Chapter 15: Sick
"All right, that was better. C'mon boy, raise the sword. I'm gonna come at ya again." Logan beckoned to the slim, small boy standing across the practice circle from him, sweat dripping down the small face. The kid was exhausted; Logan was going to call it a day after this next clash. The boy needed to learn to use the sword in his left hand; but he didn't need to learn how to do it all at once.
Lee sighed, but made no complaint. He hefted the sword in his left hand and raised his shield in his right. When Logan rushed at him, he swung the sword in an arc that was supposed to block the blow.
Logan concentrated mostly on parrying. The boy could attack, and attack well; the only thing Logan needed to teach him was how to block. The boy didn't have enough muscle in his left arm to do it properly; hence Logan had taken to training Lee himself. The other knights all teased him about the amount of time he was spending with the boy; but Logan ignored them, and did what he felt he had to. He'd also started teaching the boy hand-to-hand, in private; no one knew about those lessons. Logan wanted to give the kid some way to defend himself if anyone tried to force the boy to do anything unpleasant. He pushed away the nagging voice in the back of his mind that said he was also doing it because he wanted to spend more time with Lee.
He hadn't grown much over the winter; maybe another inch or so, but that was all. The kid had filled out in other ways; more muscle developed under the honey-gold skin, and baby fat disappeared from the cheeks and body. The hands stopped being soft and babyish, and were now sinewy and calloused from hours of sword practice, riding, and work on Logan's tack. Logan now owned the finest set of tack in the company of King's Knights; he was inordinately proud of the fact. And even prouder of his squire; he couldn't imagine getting along without the boy now.
The nobles had all retreated to their winter estates to be with their relatives during the Midwinter festivals. Logan had no family to go to; he stayed at court. Lee had nowhere to go either; and since there were no classes, he had a lot of free time. He got caught up with the work he had to do with Logan's tack, and with no one harassing him and making more work, he'd stopped looking so peaky. On mild days, Logan could see the boy out in the paddock with the horses, teaching them how to move together, how to respond to leg signals without the use of a bridle, and, one harrowing winter morning when Logan had gone to find the boy to give him the Solstice gift he'd gotten for the lad, he saw the boy trotting both Logan's horse and his own in circles around the paddock while doing a complicated series of acrobatics on and between the horses' backs. Logan had watched, partly in anxiety that the boy would fall and break something, and partly in wonder and admiration. How did the boy do all those things with his body? Some of those things hurt Logan just watching it.
He was about to approach the boy when the kid sat down on one of the horses' backs, leaned over the mane, and started coughing. Harsh, loud, wracking coughs. Logan didn't like the sound of that cough, but the boy didn't complain about it.
And he still wasn't complaining, but Logan frowned, worried, when the boy doubled over coughing, dropping his sword on the ground as he hacked. Logan sheathed his own sword and went over. "Kid, ya all right?"
Lee was coughing so hard he couldn't even speak. Logan hurried back to the benches, reaching for the kid's water flask, which Julian was holding out. Logan nodded his thanks to the other knight briefly, and returned to Lee. "Here," he said, pressing the spout of the flask to the kid's lips. The kid spluttered, but Logan said severely, "Drink it. It'll help the coughin'." Lee drank obediently, and the coughing eased. "C'mon. Think that's nuff fer today," he said when the boy stopped hacking. Lee nodded wearily, too tired to protest, and sheathed his sword as he left the salle. Logan paused to pick up his own jacket (it was still cold outside. Although the chill might feel good to the boy, Logan hadn't been sweating as hard and the cold wouldn't feel good on his own skin.)
"Ya did good," Logan said as the lad trudged up the stone steps to the squires' quarters. By now, the other trainees had 'graduated' to squire, and several squires had been promoted to knight in order to clear more rooms for the incoming trainees. Technically Lee should have 'graduated' too, but despite his skill at handling tack and everything else, he was still much too young to be made a full knight. And Logan was secretly selfishly glad of the fact. The boy could not be made a full knight until he turned eighteen; that was still five years away. Five years for Logan to enjoy the boy's company.
The kid pushed his room door open wearily and flung himself down on the bed after unslinging his sword and laying it across the chair. Logan went over to the window, grabbing the shutters and pulling them closed. "Remind me ta talk ta Francis next time a squire leaves, 'kay?' he said to Lee. "I gotta get ya outta this room. If ya won't move inta my room with me, at least I can get ya in another room that don't let the stink of the moat."
Lee just grunted. Logan took that as a sign that the boy was really tired, and grinned as he put the water flask down on the table next to the bed. "See ya in the mornin', kid," he said. The boy grunted in response, and pulled his blanket up around his shoulders as Logan left the darkened room.
Jubilee woke, feeling nauseous. She lay still for a moment, blinking, then her stomach rebelled and she yanked the bucket that sat beside her bed to her. She turned over and vomited miserably into the bucket.
She'd found the empty, unused thing in a corner of the stables, and carried it with her back to her room when she started getting sick in the mornings. She couldn't understand why; she knew for certain that she wasn't pregnant, but her stomach was constantly queasy, she wasn't eating well, and seemed to be always tired, no matter how much sleep she got. And then right after she had left the Healers' wing for her own rooms while her hands healed completely, she'd started getting violently ill. Not always in the mornings; sometimes in the afternoon, and sometimes in the evening. She struggled to get out of bed, reaching for her tunic and leggings, but as her feet hit the floor another wave of nausea rolled over her and she threw up, miserably, again. Again she tried to get up, and again she threw up. Each succeeding bout of nausea left her shaking and weak, and now she didn't even have the strength to get up. Something's really wrong, she thought groggily as she pulled herself up to a sitting position. I have to get to a healer. But even as she pulled her tunic on, her head whirled and she retched into the bucket again. The effort drained her, and she lay down for a moment, pressing her burning hot forehead to the cold stone floor.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed; but when she finally roused, groggily, to the feel of a hand on her shoulder, shaking her. "Hey. Hey, Lee, wake up." The voice was Logan's. Logan!
She tried to sit up, but the whole room spun sharply around her, and she moaned and pressed her forehead to the floor. "Make the room stop spinning," she gasped in confusion. Her head hurt so much she could barely concentrate; the room spinning wasn't helping her nausea, and her sides and stomach hurt abominably from the effort of retching her stomach up. "Please make the room stop spinning…"
Logan stared at the boy in horror. Lee hadn't been waiting in the dining hall for him, as was his usual custom; Logan had assumed that the kid had overslept, and had come up to wake him for breakfast. What he saw instead was the boy passed out on the floor next to a bucket he had clearly been vomiting into; and the pallor of the boy's face scared Logan. He shook the boy, rousing him, and tried to get the boy to sit up.
"The room ain't spinnin'," Logan said. The boy flinched at the sound, and his bleary, blood-shot eyes tried to focus dazedly on Logan. The effort seemed to disorient the boy more, and he turned his head aside just in time to retch into the bucket again.
"I'm gonna get ya to a healer," Logan said firmly, picking up the bucket, slinging an arm under the boy, and reaching for the water flask on the bedside table. "Come on, kid." Lee got dazedly to his feet, clutching the bucket, and leaned heavily against Logan as he navigated a path across the room, out the door, down the hall, and down a terrifyingly steep set of steps that twisted and turned in unpredictable ways. The Healer's wing was down one flight and around a corner, but those steps and that corner seemed terrifyingly far, and his stomach kept rebelling. Logan paused to let the boy vomit again, and looked grimly at the black bile coming from the boy's mouth. It couldn't be good.
The healer gave an exclamation of surprise as Logan walked in, supporting the kid with one hand and holding a flask in the other. "I dunno what's wrong with him," Logan said as the healer took the boy in his arms and hauled him over to a bed. "I walked inta his room ta wake him up fer breakfast, an' he was collapsed on the floor unconscious." The healer pressed his lips together, grabbing for a cup of water and hurriedly emptying a packet of herbs into it, then held the cup to the boy's lips. "Come on, drink it," he said. "It'll stop the vomiting." Too weak to protest, Lee drank the cup dry.
The healer went for another cup of water, and cursed when he saw the bucket was empty. Logan proffered the water flask. "Here."
The healer took the flask, opened it, and started to empty the water into the cup…and gasped. The fluid coming out of the flask should have been clear water; what it was, instead, was murky and cloudy; muddy. The healer started at it grimly. "If that's what the boy was drinking, it's no wonder he's sick," he said. "Looks like it came out of the moat."
Logan made a horrified face. The moat received all the runoff from the castle; wash water, offal from the kitchens, and other such waste. Certainly unhealthy to drink from. "What's he doing with water from the moat?"
The healer was looking at the flask. "Isn't this the flask that the Weaponsmaster gives the boys? He fills it every day for the lads."
Logan shook his head, puzzled. "I saw Lee take the flask from the weaponsmaster yesterday after he'd filled it. The water came from a bucket filled with clear water. How'd it get so dirty?"
"Did anyone else have access to it? Maybe someone who doesn't like the boy added something to it while he was practicing."
Logan's mind flashed back. "I took Lee's flask from Julian," he said, his mind racing. Could Julian have…but why? Why would he do that? What reason did he have…"It can't be Julian," Logan shook his head. "It can't be." He sounded like a sinking man trying to convince himself that the bog underfoot was really solid ground.
The Healer looked at him oddly. "Why would Sir Julian do something like this? You must be mistaken, Sir Logan. Perhaps one of the other squires, who maybe resents your boy or dislikes him for some reason."
"Yeah," Logan nodded. "Yeah, that has to be it."
"Well, there's nothing I can do at the moment," the healer said. "The boy will have to wait until the sickness goes away. From the way his breathing sounds, he may have a lung infection as well. Probably ongoing. Has he been coughing a lot lately?"
Logan stared. "The coughing sickness?" he said.
The Healer nodded. "I'm pretty sure it is. And the boy has it bad." He pressed his ear to Lee's chest, listening to the breath whistling in the boy's lungs for a moment. "Yes. Where has he been sleeping?"
"Collan's old room, the one that overlooks the moat!" Logan exploded. "It was the only room not taken when Lee was promoted ta squire from trainee, an' they never changed it ta any other! I asked the boy ta come sleep in my room with me, but he refused! Said he'd get in my way if he did."
"He cannot continue to sleep in that room," the Healer said. "The air is quite unhealthy."
Logan ground his teeth, looking at the sleeping boy. "He ain't sleepin' in there anymore," he said angrily. "I'm gonna move all his stuff ta my room. He can sleep in Collan's old bed." Without anther word to the old healer, Logan stomped from the room.
He ran into Julian in the hallway outside his room. "Hey, Julian," Logan said. "Help me with somethin'?"
"Sure. What do you need?"
"I need ta git Lee's stuff outta his room and inta mine," Logan said.
Julian's eyes narrowed, but he said, "Fine."
Logan grabbed the handle on one side of the boy's chest of clothing, and Julian grabbed the other side. Lugging the chest between the two of them, they started back down the squires' hallway and up toward Logan's room. Logan took each step slowly, watching Julian out the corner of his eye. Something didn't seem right.
"Lee's sick," he said finally, abruptly. "The coughin' sickness from sleepin' in that room…an' he's also sick from somethin' he drank. The Healer says it looked like someone'd poured some water from the moat inta the boy's flask. It was clear water when the Weaponsmaster filled it, though; I remember seein' it. You was sittin' right there next ta the boy's stuff; ya see anyone tamperin' with the kid's water?"
Julian started to shake his head automatically, truth was a hard habit to break; then he stopped and pretended to think. "There was another squire there…I don't know the boy's name…but he was playing with Lee's flask," Julian said.
"Which squire?" Logan stopped and looked at Julian. "Nathan?"
Julian thought quickly. Which one was Nathan? Oh well. There hadn't actually been anyone; he didn't want Logan to suspect him. "Yes, it was Nathan."
Logan yanked on his side of the boy's chest so hard the other handle slipped out of Julian's grasp. He put the chest carefully down on the floor, and in another second his dagger was at Julian's throat. "Try again, bub," he snarled at the other man. "Nathan ain't no squire, an' besides, he an' his parents have been at their winter palace for the last few weeks. You the one was tamperin' with the kid's water; why?"
"I haven't done anything!" Julian protested as much as he could with the dagger dimpling the skin of his throat. "I didn't do it, I swear I didn't, and I don't know who did! I could have been mistaken about the other squire; they all look alike, you know!"
Logan wasn't buying that. He jabbed the dagger a little higher into the other man's neck, drawing blood from a small puncture just beside the big vein in the neck. "I think ya did," Logan snarled. "An' I think it was ya who crippled him, didn't ya? I been thinkin' 'bout that day in the salle. Ain't nobody else there had the skill ta shoot the boy from all the way in the back of the salle 'cept me an' you. I know it wasn't me; I wouldn't cripple my own squire, an' besides I was collectin' my winnin's. So it hadda have been you. Why, Julian?"
"You can't prove it," Julian said, eyes narrowed. The cat was out of the bag; he didn't need to hide anymore. His eyes went cold, glinting with malice, and his sudden change in appearance startled Logan. "You can't call me out in a duel in front of the king without evidence. And you can't kill me in cold blood right here; you're too honourable for that."
Logan stabbed the dagger back in its belt sheath. "You're right. I won't be an oathbreaker like you; I won't violate my vows and stoop to your level. But, Julian, I'm gonna be keepin' an eye on ya. If I see ya anywhere near Lee, or if I see him in pain 'cause of somethin' ya did, I will come after ya. I promise ya that." He turned away from the other knight and picked up the chest.
"You're a little touchy about the boy, eh, Logan?" Julian called mockingly. "And now you're moving his things into your room. You gonna start sleepin' with the boy? Let me know how he performs!"
Logan dropped the chest, took two quick strides back to where Julian stood, drew back his fist, and smashed the other man in the face. Julian went down like a stone, blinking as blood from his nose obscured his vision. When he finally cleared the blood, and the stars, from his eyes, he found Logan standing over him, fists clenched. "Ain't nobody touchin' the boy, includin' me," Logan snarled. "No one touches the boy 'less he wants them too. And so far I ain't seen nothin' that says he leans that way. So shut yer fat mouth, Julian. You touch that boy without his say so, and that's the last time you'll be touching anyone, or anything. Got me?" Logan turned, grabbed the chest, hefted it on his shoulder, and marched off.