Dirick noted a smithy, a weaver, a baker, a prosperous looking silversmith, the inn he’d lodged in two nights earlier, and various other merchants and workshops. He picked out a butcher and a shoemaker, and his nose eventually pointed out the mart where the fishermen brought their wares from the nearby Langumont Bay. Outside of the village, he knew, were acres and acres of farmland—some belonging to the villagers, but a good portion belonging to Merle Lareux. Those fields were worked in turn by the villeins to produce the barrels and barrels of food that fed the lord’s household and its guests.
As he noted the prosperity of the village, Dirick could not help a twinge of envy. Such would never be his, he knew.
He was destined to a life of travel and war, with no lands or title of his own. Though he was well regarded by the king—even so well thought of as to be Henry’s confidante and advisor—the most he could expect or even aspire to was the fortune of marrying an unimportant heiress with a single fief. He would pay fealty to a liege lord with a great many lands, such as Merle of Langumont…or, mayhap, even Dirick himself might be awarded the position of castellan at a small fief such as Cleonis or Firmain.
As a youngest son, such was his fate—and ’twould only be altered should Bernard die without issue. And even in his deepest heart, in his most private thoughts, Dirick did not wish for that to come to pass.
He had ever known that this would be his destiny…and never before had he questioned it. Dirick turned a covert glance onto the woman who walked next to him, suddenly forced to subdue a pang of regret. The man who was to wed her was fortunate indeed, and not merely because of the lands he would obtain.
Dirick returned his thoughts to the scenery and peasants as they continued through the village. At last they reached a structure near the south side of the village. A man whom Dirick assumed was the cooper greeted them at the door, his face full of hope.
But as soon as he saw the scene within, Dirick knew the man’s hope was truly misplaced.
CHAPTER FIVE
Propelled by dismay and anger, Maris brushed past Dirick, pushing her way into the hut. Contrary to her previous commands, the windows had been resheathed, and old smoke clung to the air. Two babies squalled in the corner, and the woman was eerily silent.
“Uncover the windows,” Maris snapped, moving quickly to the bedside of the patient. Widow Maggie, who had been tending to the mother with a damp cloth on her forehead, stepped away, looking abashed at her lady’s entrance.
“But, my lady, the leech said—”
“Leech?” she exclaimed, turning on Maggie. “What said the leech?”
Quailing at his lady’s anger, Thomas nevertheless spoke haltingly. “The leech said the humors need darkness and heat from the fire. He said Mary’s blood must be let to rid her of the poison that draws her life. ”
“Nay. ” Maris clenched her fingers to keep from screaming in frustration. Maggie knew that as far as Maris was concerned, leeches should be banned from the village of Langumont. But there were many in the village who believed in the ways of the leeches.
Offering a swift prayer to the heavens, Maris threw back the blankets to reveal the pitiful figure of Mary, seeing immediately that it was too late. There was too much blood, and it still flowed freely, bright red and fresh. “Good Venny sa
ys leeches have little use—and oft cause more damage! God’s teeth, what have you done?” This last she managed to keep to a hiss of despair, knowing that the cooper had acted in fear and ignorance.
“‘Twas Thomas, my lady,” Maggie whispered. “She bled the night through, and he didn’t know what to do. We didn’t wish to spoil your Christ’s Mass celebration now that the lord has returned. The leech promised to save her. ”
Maris looked at the terrified cooper and swallowed her anger as well as she could. He could not have known—leeches were famous for promising the moon if they were paid enough. She noticed that Dirick, who’d followed her inside, had moved quickly to tear the heavy, cloying blankets from the windows. Oiled cloth covered the openings, and he made a slit in the top of one near the fire so that the smoke would wend its way out of the hut.
Grateful for his help, she transferred her gaze to the seven black slugs that sucked away the lifeblood of her patient. “Remove the leeches,” she told Maggie shortly, then turned to Thomas. “Leeches do not come into Langumont Village. I do not know how he came, but if you see this man again, you will send for me immediately. ”
“Aye, lady,” he whispered. “My lady, my Mary…will she…?”
Maris spared a look at the grey faced woman, and her fears were confirmed. She hadn’t stirred since her arrival. Blood soaked the bed beneath her as the leeches drew even more from her arms and legs. “I will do all I can, but likely ’twill not be enough. ”
The babies were screaming in the corner. “Where is the smith’s daughter?” Maris asked, gritting her teeth at the sound.
“She went home this morrow,” Thomas told her, his hands wringing in front of him. “The leech thought Mary would suckle the babes this night. ”
“Fetch her,” she said tightly. “She is not to leave until I say. ”
Thomas scurried for the door as Maggie pulled the last reluctant leech from the woman’s flesh. Again, Maris noted out of the corner of her eye that Dirick had moved silently to where the babes lay. Suddenly, silence reigned and she breathed a deep sigh.
She worked quickly to mix a paste from dried yarrow to press over the open wounds from the slugs, and ordered Maggie about to steep a decoction of peppermint and clove to dribble down the woman’s throat.
Maris lost track of time. She vaguely remembered Thomas returning with Bernice, the smith’s daughter, and hardly took note of when Dirick stepped over to assist her or Maggie. The silence that hovered as she worked became monotonous and hung like death over the small, bleak house.
Time blurred. Maggie brewed a draught from herbs meant to ease the pain, and Maris helped her choke it down Mary’s parched throat. The woman breathed ever so slowly. Her hands remained cold and clammy while her face suffused with heat. Soft groans of pain emitted from her dried and cracked lips. The other women bathed her and found too much blood still coming from between her legs.
At last, she had no choice. “Sir Dirick,” Maris said as she turned to him, brushing the hair from her eyes. He looked down at her, comprehension in his face. “Go you to seek Father Abraham. ”
Thomas’s eyes widened, then his stare dropped to the dirt floor of the hut. “My lady,” he whispered, moving to the bed to grasp his wife’s lax hand.