Chapter Eleven #5
Emllyn watched him curiously as he rummaged about.
The serving girl returned with a crystal decanter of wine and two fine cups, and she set it upon the table next to the bed.
Merradoc downed two cups in swift succession before removing a bladder from his satchel, popping open the plugged top, and pouring the dark contents into an empty glass.
He filled it about half full before sealing up the bladder and lifting the cup to Emllyn.
“You will drink this,” he said.
Emllyn wasn’t so apt to take it after he’d tricked her with the licorice root. “What is it?”
“Rotten tea,” the physic replied. “You must drink it three times a day for the next five days. It will cure the poison in your leg and heal you completely.”
Dubious, Emllyn peered at the dark liquid but when she went to smell it, the stench nearly knocked her over.
“God’s Blood,” she hissed, pinching her nose. “What is this terrible stuff?”
Merradoc had no time for her foolishness. “I told you, silly goat,” he said brusquely. “Rotten tea. It will cure you. Do you want to live?”
“Of course, I do, but….”
“Drink it!”
He nearly roared at her and, fearful, Emllyn instinctively downed the tea in one big gulp.
It was horrible and she nearly vomited it up back up again but the physic handed her a glass of the fine wine, ordering her to drink it immediately, and she did.
It killed most of the terrible taste, but not completely.
She burped and the taste came up again. She almost gagged.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, hand at her throat and an awful expression on her face. “What is that made from?”
Merradoc shrugged as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “Bread is rotted until it grows green fuzz, and then the bread is put into water and kept warm for days on end. It creates a liquid that cures almost anything.”
Emllyn exposed her tongue as if the air would dry away the awful taste. “If that potion does not kill me, I will surely be surprised.”
Merradoc set the bladder with the rotten tea in it on the table next to the bed.
“I would not worry over the taste,” he said.
“If we do not cure the poison in your leg, you could lose it. Is that what you want? To be a one-legged maiden? No man will want you then because you will be both freakish and revolting.”
Emllyn looked at the man, horrified and disgusted. “By God, man, you surely speak your mind in crude and ghastly ways,” she said. “Have you never been told this?”
Merradoc fought off a grin. “All of the time,” he said. “But they need me around here so I can say what I please. If you do not like it, then do not drink my potion and I shall have to cut your leg off. I shall make it extra painful, too, to teach you a lesson.”
Emllyn could see he was trying to get a rise out of her and she refused to give it to him. He was, in truth, rather humorous; or at least he would have been had he not been saying those hateful things to her. To another, it would have been great fun.
“I will not give you the satisfaction,” she declared. “I will heal and you’ll not take a knife to me, you bloodsucker. Leave this room before I slap your face.”
Merradoc let out a crow of laughter. “My lady, I retreat in terror,” he said, throwing up his hands.
Then he poured himself another cup of wine and downed it in one swallow before collecting his satchel.
“Mayhap you will overcome your violent tendencies by the time I return later tonight to see how you are faring. It will be another opportunity for me to shove more of that terrible brew down your throat.”
She scowled at him. “And I’ll not give you the satisfaction for that, either,” she said. “I will drink the potion before you come so you shall not see me suffer. You shall get no more gratification out of me, wicked man.”
Merradoc laughed all of the way to the door. He put his hand on the latch. “I do hope you survive this, my lady,” he said. “I rather like you.”
“Well, I don’t like you!”
He howled with laughter as he quit the room.
Emllyn could hear him laughing as he descended the stairs and it made her grin.
She had to admit that she was looking forward to his return, if only for the entertainment it brought.
Now that she understood him a little, it would make conversations with him much more interesting.
Once the laughter was gone, she sat upon the bed and finished off what was left of the wine.
The serving wench remained crouched by the hearth, keeping the fire stoked and boiling water in a small iron pot over the fire.
She was also doing something else, which actually looked like baking, but Emllyn couldn’t tell.
In truth, she wasn’t much interested because it occurred to her that Elyse had not yet arrived with Devlin. His retrieval was taking some time.
As the night deepened and still no Devlin, Emllyn began to seriously worry.
She had no idea what would be keeping both Elyse and Devlin unless something terrible had happened.
Not knowing the layout of the castle or even the town, it wasn’t as if she could go out looking for them.
She would have no idea where to look. Furthermore, she suspected she wouldn’t get very far on her bad leg.
Therefore, there was nothing left to do but wait.
… and wait….