It all came flying out.
Once the servant vomited, another one puked, followed by the very man whose boil they were draining. The horrible stench coupled by the weak stomach of the servant had nearly everyone in the chamber retching, including the knight who had just come in the door. He grunted in disgust and fled the chamber as the lady of the castle very calmly finished cleaning out what she could.
She could hear the knight outside the door, cursing because the entire circumstance was so disgusting, but she ignored him. He was her brother, anyway, and he tended to be a bit dramatic sometimes.
The man had no stomach for things she did every day.
“There,” she said evenly, certain she’d gotten out all of the poison. “Quickly, hand me the wine.”
The servant who had been trying not to retch again took the earthenware phial from a nearby table filled with a solution of wine and vinegar. The patient bit off a scream as the lady rinsed the boil several times, cleaning it out as best she could. Using boiled linen, she swabbed the boil before tossing aside the dirty linens and using fresh wrappings to bandage the leg.
“May I come back in?” the knight called into the chamber.
Lady Corisande de Bourne was focused on her task, a veritable rock as everyone around her was coming apart with weak stomachs. “I never asked you to leave in the first place, Anteaus,” she said. “It still smells just as bad, so enter at your own risk.”
He stuck his head back in, eyeing her suspiciously. She was still working on the leg and, as she had told him, he could still smell the rot from it, so he remained by the door.
Like a coward.
“Are you almost finished?” he asked.
She pulled tight on the wrapping, causing the soldier to grunt in pain. “Aye, I’m almost finished,” she said impatiently. “I’m trying to keep this man from losing his leg to poison, so you can at least show a little concern for him. He is one of your soldiers.”
Anteaus glanced at the old man, an old soldier who had been around during the time of his grandfather. Anteaus was two years older than his sister, a young woman who had seen twenty years and three. She was the strength and soul of the entire House of de Bourne even though there were three brothers, two sisters, and a father. There was something about Corisande, or Cori as they called her, that made her the pinnacle of everything strong and noble. Ever since their mother had passed away four years earlier, Corisande had made sure the family remained together. That no one fell aside.
That life at The Keld remained the same.
Anteaus had to admire her for that.
They all did.
But that role within the family also meant she healed the sick and injured, as was her duty as chatelaine of The Keld, and there was no finer healer in all of Northumberland. Probably in all of England. Schooled by their mother, a vastly knowledgeable healer in her own right, Corisande excelled in the healing art.
And in cleaning out disgusting boils.
“I apologize,” Anteaus said after a moment. “I know you are only doing your best, but Papa has sent me to tell you that we have visitors and one of them requires your assistance. You must come as soon as you are finished.”
Corisande glanced up at him curiously. “Visitors?” she repeated. “Who? I did not hear the sentries.”
“I know,” he said. “These walls are so thick, you probably would not hear the return of Christ if he came down on top of you. In any case, you must come as soon as you are finished.”
Corisande was concerned that there were visitors and she was not present to tend them. She turned to the servant beside her.
“Finish tying off this bandage,” she said. “Make sure it is nice and tight. Have him lie down for the rest of the day and I will check on the leg tomorrow.”
The servant, one who tended the knights and other senior soldiers, nodded sheepishly, embarrassed he had vomited in front of Lady Corisande. As he took over the bandaging, Corisande went to wash her hands of dirt and poison in a bowl containing a mixture of warm water and a type of grain alcohol that was purchased in Carlisle, distilled in Scotland. It cleaned well enough and killed any poison she might have lingering on her hands so that the poison from one man wasn’t transmitted to the next. It was something her mother had taught her.
She followed that process religiously.
Quickly, Corisande darted out of the chamber, which was located in an outbuilding built against the massive outer wall, which was over thirty feet high in places. The Keld was, in fact, a place that was meant to impress and intimidate, and it did both of those things quite ably. The castle itself was an enormous complex situated on the gently rolling hills overlooking the River North Tyne.
Because of the hills, the gatehouse was on a lower level than the rest of the castle, so one entered through a massive gatehouse, up a small and vulnerable roadway, and then into the vast bailey. That central courtyard was enormous, with a great hall built against one of the walls, stables against another, and a series of troop houses where the soldiers would lodge because Corisande’s mother, Thalassa, didn’t like her hall full of men. To appease her when they were first married, her father, Alastor, had built the troop houses.
But Corisande honored all of her mother’s traditions and wishes, even years after her death. Nothing had changed in that respect – the soldiers still weren’t allowed to sleep in the hall and Corisande carried on her mother’s role. Her father was still head of the household and her brothers, Ares, Atlas, and Anteaus, still managed the army and the security of The Keld, and Corisande and her younger sister, Gaia, managed everything else. It was a tight-knit family that loved each other and worked well together.
And they all called The Keld home.
To them, it was heaven.
“Who are the visitors?” Corisande said as she caught up to Anteaus. “Was Papa expecting anyone? He did not tell me.”
Anteaus shook his head. “He was not anticipating anyone,” he said. “They were… unexpected.”
“What does that mean?”
Anteaus paused briefly, turning to her. “You must keep this to yourself, Cori,” he said in a low voice. “You cannot repeat what I am going to tell you.”
She looked at him seriously. “Of course,” she said. “What is wrong?”
Anteaus eyed her before he started to walk again. “The visitors are from Pelinom Castle to the north,” he said. “They were engaged in a big battle a few days ago… a very terrible battle, so do not ask about it. All Papa wants you to do is tend the man they’ve brought with them. He is a prisoner.”
Corisande’s brow furrowed as she thought on what her brother had told her. “A prisoner?” she said. “Why did they bring him here?”
Anteaus shook his head. “I cannot tell you more than I have,” he said. “Please do not ask. If Papa wants you to know, he will tell you, but for now… just make sure the prisoner is well enough. That is all you need do at the moment.”
Corisande’s brow was still furrowed as she thought on her brother’s mysterious words. Walking beside him as they headed towards the massive, square keep on the north side of the bailey, she glanced up at him as if trying to read his thoughts. Anteaus was a seasoned warrior, but he could also be emotional. While older brothers Ares and Atlas were knights with a steely strength about them, serious men who never showed much of what they were feeling, Anteaus was hot-headed and ready to show every emotion that was bubbling forth.