Heart of a Lion 3/7 : Last Chance (Part II)

by imperialvirtue

Autumn 379. A sequence of events from Bascombe Keep, Astolat – told in many tales.

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Geraint snapped awake as a small sound penetrated the fog about his brain – his name, spoken very softly. He blinked. Had he fallen asleep? How much time had passed?

“I’m here,” he said gruffly, trying to focus.

“Geraint,” she said again, very softly. And in that moment he realised two things, almost simultaneously.

The first was that he did not think he had ever heard her say his name like that, bare of any title, as it was when he had first started out in life.
It terrified him – though suddenly not as much for what she had said as the way she had said it: very softly, on a gasp, as though she barely had the breath.

For it led to the second realisation: Heidi was dying.

Her breathing was very, very shallow, barely there; her skin was ashen and in her eyes, still bright with fever, he saw the effort it was taking to draw even such sparse breath.

“Heidi.” His tone held a warning. “Wait for Seren.”

A single, despairing note came from her lips – it was clear she could manage no more. A tear ran down her cheek.

“He’ll be here any moment,” he assured her, slipping off his chair and kneeling beside the bed. He folded down the nearest fur to get to her hand and enclosed it in both of his. It was freezing, despite the bedding; her fingers stiff in his, icy and barely responsive to his touch.
Like holding the hand of a corpse.

Her breath was rasping now, as though she could no longer get the air she needed.

“Please,” he said, throat tight. Tears blurred his vision even as fear gripped his heart with fingers as cold as the ones he held between his palms. “Just wait for Seren. Just like last time. All will be well.”

She looked at him for a long moment, pausing so long between breaths that he wondered whether she would take another.

Then, with an effort that showed in her pale face, she raised the hand that he was not gripping and gently brushed the moisture from his face, even as more spilled on to her fingers.
She smiled; and there was a tenderness in it that he had never seen in her before. It was as though she was saying goodbye.

“No.” Geraint snatched her other hand in his and steeled himself, drawing everything he had into the core of his being, knowing he had one chance to help her and one chance only. One last chance, just like the last time.

He tried not to remember that the last time he had taken such action the man he loved had died anyway. This was different. All would be well.

“No,” he repeated. “Heidi, look at me.”

Her eyes met his – he could see she was fading but still trying to hold on. Her grip on his was weakening by the second.

“I am your Earl,” he told her firmly. “You are a member of House Cordraco – you cannot go while we have need of you. We have a dragon to slay and two men to avenge. We have a name to make. We have a house to form. I need you there, with me, however you are with me. Stay with me.”

It was, as it had been last time, like being kicked in the chest by an ox. He closed his eyes as the surge went through him, propelled almost physically into her body.

There was a second of nothing.
Then he heard her take a deep, gasping breath.
He opened his eyes.

Heidi was looking back at him, dazed.

Exhausted, Geraint slumped to the floor beside the bed, back against the wall, his hand still in hers. There were more tears on his face – but he lacked the strength even to brush them aside.

Above him, Heidi’s breathing was slightly easier, though her flesh no cooler.
He did not know how long it would last. He had to hope he had bought them enough time.

He sat there for what seemed like hours, steeped in regret, holding her hand and feeling every pained breath as though it came from his own chest.

Until at last, when he had almost lost hope, the sound of swift footsteps on the stairs brought him scrambling to his feet.

“Seren.”

The tall knight scowled at him as he entered, hands already at the square leather box pouch that he wore about his waist.

He moved to the bed, deftly examining Heidi, whose eyes opened momentarily, lids sluggish.

“What have you done to her, Geraint? I sent her to you less than a week ago – is this how you treat your yeomen? Did I not say she was to rest?”

“I…” Geraint was lost for words. “I sent for you as soon as I realised…”

“I was hunting,” Seren snapped. “It took them some time to find me. And in the meantime…” He threw the fur off her and pulled back the covers. “Are you trying to stifle her to death? Can you not see she is burning with fever?”

“She was cold…Her room was freezing. I was trying to keep her warm.”

Seren was shaking his head despairingly.”You have not an ounce of your sister’s intelligence,” snarled the older man. “And at this point I’m not going to stipulate which sister.”

Geraint gritted his teeth. “Say what you like,” he said quietly. “Just save her.”

“Go and fetch me some hot water for an infusion of willow-bark – and a bowl of cold water and cloths for bathing.” Seren had unclipped his pouch and was selecting herbs. “We need to break the fever. Then she may live.”

She may live. It did not sound as though he was certain at all.
Geraint tried to block the thought from his mind. He would bring water. He would follow instructions. All would be well.

The alternative was not one he could bring himself to consider.

*

A shaft of sunlight falling directly into his face woke Geraint. He was lying on his bed, face down, on top of one of Stefan’s furs. He turned his head to the other side and saw Heidi, covered lightly in blankets, sleeping on her back across from him.
Her breathing was more regular now, her skin less flushed.

He disentangled a hand from the bedding and laid the back of it gently across her cheek. At last, the fever had broken; her skin was warm to the touch but did not burn as it had before.

As he withdrew his arm, she opened her eyes; and for a moment, they just looked at each other, in the calm after all that had gone before.

Then, gradually, a dawning of what looked very like horror crept into her face.
Slowly, she sat up, looking around her, eyes widening. “Sweet virtues…”

He knew, of course, what she was thinking. “No,” he said hastily, also rising to a sitting position.

“My lord…?”

“No, Heidi.” He suppressed a grin at the look on her face. “I fell asleep. That is all.”

She nodded slowly, letting out her breath in a sigh of relief. “But…This is your bed…”

“What was I to do? Leave you in that freezing cupboard? I had no idea you lived like that.”

“Why would you, my lord?” Clearly exhausted even by this short exchange, she slumped back against the pillows.

“Well,” he said, shrugging. “I have ordered new quarters be prepared for you. The Castellan of Bascombe Keep needs a bed of her own, at least.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Two days.”

She repeated this wonderingly. “Earl Seren…I remember something…”

“He was here. He still is, somewhere. He tended to you.”

She looked closely at him, as if struggling to recall events through the mists of fever and despair. “And…you…tended to me, my lord.” She looked down at the bed, at the covers surrounding her. At her hands lying on the furs.

“I merely supervised, I assure you.”

Slowly, she nodded. It was clear that, though perplexed, she knew otherwise.

He wondered if she remembered the way she had laid her cheek against his chest, as if finally she had begun to trust him.
The way she had brushed the tears from his face when she was moments from death.

Her hand was at the lion pendant again now, playing idly with it, as though she was used to its presence.

“You are still wearing that?” he asked gruffly.

She frowned momentarily, then her fingers stilled upon it as she understood..
“I haven’t taken it off since you gave it to me.” She paused. “I…I told you that at the tea party – do you not remember? I…asked whether you wanted it back.”

Geraint could not think of anything he wanted less.
And he could not name the feeling in his chest when he looked at her, his personal sigil hanging heavily about her neck, chain lying against the red slash where he had almost ended her life.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?” he asked her; and he could not quite keep the edge out of his voice. “Did you not think I would give you time to rest?”

“You were….” She paused. “Things have been…different, since I got back…And…there was so much to do…”

“I was drunk? Is that what you are trying so hard not to say?”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He shook his head in disbelief. “And if I was? When have you ever needed permission to do anything, ever before? You do as you like to manage me, yet you cannot care for yourself? You almost died, Heidi!”

She shook her head wonderingly at this. “Again.”

Geraint gritted his teeth as the memory of his squire lying at his feet, covered in blood, rose up to meet him. “Again,” he said shortly.

She saw the pain in his face and it gave her pause. “My lord, I didn’t mean to…”

“It doesn’t matter.” He held up a hand, rings glinting in the sunlight. “I’ll ask Will to bring you some breakfast.”

Heidi threw him a puzzled look.

“What?” He frowned, relief and lack of sleep making him irritable. “You think I don’t know the names of my own servants?”

“I..”

“And there is to be no more of this…running around organising everything,” he added.”You are to follow Earl Seren’s instructions – I do not expect to see you out of bed for a fortnight.”

Heid looked at him levelly, something between disbelief, amusement and gratitude in her eyes. “The servants will talk, my lord, if I do not leave your bed for two weeks.”

He signed. “You will move to your own chamber, of course, when it is ready.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Breakfast, then.”

He reached the door, then turned, because he could not do otherwise.

“Who is Leah?”

Heidi’s eyes widened. “She..she was my lady…my mistress…when I lived with Lord Edward. I have…told you about her before, I think.”

He inclined his head slightly. “Hm. I had forgot her name.”

She was very still, watching him almost warily. “Why do you ask?”

“You were asking for her these last two nights.”

“Oh.” She dropped her eyes. “Was I?”

“Mm. At times.” He moved back into the room, watching her avoid his gaze. “You were in love with her?”

What colour there was in her face left it. “In…love with her, my lord?”

Geraint smiled. “I know you do not think much of my powers of observation, Heidi. But even I know that it means something when one person calls out the name of another in such circumstances.”

“I thought you said I asked for her?”

He shrugged. “It was a little more than that.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “Is it worth it? Love?”

“You’re not the first person to ask me that,” he said, trying to keep his voice light but knowing, after everything, she could see through him. “I’m beginning to think I’m not a very good advocate for it.”

She smiled slightly, still waiting for an answer.

Again, Geraint shrugged. “I don’t think I ever want to do it again,” he told her. “But I cannot say that I regret any part of it. And it is not something I would deny you, if you have a chance of finding it.”

“Myself and Lady Leah are best apart,” Heidi said softly.

Geraint nodded. “I was thinking, perhaps, that there may be a chance for you with someone else. I noticed that you spent much time with Magda at the party…”

Heidi looked down again, clasping her hands together as she took a deep breath.

“I think myself and Lady Magdelena are best apart, as well,” she said softly.

Geraint frowned. “She gave you earrings,” he said. “You were most pleased with them.”

“Yes.” It was so quiet as to almost be inaudible. A single tear ran down her face and the sight of it pulled oddly at Geraint, filling him with an ache that he did not understand.

“Then, why…?”

Just for a moment, she looked up at him – and the pain in her gaze was one he recognised.

“Please, my lord. Not today.”

Her tone was soft, but it spoke to him of disappointment and resignation, more so even that the tears on her cheeks. Whatever decision she had come to was against her own happiness; that was plain to see, even for him.

Her eyes said that she was not offended by his question, that she understood why he asked. That she would tell him, perhaps, when she was stronger.

But not today.

“Breakfast,” he said, and left her in peace.