The king set down the tray. “When did the queen ask for Isabel to leave Camelot?”
Mary felt her face go from the norm to red-hot fire in a short instant. She should not have overheard that exchange between her queen and her countess on those steps. She had only followed to be certain that Isabel— oh, goodness, she was thinking of her as Isabel—had all that she needed.
She could not face the king. “I cannot say, sir.”
The king took her shoulders. “When, Mary? Please tell me.”
Her slippers were about the only thing she felt good about paying attention to. “I ne’er meant to hear this conversation.”
“Please tell me.”
“The countess and I were having fun in the sewing room. I know naught what upset the queen. But upset she was, and then the next thing I remember is that the queen was laughing and then weeping, and the countess was helping her. I was not trying to listen, I was trying to see if the countess had need of me. The queen, well, she did not seem well. My countess did not have need of me so much. The queen had need of her. They were sitting on the steps and talking. And then Isabel . . . I mean the countess . . . held her up and led her to the room. The queen, I fear was just not quite right. And my countess was trying to help.”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“Countess Isabel ordered tea, but the queen demanded wine. So Isabel ordered that and cheeses and meats and breads to soak them up, as she said. I do not know what is happening in there, sir, but I know that when I left them, they appeared happy enough together. I do not fear for the countess’s life, or I would be the first to intrude.”
“You feared for the countess earlier?”
“I did, sir.”
“From Gwen? From your queen?”
“I cannot answer that question. Even Countess Isabel would ask me not to answer.”
Arthur nodded. “Your lack of an answer speaks louder than any other. It also speaks to loyalty, Mary. So very important. James is a lucky man.” He picked up the tray and handed it to her, holding on until she was steady, which took a moment because here was the king helping her.
“Mary,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes, “I ask you not to spy, only to inform me as soon as possible if you sense anything wrong.”
“Such as?” she asked, feeling a quakiness in her knees once again.
“Such as a threat from one person to another.”
“The countess would ne’er harm ...” She stopped herself. “I cannot imagine either harming the other.”
“’I am going to stay here in the hallway, and I am asking for a report of what you see and feel inside. I do not want details, I do not expect any wrong happening in there, but I must know before I charge in on my own.”
“You would do such?”
“If Gwen is planning to harm Isabel, yes, I would.”
As Mary headed to the door, it came to her thinking that the king had not worried about Countess Isabel harming the queen. Then again, it had not occurred to Mary, either. Very strange indeed that both of them were much more concerned about the welfare of the countess than the queen.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ARTHUR knew that waiting outside of Isabel’s bedchamber was more than ridiculous. And that his fear of Gwen bringing harm to Isabel was also without merit.
Yet his need to protect overwhelmed him. The very perplexing thing that confounded him was it was not his wife he felt the need to protect.
Mary finally left the chamber, seeming almost out of breath. She ran directly to him and curtsied. “My king.”
“Tell me, Mary.”
“The countess has asked me to pass this missive to you, sir. The queen is not well.”
“My thanks,” he said, trying very hard not to rip the note from Mary’s hands. He took it and opened it as slowly as desperation allowed.
Arthur crushed the note in his hand and tossed it aside. “Thank you, Mary. Please go find Isabel’s man, Tom,” he said before storming into Isabel’s quarters without knocking.
The sight afore him was truly amazing. Isabel was pumping at Gwen’s chest, then stopping to give her kisses of sorts.
He had worried about Isabel?
“What are you doing?”
“I think she’s gone into some kind of shock,” she said, huffing afore beginning the process all over again.
Isabel was holding Gwen’s nose shut, while blowing into her mouth. ’Twas shocking. “Stop!”
Isabel stopped the blowing thing and began the pumping her chest thing. “Do you want Gwen to live or not?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Then back off! I should have seen the signs. Her delusions, her mood swings. For chrissake, I thought it was PMS.”
“I need to help.”
“Then bring me some water.”
As he poured, he watched in horror. But in that moment Gwen coughed and shook her head.
Isabel sat back on her heels and wiped her brow. Then she lifted Gwen into a sitting position and accepted the chalice of fresh water from Arthur. “Welcome back, Gwen. That was a tad worrisome. Please sip.”
Gwen grabbed the base of the goblet and attempted to drain it down, but Isabel disallowed it. “No, a sip or two at a time. We will rehydrate you, but not all at once.”
Arthur had never felt so helpless afore. He knew naught what had happened to his wife, he knew naught what Isabel had just done, he only knew he had been unable to do anything worth use, save pour a glass of water. He fell heavily into a chair.
If he puzzled this out, he had to conclude that his wife had a medical episode, and that the woman he ached for had just saved Gwen’s life right afore his eyes. And he had stood helpless.
“Arthur.”
He heard, but the beating in his ears prevented him from hearing.
“Arthur!”
He opened his eyes.
Isabel sat looking up at him. “Arthur, I know this is getting old, but would you please carry your wife to your chambers? She is good for now, but she needs Tom to check her over.”
“Tom is but a tooth healer.”
“To be any kind of healer in my land, you must understand all types of medicine. He is best equipped to diagnose what this is.”
“Dia—”
“Figure it out. But we need to help her back to her bed. Man up, big boy. Carry your wife to your chambers.”
By then there were many in the room. Isabel took control of them all. “Mary, please bring as much fresh water as you can gather to the king and queen’s quarters.”
“Yes, mum.”
“Jenny, please bring to Tom every type of flower and or herb that the queen used in her tea or any other food today.”
