Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Blaze hurried from the king's presence up the steps of the private staircase that led to her bedchamber.

"Are we free to go?" Heartha asked as her mistress stepped through the door into the room.

"Aye! Are my traveling garments ready?"

Heartha offered her lady a jaundiced look as if to say: When did I not have everything in order when it was needed? Then she helped Blaze from her elegant court gown, and into a simpler traveling gown of mulberry-colored silk with a matching cloak that had a gold-and-garnet closure. As Blaze put the finishing touches on her toilet, her tiring woman finished the packing, and then ordered the palace maidservants to help her get the remaining luggage to her lady's coach.

"If you have attended to your own needs, Heartha, await me in the coach. I will be directly there."

"Very good, m'lady," responded Heartha as she herded the others from the apartment with their burdens.

Blaze walked slowly through the rooms that she had once inhabited as the king's mistress. There had not been time for a proper farewell when she had been wed to Anthony. Wherever she went, part of her would always be here at Greenwich, here in these rooms where she had shared so many hours with England's king. She looked out over the Thames River, wide here, and with a view of the royal shipyards across the water on the opposite bank. The Thames was so different from her beautiful and pastoral River Wye. It had a great vibrancy to it. It was the path that led to England's very heart, the city of London, and up its tidal waters the world sailed to pay its homage to Henry Tudor, the handsomest prince in Christendom.

She turned from the view with a soft sigh, her glance passing through the open door back into the bedchamber with its enormous bed. How many hours had she spent there entertaining the royal satyr with his voracious appetite for passion? God, how frightened she had been in the beginning, and then she had discovered that ancient truth known to all women since the beginning of time. She had learned that every man is simply a man; a creature with the desperate need for love and tenderness and reassurance. Men might love in different ways, but their need was always the same. Having learned that, she was no longer afraid.

"Do you relive the scene of your former triumphs, if indeed they may be called that, Lady Wyndham?" came Anne Boleyn's scornful young voice.

Blaze turned slowly to see the girl standing there, her graceful flowing sleeves skillfully concealing the sixth finger upon one of her long, beautiful hands. The finger was whispered by some to be a witch's mark, although no one would say such a thing aloud or publicly. "There is no triumph between lovers, Mistress Boleyn. What is between lovers is something equally shared, but you could not know that, could you, my dear?"

"I will never give myself lightly as did you and Bessie Blount and my foolish sister, who still weeps, when she thinks no one knows, for her great royal lover," spat Mistress Boleyn.

"Dear child—" began Blaze, but Anne Boleyn interrupted her.

"I am no child! I am nineteen, but two years your junior, my lady Wyndham."

"You are a child in the knowledge of love, Mistress Boleyn," Blaze said, "and you had best listen to what I have to say. I cannot speak for your sister or Lady Tailboys, but understand one thing. I did not give myself lightly to the king. I did not give myself to him at all. Hal has much good in him, but be careful how hard you drive him, for this king can also be a most ruthless man. I shall be blunt with you, Mistress Boleyn. The first time the king had me it was by force, not by consent. Oh, it is true that I had no precious maidenhead to protect, being a widow, but do not think that that will protect you if you push the royal stallion into too great a fit of heat."

Anne Boleyn's sallow complexion had paled. "You speak treason," she whispered.

"Nonsense." Blaze laughed. "I speak the truth, and if you are wise you will heed what I have said to you. Now, let me pass, Mistress Boleyn. My carriage awaits me, and I have a journey of several days before I will reach my beloved husband and children."

"When I am queen here," said Anne Boleyn, recovering her shock at Blaze's words, "you will not be welcome at court, my lady Wyndham."

"Nevertheless, Mistress Boleyn, be advised that I shall come whenever my lord, the king, calls me. I am the king's most loyal servant first and foremost. So I have told my husband, and so I tell you," Blaze said quietly. Then, brushing the slender girl aside, she moved past her out into the corridor.

As she exited the palace out into the courtyard, Heartha came hurrying forward, saying, "I was about to come and seek you, my lady. What has kept you so long? The horses are anxious in their harness. It is as if they know we are going home."

"A last-minute good-bye, Heartha," Blaze said, and climbed into her coach.

It was late May. The day was one of perfect and stunning beauty. The sun shone bright, and was warm upon the shining flanks of the horses. There was not a cloud to mar the pristine beauty of the blue sky. They rode with the carriage windows lowered, for although it was fair, the roads had had enough rain that spring not to be dusty yet. Upon the high box the Earl of Langford's coachman sat with his assistant, handling the reins for the four horses with great skill. They had an escort of ten armed riders, for a total of twelve men in case of an emergency.

The coach avoided the city of London, taking instead the western road. They traveled at a steady pace, and although Blaze was anxious to reach her home, she insisted that the horses be rested regularly during the day, for they had no extras should an animal be injured. By early afternoon of the first day Blaze was bored with sitting in the bouncing coach, and chose instead to ride her saddle horse, which was tied behind the vehicle. They stopped that night at The Red Rose, an excellent inn of good repute. Blaze was glad that she had so large an armed escort, for despite the inn's reputation as a safe place for a lady of good family and character to stop, it became necessary for the Countess of Langford's men to remove a drunken nobleman who, having seen Blaze when she arrived, was so taken by her beauty that he attempted to batter his way into her rooms.

The poor innkeeper was beside himself with dismay. "My lady, I cannot apologize enough," he said. "This is a respectable inn. The man was a stranger, and one cannot always tell, despite fine dressing and ready gold in the pocket. Please forgive this terrible incident!"

Blaze calmed him, more amused than annoyed. It was rather reassuring to one's ego to elicit that much passion on the part of a stranger with whom one had not even exchanged a single word or glance.

Heartha was outraged enough for them both. "Respectable inn! So says that fat toad of an innkeeper!" she fumed. "He should have known, for the man was surely drunk before he even arrived here, but our host, I fear, saw the gleam of his gold before he saw the disgraceful condition of that randy lordling who insulted you with his attentions!"

In midafternoon of the following day one of the carriage horses threw a shoe, and they were forced to slow their pace as they sought a village with a smithy. Heartha was quiet and unusually irritable by turns when they finally stopped. They were fortunate in that the little village in which they found themselves had a small, clean inn. It was only a country place, and rarely, if ever, did it see elegant visitors except in incidents similar to Blaze's own. It was called The Three Ducks, and indeed there were three ducks swimming in a pond behind the inn.

The landlord hurried forward on Blaze's arrival, wiping his worn hands upon his apron, and bowing. "Welcome, m‘lady. 'Tis a simple house I own, and I cannot offer you a private room, for alas, I have none. I've no other guests at the moment, the men being in the fields, so 'twill be private-like for your ladyship."

Blaze smiled, and the innkeeper was instantly her slave. "Have you some good cider?" she asked him. "I have a taste for cider. As for my men, give them what they wan to ease their thirst. The sun is warm today." She turned to her tiring woman. "Heartha? What will you have?"

"Brown ale," came the reply. "I've a terrible thirst, my lady. The coach is stuffy despite the open windows."

"Poor Heartha," Blaze sympathized as the innkeeper hurried off to bring their refreshments. "Knowing how you dislike riding, I did not bring a horse for you."

"Just as well," Heartha muttered. "Traveling offers one little choice when it comes to discomforts. I would as lief stay home, my lady."

"I do not think we will be doing much traveling when we return home," Blaze said with a smile. "I am of a mind to give Nyssa and wee Philip some brothers and sisters."

"And about time too," was Heartha's opinion.

The coach horse was reshod, and they were on their way once more. Blaze enjoyed riding in the warm late spring sunshine, for the countryside was particularly lovely. Everything seemed so very green, and although the orchards were past their blossoming now, the fields were bright with poppies and daisies and purple gorse that so resembled bell heather. On the edge of a stand of tall beeches Blaze spotted a clump of graceful pink foxglove with its spotted throat, and near some rocks she was certain she saw bright yellow rock-rose. The lambs in the fields were not quite so babyish-looking now, but there were new calves to be seen here and there, and an occasional colt kicking its heels for the pure joy of being alive.

Home. She was going home to RiversEdge. Home to Anthony. Home to the man she loved. She wanted to get there as quickly as possible so she might tell him that she loved him. How could she have been so foolish? So blind? So stubborn? She had borne his son, and she had never told him that she loved him. She hadn't even known it until the king had forced her to face the truth. Or had she? Had she known it deep within her secret heart all along, but just been too obstinate to admit it to herself, too self-willed to admit it to him? She had never thought herself a headstrong person, but then she had learned a great deal about herself over the last few years, and this divulgence was obviously just one more revelation.

Their stop at the blacksmith's had put them behind their schedule, and it was necessary to ride until just past dark, when they arrived at The King's Arms, the inn where they were to spend the night. Blaze dismounted her horse, and walked over to the coach, where one of her men was opening the door for Heartha, but when she did not appear, he looked into the carriage, only to recoil in horror.

"What is it?" Blaze demanded. "Where is Heartha?"

The man-at-arms could only point, and going to the coach, Blaze looked in to see her servant crumpled in a heap on the floor. She was alive, however, for Blaze could hear her raspy breathing.

"Get her out of there," Blaze commanded her men. "She is ill!"

"Nay, my lady, I'll not touch her! She's got the sweating sickness!" He slowly backed away to where the rest of the men stood.

"The sweating sickness!" A cold chill ran up Blaze's spine. "How do you know that? You are no physician!"

"Everybody knows what the sweating sickness looks like, my lady!'Twas just beginning at Greenwich when we left. Half the kitchen servants was down with it. I thought we got away in time." He crossed himself.

At that point the innkeeper came out from the inn to welcome them, but seeing the confusion, he stopped and inquired, "What is wrong?"

"I am the Countess of Langford," Blaze said. "You are expecting me. My servant is ill, and I will need to get her inside."

"Ill?" The innkeeper shifted from one foot to the other. "Ill with what, my lady? I runs a public house, and must be careful."

"She's got the sweating sickness!" babbled the frightened man-at-arms.

Blaze shot him a furious look.

"The sweating sickness?" Now the innkeeper began backing away. "Begging yer pardon, my lady, I cannot allow you on my premises. Yer whole party is suspect. You could infect us all. Get you gone!"

The captain of the men-at-arms moved swiftly forward and grabbed the innkeeper by his scrawny neck, lifting him up off the ground so that his feet just dangled. "We'll not trespass upon your inn, you maggot, but you'll see that her ladyship and the men are fed. That the horses are fed and watered. Only then will we be on our way. Do you understand me, you runt of a weasel?"

"I'll need a basin and clean clothes and cold water," said Blaze, recovering from her initial shock.

"You heard her ladyship," snarled the captain ferociously, and he released the innkeeper, who, nodding his head rapidly, ran back into his inn. The captain of the men-at-arms then came forward, and reaching into the coach, lifted the unconscious woman up and laid her out upon a seat. "You should not get too close to her, my lady. The sweating sickness is contagious."

"Then I have already been exposed, Captain," Blaze said. "Who is closer to Heartha than I am? I will nurse her, but how can we get home quickly? No one will allow us to stop and rest, and the horses cannot be run without rest."

"I'll find us shelter, my lady, never fear," came the strong reply. "In the morning I will send two men to RiversEdge for help. It will take them a day to get there, and it will take another day for help to reach us, but it will."

"Send that fool with the loose tongue," Blaze ordered, "and when we get home, send him back to the fields."

The captain nodded. "Indeed, my lady, he did not react well under duress, and I agree with you, for I want no cowards with me in a tight spot."

"Just get us to shelter," said Blaze. "Then you and the others are to stay clear of Heartha and me. I do not want you infected."

"There is no cause to fear on my account, my lady. I had the sweating sickness when I was a lad of fourteen. Once you have had it, you do not get it again—if you recover from it," he told her. "There are certain to be others among the men who have had it and recovered too. Why not let us nurse your tiring woman?"

"Nay, Captain," said Blaze. "It is not meant that you nurse a woman, and besides, it is my responsibility as Heartha's mistress to see her safely through this illness. God and the Blessed Mother will protect me, never fear, for I do not."

The captain looked admiringly at her, and nodded his head, acceding to her wishes. His family had been part of Langford since the Wyndhams had been the lords of Langford. He was proud that this woman was his countess. Proud that her sons, who would surely be strong as she was strong, would inherit the lands of Langford.

The innkeeper's servants brought them food. Capons hot from the spit, beef, and ham and mutton. They brought bread and cheese, and ale and wine both. There was even a basket of early strawberries for Blaze, a peace offering of sorts from the justifiably frightened host of The King's Arms, who, nevertheless, regretted having to turn away so prestigious a guest.

After they had eaten, the captain came to Blaze and told her, "The innkeeper, is, of course, terrified, but he says there is an old barn in which he stores hay for the horses that come and go here, just a half mile or so down the road, my lady. He offers to let us shelter there until Heartha is well enough to travel. I've given him the silver we would have paid him for the night's lodging, and he has agreed to see that we are supplied with food. I think we have no choice, and I apologize for the roughness of the accommodation, my lady."

Blaze laughed weakly. "We will have a roof over our heads, Captain, and for that I am grateful. I have seen the inside of a barn before, you know, but what of water?"

"There is a well in the barnyard that the innkeeper swears is potable."

"Let us go then, Captain. I want to get Heartha as comfortable as possible as quickly as possible."

The barn was small, but sound. Heartha was carried from the carriage by two others of the men-at-arms who had recovered from the sweating sickness at various times during their lives. Of the twelve men with Blaze, five had not had the sickness, and these men Blaze ordered to return to RiversEdge to lessen the danger of their contamination. This was not a gift she wished to bring her people from court, and then there were her children. They were so little, both of them, and she shuddered to think of her infant son contracting such an illness, let alone her only legacy from Edmund, their daughter, Nyssa.

"Send the man to me who will be carrying the message tomorrow," said Blaze before she entered the barn, and when he came she told him, "You are to tell the earl that the children must be moved to Riverside with Lady Dorothy until this is all over. Do you understand?"

"Aye, my lady!" the man answered her.

She felt better then, for although Blaze had never seen the sweating sickness in her life, she knew how virulent it could be. There was scarce a village in England that had not suffered from this strange disease, which had first appeared during the reign of Hal's father, the late king. Ashby, because of its very isolation, had escaped the scourge in the years that it had appeared, but the Morgans had heard of it, as had all Englishmen.

Blaze went into the barn, where poor Heartha had been placed by the men upon a pile of fragrant hay over which the servant's cloak had been spread. Blaze took off her own cloak, and asking one of the men to bring her a bucket of cold water, knelt down next to her servant.

"You'll need some help getting her out of her clothes," said the captain, kneeling next to her.

Together they worked to get Heartha's bodice, heavy skirts, and several voluminous petticoats off her. Blaze pulled her servant's shoes from her feet, but left the stockings and chemise on.

"Take her cap off, and loosen her hair out so the sweat will not be contained, my lady. I always remember my old mother saying that the sweat should not be contained. She always said the more a body sweat, the better, for all the poisons were washed away then."

"Thank you," said Blaze, and did as he had bid her.

"We will take turns watching her, my lady," said the captain. "Go and rest now, for you look tired with your day's ride."

"No," said Blaze. "I will watch until I feel the need for sleep. Heartha is my friend, Captain. I cannot desert her, for she has never deserted me."

The captain nodded, and leaving her, went to the opposite side of the little barn, where the other men, having stabled the horses, had now rolled themselves into their cloaks to sleep. Only the five who had not ever had the illness slept outside, including the coachman's assistant.

Blaze sat pensively sponging her tiring woman with cool water on cloths she had gotten from the innkeeper. Poor Heartha was simply burning up with her fever, and despite all that Blaze could do, the fever seemed not to abate. Still Blaze tried, dipping and wringing the cloths until the water was finally cloudy, the salt of the sick woman's sweat which ran in rivulets down her body, soaking her chemise, soaking her cloak beneath her. Heartha began to shiver uncontrollably after several hours had passed, and Blaze covered the poor woman with her own cloak, but she could not stop the racking shudders that tore through the servant's body. So it went through the night, until finally Blaze saw light coming through the cracks in the barn walls and knew that morning had come. Heartha was still alive, but seemed no better at all.

"Why did you not call me, my lady?" The captain was at her side, his tone accusatory. "If anything had happened to you, the earl would have my life."

Blaze smiled at him. "I am not tired," she said.

"Nonetheless," he replied, "you must rest. It is just dawn, and our messengers are ready to depart even now."

"They must eat," Blaze fretted.

"There was food left from last night that we brought with us, my lady. The men have that. They will not suffer. I will watch for you now and care for your woman, but you must rest." He put his cloak around her, and pointed her toward a deserted section of the barn.

She did not argue with him, for she suddenly realized that despite her brave words, she was indeed tired. How fortunate for her that the captain was wise enough to see it since she was not. Gratefully she lay down, pulling his cloak around her, and was instantly asleep. She did not know how long she had slept, but no sooner had she awakened than one of the men was bringing her bread and cheese and a chicken's leg with some wine. The captain had obviously kept a good watch. She ate, chewing slowly and giving herself time to clear her head. When she had finished she slipped from the barn to find a hidden place where she might relieve herself. It was late afternoon, and the day was as beautiful as the two before it had been.

Returning to the barn, she found the captain still sitting with Heartha. "How is she?" Blaze asked, looking down at her servant, who appeared no better.

"Still alive, but then she's a tough old bird, my lady. I think she may survive this, for she's lasted this long, that's a good sign."

"Go and eat," she told him. I will watch her now." As the captain moved off, Blaze sat down again next to Heartha. The servant was less restless than she had been the night before, but Blaze did not know whether this was a good sign or not. Although she was still dripping with sweat, it did not seem to Blaze to be as heavy a flow of moisture as the previous day, and her shaking head had stopped for the time being.

Dear Heartha! Her tiring woman, aye, but her friend and her confidante ever since Blaze had come to RiversEdge. Dear Heartha, with her maternal wisdom, who could always sort out any situation no matter how difficult it seemed. She could not die! She must not die! Blaze had released her tenacious hold upon Edmund Wyndham's memory, but she was loath to release one of her two remaining links to Edmund and her past.

Blessed Jesu, she silently prayed. You really have no use for my Heartha, but I do. Were such prayers heard? Blaze wondered. Blessed Mary, pray for my Heartha. She dipped one of the cloths into the bucket of cool water and wringing it out, laid it on the older woman's forehead. Heartha lay still and pale, her breathing labored and harsh. Soon Heartha began to shake violently again, and it took two of the men-at-arms to hold her to prevent her from injuring herself. Blaze had to bite her lip until it bled to keep herself from weeping with her frustration. It seemed no matter what they did, Heartha remained exactly the same, unconscious, alternating between fits of sweating and fits of tremors. All they could do was sit by her, forcing liquid down her throat, and changing the cooling cloths as the monotonous hours crept by.

Night fell once again. The captain sent one of his men to relieve Blaze, and took her out into the warm evening twilight, where the scent of honeysuckle and woodbine was perfuming the air. Almost instantly her spirits were revived. It was such a beautiful evening. An evening for being alive! An evening that gave rise to the promise of a fairer tomorrow. Surely her prayers would be answered!

Servants came down the road from The King's Arms bearing food and a small cask of ale, which they immediately set into a cradle and broached for Blaze and her men. The captain settled his lady upon a three-legged stool he had found in the barn, and brought her a pewter plate containing a piece of rabbit pie, still hot and steaming from the inn's kitchen, oozing with rich brown gravy; a warm cottage loaf; a wedge of sharp, hard cheese; and a pewter goblet of tangy brown ale.

"There's more when you've finished that," the captain said with a smile.

Blaze thanked him, and began to eat, spooning the rabbit pie into her mouth rapidly as she discovered her hunger. She tore the cottage loaf apart, using some of it to sop up the warm gravy. The rest she saved to eat with her cheese. When she had finished every crumb upon her plate, she discovered that she was yet hungry, and getting up, wandered over to where the captain and his men sat. They gave her a piece of ham, and more bread and cheese, which she finished up. Finally sated, she found herself sleepy once more, and finding the captain said, "I will sleep until midnight, but you must wake me then, that I may sit with Heartha through the night. Promise me, Captain."

"I will wake you then, my lady," he said.

Blaze went back into the barn, and curling up in the captain's cloak, quickly fell asleep. She awoke instantly at the captain's touch on her shoulder, asking, "How is she?"

"There is no change, my lady," he said, "but each hour longer she lives is to the good. By tomorrow the earl and his men will reach us. As for Mistress Heartha, she will either be alive or dead, for the sickness rarely is longer than two days."

The night seemed to go so slowly. In the barn only the snores of the sleeping men and the rustlings of the rats in the straw seemed evidence of life. Blaze carefully nursed the small candles she had, which were her only source of light. She had to be so careful with them lest she set the barn with all its stored straw and hay afire. Heartha moaned now and then, but she seemed to have ceased her great thrashing. She still burned with fever, but the quantities of sweat that had previously poured from all her pores seemed to have eased to a mere dampness upon her skin.

Toward dawn Blaze struggled to keep her eyes open. Her huge supper had not set well upon her nervous stomach. Several times her head fell forward upon her chest, and twice she had to splash water from the bucket onto her face to keep herself awake. Finally, unable to help herself, she dozed, awakening with a start to the deathly silence of the barn, suddenly devoid of noise of any kind. Frightened, she reached out her hand to feel Heartha's forehead, for although she could see that the tiring woman was still breathing, her breathing was quiet.

"M'lady?"Heartha's voice! Considerably weakened, but Heartha's voice nonetheless, and her eyes were open! Open for the first time in several days. Open, and looking up at Blaze!

"Oh Heartha! You are alive!" Blaze cried joyously. "You are alive, and you have survived!"

Heartha somehow managed a wan smile at her mistress, and then, closing her eyes, she fell into a completely natural sleep.

"She'll make it now," said the captain, who was kneeling beside Blaze. "She just needs rest to gain her strength but the sweating sickness is gone from her, praise God!"

Blaze began to weep with relief, while the captain, rising to his feet, shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Though his instinct bade him comfort her, for she was naught but a woman, his sense of propriety forbade such an intimacy, for she was his better. To his great relief, her tears were brief, as if she recognized his predicament.

"I am all right, Captain," she said, "but if you would have someone watch Heartha now, I need to get outdoors and clear my head." Without even waiting for his answer, she arose and moved out into the budding day.

To the east the dawn was even now breaking, and the horizon was stained with a vibrant red-orange that gave way to a swath of coral pink that was followed by a band of deep purple that ran into lavender and was edged in a ribbon of gold that seemed to run across the entire horizon. Blaze watched with pleasure as this wonderful display heralded the great red ball of the rising sun. Suddenly she became aware of two things. The birds were singing, and there was the distinct sound of hoofbeats on the western road. The hoofbeats of a large party of riders. Her heart began to hammer with excitement even as her husband and his men came into view.

"Captain!" she called excitedly. "Captain! The earl has come!"

The horsemen swept into the barnyard, and leaping from his horse, Anthony gathered Blaze up into his arms. "Thank God, you are safe!" He breathed. "Thank God!" and then he kissed her, to the cheers of his men. Then he asked, "Heartha?"

"The crisis has come and passed," Blaze said. "She will survive, the captain tells me. She is sleeping now."

"Good! We must get you both home, my angel."

"The children? You sent them to Riverside as I bade you? The danger is not over yet, Tony. Not until I am certain that we have brought no other contagion from Greenwich."

"They were gone with my mother within an hour of your message, Blaze. I value their lives every bit as much you do."

"Tony, there is so much I have to tell you," she said. "When I was at Greenwich—" she began, but he cut her off.

"Time to talk on it, madam, when we are home again. Heartha needs a more comfortable place to regain her strength than this barn, and you, I suspect, would like a bath. How near is this inn your messengers spoke of to me?"

"But down the road and around the bend," she answered.

"I shall send some of the men to purchase two additional teams of carriage horses. With four teams drawing the coach, we should be able to reach RiversEdge by midnight. See to Heartha now, that she is ready to travel, my angel."

He had seemed glad to see her. Even grateful that she was unharmed, yet suddenly his manner was brusque. Blaze turned away from her husband, and returning to the barn, gently woke Heartha.

"You must help me to get you back into your clothes, Heartha, for the earl has come to take us home," she said, and the tiring woman nodded. Together they managed to give Heartha some semblance of order in her dress.

"Thank you, my lady," said Heartha, her voice sounding a bit stronger than it had previously.

The extra horses were brought from The King's Arms and the eight beasts were harnessed to the vehicle, which was made ready for its departure. The captain carried the now conscious Heartha to the coach and settled her onto one of the seats. She was weak, but yet able to drink the egg beaten in wine that Blaze had also had her husband's men bring from the inn along with the additional teams. Other food had been brought, and the account settled with the innkeeper. The men ate heartily, but Blaze was still feeling queasy from her meal of the night before, and the thought of having to ride within the coach did not encourage her to add more food to that already souring in her stomach. Someone, however, had to sit with Heartha, and Blaze did not feel it fair to ask one of the captain's men, for they had been so helpful during the last two days.

Dutifully she climbed into her carriage to endure the long hours and many miles of the ride to RiversEdge. The coachman climbed upon the box, and with a lurch they were off. Anthony had hardly spoken to her. There was so much she had to say to him, yet he had not given her the chance. Suddenly it occurred to her that in reaching out to him for help she might have endangered him as well. She had no idea whether or not he had ever had the sweating sickness. What if in her need she had infected him, and he grew ill and died? The worry began to niggle at her as the carriage rumbled along the road. If only Anthony would call a halt to this journey so she might ask him. She shifted edgily in her seat. The coach, despite its lowered windows, was stifling. She felt a trickle down her back. Across from her seat, Heartha seemed not to mind it, snoring peacefully. Blaze loosened her laces so she might undo her bodice a little. There was no one to see, and she would correct her dress when they stopped.

Riding in the forefront of their party, Anthony silently thanked God that she was all right. When the messengers had arrived, he had been in terror that anything should happen to her. All he wanted to do now was get her home safely. Relentlessly he rode on, until finally his captain, drawing his own mount abreast of the earl's, called out to him over the thunder of the hoofbeats, "My lord, we must stop! The horses must be rested or they will not last."

The earl signaled his party to a halt, heeding the advice of his captain. The men tumbled from their horses, relieved, while Anthony went to the coach to check on his wife and Heartha. Heartha was still sleeping, but Blaze, relacing her bodice, seemed restless and edgy.

"This coach is unbearable," she complained to him. "I am dying of the heat. Heartha is safe by herself for the next few hours. I want to ride, Tony!"

"You are not too tired?" he fretted, thinking that she really did look hot and flushed.

"Nay."

"I will have your horse brought then," he agreed. "Would you like some wine?" and he offered her some from the leather wine bottle that he carried.

Blaze drank several eager swallows, "I am so damned thirsty," she said as she handed it back to him. "You were right, earlier. I want a bath! A lovely cool bath, for it is much too warm for May."

They rested for close to an hour, allowing the horses to browse in the meadow that bordered the road. Heartha was awakened and fed some wine and a little bit of bread soaked in wine before she fell back into another restful sleep. The captain appointed one of the younger of his men to ride within the coach with the recovering tiring woman.

"She should have someone with her, my lady," he said, and Blaze thanked him.

Their journey began again, and at first the air upon her skin was refreshing, but as the afternoon faded into evening and the sun sank behind the hills, Blaze realized that she felt no cooler. If anything, she was growing warmer by the minute, and then suddenly she felt the moisture break as it ran down her back in several streams.

"Anthony!" She could barely hear her own voice over the pounding of the horses' hooves. "Anthony!" She was growing dizzy, and she couldn't seem to hang on to her reins. Blaze slumped forward onto her horse's neck, and the man riding behind her, seeing it, pushed his mount forward so he might signal the earl.

Anthony turned at the man's frantic signals, and seeing her barely able to hang on to her horse, he drew his own animal to a stop, leaning over to catch up her flapping reins so he might control her beast too. He leapt from his saddle only seconds before his wife fell from her horse, and catching her up in his arms, he cried frantically to her, "Blaze! Blaze! What is it, my angel?"

"Hot," she muttered, not even opening her eyes. "So very hot, Tony."

"My God," Anthony whispered. "She has the sweating sickness!"

"Let me take her and put her in the coach, my lord. You must not get infected!" the captain interjected.

"No," his master answered him. "I had the disease when I was a young man." He carried Blaze to the coach, and calling the young man-at-arms from the vehicle, he placed his wife upon the seat.

Their journey began again, but this time it was a desperate race to reach RiversEdge. Heartha had passed the crisis, and was now well on the road to recovery, but Blaze was only beginning to run her course of the illness. They had to get her home, where she could be nursed properly. The captain had sent two of his men ahead to alert the household staff of the latest developments, and of their needs.

The moon rose, lighting the road ahead for them as they traveled along. Finally the night landscape began to grow familiar, and at last they recognized that they were on Langford lands. They galloped through sleeping villages, hurrying to get their precious burden to safety, cutting over onto the shorter river road. The moon silvering the waters of the Wye gave the impression of great tranquillity, a peace broken only by the thunder of frantic hooves and the noise of the lumbering coach. At last the house itself came into view, the windows lit and awake as RiversEdge anxiously awaited their arrival.

Servants poured from the house as the vehicle clattered up to the front door. The doors of the carriage were pulled open before Anthony was even off his horse, gentle hands reaching in to lift their countess out of the coach; to help the weak and dazed Heartha. Blaze was quickly carried to her own bedchamber and laid tenderly upon her bed, which was already prepared for her. A bevy of maidservants scurried forth to remove her garments, to place her in a dry nightrail.

"The lasses will watch her ladyship around the clock, my lord," said Mistress Ellis, the housekeeper.

"No," said Tony, shaking his head. "I will care for her myself. I must!" He removed his traveling cloak and his doublet. "Bring me what I need, tell me what I must do, and allow only those who have had the disease into this apartment."

"My lord," Mistress Ellis admonished him, "it is not a man's place to nurse a sick woman."

He looked up at her, and his eyes were filled with such pain and fear that the housekeeper was startled. "She is my wife," he said simply, and drawing a chair up near the bedside, he sat down. She looked so small, he thought, looking at her lying there, and when her body began to be racked by tremors, he felt actual pain knifing through him. He remembered the sweating sickness from his youth, when both he and Edmund had contracted it. Neither of them had suffered greatly, and within a day, each had passed through his crisis; but he also remembered that there had been many deaths from the same epidemic that had struck them.

Blaze could not die. She could not! There was so much he had to tell her. So much that they had to do together. She was his very life. She was the heartbeat of Langford and its peoples. Surely God could not take her from him, from the children, from them all. Gently he mopped the perspiration that streamed down her face, and placed a fresh cool cloth upon her forehead.

Hot. Hot. Why was it so hot? she wondered. She could never remember a summer at Ashby being so hot. Mama? Where was her mama? Bliss! Blythe! Where is Mama? Probably taking care of her new baby. There was always a new baby. This one was called Delight. Father John had gotten so angry at Mama when she had told him the baby's new name. Mama had laughed, saying the baby would be baptized Mary Delight, as her other daughters were baptized Mary Blaze, Mary Bliss, and Mary Blythe, and the church would be satisfied. Mama said that Mary was the best of saints' names.

Hot. Hot. Would they ever find husbands? There was no gold for their dowries. Papa and Mama were worried. The squire's oldest son tried to kiss me in the orchard. I hit him. He will not dare to tell. Bliss says I am a fool, for if he'll take me without a dowry at least one of us will have a husband. I would sooner remain a maiden than marry the squire's son. Let Bliss have him, the slimy toad, but she will not, for she would climb higher.

I am to be wed! Oh, I am so afraid, but no one must see my fear. A countess does not show such emotions. I shall have to find a husband for her. I shall have to help them all. Ohhh! He is so handsome. If only my husband is as attractive, but nicer. Oh, please, Blessed Mother let my husband be kinder than Anthony Wyndham!

Edmund! Edmund! Dear God, how I love you! We have a daughter, though I'd as lief it been a son for Langford. Nyssa? You would call her Nyssa? Aye, lord, it is a good name! Edmund, I love you. Oh, Edmund, do not leave me! You cannot be dead! Not dead! Not dead! I hate you, Anthony! I hate you! You have killed my Edmund!

Oh, God, I am afraid! I am so afraid! Why do they bow and scrape to me simply because the king wishes to take me to his bed? I want to go home to RiversEdge, but I cannot. I should not have come here. Oh, God, I cannot cry out else I offend him. Please! Please do not force me! I do not want a lover. I do not! Oh, why do I feel such pleasure when I do not want to feel it? I do not understand. I do not understand.

Poor Hal. Being a king is not easy. Power, like everything else, has its price. Everybody wants something. Hal wants a son, but he cannot get one on the queen. He says he is not truly wed. I do not know. Poor Hal. Poor Hal. What will happen to me when he tires of me? I did not want this. I hate it! Poor Hal. Only Will, the fool, and I truly understand him.

Hot. Hot. Why am I so hot? I want to open my eyes, but I cannot. Help me, Tony! Help me!

Helplessly he watched her throughout the night as she poured sweat from every pore of her body. She burned with a terrible fever, and he could only try to aid her, placing and replacing cool cloths upon her forehead, forcing wine and chilled well water down her throat. She moaned incessantly, and moved restlessly upon her bed, and he could do naught.

In the morning two little maidservants entered the bedchamber, bringing with them fresh linens and instructions from Mistress Ellis that his lordship was to come and eat something while they changed her ladyship's bed and put a fresh gown upon her. Anthony rose stiffly, and with a worried look at his wife left the room. He was not gone long, however. Just long enough to ascertain that Heartha was awake and stronger. The tiring woman wept at learning that her mistress was even now in the throes of the illness.

"She should not have nursed me, my lord. I would have told her so, but that I could not! Oh, if she dies I shall never forgive myself!" Heartha declared.

"She could have contracted the disease from anyone at court, and not necessarily from you, Heartha. You must not blame yourself. Blaze will not die. She cannot! We all need her too much. Now, you must get well, for I shall need your help in the nursing of my wife."

"You are not nursing her yourself, my lord?" Heartha was as shocked as Mistress Ellis had been the day before.

Anthony smiled. "I must be with her," he said, and then he left his wife's servant, promising to see that she had the latest news on her lady's condition. He stopped in the kitchens to take a plate of cold meats, bread, and cheeses, then returned to Blaze's bedchamber, where the two maids had already changed the bedding and seen to dry attire for their mistress. With a curtsy they hurried from the room, leaving him alone with Blaze once more.

Slowly Anthony chewed his food, eating more from habit than any feeling of real need. He could taste nothing. Only the burning heat of the strong wine he drank made any impression upon him. She lay so still. So quiet now, and yet, taking the cloth from her forehead, he felt it, almost recoiling from the heat. She was so sick. Dear God, help her, he said silently. Help her! It was then that Blaze began to shake.

Hot. Oh, it was so hot!She was Anthony's wife now. Not Edmund's, but Anthony's. Anthony told the king a great lie in order to become her husband. He should not have lied to Hal, but how very convenient for the king that he did. Still, Hal must not know. He must not know that Anthony had lied. He lied because he loves me. He loves me! I do not love him. Oh, I should! He is so good to me. He is so good to Nyssa. Delight loves Anthony. Poor Delight. I would not hurt her, but I have. I don't love you, Tony. I don't! I don't! I do! Oh, yes, I do! I must not! I must be true to Edmund's memory. I will not tell, and no one will ever know. God will know. Oh, what will I do? The queen won't listen to me! Poor Hal! Oh, Poor Hal! Mistress Boleyn is a wicked creature. She would be the king's wife. Poor Hal! Poor, poor Hal!

The hours passed, and Blaze lay unconscious upon her bed, burning with fever one moment, then racked by fierce tremors that Anthony feared would pull her apart. Night came, and the earl left his wife's bedside to go once again in to Heartha to tell her that nothing had changed. He returned to find another plate of food on the table by his side. He ate listlessly, without appetite, leaving half the food upon the server.

Soak the cloth in water. Wring the cloth. Remove the warm cloth. Put a fresh one on her forehead. Drink, my angel. Put the goblet to her lips, and slowly drizzle the liquid down her throat. Drink, Blaze. You need the liquid. His eyes grew heavy, but he would let no one else watch until the danger was past. He struggled to keep awake, head falling forward, jerking with a start. Finally he could no longer help himself, and he dozed.

Hot. Hot. Would it ever be cool again? We have a son. Oh, he is so beautiful. I will call him Philip. Not Edmund, for Edmund is dead. Not Anthony, for I have my Anthony. Not Henry. Too many Henrys, and I will not have his parentage impugned by those fools who cannot count upon their fingers. Oh, Philip, I love you. How like your father you are. I love your father too, my little son, but dare I tell him? I have to leave you, my son. The king needs me. I am ever and always the king's most loyal servant. Poor Hal. How he suffers for lack of a son like my Philip. How he suffers for the love of Mistress Boleyn. He loves her. I know he does, but she will not admit to her own feelings. I think she loves him. She is so jealous. Poor Hal. He does not know she loves him.

Hot. Hot. It is not so hot now as it was before. I have been so hot for so long, it seems, but it is not so hot now. The king does not know he is loved. Anthony does not know that I love him. I must tell him that I love him, but we must get Heartha home. She has been so sick, my good Heartha. I must tell Anthony that I love him. I must tell him! I must! What if I die and he does not know that I loved him? I must tell him! Anthony! Anthony!

"Anthony!" Her voice was a raspy whisper. "Anthony!" Blaze opened her eyes to see him sitting by her side. There was a rough stubble of beard upon his face, his shirt was unbuttoned. He looked haggard and untidy. "Anthony!" she called him a third time.

He heard her voice. It penetrated deep into his sleeping consciousness, and he was suddenly awake. "Blaze!" He tore the damp cloth from her forehead and put his hand upon it. It was cool. It was cool! The fever was gone, and she had survived her crisis. "Oh, my angel, you will live! Thank God, you will live!"

"Anthony, I love you," she whispered. "I love you!"

He felt his eyes welling with tears, and embarrassed, he roughly brushed them away with the back of his hand. "You do not have to say that to me, my angel," he said softly.

"But I do! I love you! The king asked me if I loved you, and I realized that I did. Oh, Anthony, I have been such a fool! What sane woman would have a dead husband in place of a living one?" She reached out to take his hand in hers. "I love you, Lord Wyndham," she said.

Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it fervently. "And I love you, Blaze Wyndham. I have loved you from the first moment I ever saw you. How I curst the unkind fate that conspired to keep us apart! Now you are really mine. I will love you for the rest of my life, and beyond!" he declared. Slipping her hand from his she reached up to touch his face with a gentle pat. "No woman," she said quietly, her voice stronger, "has surely ever been as greatly blest as I have, Anthony. I have been loved by three men, and I have given my love in return; but never, my darling, have I received a greater love than that which you have given me. I shall thank God for you for the rest of my days."

"And I shall see that you do, madam," he teased her tenderly, "for I intend to be by your side for always."

"For always," she agreed. For always! Did that not have a fine ring to it?