The Surrogate (37 page)

The farm was busy—the rain and hail had wreaked havoc on their fruit and vegetable plots, same as Seve’s—and the labourers were rushing to and fro to deal with the mess. The farmer was impatient with Jaime’s appearance until he explained. “Gerde! Master Jaime has need of you, wife!” he bellowed at the house.

Moments later his ladywife turned up at the door, wiping her hands on a cloth. “Master Jaime? Is someone ill?”

“
Yes, mistress Gerde—our friend, Nikolas. He’s taken suddenly ill, and is fevered. I have no skill with such matters.”

“
A fever?” the farmer asked, stepping back. “An infectious one?”

“
Jan, be quiet. You’re more likely to catch something from one of your blessed pigs than master Jaime,” Gerde scolded. “Let me fetch my basket, Jaime. I suppose the track is very muddy.”

“
I’m afraid so, mistress.”

“
Oh, well, I won’t put you to the effort of carrying me, though I should ask this cowardly oaf to do so,” she said, slapping her husband’s arm. “Wait for me.”

The farmer kept a wary eye on Jaime the entire time they waited for Gerde to fetch her things. Jaime understood the concern—that Nikolas might be contagious was a worry for all, but first, they had to determine what this illness was.

She grumbled a little at the effort of making their way down the track, though it wasn’t at him, but her shiftless husband and sons who should be keeping the path in better order, she said. Jaime listened to her complaints, sensing she was trying to keep his mind off his worry. He appreciated the kindness, but it didn’t stop him worrying.

He wanted to take her straight in, but she held him back. “No, I must wash, and so must you. Dirt’s no friend to the ill, master Jaime. If there be contagion, we must fight it from the start.”

She produced a cake of pungent soap from her basket and said it was to be used by all in the household until Nikolas recovered. She also gave him a paper sack of powder—“For all his clothes and cloths that are in contact with him and his bedding, when you wash them. Don’t share them with others, and dry them in the bright sun for a full day before returning them to the room. His eating implements will need to be boiled, and kept apart.”

Jaime took the powder—he would have to wash the wet clothes in the kitchen. He hoped he hadn’t already begun to spread an infection around.

Gerde shooed Seve and Jaime out of the room while she examined Nikolas, closing the door behind her, but not before pointing at Seve and saying, “You, sir, go wash your hands, and change your clothes. I won’t have this room turned into a piggery.”

Seve was affronted. “I was only sitting there,” he said to Jaime, following him out to the laundry to obey the stern commands.

“
She has very strong views. Seve—this might be contagious. We must take care.”

“
Contagious?” he asked with a frown. “But how would he pick up a contagion? He hasn’t left this house in weeks. He hasn’t even returned to the healer, though he should have.”

“
I don’t know,” Jaime admitted. “But he’s sick, and that’s undeniable.”

Cleaned and freshly clothed, they could only wait in the kitchen, drinking tea and worrying. Neither of them had much experience with illness, though in their different ways, they had knowledge of injuries and how to care for them. Disease tended to result from age among the older priests, but the temple had been remarkably free of infectious illnesses—their isolated lives had had at least that small benefit. Jaime had yet to contract any of the minor ailments that occasionally afflicted his students or fellow teachers—Nikolas hadn’t been so lucky, it seemed.

Finally, the wisewife found them in the kitchen, and demanded a mug of tea for herself. Jaime rose to serve her. “How sick is he?” Seve asked.

“
Well, it’s more than a trifle, but I think he’ll live.” Seeing Seve’s expression, she quickly amended that. “He has a cold—a chill, I think. One that’ll need watching, and which will make him pretty miserable, but he’s young, and in moderate health, so I don’t fear for him as yet.”

“
Only moderate?” Jaime said, letting the tea mug down for her. “He seems fine to me.”

“
He’s rather thin, hadn’t you noticed? And more tired than his cold should merit. Has he been eating well? Sleeping?”

“
Eating, yes. Sleeping...not so well.” She gave him a sharp look. “He has nightmares...it’s not my right to tell you this, mistress Gerde.”

“
Hmmm. Well, the damage is done. Once we get him through this, he should seek a healer’s advice perhaps. I can give him sleeping draughts....”

“
No drugs,” Jaime said firmly.

“
That’s for him to say, not you,” she said, fixing her with her sharp eyes. “Or is he your bond-servant?”

Jaime flushed. “No,” he muttered.

“
Then I’ll decide, consulting with him, what’s the best for him. Does he have any family? Or will you two be nursing him?”

“
We will,” Seve said promptly, to Jaime’s surprise. “Though we should send word to his father. Mistress Gerde, he’s really not in danger?”

“
No, but that doesn’t mean we can be complacent. He’ll need plenty to drink and a good deal of rest, and I have balms and inhalations to help with the chest and congestion. His fever isn’t dangerous—yet—but he’ll need to be watched. If he’s having nightmares about something, then that’ll interfere with his sleep as the cold does, so someone being with him will be a comfort.” Jaime gave a guilty start—that hadn’t occurred to him. But Nikolas himself had forbidden anyone to come near him. Perhaps Jaime should have insisted.

He offered to walk her back to the farmhouse but she pooh-poohed the idea. “I’ve walked these lanes since I was on leading reins, master Jaime. Now remember what I said. Rest, liquids, light soups only, and keep him from becoming distressed. I want you to come fetch me if you’ve any cause for alarm. I’m going into Hamer tomorrow, and I can speak to a healer there for advice. I’ll drop by and see how he is.”

They had come out to the front path again, where he bowed. “Thank you, mistress.”

“
My blessing, Jaime. Though a basket of master Seve’s best sourherbs when they come into seed, won’t go amiss.”

“
I’ll see they’re brought to you. Good day.”

He watched her pick her way through the puddles and the mud, and then he went back inside. Seve had already taken up position at Nikolas’ side—Nikolas was awake, but coughing.

“
Now how did you do this to yourself?” Jaime asked, joking to hide his worry. He regretted his comment immediately as Nikolas’ eyes shadowed, and his mouth turned down. “I didn’t mean...you just need to get well. Anything you want, let us know. Seve? Are you happy to do this?”

“
Of course. You can take over later.”

“
Don’t need you to sit here,” Nikolas said, his voice husky. “I’m all right.” He let forth another rasping cough, then lay back weakly against the pillow.

“
Yes, that much is obvious,” Jaime said severely. “Then if you’re happy, Seve, I’ll walk into town and let Nikolas’ father know....”

“
No!” Nikolas grabbed him by the sleeve, staring up with fever-bright eyes. “Please...no. He’ll worry.”

“
He has a right....”

“
No. Please. Jaime, please don’t.” He began to cough again, but he wouldn’t let Jaime’s sleeve go.

Jaime covered his hand, squeezed it. “All right. Don’t get distressed, Nikolas. You need to rest.” He eased Nikolas’ hand from his arm. “Mistress Gerde says you’ll be fine if you just do as you’re told and let us care for you.”

“
Don’t need....”

“
Nikolas.” This was Seve. “You do.”

Nikolas stared at Seve, then seemed to submit. He muttered something that might have been ‘Bullies’ before it was swallowed in a cough.

Jaime patted Seve’s shoulder. “I’ll spell you later,” he said, kissing his cheek.

He had a good deal of work to do, and was guiltily aware of Seve’s damaged garden being neglected, but he still found he was distracted by concern for Nikolas. Every so often a barrage of harsh coughs emerged from the direction of the bedroom, or he heard Seve walking through the house in search of this or that to help Nikolas.

Finally, he admitted defeat and went back to the sick room. “I can’t concentrate,” he said. “I’ll take over—you sort out lunch and the garden.”

“
Jaime, your work,” Nikolas said, mouth drawn down as if he was annoyed.

“
Seve’s garden,” he riposted. “Both are important, as are you. Get well, then we can get back to our other tasks. Until then, be quiet and endure.”

“
Jai,” Seve murmured as he got to his feet. “Be gentle.”

“
That
is
gentle,” Nikolas muttered.

Seve raised an eyebrow. Jaime thought it better not to comment.

Seve left them alone, and Jaime took up position on the chair. Nikolas tried to sit up. “You’re supposed to be trying to rest,” Jaime scolded.

“
Not tired.” Jaime gave him a sceptical look. “And it’s easier to breathe.”

Now that much was probably true, and Nikolas did seem to cough less and not be so congested sitting up. But there seemed to be more to it—Nikolas was actively fighting sleep, initiating conversations that his fevered brain barely had the ability to follow, and forcing himself awake when he seemed to be nodding off. Since direct persuasion wasn’t working, the only thing that Jaime could do was ignore the provocations to conversation. Nikolas switched to asking for things—books, water, a cloth for his brow—but his invention wasn’t up to his need, for what reason he had, to stay awake. Jaime thought it was a product of his fever, this manic behaviour, and hoped once the man finally got to sleep, he would benefit from it.

Nikolas kept up his odd battle until noon, when Seve returned to give him their by now regularly planned hand massage. Jaime watched in silence as Seve worked the liniment gently but firmly into Nikolas’ hands, and with amusement saw his friend’s eyes begin to droop. Before Seve had even finished, Nikolas was listing sideways, and between Seve and Jaime, was lowered carefully down, propped up with pillows, but in a position which would enable him to sleep and breathe.

Jaime felt rather smug at defeating his stubborn friend. “Let’s eat lunch, leave him in peace for a little while.”

Seve nodded, and they went out into the kitchen, leaving the door open, and alert to any sound from their patient. But all was quiet as Seve sliced bread and cheese for them both, and Jaime poured out tea for them. “Perhaps he got wet in the night from rain blowing in the window,” Seve mused. “She was sure it was a chill.”

“
There was no water anywhere else—not on the floor,” Jaime said. Which was odd, because the clothes were drenched. “She might be wrong. It could just as easily be a cold. If the fever would drop, I’d be less worried.”

“
When he wakes, I’ll rub some of her balm on his chest,” Seve said. “He’s used to me applying smelly ointment on him.”

“
You’ve worked wonders....”

He was interrupted by a piercing scream. Seve was already running, and he followed, close at his heels. They found Nikolas struggling and whimpering, entangled in his sheets, and as Seve drew closer, he gave out a piteous moan. It was Seve who took charge, soothing and calming the still profoundly asleep man until he was at last resting quietly again.

“
The fever?” Seve asked in a hushed voice, as Jaime drew him aside to speak to him.

“
Has to be. One of us should be here. He needs to rest.”

“
I’ll stay—go eat, and then I’ll grab something.”

Jaime obeyed, but as he ate his solitary meal, he wondered what had triggered Nikolas’ panic. It had to be his illness. They would have heard screaming like that in the night if it was his normal nightmares afflicting him. Perhaps the fever and the coughing made him feel helpless, reviving painful memories.

Seve agreed when they changed over, speaking quickly in the hall outside the room. “We will need to attend him until he’s past the fever,” Jaime said. “I have today and tomorrow free, and perhaps, if he’s not well by the time I go back to work, Gerde might assist.”

“
If he’s not well by then, we must tell his father,” Seve said solemnly. “I don’t want to give him another reason to distrust us.”

“
True. Very well—in two days, I’ll visit him. It’s time one of us did anyway.” Nikolas had shown no interest in returning to Hamer, strangely. Perhaps he didn’t want a further confrontation with his father. But Seve was right—it was best to show good faith. And if Nikolas’ condition deteriorated...his father had a right to know.