There was a lot of pain somewhere, and if he woke up he was going to feel it. Nevertheless, something compelled Noel to open his eyes. He saw nothing but dazzling brightness. Swiftly he shut his eyes again, but it was too late. A myriad of unpleasant sensations made themselves known, chief of which was a general state of sweaty, shivery weakness. He whimpered softly, shifting himself as though to escape the pain. Cool hands soothed him, and a soft melodic voice murmured in a language he could not understand.
He squinted against filtered sunlight, finding it less bright this time, and tried to sort things out. The hurt came entirely from his shoulder. He put up an exploratory hand and touched a smooth expanse of bandage. The aromatic scents of crushed herbs had an underlay of scorched flesh.
Cauterized? he wondered.
The cool hands caught his probing fingers and pulled them away. The voice murmured to him-gentle, female, and incomprehensible. He turned his head slightly to look at her and recognized those gentle features with pleased surprise.
“Cleope,” he said.
As though his own voice unlocked a barrier, the world came into sharper focus, and he could understand her.
She smiled. “Noel, it is good to see you awake. We have been much worried about you.”
He shook his head, too restless to listen. It was all wrong: his surroundings, the sunlight, her. It made no sense to him to be lying here on a cot under a pergola shaded by grape vines and roses. A walled garden about him gave the illusion of sanctuary. Birds sang from the delicate branches of blooming almond trees. Bees buzzed in the vibrant spill of pink bougainvillea. In a stone fountain warmed by the sun, water chuckled and burbled. The scent from pink and white flowers overflowing ancient stone urns nearby enchanted the air.
“Where-”
“Hush,” she said. “You must not tire yourself. We are in the garden of Joseph the Moneylender.” She paused, blushing. “My uncle.”
“How did you-”
“Frederick d’Angelier sent word to me and I slipped away from the palace.” She lifted his head and put a cup of water flavored with honey and lemon to his lips. Conscious of excessive thirst, he gulped it down and felt a little better. Cleope smiled and set the cup aside. “I would do anything for the man who rescued my mistress from that beast.”
“Frederick,” he said slowly, feeling tired yet certain he must sort it all out before he could rest.
“He is a good boy,” she said. “Sir Magnin and that horrible Leon have men searching for you. They made all sorts of accusations, but Frederick was not frightened, and until they find you they have proof of nothing. We brought you here, where they are unlikely to search. They were very angry when they did not find you in Frederick’s tent, but it availed them not.”
Leon… men searching for him… Noel lifted his head with a jerk and tried to raise his left arm. The pain in his shoulder flared, and he sank back gasping.
“No, no,” said Cleope worriedly. “Lie still, I beg you.”
She wrung a cloth from a bowl of water scented with lavender and laid it across his brow. Its coolness felt marvelous on his hot forehead, but his distress was too great for him to care.
He pushed fretfully at the blanket. “It’s gone. I’ve got to get it back.”
“Lie still or you’ll reopen the wound. Noel, no!”
She did her best to hold him down, but Noel gripped her arm and slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position. The garden spun crazily, and he thought he would fall off the cot. She held him tightly and called out for help.
“Lie down, please,” she said. “You have lost blood. You are weak with fever.”
“No.” He pushed her away and lifted the blanket, only to realize he was naked beneath it. It was his turn to blush. “Uh, my clothes please.”
“No, you cannot have your clothes,” she said.
Frederick and two servants in livery emerged from the house and came down the shallow flagstone steps to join them.
“He’s trying to get up,” said Cleope. “Help me with him.”
Frederick’s curly hair was uncombed, and he looked as though he had not slept. He moved her aside and put his hand on Noel’s uninjured shoulder. “You should rest,” he said, “and give thanks to God you are not dead.”
“I can’t rest until I have my LOC back,” said Noel angrily. He tried to shove Frederick’s hand away. “Damnit, I must have my LOC!”
Frederick and Cleope exchanged glances. “And what do you want to lock away?” asked Frederick.
“Don’t patronize me,” snapped Noel. He rubbed his forehead fretfully, feeling as though his skull was going to roast. “You know very well that my bracelet is gone. She took it to Leon. You promised to help get it back.”
Frederick and Cleope looked at each other again.
“The fever is affecting his mind,” she said. “He needs to rest.”
“My friend,” said Frederick in concern, “it is impossible to find your trinket in this crowd. We can get you another one later-”
“There is no later!” cried Noel. “There is only today, and half of it is gone. If I don’t get that bracelet away from Leon before dark, I am-”
He paused, breathing raggedly, too upset to go on. While he was trying to gather himself, they pushed him down on the cot and covered him. Cleope wiped his face with a damp cloth, and Frederick knelt beside her with a sigh.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said to her.
Closing his eyes, Noel fought off his exhaustion and listened.
“Have they not yet come?”
“No, and it’s nigh until noon. The jousting is half-done, and I don’t know what can have befallen them on the road. Turks, bandits, horses going lame… I think I should take the men and look for them. But Noel is in a bad way-”
“He will sleep soon,” she said. “You do what you must. He is safe here.”
“Yes, I suppose.” Frederick rose to his feet with a faint scuffing of his cloth shoes upon the flagstones. “You,” he said to one of the servants, “have my horse saddled. Nom de Dieu, but this is a bad business. Everything has gone wrong-”
“Master!” shouted a voice. “Master!”
Noel heard footsteps pattering across the stone paving and dragged open his eyes.
A man in d’Angelier livery ran to Frederick and bowed hastily. He was coated with road dust and breathing heavily-
“How the devil did you find me here?” demanded Frederick, plainly aghast. “Were you followed through the streets? Did you take care? God’s wounds, if you have given us away-”
“Sir.” Kneeling, the man gripped the hem of Frederick’s tunic. “Tobin brought me from your tent to this abode. He twisted and turned us about through so many streets, I know not where I be now, but I beg you will listen to the message I bring.”
“From my father? Speak it quickly.”
The man rose to his feet and pressed close to Frederick’s ear, murmuring too low for anyone else to hear. Frederick’s face grew long with dismay and worry. Watching, Noel felt weariness seep through his bones. Something must have befallen Sir Olin and Theodore. So much for his plan to save the world. Now what was he to do?
Noel reached out and tugged a fold of Cleope’s long saffron gown to get her attention. She turned at once, although her gaze lingered on Frederick.
“You must sleep,” she said automatically. “All will be well.”
“All isn’t well, and it’s getting worse.” Noel propped himself up on his good elbow with a wince. “Frederick?”
But Frederick walked from the garden without looking back.
“Frederick, wait! What’s-oh, hell.” Noel gestured at Cleope. “Find out what’s happened.”
She gathered up her long skirts and scurried after Frederick. By the time she returned, Noel had managed to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the cot. He rested, clutching his blanket to his waist, and cursed his weakness.
“What?” he demanded.
She was crying and twisting her sleeve into a pleat. “My lady is-” A sob burst from her and she buried her face in her hands.
Noel curbed his impatience and gently pulled her hands down. “Go on. Is she dead?”
“No.” Cleope sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Injured. She was arguing with Lord Theodore and tried to gallop away from him. Her horse fell with her on the trail. She needs me now. I must go and tend her, but Frederick will not take me.”
“You’re needed here.”
“She has bones broken. She could die!”
“Cleope,” said Noel savagely, “there’s more at stake here than a broken arm or leg. Is Theodore coming?”
“No. Frederick’s messenger says they have turned back. Lord Theodore refuses to leave my lady’s side. He is a good man, a true-”
“He’s a romantic idiot,” said Noel, then saw the shock on Cleope’s face and relented. “All right. He’s very noble, I’m sure. But he’s needed here. He must challenge Sir Magnin and win today or-”
“Well, if a stupid joust is all you can think about at a time like this-”
“For God’s sake, woman! I am trying to…” Noel found himself suddenly short of breath. He blinked and passed his hand across his face.
‘Too much excitement,“ she said. ”Now will you listen to reason and rest?“
“No,” said Noel. “Where does Frederick think he is going? I need him here until we have finished this. Stop him, Cleope. Tell him to come back.”
She looked doubtful. “Will you lie down until I return?”
He sent her a wan smile. “I promise.”
“Then I shall go.”
“One other thing.”
“Yes?”
“You must make a potion for me. Something powerful that will give me energy and mask the pain.”
She started to protest, but he gripped her hand.
“Please,” he said. “It’s important.”
“It’s foolish! My remedies are not for misuse.”
“In times of emergency the rules change.”
She frowned, horrified. “That is blasphemy. We must live according to the order we are taught by church and state.”
“It’s expediency. Look, we’ll settle this in a few minutes. Just go after Frederick before he leaves. I can’t do this without his help.”
“What is it that you have in mind?” she asked suspiciously. “What is it that you plan to do?”
“I’ll tell you when Frederick gets here.”
She continued to frown at him while he adjusted the blanket and laid down. He was thirsty again. The sun hurt his eyes. He wanted to sleep for a hundred years. When she still stood rooted in place, however, he lifted his head.
“Cleope, go! Don’t let him leave. Tell him anything. Tell him I am worse and calling for him. Do anything, say anything, but bring him back with you.”
She took one step away and glanced back. Her brow was knotted with worry. “Whatever you are planning, it will get you killed.”
She was right, but he wasn’t going to let himself think about how crazy and desperate his plan was.
“That’s my problem,” he said impatiently. “Go!”
Shaking her head, Cleope hurried from the garden and vanished from sight into the house.