Author's Note: I'm so sorry this took so long. After I had written most of what I thought would be month 2, I came to the realization that I needed another month in there, and some other things needed to happen. So the long and short of it is I needed to write another chapter, which took a little bit of thinking, especially since it was my first week of classes this week.
A big thank you to everyone who volunteered to be my beta, and a special thanks to Liz4, who as you can see did a wonderful job correcting all my spelling/grammar mistakes.
If anyone is wondering about the herbs Djaq uses, they are actual homeopathic remedies for fever, including (much to my surprise) belladonna, which I had until now thought to be poisonous. Apparently in small doses it will help bring down a sudden fever. Asphodel isn't a remedy, it just sounded to me like athalas, which anyone who has read the Lord of the Rings knows is the plant that Aragorn uses to cure the Black Breath. My annual read of Lord of the Rings is starting to leak into daily life :-S
As she trailed after Will in the market place, Djaq couldn't help but smile. Once a carpenter, always a carpenter, she thought to herself as she watched him examine some new carving knives. When Will had found out that there was a thriving carpentry tradition right there in Acre, he had been impatient to see for himself. Djaq had come along, merely to enjoy being outside of Bassam's home. As lovely as the house was, she felt stifled within its confining walls.
She tripped over her skirts, and cursed quietly. She was still unused to the billowing skirts and many layers of her native dress. After so long in men's clothes, going back to being a woman was proving difficult.
"Look at this, Djaq. Isn't it beautiful?" Will asked her, holding up a piece of dark wood for her to see. To Djaq's untrained eye, it looked much like every other piece of wood she had ever seen. But it was obviously special, to get Will this excited.
"Lovely," she said, hoping he wouldn't notice that she said that to every piece of wood he showed her.
Caught up in his own world, Will didn't notice.
"It's Cyprus Cedar. You can't get this in England. If I get some, I can make those dagger handles I've been meaning to do," Will said, stroking the block of wood lovingly. He turned back to the vender, and began to converse in almost fluent Arabic about the price. Only every once in a while did he turn to Djaq to translate.
Djaq's heart swelled with pride. He had caught onto the language so fast, applying himself to it with the same gusto that he did everything. It had only taken him six weeks to catch on and be able to converse comfortably. He had also turned out to be a skilled bargainer, a fact which surprised Djaq, considering his otherwise mild exterior. Will had argued that he had been doing the same thing for years, only then it was with his brother and it was called compromise.
"Like a pretty necklace, Lady?" a vender called to her, breaking her out of her thoughts, "A pretty necklace for a pretty lady,"
Djaq inwardly made a face. She wasn't one for jewelry, with the exception of the gold ring that Will had insisted she wear after they were married- a rather strange English custom that she did not understand but submitted to for his sake.
She glanced at the necklace he was holding up, uninterested, but not wanting to be shown another piece of wood by Will.
"No, thank you," Djaq said, turning to go.
"You shouldn't go with the Englishman, pretty lady." The vender said.
Djaq rounded on him, anger bubbling up in her. This wasn't the first time she had faced prejudice for marrying Will, but every time it made her angry. Hiding her growing irritation, she looked blank faced and innocently at the swarthy Arab.
"Which Englishman is that?" she asked.
"The one who was talking to you. They only want one thing, you know. A pretty girl like yourself should have an escort." He leered at her.
Djaq smiled, showing all her teeth in a predatory fashion.
"That Englishman," she said, "is my escort. He is also my husband,"
Without looking back, Djaq walked back over to where Will stood, having his pieces of wood carefully wrapped. She slipped her hand into his, and squeezed it lightly.
Will smiled at her.
"These pieces are great. And with the new knives for carving, it will be as easy as cutting through butter. Do you want to look at the herbs now?" he asked, noticing her mind was elsewhere.
"If you are done here, then yes. And I need some new bandages."
Djaq loved the bird room. It was a place where she could gather her thoughts and center herself again. Right now, her mind was swirling with anger over what had happened in the marketplace. It had by no means been the first time that she had received harsh looks and even harsher words from her countrymen, but it hurt every time. Her Will was such a wonderful man, and it surprised her so much that many people couldn't see past his pale skin.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as a pigeon landed on her shoulder.
"What would you do?" she asked the bird, but the bird only cocked its head and looked at her with its bright eyes.
"Ah, Safiyya. I knew I would find you here," Bassam said, striding in, "this was always your favorite room."
"I like the birds," Djaq said, "they calm me." She sat down on the edge of the fountain that sat in the middle of the room. The gentle tinkling sound of water soothed her troubled thoughts.
"Do you need calming?" Bassam asked, sitting beside her.
"Sometimes," Djaq replied, gently stroking the feathers of the pigeon on her shoulder.
"I worry about you, Safiyya. You seem a little aimless."
"I am… having trouble finding my place here," Djaq confessed, "I am not Djaq any more. But I am not Safiyya either. And Mistress Scarlet still seems strange to me."
"You must give yourself time to adjust to all these things," Bassam advised, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder, "You won't find what you are looking for right away. You will find your place in time, and when you do, you will fit there exactly."
"Perhaps you are right." Djaq said, smiling at him. Maybe all she needed was a little more time to find where she belonged in this new world. This new person, not the girl Safiyya, but not the man Djaq either. Djaq Scarlet. A new woman. Given enough time, even Will would be accepted by all who knew him. Once they knew him, they could not help but respect him. A new sort of determination filled Djaq. She would try and make things work here, if she could.
"How is your friend doing?" Bassam asked. It was agreed that, in the interest of her safely, they were not to say Marian's name. There were too many people who would have loved a chance to strike at not only the king's right hand man, but also at the king himself, and Marian was too vulnerable at that moment.
"She has no infection," Djaq said, "but I am worried that she has not woken up yet. It is possible that she will never wake, if her brain is not getting enough air and it is damaged."
"You give yourself too little credit," Bassam said, "You have tended her night and day for the past month, and she seems to be healing. You have become a fine physician."
Djaq smiled at the compliment.
"It is all the practice I have had," she said, "patching everybody up all the time,"
"Did you really live so rough?" Bassam asked, a little startled.
"It was not so bad. I was with friends. Being a soldier was worse, because I had to hide my identity. Being a slave was much worse. If it hadn't been for Robin rescuing me, I probably would have died in one of the Sheriff's mines," the thought, so obvious once she had said it, had not occurred to her before.
She frowned. If it had not been for Robin's ironclad decision to help everyone, even a cartload of Saracen slaves, she would be dead now. She would never have had the chance to fall in love with Will. The thought chilled her, and in spite of the warm weather, she shivered.
"But Allah has seen fit to bring you back to me," Bassam said, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
"For some unknown reason," Djaq murmured, as she stood up, "I should go check on our patient."
With practiced hands, Djaq sorted out her medicine chest. The large, beautifully carved box had been a present from Will.
"For what?" she had asked, startled, searching her mind for some occasion that she had forgotten.
"We've been married for a whole month now," Will had replied shyly, "besides, you left your other kit in England."
Djaq had grinned, and kissed him swiftly. Just then Bassam had walked into the room, oblivious of what he had just interrupted.
"I will thank you properly later," Djaq had promised quietly.
Will had grinned broadly.
"I'll hold you to that," he whispered back.
Now, in the quiet of the afternoon, she was finally able to start putting her carefully hoarded stash of herbs and remedies into the new chest. As she did, she was able to fully admire the workmanship of the box. Will had carved her name in Arabic on the wood above the clasp, with a border of flowers and crescent moons interlocking around the edge of the box. On the lid in the center were two pigeons, their wings outstretched, flying side by side. Djaq smiled at the symbolism.
Carefully now she rolled up her bandages that she had bought with Will the week before, and placed them in their own compartment. There was a removable tray that had compartments for each type of herb that she needed. Her surgical tools, all carefully sharpened on a small whetstone a few minutes before, were in their holding cloth, rolled up, and placed in netting attached to the underside of the lid.
"What do you think, Marian?" Djaq asked, moving aside so that if Marian had been awake, she could have seen the neatly organized box, "My husband is so clever, is he not? This kit is wonderful!" taking her seat again at the table that stood in Marian's room, Djaq cast an admiring eye on her work.
"Everything is so tidy. I love these little spaces here. Everything has a place, so I can find it quickly. If there was ever an emergency, and I needed maybe a knife, or a needle, I would not have to search; I could find it right away, here in its place." Djaq sighed, coming to stand at the edge of Marian's bed.
"But you're not really listening, are you?" she asked. Even though she knew it was unlikely that Marian could hear her, she still talked to her friend. Perhaps it was in the vain hope that Marian would remember her voice, and come out of her sleep.
"I wish you could hear me, my friend," Djaq murmured, brushing her fingers lightly over Marian's forehead. What met her hands was not what she expected. Heat.
"What?" she asked herself, placing her whole hand on Marian's forehead. It was hot, far hotter than it should be. Looking closely, Djaq noticed that Marian's normally pale complexion was flushed, and her cheeks were as hot as her forehead.
Djaq shouted for a servant, who came running, still clutching a mop.
"I need you to get me a bowl of cool water, and a rag," she instructed, "and where is your master?"
"My Lord Bassam is in the bird room, Lady," said the boy, seeming startled by her harsh tone and quick words.
"Find someone to fetch him here at once," Djaq instructed, already turning to her newly tidied kit, "Quick, as fast as you can! This lady's life may depend on how fast we can get her fever down!"
The boy took off like a shot, leaving his mop behind to clatter on the floor. Djaq pushed it out of the way.
As she looked over all her herbs and remedies, Djaq cursed herself. Why had she not seen earlier that Marian was burning with fever? How long might the fever have gone on before it was noticed if she had not had the whim to brush some stray hairs of the Englishwoman's forehead? She had been sitting in this room for almost an hour now, too caught up in her own present to notice that her friend was suffering.
Quickly, Djaq pulled out several packets from her box, and began to mix small amounts of them into a cup that sat on the table she had been so recently working on. Aconite and ferrum, and a pinch of belladonna were added to the cup before the boy came back, a bowl of water and a cloth balanced carefully in his arms.
"My master is coming, Lady," he said, "is there anything else I can bring?"
"Hot water. Boiling. In case I need to sterilize some equipment. Do you know Nawar?"
"The girl who works in the kitchen? Course I do," he said.
"Good. I want you to go and tell her to get me asphodel from the market place. She will know what it is, and where to find it."
He nodded, and was gone. Djaq made a mental note to find out what the boy's name was, and make sure he got a raise in salary. But there was no time for that now. She had to get the fever down.
Carefully, she mixed some water with the herbs, stirring it, and raising Marian's head to get her to drink. Just as she had when other liquids were poured into her mouth, Marian swallowed reflexively, taking down the mixture without the face Djaq knew she would have pulled at the taste if she had been awake.
Dipping the cloth into the water, Djaq made sure it was damp and cool, and placed it on Marian's forehead. Then, she stripped away the sheet that was covering the Englishwoman, and felt her feet. Despite how hot the day had been, they were icy cold. Hastily, Djaq rubbed them to get them a little warmer.
Bassam ran into the room, panting.
"What is it, Safiyya? Rafi said it was urgent,"
Rafi. Djaq tucked that name away in the back of her mind.
"It is Marian. She has a fever, and I do not know how long it has been going on. It is very high, and I must get it down."
"What does it mean?" Bassam asked.
"It means that her wound is infected, and her body is trying to fight it off. We must draw the fever away from her head, where it may effect her brain. And I must search for the infection." Djaq answered, busy rubbing Marian's feet, "Where is Will?"
"He is at Mahir's." Bassam replied.
Djaq gave a nod. Will had been spending a lot of time with a local carpenter, learning some new and foreign techniques. He enjoyed it very much, and Djaq suspected it kept him from feeling useless until he found his footing.
"What can I do to help?" Bassam asked.
Djaq relinquished her position at the end of the bed.
"Her feet are icy cold. Rub them to keep them warm. I must look for the infection. In the meantime, I have given her something for the fever."
The boy, Rafi, came back, staggering under a huge kettle filled with hot water. He placed it down on the table.
"Nawar says she will be as quick as she can, Lady," he reported.
Djaq nodded to him, and turned back to Marian. Gently, she pulled up the layers of Marian's shirt to where the wound was. She had been changing the dressing every day, and checking for infection, but she must have missed something. Undoing the wrappings, she carefully exposed the wound. With a skillful eye, she checked all around the opening, which was beginning to scab and heal. There was nothing. She checked again, this time all around the outlying area. Sure enough, there was a small spot she had missed before that was slightly flushed.
Reaching into her kit, she took out her roll of knives, and pulled out the scalpel she wanted.
"What are you doing?" Bassam asked from Marian's feet.
"I have found where the infection is. I need to open the area and clean it out. If I do that, her body will stop fighting, and her fever will go down. Help me sterilize my knife"
Carefully, Bassam helped her pour the boiling water into a small dish, and immerse her knife in it. Giving instructions to Bassam to wash down the area around the infection, Djaq quickly ran across the hall and outside to the courtyard, where she scrubbed her hands with soap and washed them at the pump.
Going back inside, Djaq checked that everything was ready, and then picked up her knife. Bassam, who had been a soldier in Saladin's army for a time when he was younger, nevertheless turned away a little.
Djaq worked as quickly as she could, instructing Bassam to change the cloth on Marian's forehead, and to keep her feet warm alternatively. The surgery was hard, and the infection was difficult to root out. When the girl Nawar returned with asphodel, Djaq guided her through the process of crushing it up, mixing it with water and several different herbs, and carefully pouring the paste in the would she had made. It frothed ominously.
Nawar started forward, but Djaq held out her arm, keeping the girl back.
"It is supposed to do that. It is cleaning the space of the infection," Djaq said, trying to sound more confident that she felt.
The bubbling slowly faded, leaving the wound empty of all infection. Carefully, Djaq began the process of sewing the wound up, observing regretfully that Marian would have another scar on her belly when this was all over.
When all was finished, and she had washed once again, Djaq redressed the area with more poultice and fresh bandages.
"What do we do now?" Rafi asked, peering at Marian's sleeping form doubtfully.
"Now it is in Allah's hands. Now we wait," Djaq said grimly.
Djaq sat with her all night. When Will came home, and was informed of the situation, he sat there as well, silent by Djaq's side. Every hour, Djaq would change the bandages while Will put fresh cloths on Marian's head, always soaked in the coldest water they could find.
As he worked, mopping Marian's brow with the cool cloth, Djaq heard him mumble under his breath, over and over:
"Please, God, let Marian live."
In her heart, she added her prayer to his, pleading with whichever god was listening to let the woman before them live and wake up and be well again. It was almost as if they had pinned all their hopes on Marian getting better, and it was inconceivable that she could die now, after everything they had gone through to save her.
It was the longest night of Djaq's life. Sitting there, the chairs drawn up to the edge of Marian's bed, watching for any sign of movement as the hours wore by. Djaq grew stiff and cold, and very tired, but forced herself to stay awake in case Marian needed her in the night.
Will had taken out his penknife and a piece of scrap wood and was whittling, keeping his hands busy during their silent vigil.
Djaq was not aware that she had fallen asleep till she felt Will shaking her awake.
"Why did you let me sleep?" she asked groggily.
"You were exhausted," Will said, "Besides, it's dawn."
He pointed out the window, which had been left open to let the cool night breezes flow into the room.
Sure enough, the big disk of the sun was just peeping over the horizon and spreading its warm rays over the earth. The sky was a warm rosy colour, and the wisps of cloud that hung about the horizon were tinged with pink and gold.
"Kind of gives you hope, doesn't it?" Will said, giving her a reassuring smile.
Djaq impulsively reached over to Marian's forehead, and removed the cloth, feeling her skin for the heat that had been present the day before. There was none. Her breath quickening, Djaq felt both her cheeks. The fever was gone. She turned to Will, tears of relief shining in her eyes.
"Allah be praised, the fever is gone," she breathed.
Will enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly as the joyful tears pour down her face, soaking his shirt.
Bassam walked into the room in time to catch the tears and the embrace.
"Safiyya, Will, what is it? What is wrong? Is she dead?" he asked, alarmed.
Breaking out of Will's arms, Djaq went over and hugged Bassam tightly.
"She is out of danger," she said, "she is alive and the fever is gone. We did it."
Bassam breathed a sigh of relief, and hugged Djaq back.
Slipping back into Will's arms, Djaq looked over at her friend lying on the bed. For the first time in two months, Djaq was filled with an intense optimism. Will was right. There was always hope.