The King's Agent (55 page)

“That is the man who killed your parents.”

The creature writhed on the cot, her whimpers accompanied by the shushing sound of ragged skin rubbing against rough muslin sheets. The physician and his assistant worked upon her wounds, but there was little effort in their ministrations. The burns covered more than half her body and most of her face, the flesh raging red, raw, and moist.

“Has no one come looking for her?” the physician asked.

“Not a one.” The woman beside him shook her wimple-clad head.

“Perhaps there is no one,” he clucked pitifully. “Perhaps she had made her way to the tent for the night. Such carousing as took place, who knows who ended up where.”

“A paramour?” the woman suggested.

“Perhaps. In any case, she won’t last long now. Continue the acanthus and thorn apple until her time comes, which, God willing, should be soon. The least we can do for the poor wretch is keep the worst of her pain at bay.”

The physician stepped away, off to administer to someone with a chance of survival, and the woman reached for the crushed herbs and warm water on the small table by the bedside. In the dim light of the tent, she mixed the minced dried leaves with the liquid, stirring as she crooned to her patient.

“This will help you, my dear. I swear it will, you’ll see.” With the tip of the small wooden spoon, she drizzled the concoction into the wounded woman’s mouth whenever she opened it to moan and croon.

“I wish I knew what you were trying to say,” the caretaker told her patient, gaze pitiful upon the festering flesh. “I wish I could hold you, but it would only bring you more pain.”

She stayed with her patient for a bit longer, stroking the small spot upon the woman’s head that remained unscathed, until the dying creature began to drift off to sleep.

“Gen ... gen ... viève ...” Gnarled lips mouthed the words. In her haze-filled mind, the wounded woman reached out her hand to the handsome man and the beautiful, golden-haired child, but neither heard her cry, neither took her hand.

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Copyright © 2012 by Donna Russo Morin

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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7814-2