As he watched her walk away, Thorpe's eyes narrowed. Mildred, who had waited in the shadows, listening, saw his look and made her decision. Stepping forward, she hissed, "You are wrong about her." She received the full impact of those dark eyes, but she steeled herself, adding, "She knows all there is to know about healing and giving comfort. And she would not harm my lord Rolfe. She even threatened Odo, knowing his bumbling ways. Ask Sir Evarard if you do not believe me."

"Women defend each other whether or not there is cause," Thorpe said disdainfully.

"As do men."

"He does not need her help!" he growled. How did this woman have the temerity to challenge him, he wondered. Were the Pershwick serfs even worse?

"She would not harm him!" Mildred insisted. "She was furious when she learned he was being falsely accused of beating her. She has made the truth known, for his sake. Is that the action of a woman who bears him hatred?"

Mildred left then, amazed by her outburst. And like Lady Leonie before her, Mildred was the recipient of Thorpe's narrowed gaze until she was out of sight.

Chapter 25

AFTER four days, Rolfe was worse. Thorpe was at wit's end. It had seemed a simple wound. Rolfe had received worse than that and recovered quickly. This wound actually seemed to be sapping his strength. A fever started the second day and climbed until Rolfe raged in delirium, calling for his wife one moment and cursing her the next. He didn't recognize Thorpe at all.

Odo, that cur, had sneaked out of the keep, escaping before he could be blamed for Rolfe's worsening condition.

Thorpe did not know what to do. No, that was not the truth. There was one thing he could do, and finally he did it, sending a servant to fetch Rolfe's wife. When she came into the room, her servant Wilda with her, he had the grace to look ashamed. He flinched when she let out a stream of curses.

"Why did you not call me sooner?" she demanded of Thorpe. "The dirt within the wound is killing him."

"I did not change his bandages," Thorpe replied defensively. "So I haven't seen the wound."

"You should have! I warned you Odo would do more harm than good."

"Can you help him?" Thorpe asked humbly.

Looking at the pus-infested wound, she said, "I truly do not know.

How long has the fever been this bad?"

"Three days."

"God's mercy."

Thorpe lost his color. The hopelessness in her manner said all he needed to hear. Praying, he moved closer to the bed and watched her.

First she forced liquid down Rolfe's throat, succeeding in getting him to swallow. Thorpe felt respect well up in him. Then she began crushing leaves to pack onto the wound along with some foul-smelling stuff.

Water was set to boil and she began mixing together the contents of several bottles.

When she brought a little knife out of her basket, Thorpe gripped her wrist. "What is that for?" he demanded.

She eyed the large man. "His wound will have to be opened so I can search for what is causing this fever. Would you like to do it?" she asked him pointedly. Thorpe shook his head and let go of her wrist.

Leonie cleaned the knife, then very carefully removed the leaves she had packed against the wound. Using the knife, she started to probe inside the wound, cleaning it. There was complete silence for several long moments, and then she let out a horrified cry.

"Death is too good for that leech." Leonie glared at Thorpe in a way that made him feel wholly to blame for Rolfe's condition. "He removed the arrow, but he left inside a piece of Rolfe's chain mail that the arrow carried with it!"

She extracted it slowly and carefully, then resumed cleaning the wound. When clear blood finally began to ooze from it, she sighed gratefully. With the wound now clean, she covered it with her concoction.

At last she sat back and looked at Thorpe, her expression no longer anxious. "The blood must be allowed to seep from the wound until his fever abates, so we know the illness has left it. I will not sew the wound until then. He will be weakened more by this, but I dare not stop the bleeding until I am certain the wound is clean. I have tonics to aid him in fighting the fever, and to restore his strength." Thorpe nodded and she went on. "I will give him something for the pain too." When he remained silent, she asked, "Will you let me stay and watch his progress and do what needs doing?"

"He is out of danger?" he asked softly.

"I believe so, yes."

"Then stay, my lady."

"If he wakes enough to realize I am here, he may not like it."

"Then he will not like it," Thorpe said stubbornly, too grateful to care what Rolfe would think.

"Very well." She sighed. "But I ask you not to tell him what I've done."

"Why not?"

"I do not want him upset while he recovers. Let him think the leech healed him as he should have done."

"I would not lie to Rolfe."

"You do not have to lie. Just say nothing about it. I will try to leave before he awakes."

Late the next day she was bandaging the wound after pulling its jagged edges together, when Rolfe's eyes opened and locked with hers.

The fever had ravaged him, and there was a heavy growth of beard covering his face. He looked terrible, and his eyes grew dark with anger when he saw her.

Leonie said not a word, but finished what she was doing and left the room. Thorpe, sleeping in a chair by the hearth, woke when he heard the door closing. He approached the bed.

"So, you are back with us?"

"Where have I been?" The voice was very weak.

Thorpe smiled at his old friend.

"You came very close to dying."

Rolfe eyed him skeptically. "From a little arrow hole?"

"That little hole was stinking with disease. You had a very bad fever."

"Never mind that. What was she doing in here? Is this how you guard my back, by letting in the very one responsible—"

"Easy, Rolfe." Thorpe cut him short. "I do not think her guilty of this. I am sure she is not."

"I told you what I saw."

"Yes, and that was damning—but not conclusive," Thorpe told him obstinately.

"You defend her now? You wouldn't trust her at all before this. I don't wantto believe her capable of this, Thorpe. I believed I was making progress with her, and now this."

Thorpe shook his head. "You haven't had time to consider what happened without the pain of your wound clouding your thoughts.

Think well before you place the blame on her, because anyone could have fired that arrow. It could have been a man turned out from one of the keeps we won, or even someone from here for that matter. Did Pershwick ever attack with weapons before? Then would they do so now, when you have their lady firmly in your power?" He moved away a bit and eyed Rolfe carefully. "Do you know why she was against you before? Did you ever ask her about it?"

"What difference would it make?"

"Didyou, Rolfe?"

"No," he said curtly, "but I suppose you have learned why. Else why would you be badgering me like this?"

Thorpe grinned. "I see your mood is improving."

"Do you have something to tell me or not?"

Thorpe shook his head. "We were wrong about her, you know. And she has been misled about you. It is up to the two of you to work together to clear things up, Rolfe."

"Riddles, when I am lying here suffering." Rolfe sighed. "Where is that cursed leech anyway? My hip feels as though there's a fire in there."

"No doubt, after all you've been through. As to Odo, he left two nights ago, fearful of losing his thumbs."

"More riddles?" Rolfe said, exasperated.

"Your wife was very clear about what she would do to Odo if he caused you harm, and as it was Odo's incompetence that nearly killed you . . ."

"You keep telling me I was at death's door. With the leech gone, I suppose I have you to thank?" Thorpe was shaking his head emphatically. Rolfe's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "She used her knowledge to make me well? To help me again? Why did you not tell me that before? Why, Thorpe, I do believe the lady is beginning to care for me."

"I would not make too much of this," Thorpe said hastily. "She may have saved your miserable life, but I believe it is simply her way to help others if she can. Don't see more in it than you should. It will only cause you trouble later."

But Rolfe was not listening. He was delighted. He was ecstatic. She had come to care for him. Did that mean he would soon be able to make her love him? That question occupied Rolfe completely, until he fell into an exhausted sleep.

Chapter 26

LEONIE saw Erneis sneak out of the hall just as she entered it. For a long time she had tried to corner the Crewel steward, to talk with him about the accounts, but he was always in a rush to be somewhere, or else he could not be found. Why was he avoiding her?

She followed the little man outside the hall, stopping him just before he could disappear into the stable. "A moment of your time, Master Erneis." He stopped, turning around as slowly as he could, making no effort to hide his reluctance to speak with her.

"Master Erneis, you were steward for Sir Edmond, were you not?"

"For several years, my lady," he said, a little surprised by the question.

"Do you find the new lord of Crewel a hard master in comparison?"

Leonie asked agreeably.

"No, indeed, my lady. Of course, Sir Edmond was much more . . . my lord Rolfe is very seldom here . . ."