Free The Hermetica of Elysium (Elysium Texts Series) by Annmarie Banks Page B

hair from his eyes as they heard pounding at the front door.
    A boy soon ushered in the doctor. The short man was clad in dark long robes, an elaborate felt hat and long pointed shoes. Behind him trotted another boy carrying a wooden box. The doctor approached the table, and with only a word of greeting to them he pulled down one of the lamps from the hanging chains and began to examine Marcus. Nadira watched him as he felt the lump on the back of his head, then Marcus’s forehead, hands and belly. He lifted Marcus’ eyelids and pinched his nostrils.
    Montrose watched him carefully from across the table. When he was finished, the doctor opened the wooden chest and lifted out a leather pouch. He measured out a pile of dried herbs onto a little scale, and then shook the tray onto one of the crockery pieces on the table.
    He looked at each one of them before deciding to speak to Nadira.
    “Boil this much,” he indicated a spoon’s worth of herb, “in this much…” he pointed to the smaller of the tankards, “…water. Try to get it in him twice each day. Give him some meat broth as well. He may recover in time, but he will not if he is not fed. He will starve to death before he heals. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    The doctor turned to Beniste. “I can promise nothing. See that he lies undisturbed in a darkened room and that the girl feeds him and keeps him warm. If he does not wake up and speak within seven days, he will probably not recover. There is nothing I can do for this wound.”
    Beniste thanked him and gave the boy a coin. The boy picked up the wood chest and followed the doctor out. When they were gone Nadira let out a heavy sigh. She picked up the plate of herbs and sniffed, but could not identify them. She set the plate down near the tankard of ale as Montrose went around the table and woke up Alisdair and Garreth.
    His voice was low and ragged, “Let’s get him up those stairs. Can you carry him, Garreth?” After the big man nodded, he asked Nadira, “Are you too tired to try to give him some of that stuff now? Shall I call for Beniste’s women?”
    “No, I can do it,” she answered quickly. She dipped some of the hot water in the pot over the hearth into the small tankard and tossed in some of the herbs. She carried it upstairs following Garreth who lifted Marcus with his hands under his arms while Alisdair had him by his knees. The boy led them to a room at the end of the short hall.
    In it was one large rope bed with no headboard or curtains and three piles of straw on the floor. Montrose held the lamp and nodded toward the bed when the men paused. Garreth and Alisdair laid Marcus down carefully on the soft bedding and stepped back. Montrose hung the lamp on its chain. Behind him a woman entered with a bundle of linens, and a child behind her with a pitcher of hot water. She set them both on a low table near the wall. Nadira thanked her with her eyes and the woman nodded toward a folded dress on top of the linens as she left the room nudging the wide-eyed child before her.
    “You men sleep now,” Montrose said. He did not have to say it twice. Garreth and Alisdair fell on the pallets of straw. With a large wooden spoon, Nadira dripped some of the herb infusion into Marcus’ mouth. Montrose hovered over her, getting in her light. She wiped the spilled drops from Marcus’ beard and tried again. On the third try, she saw his throat move as he swallowed.
    “Oh, thank God,” Montrose cried. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, the palm of his hand on his forehead.
    “He is swallowing,” Nadira said. “Perhaps there is hope, my lord.” She was shaking with the lie and hated herself for it. She steadied her hand and tipped a spoonful between Marcus’ lips. When she adjusted his head on the pillow she found he could swallow easier. Slowly and carefully, she gave him the infusion drop by drop. She set the cup on the sideboard against the wall, and pulled a blanket over Marcus.