Marguerite felt a tear spilling from one eye, and she hastily wiped it away. Ekhart must not see her frailty. She felt sickly and weak, and terrified at what lay ahead. It took aI(her strength just to remain seated on her own, to keep from leaning against his stiff gray arm for support. But she would not let him see her yield.
The wagon came to a halt. "Home again, home again," chimed Ljubo. "Don't you worry, Lady Marguerite. Soon you'll be snug as a thug in your bed. Lord Donskoy won't be mad for long. He gets angry at me too sometimes, but he always cools down soon enough."
Marguerite opened her eyes and saw the keep looming before them. She was not prepared for the wave of fear that washed over her at the sight. She felt weak and flushed; cold runnels of sweat trickled down her face. With trembling hands, she began to smooth her tangled hair, trying to make herself presentable, to make herself fresh.
"Worried?11 Ekhart askedf climbing off the wagon.
"Cold," said Marguerite quietly. It was true. Her teeth chattered together, rattling in her head. "Just c-c-cotd."
"What a pity." He took Marguerite's arm and pulled her off the bench. "And weak no doubt. I suppose I'll have to help you up the stairs."
He dragged her to the steps. With each footfall, Marguerite grew more weary. It was as before, when she first arrived, only her condition was much worse. When they reached the top of the stairs, she turned her face and retched dryly. Her stomach was empty.
"I'm sorry," she said feebly. u[-"
Ekhart steered her through the door and pulled her up the curving stairs into the foyer. Struggling to regain her composure, Marguerite braced herself against the wall,
"I can make rny way alone from here," she said. "I must return to my chamber. Lord Donskoy can visit me there. I must lie-"
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."