Ekhart snorted. "You must come with me." He tugged her forward, leading her into the drawing room. Her husband stood before the fire, pacing. Jacqueline sat in a chair nearby, examining her henna-red nails, They looked up. Donskoy's face was a pale mask of anxiety. Jacqueline smiled with a trace of smug amusement.
"Your wife," announced Ekhart simply, "has been retrieved."
"Zounds," said Jacqueline. "What happened to her hair? Mot such a pretty head now. And her skin is positively green. Poor Marguerite, is it the fever? I hope it isn't catching. Where on earth have you been, dear? We've all been worried absolutely to death."
As Jacqueline prattled on, Donskoy's stare burned into Marguerite. His anxiety quickly gave way to rage, coloring his cheeks a stormy purple. "Well?" he demanded. "What have you to say?".
His anger struck Marguerite like a club. "I must beg your forgiveness," she said meekly, curtsying so deeply that she slumped to her knee with exhaustion.
When no one moved to assist her, she struggled back to her feet. "I have made a mistake. It will not be repeated."
"A mistake?" said Jacqueline coyly. "Which mistake might that be? Where have you been?"
"I followed you," she said.
"So now I suppose you pick locks," boomed Donskoy.
"Well it's not that difficult after all," said Jacqueline, "though it surprises me that she could manage it."
Marguerite continued, "No. I discovered a tunnel attached to my chamber. I was curious as to where it led. And later, seeing you gone, I followed. I did not mean any harm." She regretted having mentioned the passage, but she did not want to suggest that Yelena had forgotten to lock the door.
"No harm?" Donskoy boomed. "No harm?" He strode toward Marguerite and took hold of her arm, forcing her to her knees. "You are carrying my son, you little wretch. It doesn't matter what you do to yourself, but as you are with child, I expect you to behave accordingly."I He raised his hand. His open palm hovered like a threat over her head.
Marguerite gasped and struggled for the words with which she might defend herself. "The child," she whispered.
Donskoy's expression softened for an instant, then his mouth twisted in a malevolent sneer. "Then I must aim for your face to teach you a lesson."
"Tut. What a pity," Jacqueline chirped.
Zosia swept into the room, Yelena in tow. "Lord Donskoy!" the old woman snapped.
He turned to face her.
"Think of the child!" Zosia continued. "You should have summoned me as soon as Ekhart returned. Can you not see that the girl is ill? If you value your son, you will leave her to me now."
Donskoy released Marguerite, then turned aside. "Take her," he said sullenly. "Take this mongrel out of my sight."
Jacqueline gasped. "Milos. Are you going to let a servant dictate your behavior?"
Donskoy turned his anger on her. "Hold your tongue, Jacqueline. You forget your own place. The drama with my wife has ended."
Yelena and Zosia pulled Marguerite to her feet, then helped her from the room.
In Marguerite's own chamber, they worked swiftly to remove her clothes and put her into the bed. Zosia placed her hand on Marguerite's forehead, and then on her stomach. She frowned.
"Too hot," Zosia said. "Too hot. You are burning with fever." The old woman turned to Yelena. "Get the herbs-the ones I mixed this afternoon. Bring them to me now.B
Yelena scuttled out of the room.
Marguerite turned to Zosia. "Ramus," she murmured. "Ramus said-"
"Shhhh," whispered Zosia. "Do not speak child. And do not mention that name again."
Marguerite allowed her eyes to close.
"Look at me, child." She took Marguerite's chin and shook it. "Look at me and listen. Do not speak of what occurred last night. Do not mention it again, do not think of it again. Do you understand?"
Marguerite nodded feebly. "But how do you know?" she rasped. "You couldn't know it all …" Her mouth had become a desiccated hollow with a thick, limp tongue, making it difficult to speak.
Zosia placed two pale, bony fingers on Marguerite's lips, which were now rimmed with white. "Shoosh. Do not mention it again," the crone murmured. "Not again."
Yeiena returned with the herbs in a small pewter mug, and doused them with hot water from the fire.
Zosia lifted Marguerite's head and pressed the cup to her lips. "Drink," she commanded. "You are very sick, Marguerite. You must rest."
Marguerite swallowed something bitter and hot, then Zosia's crinkled, dark-eyed face faded from view.
*****
She awoke in a fog of confusion. Donskoy sat before the fire in her chamber, smoking his white pipe as he gazed sullenly into the flames. Immediately, Marguerite let her lids sink low, so that he would not know she was conscious. Sleep, or its illusion, might shelter her a little longer.
A knock came at the door, and Marguerite heard it open. She did not turn her head to look. She heard a soft rustle and muffled footsteps, and then a woman spoke.
"How is the patient?" It was Jacqueline.
"Still unconscious, thanks to you. But Zosia says she will recover in time. She heals as she sleeps."
"Thanks to me? How could this possibly be my doing, Milos?"
"She saw you at the rim. She was babbling about it in her sleep."
Marguerite clenched her fists under the sheet. She hoped she hadn't babbled about anything else. She closed her eyes hard and listened.
"Then she must have seen you as well, my friend," Jacqueline quipped. "And your associates, And Ekhart and Ljubo. . I hardly acted alone or without your consent."
"True enough. But it was the shock of your actions in particular that drove her into the forest. Ekhart saw her. After you beheaded that girl, Marguerite raced into the woods like a panicked fawn. We could have lost her to the mists forever."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. She couldn't get far. And if she ran headlong into the fog she would have drifted back soon enough. A little worse for wear, perhaps-"
"E am not amused, Jacqueline. Mot in the least."
"Forgive me, Milos. I meant no offense."
"My own child is in her belly."
"So you believe Zosia? That she carries your son?"
"I know it."
"['m glad for you, my friend. Truly I am."
"Indeed."
"No, I mean it sincerely. This is what you've hoped for, after all. But it doesn't mean that you and I can't share a few dreams, too, does it?"
"You dream only of one thing-finding your own head."
Marguerite let out an involuntary moan. For a moment, her visitors were silent.
After a time, Jacqueline continued, "Well, wouldn't you do the same, if you could track down the one thing that made you vulnerable? But that Isn't all I desire, Donskoy. You know it is not. I seek your contentment as well. And I could assist you much more- if only you would allow it, if only you would trust me just a little."
Donskoy grunted.
Marguerite turned her head, ever so slowly, to free her ear from the pillow. But she dared not open her eyes.
"For decades I have proved my unswerving affection and loyalty to you," Jacqueline continued.
"Indeed," replied Donskoy. "You have provided a welcome diversion. I suppose I do owe you a debt of gratitude on that account."
"And you could thank me, Milos, by giving me the ledger, and the services of twenty of your best men."
"No. Gather your own henchmen if you wish; it is within your capacity."