Chapter Fifteen
Septentrion Castle
They thought it best not to move him.
Gage lay in his old bedchamber at Septentrion, on the remains of the bed he’d slept in for many years. Under Boothe’s rule, the bed had been left to rot and pieces of it had been taken away for firewood, so Gage lay on a mattress on the floor with the remains of his bed around him.
At the moment, he wasn’t in a good way.
The wound itself had been deep, carving through his neck and shoulder, nicking a lung.
He’d been having difficulty breathing since it happened several days ago, but he seemed to be well enough, considering.
He was lucid though breathless from the nicked lung and he was able to sit up or even stand.
Brian had brought his surgeon to Septentrion, a skilled healer who wasn’t much of a battle surgeon, but he did well with illnesses.
Brian’s arm was well on its way to healing after being nicked by a bolt and there were a few others, mostly Varro’s men, who had been injured in the battle at Septentrion, but miraculously, no one had been killed.
Boothe’s men, however, were another story – there were almost fifty dead, mostly at the gatehouse and in the troop house that had been set on fire, but the rest had fled the day of the battle.
There were only a few that remained behind and Gage had recognized those men as long-time de Reyne men, including a few who had been in on his ambush the day he’d been banished from Septentrion.
With his blessing, Brian let them remain.
But all of that hope with Gage’s injury, hope that it wasn’t as bad as it had initially looked, began to wane three days later.
Gage developed a small fever, something the healer watched carefully, something he seemed to be able to tolerate from the third to the fourth day.
On the fifth day, it grew worse and during the night from the fifth to the sixth day, it became critical.
Overnight, Gage developed a raging fever and was unable to move his arm as the poison in the wound blossomed.
This was what they had all feared.
The healer brewed a willow bark potion to keep the fever at bay, but he also began fermenting something he called rotten tea.
It was something he’d picked up from the man he’d apprenticed with, an old and wizened physic who had treatises from the Holy Land.
A piece of bread was allowed to mold and then steeped in hot water for days until a blue fungus grew.
It was then strained and the person with the sickness drank it.
Somehow, that blue fungus had miraculous properties that could abate the poison and the healer was hoping that would be the case with Gage, for the man’s fever was quite high.
The next morning, he was no better and the healer was coming to think his time on earth was limited.
Though Gage was strong physically, no man could hold out for long against such a high fever.
Decisions would soon have to be made.
At dawn, Brian and Clark stood in the doorway of Gage’s chamber, watching the man sleep listlessly on the lumpy mattress they’d managed to scrounge for him.
His fever was raging and his body was weakening no matter how hard the physic worked, and he was working very hard.
They watched as the old man with the stringy gray hair woke Gage to force him to drink more rotten tea before draining the poison out of his shoulder wound and scraping away any debris.
It was excruciating for Gage, but the man never uttered a sound.
Brian finally stepped into the chamber.
“How does he fare this morning?” he asked.
The physic looked up at him. “No better, my lord,” he said. “He cannot continue this way for much longer.”
“Should I send for the priest?”
“Nay,” Gage responded, weakly, his eyes opening as he rolled his head in Brian’s direction. “No priest.”
“It might bring you comfort, Gage,” Brian said softly.
Gage grunted, a low and throaty sound. “Nay,” he said again. “Send the physic away. I must speak with you.”
The physic looked at Brian, who tilted his head towards the door. The old man shuffled out and Clark shut the door after him, leaving Brian alone with Gage.
There was a tense stillness in that moment.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another as Brian waited for Gage to speak.
Since the moment the bolt plowed into Gage’s body, there had never been any talk of death.
Knights faced death on a daily basis and when one of their kind was injured, there was always hope until such hope simply wasn’t possible. At the moment, they still had hope.
No one was ready to give up.
“I do not believe you will be passing any time soon,” Brian finally said. “You are too strong, Gage. It is not your time.”
Gage gazed up at him, his eyes unnaturally bright within his pale face. “Where is Varro?” he asked. “Has he left?”
Brian shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “But they are prepared to leave today. Varro will be up to see you in a few moments. They would like to remain, but they cannot spare the time to sit and be idle. Time is money in El Vibora’s world, or so I am told.”
Gage nodded, closing his eyes briefly as he did so. “I know,” he said weakly. “I am surprised they stayed this long. The task is over with. There is no need to linger.”
“True,” Brian said. “They were well paid for this, including what spoils they could carry, which really only amounted to some fine horses in the stables. Still, they took them. Varro has a white stallion he’s enamored with.”
Again, Gage nodded faintly. Then, he slowly extended a hand to Brian.
It was a surprising gesture, but given how sick the man was, it was also a desperate and poignant one.
Realizing this, Brian knelt down beside him and took his hand firmly.
That warm human contact meant something, not as the competitors for Wynter’s hand.
As knight to knight.
It was a powerful moment.
“I have a confession to make,” Gage said as a lone tear trickled from his right eye and down his temple.
Brian’s brow furrowed. “What confession?”
Gage took a slow, deep breath. “I lied to you,” he said, squeezing the man’s hand. “About Lady Wynter. I lied to you and I must beg your forgiveness.”
Brian had already known that Gage had lied when he’d questioned him about his intentions towards Wynter, but he found it rather touching that Gage should be worried about it at this crucial time.
Instead of thinking of his health, his future, he was worried about an offense he’d committed.
Something he could have easily taken to the grave with him should it come to that.
To Brian, that showed him the strength of Gage’s character, the mercenary who still had the soul of a knight.
He squeezed Gage’s hand in return.
“You had it the moment the words came forth,” he said. “You needn’t worry over it, Gage. I know that Lady Wynter loves you. I have always known.”
Gage started to weep, tears streaming from his eyes. “I am sorry, Brian,” he said. “Sorry I lied to you, sorry my phantom has come between you and the woman you wish to marry. If it matters, that was never my intention. I would have never knowingly hurt you.”
Because Gage was weeping, Brian was starting to feel a lump in his throat. The man was clearly not in his right mind, the usually cold knight having lost the ability to control his emotions. The fever and general weakness had seen to that.
“I know,” he said. “We are knights, you and I. We are men of honor. I know you would not do anything deliberate to hurt me.”
“My brother has done enough to you,” Gage said.
“You did not need me compounding the offenses, so I am sorry I did not answer you directly when you asked me about Wynter. To be honest, I did not feel it was the time for such things. We were heading into battle and that was where our focus needed to be. But now that it is over, I can tell you the truth if you still wish to hear it.”
Brian could see how torn up he was. “You needn’t worry over anything right now,” he said. “You must rest if you are to get well and then we can discuss it when you are feeling better.”
“Nay,” Gage said with more strength than he felt. “I will discuss it now. I may not have the ability later. You see, when I was a young man and Wynter was following me everywhere, I used to call her my little sister. Did you know that?”
Brian shook his head. “I did not.”
Gage’s grip on his hand tightened. “She was my shadow,” he said. “I would be with my horse and look up to see her standing in the shadows. Or, I would be pissing in the garderobe only to hear her giggling somewhere behind me, hiding. She was an abominable pest.”
Brian fought off a grin. “I have not seen that side of her, much to my regret.”
Gage snorted. He was starting to shiver because of the fever, his jaw trembling as he spoke.
“You would have done what I did,” he said.
“I ran from her every chance I had, but there were moments when I did not run from her. I would take her out to the fields to ride her pony and wonder at the unbridled joy on her face as she did so. I could not fathom such joy. Or her father would ask me to play a game of Tiles with her in the great hall after sup, and we would sit by the fire and play the game. She was so very smart and I know she allowed me to win more than once. It wasn’t until later that I realized what a generous heart she had. ”
Brian wasn’t sure how he felt about Gage speaking so about the woman he loved, realizing he had to fight down some jealousy. But he continued to hold the man’s hand tightly.
“What else do you remember?” he asked.