"What… is it?" he demanded, pushing Ealdraed's gnarled hand with the goblet away.
She must not worry him, Wynne thought, and then said, "I am debating the best method of treatment, my lord."
He saw the worry in her eyes, quickly masked from him, but pressed her no further. She would do her best for him, and if it was God's will that he not survive, then no amount of praying and hoping would change this.
"Drink the wine, my love," she counseled him. "There are eggs and strengthening herbs beaten into it. I must reassure your son before I begin my work." Bending, Wynne kissed his brow and then moved from the dais down the hall to where Caddaric and Eadgyth stood.
"Will he live?" Caddaric asked bluntly.
"I do not know," Wynne answered honestly. "There are three wounds, two quite deep, but they at least have stopped bleeding. The third wound just pricked an artery. It is not open enough for me to sew up, and I have not the skill to open it farther, that I may sew it up. I will try to stop the bleeding another way."
"If you cannot," Caddaric said, "then he will die. Is that what you are saying, Welsh woman?"
"Aye," she answered, and her green eyes filled with tears.
"Then you will be mine," he answered her cruelly, and Eadgyth gasped, shocked by her husband's brutal words.
"Never!" Wynne answered fiercely, and turning away from them, went back to her patient.
"Oh, Caddaric," Eadgyth half wept, "how can you voice such thoughts aloud, and your father on his deathbed?"
He led her to a bench by the fire pit and together they sat down. Eadgyth's blue eyes were fraught with her concern, but her husband put gentle fingers to her lips to stay her further words.
"She can give me a child, Eadgyth," he said in low, desperate tones. "I know that she can! As long as my father lived, I had no choice but to accept her status as his wife, but soon my father will be dead. Wynne will be mine to do with as I please." His eyes glittered with his anticipation.
"If God wills that your father dies," Eadgyth said in equally low tones, and she pushed his hand from her lips, "Wynne will be his widow and should be honored as such. Is that how you would honor her? By forcing her to your will? Oh, Caddaric! Never would I have suspected such dishonor in you."
"The Welsh woman was brought as a slave into this house. As such, she is a part of my inheritance and mine to do with as I choose!" he answered fiercely.
"Your father freed Wynne from her slavery, publicly, in this hall before us all!" Eadgyth cried softly. "She is your stepmother, and what you suggest amounts to incest! 'Tis a sin of the worst sort, my husband. Do not do it, Caddaric, I beg of you! We will find you a new and beautiful young concubine from a family of proven breeders; but not Wynne!"
"I do not want any other," he said obdurately. "Only her!"
Eadgyth's look was one of pity mixed with repulsion. "I will pray for you, my husband," she said helplessly. "There is little else I can do to aid you if you persist upon this course."
Wynne would not allow Eadwine to be moved from the hall. The servants lifted him gently up to lay a pallet beneath him, that he might be more comfortable. Wynne bathed, cauterized, and treated his wounds with all of the skill at her command. The larger of the wounds, though ugly, would heal easily if she could keep them free of putrefaction. The smaller, more dangerous wound, however, she was having difficulty with, for she could not seem to stop the slow bleeding. Several times by means of pressure she managed to stem the flow of the blood, but once the pressure was removed, the wound opened seemingly of its own accord and began seeping Eadwine's life force away. Toward the middle of the night, Wynne crept into a dark corner of the hall and, for a few brief minutes, wept with desperation at the futility of her efforts. They needed a surgeon! She simply had not the skill to open the wound more fully and repair the damage done.
Eadwine Aethelhard drifted in and out of consciousness most of the night. Although he burned with fever, Wynne knew that it was just his body's way of fighting any infection attacking him. It was the loss of blood that was going to kill him. As the night ended, the thegn grew suddenly quite clearheaded for a brief time.
"Bring the family," he commanded Wynne, and she hurried about the hall waking them, for none had left them during the dark hours.
When they all stood about him, Eadwine said, "I am dying. I feel it. Caddaric, my son. You are my heir. Aelfdene is yours. I give you my blessing, but you must promise me this."
"Anything, Father!" Caddaric said, unable to conceal his eagerness to inherit.
A small bitter smile touched the thegn's mouth, and he continued, visibly weaker now. "Be good to Eadgyth. To your… women."
"I will, Father."
"Swear you will honor and protect your baby sister, Averel, my son."
"I swear it, Father! I will guard my sister with my life, and see she is well wed one day," Caddaric vowed, and in this he was quite sincere, for he had no malice toward the little girl.
"And Arvel too! I… have made him… mine."
"The boy will not suffer at my hands, Father," Caddaric said, perhaps a bit more evasively. No, Arvel would not suffer unless his mother proved uncooperative, which Caddaric knew she would not if the child's safety were in question. Wynne was above all else a good mother, and Arvel would be held hostage to his mother's behavior.
"Wynne!" Eadwine croaked, his voice beginning to grow weaker.
"I am here, my love," she said, bending to make it easier for him.
"I never loved any but… you, my wild… Welsh… girl," he told her. "No other. "
"Eadwine," she half moaned, "I cannot bear that this should be! I have been trained my life long to save lives, but I have not the skills of a surgeon. Forgive me!"
He smiled and nodded weakly. "I do."
"I love you," Wynne told him. "In the beginning I could not, but I came to it. How could I not love you? You are the kindest, the best man I have ever known!"
"Better than the… other?" he asked softly.
"Aye!" she answered quickly, and he smiled again, knowing she lied, but the very lie assuring him that she did indeed love him at least as well as she loved her prince.
The thegn spoke again. "Caddaric, my son!"
"Aye, Father?"
"Swear to me that you will honor, respect, and protect my wife and my widow. Swear you will watch over Wynne!" It took almost the last of his strength.
Caddaric Aethelmaere looked down at his dying father. The life was fading swiftly from his eyes. But a moment or two longer, he thought dispassionately.
A sudden and horrible realization sprang Onto the thegn's face. Reaching out with a surprisingly strong hand, he grasped his son by the arm. "Swear!" he croaked, trying to keep the desperation from his voice as his very life ebbed to a close. "Swear!"
"Caddaric, my husband, in the name of God, I beg you to swear," Eadgyth Crookback pleaded.
"My lord! My lord!" His four lesser women were clustering about him, clutching at his sleeves with irritating fingers. He shook them off.
"Swear!" Eadwine Aethelhard's voice had sunk to a whisper, but still they all heard the word plainly said.
Caddaric Aethelmaere's cold eyes met those of Wynne's even as the death rattle sounded in Eadwine Aethelhard's throat.