Shaking his dark hair back down his shoulders, he dispelled the desire which threatened to throttle him and strode up to the table to prepare a plate for Gabrielle.
Her gown refastened, she smoothed her hair and declined the proffered food. “I can’t eat. My stomach is in knots. But perhaps a goblet of wine…” She reached for the two chalices, handed one to Bastien, and swallowed a large gulp from her own.
He placed his chalice upon the table, took the goblet from her hand and set it down next to his. Pulling her onto his lap, he enveloped her in his adoring arms, kissing the side of her neck. “There’s still time for the messenger to arrive. Let’s have faith. And concentrate on healing your father.” He reached for the nutty, grainy bread and tore off a chunk, offering it to her. “Now, eat something. For me.”
A sad smile spread across her resigned face as she accepted the bread along with his words. “For you, Bastien. Anything for you.” She took a bite, chewed it slowly, and washed it down with more wine before rising to her feet and strolling to the window to gaze out at the turbulent sea. “Le Traîté Maritime.My father’s proudest accomplishment.” She turned toward him, anguish blazing in her emerald eyes. “I cannot marry Ugolin le Clou. He would revoke the treaty and gain control of all shipping on the Breton seas. My father’s greatest achievement would be undone. His life’s work ruined. And the kingdom of Finistère lost. I cannot allow that to happen. Bastien…what can we do?”
He walked across the room and took hold of her hands, raising them to his lips as he held her imploring gaze. “Pray that the messenger arrives in time. Come, let’s eat. Go to your father. And send for the healers.”
****
The afternoon sun, setting over the turquoise sea, cast soft rays of golden light through the large ogival windows, partially opened to allow a crisp, cleansing ocean breeze into the royal antechamber. His once-auburn hair now sparse and gray, his formerly robust, ruddy complexion now pale and wan, King Guillemin sat stiffly in the blue velvet tufted chair which served as an informal throne while Ezhvin, the loyal royal chamberlain, gently eased the king’s grotesquely swollen, bare left foot onto an adjacent supportive chair. Fiery red and horribly inflamed, with an enormous yellow blister distended and ready to burst, the inflammation caused obvious, excruciating pain, for her father tightly gripped the ornately carved arms of golden oak, his face contorted in agony, as Gabrielle and Bastien entered the room and bowed before the King of Finistère.
Approaching from his right, Gabrielle kissed the king’s sunken cheek and knelt beside the throne, Bastien standing attentively at her side. “Bonjour, Papa.” She tenderly brushed a strand of stringy hair from the king’s gaunt face. “Bastien’s mother, the Lady Laudine, has arrived at Beaufort. With the Lady Viviane—Lancelot’s mother and High Priestess of Avalon—and the Lady Ghislaine, a gifted healer from the Forest of Brocéliande.” She looked up at Bastien, his fierce green eyes instilling her with hope and strength. “I have sent for them to come examine you. And this,” she said, reaching for the stoppered vial that Bastien placed in her extended hand. “The elixir that Isnard served you the day I was abducted. Remember? “
She showed her father the small amber flask. “I saved it, for them to analyze. And perhaps suggest an alternative treatment.” Gabrielle addressed Ezhvin, patiently attending the king near a carved walnut, marble-topped sideboard upon which a platter of wine and several goblets awaited the expected guests. “Please send for the three healers. We’re ready to receive them now.”
“Oui, Votre Majesté.” Ezhvin motioned to two valets who stood at attention near the double entrance doors.
At his command, the escorts bowed, departed, and returned a few minutes later with the trio of priestesses.
Bastien kissed his mother’s cheeks inla biseof familiar greeting as Gabrielle welcomed Viviane and Ghislaine. “Thank you very much for coming. Allow me to introduce you to my father, King Guillemin.” She approached her father’s informal throne. “Papa, I’d like you to meet the three healers who have come to treat you. This is Bastien’s mother, the Lady Laudine. Lancelot’s mother, the Lady Viviane. And Lady Ghislaine, a priestess from the Forest of Brocéliande.”
The three healers bowed inobéisancebefore the King of Finistère.
“A pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Finistère.” Grimacing, his jaw tightly clenched, he indicated his swollen foot with a jut of his chin. “I hope you can alleviate the agony of my gout. The pain is unbearable.”
Long black hair streaked with silver cascaded over her shoulders as Viviane lowered her head to examine the king’s sickeningly bloated foot. “I have a remedy to ease the inflammation and reduce the swelling.”
Gabrielle handed the stoppered vial to Bastien’s mother Laudine. “This is the herbal treatment that the royal physician Isnard was giving my father. I suspect it has harmful herbs, because shortly after the healer began treating my father’s gout, his symptoms not only worsened, but he was plagued with severe stomach pain, vomiting, and diarrhea.” At her father’s horrified look of embarrassment, she rubbed his shoulder and murmured, “It’s all right, Papa. They’rehealers.”
Laudine removed the stopper and sniffed the contents. “Cloying and sweet.” She handed the vial to Viviane.
“Like honeysuckle,” Viviane replied, waving the open flask under her nose. She passed the small flagon to Ghislaine, who smelled the contents and nodded in agreement before responding solemnly, “Deadly nightshade. Highly toxic.”
“It causes stomach irritation, cramping, nausea, and vomiting. All the symptoms your father has been experiencing. A larger dose would have been fatal.” Viviane replaced the stopper on the vial. “Fortunately, it can be cleansed from the body with burdock root and red clover.” She smiled at Ezhvin. “Please send for a kettle of boiling water and a cup, that I may prepare King Guillemin an herbal cleansingtisane.”
“At once, my lady.” The king’s royal chamberlain spoke quietly to one of the valets, who quickly disappeared to obey.
Laudine strode over to the marble topped sideboard and placed her reticule of herbal supplies on top of the elaborate table, retrieving several small vials and pouches of dried herbs. “We’ll prepare atisaneto cleanse your blood. And herbs to reduce inflammation and swelling caused by the gout, Your Majesty.” Her amber eyes compassionate and kind, Laudine smiled sympathetically at the king. “The nightshade also aggravated your symptoms, so once all traces are eliminated from your body, they will greatly improve.”
The valet returned with a steaming teapot and porcelain mug on a pewter platter, setting it upon the sideboard before Laudine and retreating to stand beside Ezhvin and the other male servant near the door.
“Cinnamon and dandelion extract will enhance the cleansing effects of the burdock root and red clover.” With a small spoon she retrieved from her sack, Bastien’s mother measured the herbs into the cup and poured boiling water to steep thetisane.
Ghislaine placed her sack of herbal supplies on a corner of the carved wooden sideboard near Laudine and removed several tiny vials. “Essential oils will reduce the inflammation of your gout, Your Highness. And relieve the excruciating pain.” With careful, measured droplets, she blended the essence of herbal oils as the floral fragrance of lavender and the herbal scents of rosemary, chamomile, and thyme wafted into the fresh air. Gingerly, she applied a small amount of the curative oils on King Guillemin’s badly swollen foot and with tender, delicate fingers, performed a light, soothingeffleurage.
As Ghislaine’s skilled hands gently massaged the fragrant oils into his distended foot, the king moaned in blessed relief, the grimace of pain easing the furrows in his haggard face.
“Tart cherry extract and ginger are also excellent for treating gout. I’ll prepare a tincture for you to add to the king’s tea,” Viviane informed Gabrielle. “Give him the burdock root and red clover tea three times a day. Serve him a ginger and tart cherry tonic in the evening, a couple hours after his meal.” To Ezhvin, she said with a smile, “Massage three drops of this essential oil into his swollen foot twice a day. He will feel immediate relief. As he has just now.”
Gabrielle noted the profound look of relaxation on her father’s face as he thanked Ghislaine for the gentle massage.
Laudine strained the herbs from the teashe had prepared, stirring the mixture with her spoon, releasing the sweet, spicy scent of cinnamon as she served the king his cleansingtisane.
He sipped the steaming herbal brew, basking in visible alleviation of pain and enjoying the solicitous attention of the three gifted healers. When he’d consumed every drop, he returned the empty cup to Laudine with a grateful smile. “Thetisanewas quite pleasant. Cinnamon adds a delightful flavor. Thank you, Lady Laudine.” Exhaling in a sigh of solace, contentment glowing in his hazel eyes, he beheld Ghislaine, who had completed the foot massage and was wiping the essential oils from her hands with a linen cloth. “That was heavenly, Lady Ghislaine. Instant relief from the pain. I cannot thank you enough.” He leaned back in his chair, eyelids lowered in obvious satisfaction. “Thank you all. I feel refreshed, relaxed, and rejuvenated. You are indeed most highly skilled.” Comfort and profound relaxation evident in his assuaged features, King Guillemin said magnanimously, “Please join Gabrielle and me tonight in my solar, to share the evening meal as my most distinguished guests.” He addressed Bastien with a hearty grin. “You and your brothers must attend, with Lancelot, Esclados, and the Lady Ghislaine’s husband. What is his name, my lady?”
“Gaspard, Your Royal Highness. My husband and I are honored to accept your most gracious invitation. We humbly thank you, my king.” Tendrils of soft brown curls escaped her lace wimple as Ghislaine bowed her head with reverence.
