Page 44 of Mardon

“Nay, he’s dying,” said the healer.

“Is there anything you can do to save him?” she asked.

“Nay,” admitted the man.

“Then leave. Both of you. I want to talk to my father alone.”

“Aye, my lady,” said the healer. He and the priest left the room, closing the door behind them.

“Father, please don’t die,” she said, tears coming from her eyes, splashing down on his cheek.

“Daughter.” He reached up and feebly took her hand. “I am so happy that your face will be the last one I see.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not going to die. I will do something to save you.”

“There is nothing anyone can do now.” It took all his effort just to speak. “Why have you left the convent?”

“I don’t want to be a nun,” she told him. “I brought the painting to you that caused my horrid reputation, so you can give it to the king and he can destroy it. Then King Edward can betroth me to an English nobleman and our family name will no longer be sullied.”

“Nay,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “I was wrong to suggest that. You should have stayed in the convent . . . for your own protection. I am so . . . sorry what happened to you. It is . . . all my fault.”

“What do you mean? You couldn’t have known that Jean Philippe was a wretched cur when you betrothed me to the man. It’s not your fault.”

“I never . . .” he stopped and wet his lips and tried to swallow. “I never wanted you to marry him. It was Aldusa’s idea and she . . . convinced me. I recently discovered, Jean Philippe is her brother. She is . . . not to be trusted, Emmaline.”

“What do you mean? He’s her brother? I don’t understand.” When her father seemed as if he were having a hard time talking, she got up and poured him a goblet of wine and brought it to him. “Here, drink this, Father. It will help you with the pain.”

“There is no pain. Not anymore,” he told her. “It is my mind that is slipping away. And my heart has become weak.”

“What is it that is ailing you?” asked Emmaline. “Why can’t the healer cure it?”

“I fear I’ve been . . . poisoned somehow. But I can’t prove it. Go back . . . to the convent. You’ll be . . . safe there, Daughter. I am . . . sorry.” His eyes started to close.

“Poisoned?” Emmaline’s mind raced. When she took the bottle from her stepmother, she had no idea the woman was poisoning her father, but now everything was clear. “Nay, Father! You can’t die. I will be here with you now to help heal you. I don’t want to be a nun. Look, I have the painting and we can destroy it ourselves if you want. Everything will be better now.” She pulled it out from under her gown, holding the rolled-up parchment. “No one will think of me as a strumpet ever again. I can remarry and start over. I will clear our family name.”

“Nay,” he said with a shake of his head. His hand reached out and covered hers. “It’s too late, my dear. If you don’t want to . . . be a nun . . . then find a man you love . . . and marry him. Never . . . stay with someone who you . . . don’t love . . . like I did with . . . Aldusa.”

“There is someone I love, Father. But he – he’s not a noble. He’s . . . he’s a pirate.”

“A p-pirate?” The corners of her father’s lips turned up and he started to chuckle but ended up coughing. She handed him more wine. “Do you love this man? This . . . pirate?”

“I think I could, Father. Mardon has treated me well. He’s been kinder to me than any man I’ve ever known. Besides you, that is. I can’t explain it, but I feel safe around him. I know he will always protect me.” She saw her father’s life slipping away and she bit her lip to keep from crying.

“Then go to this . . . Mardon . . . Emmaline. Be with the man . . . you love. You have . . . my . . . blessing.” With that, his eyes closed and he drew his last breath.

“Father? Father!” she cried, throwing herself down, hugging the man, crying, not wanting to let him go.

The door to the room burst open and the healer and priest rushed in.

“Someone help him,” she cried, cradling her father’s head and shoulders. “Someone please, help my father.”

“I’m sorry,” said the healer, reaching over and checking for life signs and then shaking his head. “I have tried for months, but it seems he’s been poisoned by something. Since I didn’t know what, I couldn’t find an antidote that would reverse the effects.”

“P-poisoned,” she repeated, once again thinking about the bottle she’d stolen from her stepmother, thinking it was just rosewater at first. “My stepmother poisoned him. I found a bottle of poison in her chamber months ago!” She sat up, wiping away a tear.

“Lady Aldusa?” asked the healer. “Are you sure?”

“She’s lying.” Lady Aldusa walked in, followed by two guards. “She is doing this because she has never liked me.”