“I’m sorry you have to … see me like this,” he managed, gritting his teeth.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I told him. “Just rest. I’ll be right here.”
Henri nodded and laid back, eyes closed against the pain.
I turned to glance at the syringes and wondered what sort of traditional medicine this monk was subjecting this family to.
When I turned back, Henri’s eyes were wide open, and the green of his eyes had been completely swallowed by the black. In fact, it seemed that his irises were ringed with a strange gold. I drew back, shaking, as Henri seemed to fight against the pain, face screwed up, eyes squeezed shut once more.
“Henri?” I called tentatively. “What can I do for you, Henri?”
He opened his mouth but then gnashed his teeth together.
I wasn’t sure what I could do, so I ran the cool cloth over his face again. Henri seemed to relax slightly under my touch, and when he opened his eyes again, they were the rich green I was used to seeing, if not unfocused and dazed.
“There you go,” I cooed. “You’re okay.”
He grabbed for my free hand and held it tightly, meeting my eyes. I offered him a smile and continued to attend to his fever.
The time came when I would have to give him an injection. I stared at the syringe nervously, getting used to how it felt in my hands.
“You’re doing great,” Henri encouraged weakly from his bed.
I nodded, unsure.
“Hold up the syringe,” Henri told me, “Then tap it. Yes, like that. Now, squeeze the plunger just a little until some of the medicine leaks out. Perfect.”
I followed his instructions, but I still wasn’t ready when I was faced with his bare arm. His skin was slick with sweat, and I was afraid that I was going to make things worse. He was clearly suffering under the effects of whatever this was, but who was I to interfere? Stopping the process now could prove to be fatal, and for all I knew, this was some sort of lifesaving treatment.
I recalled Schedoni’s instructions, prodding Henri’s arm and hoping to locate the site of the last injection, but I couldn’t find it. Despite being such a large needle, it clearly didn’t leave much of a mark behind.
I swallowed hard as I pushed the needle into Henri’s arm and before I could think about it, I pressed down gently on the plunger until it was empty.
I let out a ragged breath as I withdrew it, gauging Henri’s face.What would happen if I accidentally killed a count,I wondered.
But Henri only sent me a weak smile in response and sagged back against his pillow.
I perched nervously at his side, realizing that this was, indeed, going to be a terribly long night.
After two hours, I gave Henri another injection. His pain seemed to subside a degree, but he remained feverish and mumbled incoherently as I doted on him.
When I next needed to fetch a new basin of water, I decided to look in on Father Schedoni to inquire about this treatment. Just what sort of sickness was this? They’d all seemed fine until I’d given Henri his injection, as if the medicine itself had made him ill. I’d never heard of this practice before, and it seemed both odd and painful. I didn’t understand why the family bore it.
As Henri drifted into a fitful sleep, I crept from the room and marched to the east wing, where Count Montoni’s room lay. As I walked, I realized that this presented me with an opportunity. Surely, if there was something incriminating to be had on the count, it would be in his bedchamber, locked in a drawer or tucked into a wardrobe, among his personal effects. I would simply need to get Schedoni to leave me alone for a time to search. I wasn’t worried about Montoni, given that he would likely be in a similar state to his nephew, not even lucid.
I could play up how sick Henri was, I devised, like it was life and death for Schedoni to check on him. I would, in turn, offer to watch Montoni in his absence.
I’d only been to this part of the château once, and the heavy candelabras that lined the passage had been lit then. Now, in the dark, I only had the moon to see by. Luckily, it was a full moon, so light spilled into the dark area liberally with each window I passed.
I began to feel apprehensive as I approached Montoni’s room. I had to sell this lie, and Father Schedoni cut an intimidating figure. Holy men always made me feel uneasy, even when they were kind. Schedoni did not strike me as such.
A small recessed hallway led to Montoni’s bedchamber. Like the dining hall, this was lined with suits of armor, the metal gleaming in the moonlight that managed to bleed into the darkness this far. I eyed a spear held by one of the clawed gauntlets and shivered before my gaze shifted to a morning star. Most of them held swords before them in dignified repose. I found it depressing that these suits once protected knights during battle, and now stood motionless, discarded, in the dark corridors of châteaus such as this. They deserved better.
I was surprised, as I neared, to find that Montoni’s bedroom door was ajar. I could make out Schedoni pacing within, his brown robe a blur of movement in the flickering candlelight beyond.
“I’ve intercepted several of his family’s letters,” the monk was saying. “They are threatening to send an inspector. It may require a lot of money to make them happy, should it come to that. Too much money, mind you.”
“I know, I know!” Montoni moaned, as if in pain. The moan transformed into a cry of agony. “Father, I can’t take it. Give me another injection, please. I beg of you.”
