Chapter 24
LEONIE was accustomed to seeing blood, even as much blood as this. She had treated many wounds, but she became almost hysterical at the thought of treating Rolfe.
Their eyes met as he was carried, conscious now, into the hall. The look in his eyes froze her. There was fury in that look, furious accusation.Why?
“My lady?”
Wilda and Mildred were looking at her anxiously.
“Yes?”
Wilda said, “Sir Thorpe wants to move my lord Rolfe to his—your—room. Will you see to him?”
“Has he asked for me?”
Wilda could not meet her eyes. “He asked for the leech.”
That hurt more than his accusation. “Then that is that.”
“But, my lady,” Mildred whispered, “Odo is only a barber! I know many barbers have some knowledge of healing and serve as leech, but Odo is a fool. He would rather let a man die than admit he cannot help him. You remember Odo, my lady. He is the one you chastised when he nearly let my mother die.”
Leonie stared hard at Mildred, then turned away. Had she mistaken Rolfe’s look, or did he truly believe she had somehow contrived to wound him?
Upstairs, she found a guard in the antechamber, barring her entrance. She tried to pass him and he moved quickly to block her way.
“I am sorry, my lady,” was all he would say.
“Did my husband order you to keep me out?” she demanded.
He looked down at his feet without speaking. That was answer enough.
“Is the leech with him now?” she asked.
“I—”
He was interrupted by a bellowed curse and a crash from behind the closed door. Leonie turned stark white, and then the color rushed back into her cheeks as her temper exploded.
“I could have saved him that pain!” Her eyes stabbed the guard with her fury. “Let me pass now before he suffers more.”
“I am sorry, my lady, but you must not—”
“You have no more sense than that fool in there who dares to call himself a healer. Do you hear that, Odo?” she shouted at the door. “If you harm him or maim him with your ignorance, I will see you hanged by your thumbs until they fall off! And if he dies, you will wish a thousand times that you had died instead!” Then she whirled at the guard, now staring at her wide-eyed. “And so will you!”
Inside the room, Odo had heard her clearly. He hesitated as he bandaged the gaping wound where he had ripped out the arrow. But it was quiet outside the door now, and as long as the lord was now unconscious, he could bandage him easily.
Leonie had been heard below the stairs, and she received many strange looks when she returned to the hall. She paced, in anger and frustration, striding backand forth before the cold hearth. No one dared speak to her.
Sir Evarard refused to go against Rolfe’s orders and admit her to their room, althoughhewas allowed inside. Leonie finally sent a messenger to Thorpe de la Mare, hoping that Rolfe’s friend, an older and wiser man, would put an end to this foolishness.
But Sir Thorpe arrived early that evening and closed himself in the room with Rolfe, not emerging until late that night. Leonie waited for him in the hall, and attacked him the moment he came down the stairs. “How is he?”
Thorpe eyed her coldly. “Sleeping.”
“And the wound?”
“He will mend—no thanks to you.”
“You too?” she hissed. Knowing she was too angry to restrain herself, she turned aside, staring at the ceiling, reining herself in. Then she turned back to him. “Sir Thorpe, no matter what you think—no matter whathethinks—I was not responsible for what happened. Nor would my people attack him now. He is my husband.Whydo you believe I caused this?” she demanded.
