“How bad is it?” she said, her voice trembling. She gathered what strength she had and entered the room.
Marcus saw Julia just inside his bedchamber doorway. Clearly, she had come from her bed, for she was dressed in a rumpled gown that did little to conceal her gaunt body. Tangles of dark hair framed a white face. She was trembling, whether from fear or weakness he didn’t know.
Nor did he care.
“Are you all right?” she said, staring at the blood-soaked bandage on his side.
“I won’t die.”
“I was afraid for you.” She swayed slightly, her thin white hand against her breasts. “Would you like me to sit with you awhile?”
Marcus lay back on the couch. “See her to her room,” he said, refusing to respond to her tremulous request. Iulius went to her. Marcus had spoken loudly enough for her to hear, and she made no protest when he supported her as he took her from the room.
Gritting his teeth, Marcus fought the rise of pity for her and remorse that he had turned her away so coldly. She was so wan and thin, as though she diminished each time he saw her. She had always prized her beauty. What must she feel now when she looked in a mirror and saw that gaunt, white face? Once, she would have taken pains to dress and have her hair braided and curled before leaving her room or receiving guests. Yet, tonight, she came straight from her sickbed to see what had happened to him.
Iulius returned. He didn’t mention Lady Julia. Marcus started to ask, but sucked in his breath as the servant peeled the bloodsoaked bandage from his ribs. “The wound is still seeping, my lord.”
“Wash it again with wine and then bind it. If I die, I die,” he said, annoyed.
“Drink some wine, my lord,” Iulius said grimly, handing Marcus a full goblet. As Marcus propped himself up, the wound began to bleed again. He lay back once more, and Iulius soaked a cloth in the fine red vintage. Marcus’ body stiffened as the slave washed the wound and then bound it again. He gave Marcus another goblet of wine, noting that his eyes were dark and clouding.
“Don’t look so worried, Iulius,” Marcus said drowsily. “Whatever liquid has seeped out, you’ve poured back in.” His body relaxed as he passed out. Iulius bent over him, unsure whether it was loss of blood or too much wine that had so affected him.
Hadassah entered. Iulius hurried to her to take the small bundle she carried. “The wound still seeps, Lady Azar.”
“Bring the brazier,” she said, taking the bundle from him as she reached the bed. Leaning down, she touched Marcus’ shoulder. He didn’t rouse. She laid a trembling hand against his chest and felt the slow, firm beat of his heart.
Opening the bundle, she laid out the small packets of herbs and a cautery. She placed the end of it in the hot coals of the brazier. “We must seal the wound and pack it with herbs,” she told Iulius. “You will need to hold him still.”
She took the cautery from the fire and drew the hot metal along the wound, searing it closed. Marcus groaned, rousing slightly, only to faint again. The smell of burning flesh nauseated Hadassah, but she reheated the cautery and finished the task.
“I need a small bowl,” she said, and Iulius brought one to her. She mixed the herbs with salt and made a poultice, which she bound to the wound. She sat down on the edge of Marcus’ sleeping couch and drew her hand across his brow. “I will stay with him,” she said.
“Lady Julia came to see him. Lord Marcus commanded me to take her back to her room.”
“Did he speak with her?”
“No, my lady.”
Hadassah sat thinking. She put her hand on Marcus’ bare chest and felt the firm beat of his heart. “See if she’s awake, Iulius. If so, bring her here so she can see that her brother is sleeping. It will set her mind at ease.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Julia came in, leaning upon Iulius’ arm. Hadassah rose from the edge of Marcus’ sleeping couch. She took Julia’s hand and nodded for her to sit where she had been. Julia took her brother’s hand. “He’s so pale.”
“He’s lost blood.”
“Will he be all right?”
“I think so, my lady,” she said, then added to encourage her, “No vital organ was struck. We’ve cauterized the wound. The poultice should prevent infection.”
“He didn’t want me here,” she said, putting her hand over his where it looked small and white against his large, strong, tanned hand. “He told Iulius to take me back to my room.”
Hadassah came close and put her arms around her. She stroked the tangled hair back from Julia’s face.
Julia leaned against her side and closed her eyes, feeling comforted. “I was afraid you’d left me, Azar.”