A Lady Under Siege(6)

“I only wanted to help, m’Lady.”

“I do admire your strength in denying your own belly satisfaction,” Sylvanne told him. “But my husband would need awaken in order to eat.” She turned again to look at poor Gerald’s mute, ashen face. “Appetite gnaws at the rest of us,” she said wearily, “but he feels none of it. Perhaps he dreams of bread and eggs. And hot mint tea.”

“If I could trouble you for something of wood to burn, m’Lady, perchance a chair, or a bench from the Great Hall, I could rightly cook this creature, and the smell of hot flesh might rouse your husband.”

Sylvanne was silent for a moment. Gerald coughed lightly in his sleep. “Has it come to this?” she murmured. “Eating vile rodents to stave off death?”

“It’s not the first,” young Ethelwynne said, with a boldness she immediately regretted.

“What do you mean?” demanded Sylvanne.

“It—well, we had no choice but to—we cooked all we could capture for m’Lord and Lady in these devilish times,” she said. “Songbirds and starlings in a soup, bugs and beetles in a paste, and even mice and rats God help me, disguised and served as rabbit stew. M’Lord knew all about it, but told us to keep it as a secret of sorts from m’Lady.”

Sylvanne felt herself too weak to be shocked. She let out a sad solemn breath that was almost a cry.

“But that’s all past anyway,” said the maidservant. “It’s been many long days since even that poor meat was to be found. The best that can be said is now we all share the same burden of suffering.”

Again the room fell silent. The others waited for their Lady to speak. She stared long and hard at her husband’s mulish face.

“Fetch the ratcatcher a chair or stool to burn as fuel, and let him cook that thing in the fireplace here,” she said at last. “But also summon our priest. I fear he’ll be needed—I wouldn’t want my dear husband to pass from this life without the incantations that guarantee God’s protection in the next.”

“I’ll find him, m’Lady,” said one of the menservants. A crush of people had formed in the doorway, and spilt across the threshold into Gerald’s room, pushed forward by those in back craning for a better view. What a motley bunch, thought Sylvanne, rendered as they were so gaunt and ragged by their loyalty through the siege. She couldn’t hold against them their natural human urge to gather and gawk, to be present at the spectacle of their Master’s passing.

In short order the priest arrived, and took up his chant by the bedside. Sylvanne found it difficult to follow the words he spoke. She realized she felt faint and craved a sip of water, but didn’t dare interrupt to ask for it. “May Christ appear to thee with a mild and cheerful countenance,” the priest recited, “and give thee a place among those who are to be in his presence forever. Mayest thou be a stranger to all those who are condemned to darkness, chastised with flames, and punished with torments. At thy approach, encompassed by angels, may the infernal spirits tremble and retire into the confusion of eternal night…”

The priest took hold of Gerald’s wrist, and after a moment announced, “He pulsates faintly, so he lives still.” He stood and made the sign of the cross. “Should he take leave of us now, our Lord in Heaven has assured a place for him in the firmament. His spirit will know eternity.”

“I thank you,” said Sylvanne. “I must ask you a question, concerned not with his soul and spirit, but with earthly legality.”

The priest nodded.

“Since we are childless, and he has no brother, am I not his heir? And as he is now incapable of action, am I not the person assigned to act on his behalf? Might I do what I deem necessary to save his life?”

“This hunger has affected my mind,” the priest responded. “What is your point, exactly?”

“I wish to surrender to our besiegers, those soldiers and vassals of Lord Thomas of Gastoncoe who surround our walls. I’ll throw myself at the mercy of their Lord Thomas, and thereby spare my poor husband’s life, for he would surely be tended to, and fed, and revived, if I were to act in time.”

“But your husband has forbidden it, and this entire siege is a result of his refusal to convey you to Thomas.”

“He is no longer capable of forbidding anything. It is my wifely duty above all to prevent his death, and I can do so by proceeding in his place to the enemy, so that terms might be negotiated.”