Read The Thornless Rose Online
Authors: Morgan O'Neill
Tags: #Fiction, #Time Travel, #Historical, #General, #Rose, #Elizabethan, #Romance, #Suspense, #Entangled, #Time, #Thornless, #Select Suspense, #Travel
The duke’s head snapped sideways and he fell back, knocked out cold. Brandon reached for his exposed throat, then, with an enormous effort of will, he stopped himself.
You bloody bastard!
He twisted Anne’s ring from Norfolk’s little finger.
“Make haste, Doctor,” Dudley shouted, riding up behind him, “for we must away, to Whitehall, to the queen.”
Brandon turned and stared.
“Jon, the ring. Give it here,” Hastings said. “I shalt see Anne gets it.”
Dudley pulled a rose from his doublet. “This, too, Henry. Tell Anne that Jon is––”
“No, take me to her,” Brandon broke in.
“Thou dost not understand,” Dudley said. “Take Henry’s horse. We must ride. The queen, Eliza hath––,” his voice cracked, “Eliza.”
Brandon grabbed Dudley’s arm. “What’s happened?”
Dudley leaned down, voice low. “Eliza hath lost our child. She bleeds––”
“Hemorrhaging?”
When Dudley nodded, Brandon resigned himself to see Anne later and quickly mounted. “We must go to St. Bart’s first, to get what I’ll need to save her.”
The men struck heels to horse flesh and galloped away from Tower Hill.
Chapter Forty-Three
Hastings crashed through the cell door and cried out, “Jonathan-is-alive-saved-by-Robert-’tis-the-God’s-truth-he’s-alive-the-queen-pardoned-him-he’s-alive!”
He found the women huddled together by the window.
“Cath, Anne, didst ye hear? Jonathan is alive!”
His wife turned a vacant gaze toward him. “What is it, Henry?”
“Glad tidings, Cath. The Lord was with us this day!” Smiling, he came down on bended knee and gently took Anne’s face in his hands. “Wake up, Anne. Jon is yet alive and whole.”
“Anne. Anne!” Catherine cried excitedly, shaking the unresponsive woman, trying to bring her back to her senses. “Listen! Praise God, Jonathan is alive!” She clasped her hands together and glanced up. “
Spero in Deo!
Trust in God to make all things right!”
…
“What did you say?” Through a haze of grief, Anne tried to focus. “A—alive?”
“Thy husband bid thee take this back, my dear.” Hastings held out her emerald ring.
Anne latched onto his arm. He was whole, solid. This was for real, not a dream. “Jonathan? He’s alive?”
“Aye.” Hastings slipped the ring onto her trembling finger, then fumbled with the other side of his doublet, searching. “Also, Dudley sends his regards and this, a token of his friendship.” He held out a pink rose. “Jonathan hath his sworn protection and the queen’s pardon.”
Laughing through her tears, Anne kissed the thornless rose. “Jon’s alive!”
“Aye,” Hastings said, grinning. “I cut his bonds with mine own dagger.”
Puzzled, Anne glanced at the door. “Then where is he?”
Hastings’s expression clouded over. “Gone off to Whitehall. The queen is terrible ill, but we pray he may save her withal.”
…
“Move aside!” Brandon shouted as he and Dudley pushed past the crowd and burst into the queen’s bedroom.
Brandon pulled the saddlebag from his shoulder, his medical bag still somewhere in the Tower. Even so, he was prepared, if he had arrived in time.
He eyed the queen—pale and still as death—then glanced at the others in the room: Lettice, Katherine Ashley, and a young stranger.
“I’m a doctor. Speak, man,” Brandon ordered the stranger. “Tell me everything.”
Nodding, the young man threw back the coverlet. Elizabeth lay there naked, her inner thighs and the sheets beneath her hips stained with bright red blood. “Please, sir, her belly fills. I dare not touch––”
“Out of the way!” Brandon put his hands on the queen’s abdomen, briefly felt around, and then pushed down hard.
Elizabeth gasped as blood and clots gushed out. “Sweet Christ!” she wailed.
Dudley grabbed her hand. “Jonathan’s here now, Eliza.”
Brandon turned. “Ladies, fetch me hot water, clean towels, and sheets.” When the women hesitated, he shouted, “Now!”
As they raced from the room, he continued to apply pressure and with his free hand took the queen’s pulse—it was too weak. He asked the young man, “Art thou a physician?”
“
Ja
. But, sir, I...”
Brandon noticed the man’s German accent. “Thy name?”
“Burcot, sir.”
“Help me, then. Wash up to thine elbows with this.” Brandon reached into his bag, removed a bar of soap, and tossed it to him.
There was a knock at the door. Brandon pulled the covers up over Elizabeth’s body. Another knock. Lettice and Lady Ashley entered the room with serving women carrying basins, jugs, towels, and sheets. Once things were settled, the servants were dismissed.
“Jonathan, can you save her?” Dudley asked.
“Nay, thou art lordly fools,” Elizabeth whispered, her gaze dreamy, distant. “Let me die.”
Brandon frowned. Clearly, the queen was in shock. He looked into Elizabeth’s eyes, then felt her brow—clammy, cold. He placed his ear against her chest and tried to listen to her heartbeats, but it was too noisy in the room.
He turned to Dudley. “Everyone out, my lord, everyone save Dr. Burcot. With no distractions, I just might save her.”
Dudley’s eyes widened, then without question he shouted, “Out, Lettice, Kat, out, I say!”
The doors slammed shut.
“Burcot, keep pressure on her belly,” Brandon ordered, hurrying to the washbasin.
…
Burcot marveled at the strangeness of the names and techniques used by Dr. Brandon. Dilation and curettage, he’d said—the scraping of Her Majesty’s womb. Tamponage, also—the packing of it with wads of cotton gauze.
Mein Gott
, Burcot thought with a shudder.
To think the man barely escaped execution this day. What a loss the world would have suffered
. He shifted uneasily, knowing now that Brandon was Anne’s husband. For weeks, he had carried the burden of his regrettable words to Norfolk and Lopez.
“Right,” Brandon muttered, pulling Burcot out of his guilty thoughts. “We were fortunate Her Majesty fainted at the start of the D&C. She was too weak for opiates and would never have survived thy methods.”
Burcot glanced at the table where his medical equipment lay strewn, including a metal anesthesia helmet and wooden mallet. Perhaps this bold doctor was correct, but he had never noticed his patients having difficulty with a knock on the head before. Then he stared down, gazing in wonder at the queen’s body; by some miracle wrought by this man, the bleeding had stopped.
Gottsei Dank, Gottsei Dank
, he thanked the Lord.
Brandon wiped his hands on a cloth. “Burcot, please go outside and tell Dudley Her Majesty is out of immediate danger. But keep everyone away for a time, and I shall call for thee when I’m ready. I must sit with the queen, alone.”
“
Ja
. Of course, sir.”
When Burcot reached the door, he paused, looking back at Brandon. The tall Englishman was a study in concentration as he tended the queen.
Burcot put hand to heart, hoping he would be fortunate enough to work with Jonathan Brandon again someday, hoping the doctor would never find out how he’d inadvertently played into Norfolk’s treachery.
…
When the door clicked shut, Brandon sprang to action. Grabbing the saddlebag, he withdrew tubing, two lengths of leather cord, and a surgical lancet. He had Type O negative blood—Universal Donor—and needed to give the queen an “on the hoof,” or person-to-person, blood transfusion, the first one in history.
“Now’s the moment, Elizabeth. You must show your famous strength. I’ll not let you die, by God. I’ll not see history changed.”
He rolled up his sleeve and with hand and teeth, cinched a cord below his left bicep. His veins were flat, for he was quite dehydrated, but he knew Elizabeth’s were in far worse shape; her vessels had nearly collapsed from loss of blood.
Frowning, he scanned her right arm.
Nothing. Jesus!
Then he turned to her left arm. “There,” he muttered, tapping his finger against a faint streak of blue, “there you are.”
…
Anne rushed into the queen’s antechamber, followed by the Hastings. Anxious courtiers ceased their whispering and parted as a smiling Dudley crossed to her, arms wide in greeting.
“Oho!” He drew Anne into an exuberant embrace, then laughed at the thornless rose peeking from the top of her bodice. With a grin, he held out her left hand, displaying her ring for all to see. “That is as it should be. The lives of those dearest to us have been restored by the grace of God, and with marvelous good timing!”
“Then, everything’s okay—er, fine?”
“Aye, for certs, dear lady. Dr. Burcot tells us thy husband saved the day.”
Anne kissed his cheek, then exchanged a long look with Cecil, who gave her a grave nod. As Dudley moved to the Hastings’s side, Anne turned to Burcot. “Where’s Jonathan?” she asked.
“With the queen still, ma’am. He ordered that no one disturb them.”
“Please, I must see him.”
“
Nein
. He didst give most strict instructions.”
Anne glared as Lord Henry took her arm.
“Patience, my dear. Thou hast a lifetime—”
“No,” she pulled away, “no, let me in there.” She stepped toward the doorway. “Jonathan!” she called. “Jonathan!”
…
Brandon sat on the edge of the queen’s bed taking her pulse and then felt a jolt to his own when he heard Anne’s voice. The transfusion had gone well, better than expected, given the fact he could only estimate the time—five minutes? —that he’d been able to give blood before feeling wobbly.
With a supreme effort, he ignored his wife’s shouts, striving to complete the pulse count.
“Our bold miss.”
The whisper was barely audible. Brandon focused on Elizabeth’s pallid features. “Majesty,” he replied.
“Go to her.” Elizabeth licked her lips. “Send Robin. I need something to drink.”
“Yes, but Lord Dudley may speak with thee but a moment. Thou must sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
“Aye, Doctor.” She coughed and attempted to smile. “I... I heard. I remember thy treatment.”
He sucked in his breath. What exactly had she seen and heard? He cleared his throat. “Quite so,” he said, patting her arm. “Now forget and rest.”
“Nay, answer me one thing more.”
Oh, Christ!
“Might there be other babes?”
He smiled with relief. “Yes, if thou desires it, Majesty.”
She sighed. “Thanks be to God.”
Anne’s voice rose again. “Jon, please!”
“Go to her, Doctor—send Robin.”
Brandon nodded. Rising from the bed, dizziness seized him, and he rocked on his heels. He closed his eyes, fighting it, wanting to reach Anne, yet feeling drained.
Placing one foot deliberately in front of the other, he made his way to the doors, then rested against them, breathing hard, waiting for the giddiness to pass. He hoped the adrenaline pumping through his veins would keep him going a while longer.
“Annie,” he whispered as he tapped lightly, signaling the guards on the other side.
Suddenly, he was enveloped, smothered by hugs and kisses.
His darling, his Anne, the most wonderful woman in the world!
…
Anne held him tightly. “Oh, Jonathan.” He picked her up and her feet dangled freely. “I love you, Jon. I love you.” Then she felt his legs give way and together they collapsed to the floor. Laughing, she covered his face with kisses. “Have I gotten that heavy already?”
When he didn’t answer, she pulled back. For the first time, she noticed the pale cast of his skin, his sunken cheeks, the wicked bruises on his face and all around his neck.
“Jonathan, are you okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll live.”
Happy tears poured down her face. “Yes, you will.”
He gave her a wan smile. Anne blinked, then moved off him. He was
not
okay.
“What’s your blood type, Annie?” he whispered incongruously.
“It’s, er, AB positive. Why? What’s wrong?”
He closed his eyes. “Never mind. Where’s Dudley?”
“I’m here, friend.”
Jonathan’s tired gaze shifted. “The queen wishes to see thee now, my lord.”
Dudley’s eyes held a glint of fear. “Is she...?”
“Don’t worry. She’ll live. And take her some mead.”
As Dudley hurried away, Anne spotted a small bandage in the crook of her husband’s left arm. She stared at it, remembering his weakness a moment before. “Jonathan, what have you done? How much blood did you give––?”
“Hush. Just enough.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Hush now, Annie. Let me up. I must see to the queen.”
She helped him sit, then turned to Burcot. “My husband’s not well. He needs to rest.”
The man came down on one knee. “What is the problem, sir?”
“I’m fine,” Jonathan protested, then added, “Actually, I do need ale and food—calf’s liver, smothered in onions.”
As Burcot set off, Jonathan motioned for Hastings, who knelt to hear. Anne caught the words, “Key. Leeches. Strongbox.”
“Please, Henry,” Anne added, “get him some decent clothes, too.”
“Aye, my dear,” Hastings said. “Cath and I will see to it.”
Giving her friends a grateful smile, Anne whispered to Jonathan, “Is it a good idea to bring the strongbox here?”
“I’ll need to have the penicillin close at hand,” he whispered. “The queen—in case of infection.”
“I could go with them, show them where it is.”
“No.” He squeezed her hand and struggled to his feet. “Stay with me.”
Anne grasped his arm, steadying him as they walked into the queen’s bedchamber.
“I could not bear to be parted from you again, Annie.” His voice grew soft. “I could not bear it.”
…
I could not bear to be parted from you
. Anne remembered Jonathan’s heartfelt words as she studied his haggard face. Her time in the Tower had been a picnic compared to what he must have endured.
She sat on the edge of the settee, adjusted his blanket, and kissed his brow. He roused himself just enough to mumble, “I love you.”
“Aye. He does at that,” Dudley said quietly.
Anne looked into Dudley’s warm brown eyes as he rose from the queen’s bedside and motioned her to the window. Joining him, she followed the path of his gaze. The sun had already set; only a scattering of apricot-tinged clouds touched the horizon.
“Methinks ’tis a good day that ends, despite the loss of the babe,” Dudley whispered in sadness.
“I’m sorry, my lord.”
“I thank thee, Anne. The queen and I know thou art with child, and we are much relieved thine imprisonment did not cause a similar tragedy.”
She nodded and looked away.
“I will never forget what thy husband did for Eliza. No matter what happens in future, I shalt never permit...” Dudley stared out. “Thou hast my sworn protection.”
“I appreciate it. I really do.”
Abruptly, he turned and grasped her hands. “God forgive us, Anne! It strikes me hard thou art so charitable. Whilst I was lost in my cups and the queen ill, we tarried and the two of you were thrown to the wolves and nearly lost.”
“I don’t blame you. I’m sure Norfolk caused all of this.”
Nodding, Dudley’s eyes flashed. “I wouldst see Norfolk drawn and quartered for his part, but, alas, he hath covered his tracks well. Mayhap the queen will banish him to his country estate for the vicious gossip he spread against us, but I fear, nay, I know he hast gotten away with murder and more.”