Free The Betrothed Sister by Carol McGrath Page B

sky, Gudrun helped her remove her gown and slip on her linen night shift. She allowed the girl to soothe her into drowsiness by combing out her hair. When they had both climbed into the big comfortable bed, Thea blew out their candle.
    â€˜Will they choose you for the prince, my lady?’
    â€˜I wish it with all my heart,’ she said thinking of the ambassador who had smiled at her. ‘Go to sleep, Gudrun.’
    She sighed as she looked at her beautiful gown now hanging from her clothing pole, its pearls gleaming in the moonlight. What if she was never able to wear it again? She longed, how she longed, for a prince’s love.
    It was two days before Thea discovered what was ailing the ambassador from Kiev. He had fallen grievously ill with a contagious disease they called the little pox, which was as deadly as it was terrible, since it spread quickly wherever it appeared. It had been fortunate that she had stayed away from the women’s room after the reception and that she had avoided prayer in the chapel that same night, otherwise she might have taken a more serious dose of the pox than she was to suffer.

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    At first, the pox threatened those who had been sneezed over by the ill-fated ambassador. Princess Helene sickened. The ambassador had sneezed on her as she had presented her gift. A few days later her sister Ragnhild became ill. They shared a chamber. Poor Lady Eleanor, so recently returned from France and troubles that had beset her own family, took to her bed sneezing and within days, like the unfortunate ambassador, she was covered from head to toe with white pustules.
    Doctors flocked to the palace with cups, poultices and herbs. The ambassador recovered within a few weeks but he would carry terrible scars on his face and body. The two elder princesses slowly recovered but it looked as if they, too, might wear disfiguring scars for the rest of their lives.
    A month passed and, before winter set in, trapping them in Denmark, the Kiev delegation made ready to depart, with their gifts, but with no promises of a betrothal for any of the princesses. Unable to let them away without a word on the subject, King Sweyn, who remained healthy since he had once had the pox many years before and wore the scars to prove it, held counsels with the two remaining Rus ambassadors and Countess Gytha. Countess Gytha wanted decisions and she wanted them before those who could make them died. The small delegation announced that they would return from Russia with a decision when the spring sailing season opened up the Baltic Sea.
    Shortly after a final meeting, they packed up bag, baggage, and servants and sailed away. The ill Rus ambassador and his five servants who had also taken the pox sailed from Roskilde in a separate ship along with their own doctor, herbal remedies that included comfrey and coriander to keep the fever under control, and an old crone who was rumoured to cure the disease with spells and witchcraft.
    Thea sickened on the day they departed. She felt hot and cold all at once. She ached. Her back was exceptionally painful and she vomited up her dinner. When the tell-tale small reddish spots appeared on her mouth and her tongue she knew she was ill with the disease. Gytha put her to bed and prayed. She summoned doctors to Thea’s chamber daily and tended her herself. She wrapped her granddaughter in coloured cloths and draped them about her bed to keep the light from her skin. Gudrun, who fortunately did not sicken, placed aromatic bouquets about Thea’s chamber and bathed her mistress’s skin with infusions of comfrey and liquorice.
    â€˜I am dying, Grandmother,’ Thea said. ‘I am dying and all has gone bad.’ She said nothing more for days. She dreamed though. She dreamed of a wedding to a dark-headed prince who turned into a glossy jackdaw and looked down on her with pity. She looked down at her wedding gown and it was soaked with blood. When her fever lessened she felt as