Pinney nodded. “I will, my lord,” he said. “I need to prepare a pain potion to help her discomfort. May I use the solar for this?”
“Of course,” Douglas said. “Do you require anything for this potion?”
“Wine.”
“I shall have it sent to you.”
Pinney nodded and headed toward the entry where the solars were, both of them. As he headed into the large solar, Douglas turned to Jonathan.
“You had better fetch Mira,” he said. “I know she will want to speak with Isabel if she can. She is quite shattered.”
“All of the young women are,” Jonathan said quietly. “They are upstairs, in their chambers. The cook is seeing to the evening meal, simply to feed the men. I do not think the women want to be part of anything.”
Douglas conceded the point. “That is understandable,” he said. “The woman who has mentored them, trained them, educated them, is dying. I can only imagine the grief they must feel.”
Jonathan watched him carefully. “And you?” he said quietly. “You are feeling grief, too.”
Douglas nodded. “Indeed,” he said. Then he snorted softly. “You know, when we first came to Axminster, I thought Isabel was a… was a not very nice woman.”
“A boorish hag?”
Douglas grinned weakly. “Something like that,” he said. “She did not want me here any more than I wanted to be here, but now I feel as if I am losing a sister. We tried to save her, Wolfie. We tried and failed. I am not accustomed to failure.”
Jonathan shook his head. “We didnotfail,” he muttered. “We had no part in what happened. We never touched Jerome. What happened with him and Isabel and Eric… It simply happened. But we had no hand in it.”
Douglas sighed heavily. “I suppose you are correct,” he said. “If we could have only separated Isabel and Jerome when they started fighting, mayhap none of this would have happened.”
“Stop reliving it,” Jonathan said. “You tried to save Eric. Had it not been for his cheap boot, you would have.”
Douglas shook his head sadly. “The poor man,” he said. “It seems to me that he just wanted to be happy. He wanted his dignity and the woman he loved. That is not too much to ask.”
“It is not.”
“Where did you put his remains?”
“In the vault with Raymond and Jerome,” he said. “Though Eric has the dignity of being on elevated wooden boards, off the ground, while Jerome and Raymond are lying in the dirt where they belong. I have already spoken with the de Honiton escort, and they will be departing on the morrow, delivering their liege and his son home.”
“Good,” Douglas said firmly. “Let them go back where they came from. God, I wish they’d never come here.”
“I am certain that is a sentiment they would both agree with if they could,” Jonathan said. “But what about Isabel? What will we do with her?”
Douglas’ gaze moved in the direction of Isabel’s closed door. “You heard the physic,” he said. “She does not have much longer to live. Once she passes, we will bury her with Eric. I think she would like that, and I know he would. In fact, send for a priest at St. Mary’s in the village. It is possible that Isabel would like her last rites, and I want to be prepared if she does. The last thing she needs to worry about is her immortal soul.”
Jonathan turned away. “I’ll send for him right away.”
“And don’t forget to fetch Mira to me.”
“I won’t.”
With Jonathan heading out to follow orders, Douglas went to the door to Isabel’s bedchamber. He paused, hand on the latch, before taking a deep breath and opening the door. Inside, it was small and dimly lit by several tapers and an oil lamp. It smelled heavily of cloves, which physics believed had medicinal purposes. There was a servant inside, a woman who had been assisting the physic, but Douglas waved her out.
He wanted to be alone with Isabel.
The last time he saw her, she was unconscious, being carried between Jonathan and Davyss. Her dress had been torn, part of her hair pulled from her scalp, and both arms were broken. They were flopping at her side. It had been a ghastly vision, and Douglas had ordered a blanket thrown over her so others wouldn’t see her in such a state before they got her into the castle.
He wanted to spare her dignity.
Now, she lay upon a small bed, arms at her side, the blood washed from her face, and a blanket pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were closed, her face softly illuminated by the light from the tapers. Quietly, he sat down on a small stool that had been pulled up to the bedside and sat for a moment, watching her face. He couldn’t even tell if she was breathing. Sighing softly, he sat forward, his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his clasped hands. Just watching her.
