Chapter Seven #5
Isobeau’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer before closing her eyes, turning her head away.
“It was not terrible pain,” she murmured.
“My back ached all during our journey from Alnwick but I assumed it was the fact that I was on a horse from sunrise to sunset. It was nothing odd. But then… right after the earl brought me to rest, I had terrible pains in my stomach and then there was blood. I do not feel much pain anymore.”
Atticus didn’t know what else to say. He was utterly devastated, now because he had failed to protect Titus’ child.
He had forced Isobeau into a difficult trip, knowing her delicate condition, and now he was seeing the results of his bad decision.
He should have left her at Alnwick but he knew, in the same breath, that leaving her behind had never been an option.
The loss of the child was one more shattering incident in a string of days that had seen many such things.
For a man who had known only success and fortune in his life, the series of setbacks had left him reeling.
He felt as if he were no longer on solid ground, a very bad sensation when he planned to face off against the two skilled knights who had murdered his brother.
He felt unsteady and unsure. But perhaps there was more to life than this vengeance he harbored; he was starting to see that there was.
There was his father, his friends, and even Isobeau…
but he would not go back on his vow. He had a promise to fulfill and he would see it through or die trying. There was no alternative.
Thoughts of vengeance faded, however, as he gazed down at Isobeau’s face.
She was his priority at the moment and he was rather chagrinned that it had taken a health scare of this magnitude for him to realize that.
For days, the woman had essentially been an afterthought.
His priorities, his focus, had been elsewhere.
But that situation was something he intended to change.
There was nothing more he could do until the physic arrived, so he pulled up a chair next to the bed where Isobeau lay dozing.
He felt so utterly helpless and sad. Isobeau’s hand, limp and lifeless, was lingering by the end of the bed.
Atticus stared at it for some time before reaching out to gently collect it.
Perhaps it was to comfort her, or perhaps it was even to comfort himself.
For whatever the reason, Atticus sat there, holding her hand, for the rest of the morning until a tall, skinny man with a satchel in his hand arrived under Kenton’s escort.
Atticus jumped up when the man entered the chamber, describing what the lady’s issue was.
After checking the man to make sure he had no weapons on his body, and even rummaging through the satchel he was carrying to see what was inside, Atticus allowed the man access to Isobeau.
When the physic went to work, Atticus moved away from the bed, standing over near the chamber door.
He wanted to afford Isobeau some privacy.
When the physic helped her to sit up so he could remove her clothing, he left the room completely.
Standing in the corridor outside his father’s room, the very room he had been born in those years ago, he thought it was a rather fitting place for Titus’ son to know his end.
So much life and death had happened in that chamber.
Feeling depressed and hollow, he stood against the wall, just next to the door, straining to catch wind of what was going on inside.
He couldn’t hear any sounds at all. Kenton was standing across from him, next to a small lancet window that allowed ventilation and light into the corridor, and he turned his attention to the man.
“Where did you find the physic?” Atticus asked.
Kenton drew in a long, deep breath, the sign of an exhausted man.
“In Hawick,” he said. “He is the same physic that tends your father. The man’s wife and mother are following behind in a wagon; they should be here shortly.
I thought you might feel more comfortable with womenfolk to tend Lady de Wolfe because, God knows, there are only men at this place. ”
Atticus appreciated the foresight. “Indeed,” he replied. “Thank you for your consideration of Lady de Wolfe’s needs.”
Kenton eyed him. “What is the matter with her?”
Atticus looked up at him, an expression of sorrow on his face. He wasn’t sure how to delicately phrase the issue so he simply came out with the truth.
“I suspect the lady is no longer with child,” he said quietly, lowering his gaze.
Kenton simply nodded, averting his eyes and looking at his boots much as Atticus was. “If that is true, then I am very sorry for you,” he said quietly. “But I am sorrier for Lady de Wolfe. First Titus, now her child.”
Atticus sighed heavily, reflecting on what Isobeau was being forced to endure. “I promised my brother I would take care of her,” he said. “I do not seem to be doing a very good job of it.”
Kenton glanced at him. “You did not cause this,” he said. “Whatever has happened is the Will of God. You must have faith that everything happens as it should, and in the end, everything is as it should be.”
Atticus grunted. “I am not particularly fond of God’s Will at the moment,” he said. “So much has happened that I feel as if I am sliding into a pit and have yet to see the bottom. I pray our misfortunes end at some point and we hit bottom. I should like to come up again.”
Kenton understood. “You shall,” he said.
“Sometimes it takes a bottomless pit for us to appreciate the view from the top. In any case, Lady de Wolfe will be in good hands. There is nothing more you can do for her. In fact, I would suggest you return to the chapel and relieve Thetford of the duty of watching over your father. They have been there all morning.”
Atticus knew that. He didn’t particularly want to leave Isobeau, as he was anxious for news of her condition, but he knew at some point he was going to have to see to his father.
“Has the priest arrived for the burial mass?” he asked.
Kenton nodded. “I saw him when I returned with the physic.”
Atticus processed the information. “Then with the priest here, we would do well to bury Titus right away,” he said.
“I will speak with my father about it. In fact, I will insist. Meanwhile, you will remain here in case the physic needs anything. Send word to me as soon as the physic finishes his examination. I would like to know of Lady de Wolfe’s condition. ”
Kenton waved him off and Atticus headed down the low-ceilinged corridor en route to Wolfe’s Lair’s small chapel and his father.
Kenton watched the man go; he swore he could see a cloud of doom and sorrow hanging over Atticus, a very unusual thing, indeed.
As Atticus had said, much misfortune had befallen them since that terrible day on the battlefield of Towton.
The Lion of the North, a mighty and fearsome man, was suffering through some damnable luck at the moment. But Kenton knew, as did everyone else who knew Atticus de Wolfe, that a spell of bad fortune could not cripple The Lion.
If anything, he would emerge stronger than before. It was just a hunch Kenton had.