Goddess of the Sea (40 page)

Isabel hurried over to the knight, clucking her tongue like a ruffled hen.

“It seems I should have listened to Sir Andras's advice. He warned that I could catch a chill from the water, and I think I—
ha . . . ha . . . ha . . . chew!
—have,” CC said wetly.

Isabel took the shawl from her shoulders and wrapped it around CC while she muttered under her breath about foolish young women and ushered her toward the hall that led to her bedchamber. Andras began to follow them, then he stopped, looking as if he wasn't sure what he should do.

“Sir Andras, I will care for the princess. It would be wise if you had one of the servants pour you a strong draft of the Brothers' special vintage. We certainly would not want you to become ill, too.” She lowered her voice ominously, then said, “The princess may be contagious.”

The knight's eyes widened, and he automatically backed a step farther away from CC.

“I will be in the dining hall if you have need of me, Undine.” Andras gave her a neat little bow. Then he told Isabel, “Care for my betrothed well. I hold you personally responsible for her health.” The knight turned and retreated quickly across the courtyard.

“Betrothed?” Isabel whispered as they hurried down the hall to CC's room.

CC grimaced and whispered back. “Somehow Andras managed to get engaged to me today without me saying yes.” CC paused to add a sneeze and a couple of loud coughs, just in case any of the Brothers were lurking around.

The door to her room looked like a sanctuary. As soon as it was firmly closed behind them CC nodded to the window and asked in a low voice. “Is the guard still out there?”

“No,” Isabel answered in a normal voice. “The squires are busy scanning the coast for any sign of Vikings.” Isabel looked closely at her. “This illness is only a pretense?”

CC nodded and grinned. “Absolutely. Do you honestly believe that water could make
me
sick?”

As her laughter joined Isabel's, CC felt her spirits lift, and she sent a silent thank-you to the goddess for the gift of the old woman's friendship.

“It is a ruse to keep the knight away from you?” Isabel asked.

CC nodded. “He scared me out there. It's like Sarpedon is with him all the time, even when Andras appears perfectly himself, but any little thing I do or say can cause him to surface.”

“Little wonder you looked ill,” Isabel said.

“I'm glad this will be over soon. I don't know how much longer I can avoid Andras.”

“The chapel is certainly clean, and the kitchen has become a forest of drying herbs,” Isabel said.

“I can promise you that there are no weeds in the herb garden.”

“Then it is best if an illness renders you indisposed,” Isabel said thoughtfully.

CC grinned mischievously. “So what kind of remedies do you have in mind for me?”

“Oh, I think we should begin with mulled wine laced with healing herbs, and perhaps a mustard poultice for your chest to relieve that raking cough.”

CC wrinkled her nose, and Isabel laughed.

“I'm fine with the wine, but the poultice sounds kind of scary. What are you going to put in it? Frog poop and lizard tongues?”

“Would you rather have Andras or a poultice on your chest?”

“I'll take the frog poop,” CC assured her.

Isabel cackled cheerfully as she gathered up the pitcher and cup from CC's dresser. “It will be necessary to make you as aromatic as possible to ensure that the knight will want to stay well away from you.”

“I suppose that means that I'll have to stay confined to my room tonight and tomorrow,” CC sighed.

“I imagine that if you appear well enough to walk about, Andras will devote himself to personally overseeing his betrothed's recovery.”

“
Ugh
,” CC groaned.

“Exactly,” Isabel said, walking to the door. “I shall prepare your remedies and return shortly.”

“Don't be gone too long.”

“Only as long as it takes to gather the frogs and lizards.” The door closed on Isabel's cackling laughter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“UCK! I thought you were kidding about the frog poop. That stuff smells horrible. What the heck is in it?” CC asked, backing away from Isabel who was holding a jar that she had just uncovered. CC could almost see the waves of stench emanating from its open mouth.

“Ground mustard, garlic, lard and sheep urine,” Isabel said, smiling evilly. “It is an ancient remedy for a wet cough.”

“I don't have a wet cough,” CC said, being sure to keep her bed between the two of them.

“The knight needs to believe you do.”

“Can't we just smear it around the door? I'm sure he'll be able to smell it even through six inches of wood.”

Isabel laughed. “I suppose we could dab it on some rags and waft them about. That should keep the knight away.”

“It'll keep Andras, his friends, the Brothers and every creature known to man away,” CC said, glancing nervously at the jar even after Isabel placed it on the dresser. “And do you think you could wait to start the wafting until after I've eaten my dinner?”

“You are very demanding for a woman who is supposed to be so ill,” Isabel teased.

“Well, I am a princess.”

“Obviously.”

They grinned at each other, and CC nodded a grateful thank-you to Isabel, then began eating the thick stew with gusto.

“Funny that this illness hasn't affected my appetite,” CC said through bites of fresh bread.

“I already considered that.” Isabel pointed to the heavily laden tray she had carried into the chamber.

“Seems like a lot of jars of poultice. I don't think anyone can be
that
sick.” CC scowled. “Not and still live.”

“Yes, it would seem like I am rather overdoing it with the poultice, but it is understandable. I have never before treated a sick princess.”

She lifted the cloth covering from one of the jars, and CC flinched, but instead of the rank odor of sheep urine, all she could smell was more of the wonderful stew.

Isabel grinned conspiratorially. “This, I believe, is more than even you can eat. I will refill your bowl, and it will appear that your appetite is suffering.”

“You are a genius, Isabel.”

“Just a wise woman, Princess,” Isabel said smugly.

CC reached for her goblet of wine and hesitated. “Is there anything awful in the wine?”

“Just some mild herbs. Nothing that will do anything more than cause you to relax.”

CC sniffed at the wine. “It doesn't smell bad.”

Isabel took her own goblet and drank deeply.

CC smiled in relief and took a healthy drink. “It's good!”

“Do not be so surprised,” Isabel grumped. “I made it.”

“You made the poultice, too,” CC pointed out.

“No, Bronwyn and Gwenyth made the poultice,” Isabel said smugly. “They are renowned for their healing poultices. They send with it their love.”

“Well, it's only their love and my loathing for Sarpedon that could get me to let that stuff anywhere near my body,” CC said, giving the jar a squeamish glance.

Isabel cackled. “They are all too aware of that. You should have heard them preparing it.
Add a little more urine, shall we? The princess should only have the best.
” Isabel mimicked the two ladies voices so accurately that CC laughed so hard she almost spilled her wine.

“While I'm sequestered do you think there's any chance that the other women could visit?” CC asked. “It may be the last time . . .”

“They will come,” Isabel said brusquely, pouring both of them more wine. “And that is quite enough of talk like that. We will see you again.”

CC nodded firmly. “You're right, of course. It's not like I'm going back to my own time, I'm just going—well—some place wetter.”

They smiled at each other and sipped their wine.

“Undine, would you tell me of your time?”

CC shrugged. “Sure.” Then she realized she didn't have any idea how to start explaining the twenty-first century to a medieval woman who had never been more than a day's walk away from her home. “Is there something in particular you'd like to know?” CC asked, hoping for some direction.

“I would like to know how food is prepared in your time,” Isabel said without hesitation.

CC grinned. “You'll love this. Wait till you hear about supermarkets and microwaves.”

CC had just finished explaining to an open-mouthed Isabel about fast food restaurants, when two quick knocks sounded on the door.

CC barked several loud coughs before calling in a raspy voice, “Who is it?”

“Andras.”

CC sneezed. “Just a moment.”

Isabel was already unveiling the foul-smelling pot. “Time for wafting.” She whispered and ladled a generous amount of the yellowish goop onto a linen rag, which she began waving around the room. CC added to the effect by coughing loudly.

Turning her head upside-down CC vigorously snarled her hair into a twisted mess and rubbed at her already much-abused nose. Then she wrapped the blanket from the bed around her shoulders and shuffled to the door.

“Wait!” Isabel whispered urgently. Before she could protest Isabel took the poultice-encrusted rag and hung it around her neck. CC gagged and didn't have to pretend the sneeze that rocked her body.

When CC cracked the door her nose was running. She smelled like a vat of old urine and she looked disheveled and pale. In the hall Andras and Abbot William had their heads bent together speaking in low voices. At the sound of the door opening they broke off their discussion and turned their attention to her. CC was pleased to see the shocked expression on Andras's face and the look of disgust on the abbot's. Emboldened, CC took a half step out into the hall. Both men moved quickly back.

“Andras! Abbot William!” CC said in a thick, nasally voice. “It's so nice to see both of you. Would you like to come in?”

“No!” the knight said hastily. “We would not think of tiring you.”

“It would be most improper for Sir Andras to enter your bedchamber, even chaperoned by me,” the priest said, fluttering his fingers effeminately in front of him, as if he was trying to ward off her contagion.

“Oh,” CC said sadly. The poultice was causing her nose to run and she paused to wipe it on the back of her hand. “Are you sure? After all, Andras and I are betrothed.”

“Not officially until your father arrives and blesses the union,” Abbot William said. “That is what Andras and I have been discussing.”

“I'm sure my father will—
ahh . . . ahh . . . ahhh . . . chew!
—approve,” CC said, pleased beyond words that her latest sneeze had caused the two men to retreat another step from her.

“I, too, am certain of his approval,” Andras spoke rapidly. “Now you must rest and regain your strength.”

“Yes,” Abbot William said, his nose curled in distaste as he caught another whiff of the foul poultice. “Have the servant Isabel bring you anything you wish.” The two men were already moving away from her door. “We bid you good night and a hasty recovery.”

“Pray for me,” CC called after them. She could barely make out their mumbled replies.

As soon as the door was closed she took the stinking rag from around her neck. Laughing, she handed it back to Isabel.

“They didn't want to come in for a visit. Imagine that.”

“It certainly does not seem very caring of them,” Isabel said, and her cackles joined CC's melodic laughter.

“They did say you could bring me anything I wish.” CC picked up her empty goblet and said dramatically. “I wish for more of this excellent wine. It's medicinal. And company. Do you think the other women would be willing to brave possible contagion to visit me?”

“Certainly. It is only right for a princess to have several nurses.” Isabel performed a graceful curtsey that made CC laugh. “And I shall leap to obey you, my lady.” Grabbing the empty pitcher, Isabel hurried to the door with the energy of a girl one-third her age.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

SEVERAL hours later the four old women and CC lay in heaps around the floor amidst scattered bedding and pallets. Isabel had returned to CC's room accompanied by the three “nursemaids.” On her trip from the kitchen, Isabel had interrupted Sir Andras and the abbot at their nightly game of chess. She had explained that the Princess needed more care than she alone could provide, and that she would need that care all during the night. The two men readily agreed, both visibly relieved that the responsibility for Undine's nursemaiding would not be their own. Isabel had mimicked the abbot's simpering voice as she repeated how he had ordered her and as many other women as were necessary to spend the night in the princess's chamber. Isabel had invited the men to look in on her patient during the night. The abbot had explained that his time would be better spent in prayer. Although Andras had appeared honestly concerned about her, he had hastily agreed that Undine must be allowed to rest, and that she certainly could not do so if he insisted on visiting her.

And, of course, the guards stationed outside the princess's door and window would not be needed. Even if the princess was well enough to sneak out—which Isabel assured them she was not—the all-night presence of the old women would ensure that she would have to stay in her chamber.

CC felt a wonderful sense of freedom as she sipped Isabel's excellent mulled wine. The five women had been laughing and talking well into the night. Isabel had confided in them the truth about CC, and the women couldn't seem to learn enough about modern customs and conveniences. Now their weathered faces were flushed with excitement as well as wine.