“He never awakened until now. Did you understand what he was saying?”
“No. But now that I think about it, perhaps he was speaking another language.”
The boy raised his brows. “No one around here knows how to speak other languages, only a few words of Latin or French. No one except some of the duke’s family.” His eyes fixed on her for the first time and his mouth fell open. “Oh. Begging your pardon, Lady Margaretha.” He bowed to her, his ears turning bright red.
“Nothing to pardon,” Margaretha said gently. “And thank you for being so kind as to bring the poor man to our healer. You saved his life, I am sure. Please inform the potter of my family’s gratitude.”
“Of course, my lady.” He bowed again, then took his mule and led him away, the cart wheels rattling over the cobblestones.
Margaretha turned back to the open doorway. Frau Lena was rummaging through a basket by the sick bed, while her patient lay motionless and quiet once again, his eyes closed.
Margaretha stepped inside, not sure what she intended to do. She’d never entered the healer’s chambers before, as Frau Lena always came to Margaretha’s own chamber when she was ill. She was certain her mother and father wouldn’t like her being here — she might see things a duke’s daughter ought not to see. But curiosity compelled her.
Frau Lena pulled a cloth from the basket and glanced up. “Lady Margaretha.” She seemed about to say something, then turned and dipped some water from the kettle over the fire in the fireplace into a bowl.
Margaretha took a deep breath, then said, “Please, Frau Lena, may I stay, only until I can see if the young man will recover?”
“Yes, you may stay and help me, if you wish. My apprentice has gone to the market and may not be back for a while.”
Margaretha stepped closer. “Oh, thank you, Frau Lena. I would like to help. The poor man looks as if he was beset by robbers and left for dead. What should I do? Do you think he will live?”
She was asking questions faster than Frau Lena could answer them. She literally bit her tongue to stop herself.
“I think he will live.” Frau Lena smiled as she handed Margaretha a wet cloth and the bowl of warm water. “Bathe his face with this while I make him a special herbal drink.”
Margaretha sat on a stool by the narrow bed and began gently washing his face, which was so dirty she had to continually rinse out her cloth. “What do you think is wrong with him?” she whispered.
“He has gone too long without water and food. He also has had a nasty blow to the head, which is probably affecting his mind.”
Frau Lena went inside the storage room and came back out with some flasks of herbs. She placed some of the dried leaves in a small, porous piece of cloth, brought the corners up and twisted it closed, tying it with thread. She then dropped the herb ball into a cup and poured hot water over it. Frau Lena had often made tea for Margaretha’s sicknesses and minor ailments in the same way.
The longer Margaretha leaned over the young man, cleaning the blood and dirt from his face, the more she noticed his features, his long, sooty-black eyelashes, and his thick black brows. She cleaned his square chin and stubbly jaw. His cheeks were hollow, but he had strong cheekbones.
After cleaning most of the dust and dirt from his face, she found the dried blood that was matted in his hair a bit harder to remove. She dabbed at it over and over with the wet cloth, but gently, trying not to cause him pain or wake him.
When Frau Lena turned away and went back into the storage room, Margaretha worked up enough courage to wipe the dust from the man’s poor, cracked lips.
She dipped the cloth into the pan of water and went back to work on his bloody hair. Slowly, the blood disappeared and she could see the deep gash extending from his hairline to about three inches into his hair.
He moaned and turned his head slightly, as if trying to get away from her ministrations. Margaretha drew back and looked to Frau Lena, who had reentered the room.
“Let me see if I can get him to drink a bit.”
Margaretha stood, and Frau Lena took her place on the stool at the young man’s shoulder. Frau Lena leaned over him and spoke gently. “Can you hear me?”
He didn’t move or speak, his eyes still closed.
Frau Lena slipped a hand under his head and lifted him while putting the cup to his lips.
Margaretha watched the steam rising from the cup. She hoped Frau Lena’s drink would rouse him. She was curious to know where he came from and who he was.
As Frau Lena let a bit of the drink dribble out onto his lips, his eyes flew open and he began to speak. At least, it seemed as though he was speaking, but his voice was hoarse and the sounds he was emitting seemed fragmented, as his voice was cracking. His eyes were wide and wild as he seemed to rant at Frau Lena. His manner matched the intensity in his bright blue eyes.