Page 101 of Bold Angel
“’Tis all right, Geoffrey.” Caryn laid a damp cloth on his forehead. “’Tis all in the past. You are ill. You must try to get some sleep.”
“Mother? Have you come for me, Mother?”
Caryn hesitated only a moment. “Aye, Geoffrey, your mother is here.”
“I… knew you would come. You have… always… come when I needed you.”
Caryn smoothed beads of perspiration from his brow. “Soon you will feel better.”
“’Tis … good … to see you … Mother. I have … missed you.”
“I have missed you, too.” But already he had lapsed once more into unconsciousness and later that night he grew worse.
“He still burns with fever,” Caryn said to Ral, bending over Geoffrey’s body to sponge the sweat from his face. “’Tis the putrifying, I fear. ’Tis sapping the last of his strength.”
“You have done the best you could. There is naught else you can do.”
Caryn looked into Geoffrey’s youthful anguished face. She was afraid of the decision she was about to make, but she knew she must take the risk.
“There is one last chance… one more thing we can do.” She turned to Ral and in that moment wanted nothing so much as the comfort of his arms around her. Yet she feared should that happen, she might not be able to go on. “Summon Lambert and Hugh. ’Twill take the three of you to hold him.”
The expression on his face said he knew what she intended. He left her and shortly returned with the men, who walked uneasily into the room. They discovered the fire had been built up in the brazier and a small sharp knife thrust into the coals.
Caryn stood next to Ral, her heart thudding dully and her chest feeling leaden. “Mayhap I should let Father Burton do the cutting. He has done a good deal of work with a blade while I have only done a few such tasks and watched as the Arab worked.”
Ral tipped her chin with his hand. “’Tis your decision, Cara. You must do that which you believe will be Geoffrey’s best chance to live.”
She looked into her husband’s weary face. “Then I will do it myself. My care of him will be gentler than the priest’s, and my will to see him live far greater.”
While Ral and the others held him steady, Caryn sliced through muscle and flesh to remove the festering portions of the wound. Then she cauterized the opening to the sound of Geoffrey’s screams. She was shaking by the time they were finished.
“’Tis done now,” she said in a voice not much more than a whisper, so tired she swayed unsteadily on her feet. “God alone will decide the outcome.” Steeling herself once more, she bandaged the wound and sat down beside him to wait.
Three days later, Geoffrey de Clare, knight in service to the Lord of Braxston Keep, returned to the world of the living.
“How are you feeling?” Caryn asked him from a place by his side. He was pale and somewhat thinner, but still undeniably handsome.
“Just a hair’s breadth better than the boar.”
Caryn smiled at that, glad to see the light returning to his eyes.
“I’m grateful for all you have done,” Geoffrey said, reaching for her hand. As weak as he was, his spirits were high, and with youth and vigor on his side, Caryn believed his recovery would be complete. “I owe you my life, Lady Caryn.”
“God and the Arab, more likely,” she countered. “’Tis good to have you returned to us, Geoffrey.”
“’Tis good to be here, my lady.”
Still, he required constant care. Caryn was leaning over his bedside, bathing his forehead, when Ral walked silently into the room. He noticed the sheet had slipped immodestly down the young knight’s lean body and nestled low on his hips.
Ral tensed as his wife gently bathed Geoffrey’s face, then his chest and shoulders. The younger man was sleeping, or so it seemed till he opened his eyes and smiled.
“You are my angel of mercy, Lady Caryn.”
She stepped away from him, a blush rising into her cheeks. She reached for the covers then paused and flushed even more as she realized he no longer needed such intimate attention.
“’Tis certain you are better,” she said tartly, but there was warmth in her voice.
Ral pushed away from the wall where he had been standing, causing them both to jump. “’Tis certain that he is.” He took in his wife’s rosy features and the lazy smile on Geoffrey’s face. “From now on Bretta will attend him. You’ve duties besides the care of this young buck to see to in the hall.”
