"I have a better suggestion," Philip said,glaring at her. "I will be holding a vigil in the chapel for those of youwho wish to join me. We shall pray that the lady's cure"— he spatcaustically— "proves more than the eastern devilry I believe it to be. Ifit does not,sheand her accursed brother will bothshare in the blame for my brother's death!"
As the knights filed from the hospital after Philip,talking furtively amongthemselves, Leila sat heavilyon the bench Henry had placed for her near the bed. Her stoic facade wascrumbling fast, and it took all her remaining self-restraint not to burst intotears at her helplessness. There was nothing else she could do now but wait.
"Is there anything I can get you, my lady?"Henry asked, lightly touching her shoulder.
She offered him a small smile, but shook her head. "I'llstay here with you if you'd like."
"No, no, I'd like to be alone with him," shemurmured. "There is something you can do, though."
"Name it."
"See to Nicholas. He's probably frightened andconfused about all the commotion. Explain to him what has happened and tell him"—she had to swallow hard against the lump in her throat— "tell him I'mtaking very good care of his papa. He'll believe that, even if no one elsedoes."
"I believe it, my lady," Henry saidfervently. "You saved Lord deWarenne'slifeonce. Philip and his herb poulticesbedamned. Ibelieve that if anyone can save his life now, it is you."
Touched by his faith in her, Leila turned back to Guyas the knight left the room.
She stared through her blinding tears at the rise andfall of his chest, so shallow it almost appeared that he was not breathing. Buthe was, and she clung to that knowledge, hoping his superb physical conditionwould help him again as it had in Damascus. If only it hadn't been a poisonarrow . . .
No, she didn't want to think about Roger's treacheryright now, Leila decided numbly, reaching out and clasping Guy's too warm hand.
She wanted only to think of this man lying so stillbefore her. How she could help him. How she could make him more comfortable.
How much she loved him.
***
A few hours later, Leila was laying a damp cloth on Guy'sfeverish forehead when the hospital door creaked open. She glanced over hershoulder and stiffened when she saw Philip.
Now she wished she had not sent Henry away. She was inno frame of mind for another unpleasant encounter with the priest, and from hisstony expression, she guessed that was exactly what he intended. She faced himas he approached the sickbed.
"How is my brother?" Philip demanded,glancing beyond her to Guy.
"He is breathing more easily, but otherwise he ismuch the same," she said honestly, though she hated to admit that hertreatment was not acting as well or as quickly as she had hoped. "I'vechanged the plaster twice and just given him another dose of medicine, but Ifear it will take a while longer to know—"
"By then he will be dead," Philip interruptedharshly, his narrowed eyes a volatile gray as he riveted them upon her. "Ihave no doubt the drugs you use are poisoning his body as much as that arrow,if not more so."
Leila turned away, offering no comment to such apreposterous statement, and missed his sudden movement. She was stunned whenPhilip rushed right up to the bed. Before she could stop him, he had flung backthe blanket and ripped off the bandages covering the plastered wound. Hepointed accusingly at the ugly red swelling radiating from Guy's knee to hisupper thigh.
"You see! It grows worse. You're killing him!"
Leila tried to re-cover the area, but Philip caught herarm and pulled her back. She winced at his grip, which was astonishingly strongfor a man so spare.
"The swelling is normal and would be the same forany such wound, regardless of the poison," she countered calmly, thoughshe was deeply frightened. "Let me go, Philip."
He did not. Instead he twisted her arm until she wasforced to sit down on the bench.
"I've had enough of your views, my lady. Now youwill hear mine. It is because of you that my brother is lying here near death,and not just from your supposed cure. At the welcoming feast, I heard much fromGuy about the events at King Edward's coronation—the fight in the abbey, thetournament. I sensed then that LordGervaismightseek revenge for your marriage, and so he has. Your brother sent out a band ofhis men disguised as Welsh rebels to accomplish the foul deed."
Philip's angry words struck home, reinforcing Leila'sown sense of blame. She already knew she lay at the heart of this calamity, butwhat could she do?
"While I still had Guy's confidence," Philiprushed on, his fingers biting cruelly into her flesh, "which has sincebeen denied to me because of you, he also said that you refused his offer ofmarriage in Canterbury, believing LordGervaiswouldallow you to return to Damascus. Is this not true?"
"Yes," Leila answered, trying to pull her armaway. It was no use. Philip held her fast.
"And it was only when you discovered your brother'strue plans for you that you finally agreed to the marriage?"
Wondering where these strange questions were leading,she cried, "Yes, yes! Now let go of me. You're hurting my arm!"
