The Lost Princesses Medieval Romance Collection

by Jody Hedlund

  In desperation, I’d spent all of last night working on my healing tonic, the one I’d been trying to perfect ever since it had failed to revive Sister Agnes. I’d combined many herbs including sage, rosemary, rue, camphor, garlic, clove, lemon, cinnamon bark, eucalyptus, and several very rare Eastern herbs.

  As I’d worked, I’d been haunted by the possibility my tonic had actually accelerated Sister Agnes’s death. The wrong dosage of just one of the ingredients or the negative interaction of a compound with another could have a deadly effect.

  Of course, I’d told myself Sister Agnes had been dying, that I couldn’t sit back and simply watch her waste away without trying something. Even if my medicine had still been largely in its experimental phase, I’d needed to find a way to offer a remedy. Had I been wrong to test the medicine upon her?

  Since that time, I’d made some adjustments in the tonic, but what if it still wasn’t ready? What if it hurt rather than healed the sick?

  Edmund’s expression behind his rosemary-and-flower-petal mask was grave. I had no doubt he sensed my inner turmoil and understood it. “You’ve worked hard all these years to find the right ingredients in the right amounts.” The mask muffled his voice. “These sick men will surely die without the medicine. They may still die with it. But you won’t know until you try.”

  “What if it aids their dying or causes them more pain?”

  “You’ve been careful, Maribel. Besides, if it does either of those things, it would be minuscule compared with their current pain and suffering.”

  Edmund’s rationale calmed the nervous flutter in my chest. He held my gaze for a moment, the green of his eyes both soothing and encouraging. Then he handed me the bottle. His expression told me he believed in me and supported my decision.

  I took the vial and nodded my thanks, hoping he could see how much I valued him. Returning my attention to Captain Colton, I uncorked the bottle. “Captain, you are a brave man. Would you be willing to take a dose of my latest creation? I cannot guarantee it will help you, but I would certainly like to try.”

  I hadn’t been able to ask Sister Agnes for her permission, and I regretted that as well. She’d already been delirious by the time I’d decided to give her the tonic.

  The captain’s lips trembled before he replied. “I’d be honored to try, Your Highness.” His eyes pinched closed, and the muscles in his face contracted with a fresh wave of pain. His chest began to rise and fall rapidly with the effort of breathing.

  I poured a scant amount of the medicine into a tin cup. Edmund lifted the captain’s head from his pallet, and I emptied every drop from the cup into his mouth before Edmund lowered him.

  “Whatever happens, Your Highness,” the captain rasped in a stilted voice, “you have brought comfort and peace and kindness in the midst of our turmoil and sorrows. That is truly enough. And we thank you for it.”

  It wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to do so much more. I wanted to ease the suffering of the people. I wanted to represent Adelaide well and bring her honor. And I wanted to help save her army and, in doing so, salvage the rebellion.

  For long minutes, I remained by the captain’s side waiting for any sign the medicine might be working, praying it would at least bring him some relief from his pain. When he released a loud wheeze, my head jerked up, and I realized I’d fallen asleep in my exhaustion. I rubbed my bleary eyes and then gasped at the sight of the captain’s nearly blue face.

  “He’s not breathing!” I called to Edmund. Without waiting for Edmund’s help or response, I shook the captain.

  He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t blink.

  I felt for the pulse of life in his neck and his wrist but found none. I opened his mouth and checked for obstructions to his breathing but there was nothing. I pressed my ear against his chest and heard only silence in place of a beating heart.

  He was dead.

  I cried out in dismay. Had my tonic killed him?

  The brown vial in my hands seemed to burn my flesh. Suddenly I hated it, hated myself, and hated medicine. Why had I ever thought I’d be good at being a physician? Why had I assumed I could bring healing to anyone? Why had I believed God had gifted me?

  I hadn’t been able to make a difference when it really mattered. I’d failed to develop a medicine that could truly help. In fact, I seemed to bring more trouble than good everywhere I went. After all, Edmund had been injured numerous times because of me. I’d even brought trouble to the sisters at the convent.

  Would they all have been better off without me? With another cry, I raised the bottle, wanting to dash it to pieces against the wall.

  Edmund’s hold restrained me. “It’s not your fault, Maribel. The pestilence took him, not the medicine.”

  “No, it was the medicine.” Tears clouded my vision and brought an ache to my throat. I tried to throw the bottle again, but Edmund wrenched it from my hand.

  Before I knew what he was doing, he uncorked it, pushed away his mask, lifted the vial to his lips, and took a long sip.

  I screamed in panic and grabbed at the container. “No, Edmund! You must not have any!”

  But I was too late. He swallowed hard and then tugged up his shirtsleeve revealing two pale, swollen lumps.

  My heart ceased beating. “You have the pestilence.”

  He nodded.

  Only then did I notice the perspiration on his forehead, the tremor in his hands, and the pain in his eyes. He’d withheld the symptoms from me for hours. He’d stayed next to me faithfully tending the sick even though he’d been suffering himself.

  My tears slipped over and a sob rushed out before I could stop it. I threw myself at him and clung to him. “No, no, no.”

  He slid his arms around me in return and hugged me as if saying good-bye.

  The tears flowed faster. “Edmund, you cannot leave me. Please.”

  His hold sagged, and he swayed. I could sense he was losing consciousness, perhaps even losing his life the same way Captain Colton had.

  He rested his head against mine. “I have loved you with all my heart, Maribel.” His words were a breathless whisper. “And I always will.”

  Then his body slackened, and his dead weight pressed upon me.

  Chapter

  21

  Maribel

  Edmund was dead and I hadn’t been able to say good-bye and tell him everything pouring into my heart—a cascade of overwhelming emotions, mainly that I loved him in return. Not merely as a friend and companion. Not merely as my brother. Not merely as a man. No, I loved him with my entire being, with everything that was within me.

  Perhaps my love had always existed. Or perhaps it had been slowly growing. Whatever the case, I knew now that my selfishness had prevented me from acknowledging it. I’d been too consumed with my future ambitions. I’d been too caught up in what I’d wanted and hadn’t considered his feelings or needs.

  Now it was too late. I could only hold him as silent sobs wrenched my chest.

  Suddenly I felt something. The faintest twitch in one of the muscles in his arm.

  I sat up. Was he still alive?

  When he released a soft moan, I gulped down my sobs. “I need help with Lord Chambers!” I called to the servants who were present at the barracks and distributing bread and water to the patients well enough to eat. “He yet lives, and we need to transport him to the palace immediately.”

  An hour later, Edmund was still alive in his chamber. I hovered above him, wiping his forehead with a cool cloth. Across from me, a manservant bathed Edmund’s arms and chest with cool water. Edmund’s temperature was slowly dropping as the fever left his body. The pale lumps on his arms and legs also seemed to be diminishing in size, but I was afraid in my desperate need to see him well again, I was only imagining the change.

  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 r
est.”

  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 mad
e 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.