The Silver Bowl (8 page)

Chapter 15

The Water Gate

“WHAT NOW?”
I asked.

“We'll go out the water gate.”

“What's that?”

“The big door over there—it opens onto the river. They bring freight in by boat sometimes and load it directly into the storeroom. We can go out that way.”

Tobias set the prince down gently onto the floor.

“I can't swim,” Winifred said. Her voice sounded small and high, like that of a little child.

“Nor can the prince,” Tobias said. “Not in his condition. But we won't need to. They usually keep a skiff here.”

“Can't we just stay in the storeroom, Tobias? We're safe now. And who can tell what danger lies out there?”

He raised the latch and opened the heavy door. The sun had already set, but there was still enough light for us to see. Outside was a stone landing and beyond it a goodly space, a bit of the river enclosed by high walls, with a big iron grate sealing it off. It was like a room, except that the floor was all water.

As Tobias had hoped, a large, flat-bottomed skiff was tied up at the landing.

“But what about that?” I said, pointing to the iron grate. “Won't it be locked?”

“Yes,” Tobias said. “I need to find the key.”

“I think we should stay where we are,” I said again. “It's not good to keep moving the prince about. It'll make his bleeding worse.”

“No,” Tobias said, feeling along the wall near the door, searching for the key. “We need to go.”

“Why? The wolves can't get in. Sooner or later they're bound to go away.”

Thump, bang
. They were still throwing themselves at the door, wild with rage.

“Ah,” he said at last. “Here it is.”

“Why won't you answer me, Tobias? Why go out on the river in a boat when we're perfectly safe down here?”

“Because we're not safe,” he said, pulling me toward the door. He was a bit rough about it, I thought, and hasty, too. “We need to hurry.”

He pushed me out onto the landing.

“Get into the boat, now. Hold my hand till you're standing firm. Try to step into the middle if you can.”

I did as he said, and felt the boat rock beneath my feet.

“Are you steady?”

“I think so. I don't like it.”

“All right then: sit. Let go of my hand, Molly.”

Next he helped Winifred in. She's a big, gangly girl, and none too graceful. When she stepped into the skiff, I thought for sure we would capsize, and fall into the water, and be drowned. But once she sat down on the bench across from me, the boat began to recover.

“I need your help now,” Tobias said. He was kneeling on the landing, the prince in his arms. “Take his legs, Molly, under the knees. That's right. Winifred, help me lower him into the boat. Careful. Support his head.”

Just then we heard a loud crash coming from inside. Tobias snapped his head around and stared into the darkness of the storeroom. Then he let go of the prince, all unexpectedly, so that Alaric fell quite heavily into Winifred's arms.

“What was that?” I said. But Tobias didn't answer. He was frantically untying the ropes. As soon as he had the boat free, he pushed it away from the landing, then dived in himself, nearly tipping us over and crushing poor Winifred.

I heard a snarling behind us then—and there they were, coming out onto the landing, flashing their yellow teeth. How was it possible? They had broken down a locked and bolted door made of solid oak and reinforced with iron.

But then, of course, these were no ordinary wolves. I only hoped that demons couldn't swim.

Tobias used an oar to push us far away from the landing. Now he stood, clutching the bars of the grate with one hand while fitting the key into the lock with the other. At last there came a click as the lock released. He had only to swing the grate wide and we would be free. But it was heavy; as he pushed against it, we began to slip back toward the landing.

“Here,” he shouted, handing me an oar. “Hold us in place.”

The water in the enclosure was shallow, with a bed of stone below. I plunged the oar in till it hit bottom, then held it firmly there, keeping us from drifting back.

“Good,” he said, and continued to push on the grate.

Winifred let out a moan. I turned to see one of the wolves crouching low, eyes squinted, muscles tensed. Seconds later, it sprang.

I moved without thinking, pulling my oar from the water and holding it in both hands like a club. As the creature came flying at us, I swung the oar hard. I came near to losing my balance and tumbling out of the skiff, but for that moment at least I was not afraid. Indeed, I was most satisfied by the loud
whack
as the oar struck the wolf and by the sight of the animal, dazed and bleeding, struggling in the water.

The others flew into a frenzy now; and I was ready for the next one, standing in a wide-legged stance, the boat rocking beneath me, the oar over my shoulder. But Tobias gave one final shove, and we were through the opening and out upon the river, the night wind cooling our faces. I sat down.

Tobias was a strong rower, and we were moving with the current. In time the shouts and screams from the castle completely faded away, and the distant lights of the torches seemed but fireflies hovering over water.

Only then did I remember the prince. I dipped my apron into the river and dabbed his face with cool water.

“Molls!” Winifred said, “there's nothing the matter with his face. Don't you think we ought to look at his wounds?”

“I wouldn't know how to treat them, no matter how bad they are. And we've nothing to treat them with. No bandages, or medicines, or anything.”

“Let's have a look anyway. Best to know what we're up against.”

“All right.” I slipped down beside him on the floor of the boat. It felt improper to touch the prince at all, let alone undress him. But as it had to be done, I unfastened the handsome brooch that secured his cape and handed it to Winifred, who pinned it to her gown for safekeeping. Then I began to undo the many tiny buttons on his doublet.

“Oh!” I said, drawing breath when at last I pulled it open.

Winifred leaned in to see.

“It might not be as bad as it looks,” she said. “The blood has soaked his shirt, but the wound may not be so large as all that. You'll need to take off the shirt to tell for sure.”

“Do you know anything of physic?” I asked, struggling with the ribbons that held his shirt together at the neck. It was quickly growing dark, and the moon wouldn't rise for hours. Soon it would be impossible to make out anything at all.

“I know sommat of herbs,” Winifred said. “I learned it from my mother. I can treat snakebite, and rashes, and fever; and I can make purges, and—”

“What about treating wounds
,
Winifred?”

“I know sommat of that too.”

Tobias stopped rowing then and turned to look at us. “How bad is it?” he asked.

“Don't know. I can't get this blasted ribbon untied. The knot is all wet with blood—”

“Just tear it, you eejit,” Winifred said, slapping my hands away and reaching down to do it herself. I heard a grunt, then a rip, and the shirt was open.

“You've ruined it,” I said stupidly.

“Where's your head, girl? It's already ruined. It's soaked with blood and chewed up by a wolf.”

But I was no longer listening to her, for I was studying the wound. It was hard to see much for all the blood. Every time I wiped it clean, more came oozing out.

“He's still bleeding.”

“Of course he is,” Tobias said. “It's only been a little time. Even a prince cannot heal that fast.”

“Let me have a look.” Winifred knelt on the other side of the prince and peered at his bloody shoulder. “Aye, it's a real mess, ain't it? A couple of really nasty gashes there what need to be stitched up. Fold your apron, why don't you, with the cleanest part out, then press down hard. That'll slow the bleeding some.”

I thought this sounded wise and did as she said.

“Will he die of it, Winifred, do you think?”

“Most likely not. Though you can never tell with these things.”

“You have a lot of experience with ‘these things,' then?”

She shrugged.

We continued to float silently down the river with the current.

“We need to find him a leech or a wisewoman,” Tobias said. “There's little gain if we save him from the wolves only to have him bleed to death on the river.”

“True enough,” I said, “only I don't know any leeches or wisewomen, not here nor anywhere else.”

“My mother is a wisewoman,” Winifred said. “I told you that already.”

“No, you didn't. You said she taught you sommat about herbs. It's not the same. Every housewife knows a thing or two about—”

“Hush, Molly,” Tobias said. “Let her speak. Is your mother truly a wisewoman, Winifred? Or only—”

“No, she's a real one, all right. Even highborn folk sometimes call her to their bedsides. She can all but raise the dead.”

“All right, then,” Tobias said. “How do we get there? Is it close to where we are now?”

“Close enough,” she said, pointing downriver. “Past Oughten, past Kerrig, then just a little ways more.”

“Inland, Winifred, or on the river? I shall have to carry him, you know.”

She gave a joyful little snort.

“'Tis right on the river,” she said.

Chapter 16

The Wisewoman

THE PRINCE DID NOT WAKE
until morning.

While he'd slept, Winifred's mother had looked after his wounds, treating them first with bishops-wort and egg white, then stitching up the gashes that gaped most horribly with a common bone needle and thread. When she'd done all she could, she bound his shoulder with clean bandages, then waited beside him for the rest of the night, feeling his forehead now and again for fever.

Through all of it he had lain insensible. From time to time he'd moaned and moved a little, but he never once opened his eyes, nor showed any sign that he knew what had befallen him.

Now he woke to find himself on a straw pallet on the floor of a dark, smoky cottage—undressed to the waist, covered in bandages, and throbbing with pain.

“Where am I?”

He asked this of me, for mine was the first face he saw.

I'd been there since daybreak, giving Winifred's mother a chance to rest. Behind me were two little girls, Winifred's youngest sisters. They'd been there for a while already, gazing in wonder at the sleeping prince and remarking on his curls and his eyelashes. When he stirred, they took fright and scrambled to hide behind me.

“You're safe here, my lord,” I said to assure him. “You've been wounded, but well looked after. Now you must rest and regain your strength.”

“I dreamed of wolves,” he said, his voice scarce rising above a whisper.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

His eyes opened wide. “They were real, then?”

“It is true you saw wolves; but I cannot say they were real, not such as are found in nature. They did much grievous harm, my lord.”

A shadow passed over his features then. “Were many killed?”

I hung my head. “The king, your brother,” I said.

“My brother?” he snapped as though I were responsible.

“Aye, my lord.”

“Dead?”

I nodded.

“You are sure?”

I nodded again. “I was there.”

He closed his eyes.

“What about my mother? And my poor sister whose wedding day it was?”

“I don't know, sire. I didn't see. I suppose we could hope . . .”

He snorted and turned aside. I shooed the little girls away and waited to hear what he would say next.

The girls must have run to tell their mother that the prince was awake, for soon she came in and knelt beside me.

“This is Margaret,” I said. “She is a wisewoman, well known in these parts for healing gentlefolk as well as common. She tended to your wounds last night and gives you safe hiding here in her house.”

Winifred's mother bowed as deeply as she could while kneeling. “Your Majesty,” she whispered, “I would touch your cheeks and forehead, if I may. To see if you are feverish.”

“All right.”

She did it with the back of her hand.

“Am I? Feverish?”

“Somewhat. I would look at the wound now. If I may.”

“Go ahead. Do whatever is needed.”

She bowed low again, got up, and went to a chest that stood in the corner. Soon she was back with a wooden box filled with small vials and little clay pots. She sent one of the younger girls, who'd been lingering in the doorway, to bring in a bucket of water. Then she began carefully unwrapping the bandages. She needed my help with this. The prince had to be lifted so the bands could be unwound; he was too weak to do it himself.

“Your shirt and doublet we have put away, my lord. I was able to get most of the blood out—but I fear they will never be such as you would want to wear them again.”

“I don't care about my shirt and doublet,” he said. He looked down at his shoulder, and his face went pale, for indeed it was a dreadful thing to look upon. The flesh was red and swollen, and here and there blood seeped out from between the stitches.

But Margaret did not say a word. She took a clean cloth, and wet it from the bucket, and washed the shoulder well. Then she opened one of the vials, which held some precious fluid as red as blood but perfectly transparent. I did not much care for the smell of it. It reminded me of my father and the cheap liquor he drank at night.

With great care, she poured this potion over the angry wounds. The prince started.

“Does it sting, my lord?”

“No, it was only cold, that's all. It took me by surprise.” He closed his eyes, and I saw the muscles tighten in his jaw. Margaret smiled sweetly, for she knew as well as I did that it hurt him plenty. But he was almost a man, practically a knight. He was determined to bear it nobly.

When she was done, she laid a clean cloth over his shoulder and bid me lift him again so she could put the bandages back on.

“Such redness and swelling are to be expected,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “I've seen it many a time after an animal bite. But you are young and strong. You'll be swinging a sword with that arm ere long. But for now you must rest and let your body heal. I have a potion, if you wish to take it, sire, that will ease your pain and help you sleep.”

“What's in it?”

“Wine, poppy syrup, powder of mandrake root. A few other things.”

“Well, I shall take it then, and gladly. But first I must have a word with whoever it was that brought me here, for there are things I need to know.”

“The young maid who sits here beside you was one. The other was a boy named Tobias. And also my daughter Winifred.”

“Who are you?” he asked me.

“I am Molly, my lord.”

“And how was it you found me and came to my rescue?”

And so I told him.

When I had finished, he turned to the wall and did not look at me for many minutes so that I wondered whether I ought to leave him alone with his grief. But after a while he turned back to me again.

“I want you to go to the village and find out what you can. I would know for certain if my mother and sister are dead.”

“Tobias has already gone on that errand, lord prince. Only, he went to the market town and not the village. Folk come to market from many places, and so chances are better that someone will have news to tell. Also, we feared that in the village—well, Tobias is a stranger, and uncommonly big and tall. People would notice him, and we do not wish to draw attention to this house.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my lord, we thought—under the circumstances—it might be best if no one knows you are here. And country folk are curious by nature, as they have little of interest to gossip about. If they see a stranger in the village so soon after the tragedy up at the castle, they are likely to remember that Margaret is a wisewoman and—”

“I see,” he said. “You fear they will disturb my rest.”

“No, sire. I fear greater harm than that.”

He looked at me oddly. “I doubt the wolves will hear the gossip and come attack us here.”

Oh, how could he fail to understand?

“It might not be wolves next time,” I said.

Annoyance crossed his face. “What are you saying?”

I bit my lip, feeling my face flush. “Your Grace, when the wolves came into the hall last night . . .”

“Yes.”

“You were not there to see it. You had left to use the privy. But . . . it was not as you might expect with a pack of wild beasts in a room full of people.”

“You said the king was killed.”

“I did. But, Your Highness,
only
the king was killed, so far as I know. They walked past all those lords and ladies, and the pages, and the village girls who had come there to sing, and the dwarf couple who played the wedding farce. It was as though they only craved royal blood. They knew your brother and went straight for him. And when they had done their grizzly business in the hall, they went up the stairs, past yet more people, leaving them unharmed . . . looking for you.”

“What are you saying?”

“You do not understand, truly?”

“We are cursed,” he said with a sneer in his voice. “Is that it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Enough.” he said, and lay back and closed his eyes. “Be away with you. Good Margaret, I will take your potion now.”