Eleanor’s response was cut off when Hectare’s laugh morphed into an alarming cough. It racked the woman’s bird-like frame. Between them, Rachel and Eleanor raised the sister up. The old man hurried to the bedside and handed the queen a pewter cup. She placed it to Hectare’s cracked lips.
When she’d taken a couple of sips, her breath eased, though the map of wrinkles around her mouth remained a dusky color. “Thank you, kind physician. I wish we had more with your skills here.”
The man bowed. His clothes were plain. A clean, but patched, brown tunic. A conical yellow hat slumped on his head. As he approached, I saw Rachel’s honey eyes peer out of his leathery face. “I take it you are the friends of my Rachel, yes?” He gave a quick bow, speaking in a thick accent. “I wish you good eve. I am Aaron ben Yitzhak, and I owe you my thanks for helping my granddaughter. If I may ever be of service, you have but to ask.”
Even from our place near the foot of the bed, I could hear Sister Hectare’s labored breath. Without waiting for a response, Aaron hurried back to his concoctions.
“You shall not leave me.” Tears roughened Eleanor’s voice. “I am your queen, and I order you to stay.”
“Sweet child,” Hectare rasped. “Even someone with your strength cannot tell God when to call His children home. And why have me moved from my own chamber? All this”—her gnarled fingers flicked toward the animal skins covering the floor, the lush pastoral tapestries, the heaps of plush pillows behind her head—“seems rather like setting an old crow into a lark’s cage.”
Ignoring the comment, Eleanor settled her bulk on an embroidered chair next to the bed and swiped a hand beneath her eyes. “Nonsense. And besides, now you have room to receive your guests properly.”
The old woman’s gaze shifted in our direction. “Ah, the lost lambs who are so very, very far from their own pasture.”
A fierce urge overtook me, to fall sobbing at the little nun’s side and confess everything that lay so heavy on my heart. How I’d always been such a coward. How I’d disappointed my mother so many times, and how I was going to fail her yet again. How I was petrified for Collum. How I felt so small, and how badly I wanted just to forget everything and go home. A strangled sob escaped. Though I tried to stifle it, Sister Hectare’s gaze lit on me.
With a gesture, Hectare drew Eleanor close and whispered in her ear for a long time. When she was finished, the queen drew back, stunned. Her head pivoted incrementally toward us, her face gone moon pale.
As the queen stared at us in wonderment, Hectare whispered, “Yes. It is as I told you, child. And we must help them return to their rightful place.”
Chapter 33
“HOW CAN THIS BE?” ELEANOR WHISPERED.
The smile that crinkled Hectare’s craggy face was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. “The sisterhood knows many things, child.”
Eleanor stared hard at Hectare for a long time before she nodded.
“Rachel,” the queen called, though her voice sounded shaken. “I believe I hear boots in the hallway. That would be Captain Lucie, with word of the girls’ brother. Would you kindly allow him entry?”
Rachel’s hand tightened around a lump of coal. When she opened the door, the longing on her face was so plain, I wondered that no one else noticed. William Lucie stared down at her for a long time. Then, remembering himself, he hurried to present himself to his queen. He brought the smell of outdoors with him. Smoke and winter air.
“You found where the brother is kept?” Eleanor asked without preamble.
“Yes, Your Grace.” William bowed low to his queen, then turned to Phoebe and me. “The city watch took the prisoner to one of the lower cells. They will allow no visitors.”
Eleanor grimaced. “I wish I could assist, but even I cannot be seen supporting a thief who stole from the king.”
Next to me, I felt Phoebe bridle at the word “thief.” I reached for her hand, squeezing to keep her quiet as fear, sharp as shattered glass, raked my insides. When Eleanor and Hectare began speaking in low voices, I gestured William and Phoebe to a spot near the wall, so the queen couldn’t overhear.
“There’s no chance we can see him?” I asked William in a hushed voice.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Will—Captain Lucie?” Rachel joined us. “Are these the cells on the south wall, by chance? The ones with the window at ground level?”
William braced himself before he looked at Rachel. A charged moment passed between them as he stared into her eyes. “Yes. I believe so.”
“Mistress”—Rachel turned to me, excited—“I know of these cells. My cousin was held there before he died. There is a small, barred window where you may kneel down and speak with your brother.” She frowned then. “Though I doubt the guards would allow you access to the grounds.”