang on to her reins. Blaze slumped forward onto her horse’s neck, and the man riding behind her, seeing it, pushed his mount forward so he might signal the earl.