A/N: A historical note---Homeopathic medicine was discovered in the late eighteenth century and was practiced in Europe by select physicians and lay healers. The use of water cures for various ailments was also done at that time in certain clinics and healing centers.
Chapter 30 Succor
Escaping the tumult of Paris, Jade and Michel slipped out of the city's encasement of streets, traffic, and a million people. Pushing on as fast as they dared, the muffled sounds of their horses' hooves rose from the rutted road accompanied by dirt that lined their nostrils.
Jade was blessed with a mount that had a smooth, rocking gait. Michel was not as fortunate. She could almost hear his teeth rattle each time his horse broke into a churning trot as hard feet hit unyielding ground. While listening to his occasional grunt of discomfort, she wondered if there was a chance that he would be willing to trade horses for at least a short while. But she doubted it. He's a gentleman like his uncle Pierre.
In that first hour after leaving the city there was a sense of urgency. As she sat with her heels clenching the horse's side, she felt the miles slowly and painfully trickle by. With tight muscles, she impatiently stared into the thick darkness.
They were passing through villages that hugged the outskirts of Paris. The glimmering lights of household lamps languidly appeared ahead, and then drifted by like the detritus that lazily circles in a stagnant pond. Speed was what they needed, and she found their pace maddening. If she had cared less for the animals and the possibility of torn ligaments and lameness, she would have kicked her mount, and raced to her friend's side.
The weather was in their favor tonight. The sky was clear and without a cloud, so there was no chance of rain. Nor was it particularly cold.
But what good was it to have a dry, fast road if they traveled at a snail's pace?
Michel rode silently beside her, a stranger who cared no more for small talk than she did.
She glanced at her companion's tall silhouette, and wondered what he was thinking. He hadn't said a word since they'd left the city. He'd looked a bit haggard when he first came to her room tonight, and then relieved when she'd pulled out her travel bag to return with him.
After awhile, Jade's nerves began to calm as the rhythm of the road took hold of her. The snorting and sighing of the horses intermingled with the darkness and sprinkling of light from above soothed her. She looked up at the sky, and twisted around to take in its panorama. Thick streaks of pale stardust covered the black ceiling, and the bright iridescence of Venus hung from night's throat like a newly cut gem. It was peaceful on the road. She took in a deep breath and held the cool air in. The last time she had seen such a sky was the night before she had come to Paris in September, which seemed a long time ago.
It's been nearly two months.
A great deal had happened since then. There was her sojourn on the streets of Paris, her meeting with Pierre, and her life at the Opera Populaire. Her new life had brought her beauty, friendship, and adventure. And of course, there was Erik, who was the most extraordinary part of it all.
The thought of her bounty warmed her, and she affectionately patted the neck of her horse that swished his tail in response.
Pierre was the key to her present happiness. Having given her security and an abundance of kindness, he had enabled her to trust others.
He's been like a guardian angel, she mused.
As they continued on, the tightness gradually dropped from her shoulders, and she lost the twisted feeling that had crept through her stomach since Michel's news of Pierre.
Her friend's illness sounded serious, but at that moment, she decided that to worry was useless. She needed to be clear-headed if she was to help him.
Lifting her chin, she rose slightly in the saddle, and absently stared past the darkness as she reviewed her knowledge of fever remedies. Belladonna is for high fever with chills, skin burning hot, pulse pounding. Arsenicum is for excessive restlessness and agitation, with fear of death, and fever worse after midnight. She recited the indications for each remedy that she carried in her bag.
The horses broke into a trot, and Michel's tall form rigidly bounced in his saddle as they descended another hill, and inched closer to their destination.
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They arrived in the village at about eleven o'clock. A half hour later, Michel led the horses away as Jade stood in front of the lone, country house. The two storied, stone building rested below large trees that draped their branches over its roof. It looked old, and she wondered how long it had been there giving shelter to Pierre's family. The lower windows glowed with a welcoming, golden light, as if its inhabitants were reaching out with open arms to lonely travelers.
It's me, she whispered. They're waiting for me.
Shifting her weight, she rocked back and forth on her heels, and finally walked to the door. As she raised her fist to knock, it slowly swung open, and a gray haired woman stood in the doorway silently staring at her. She swept her eyes over Jade's dusty cloak, and then recognition lit up her weathered face. Smiling, she reached out, and grasped Jade's hands.
"Mademoiselle Bouta! Thank you for coming. I am Claire Aubert, Pierre's mother."
She pulled Jade into the house to the front room, which was full of lamps and candles. Eyes stared at them as the door was firmly shut.
A woman with auburn hair and a black embroidered shawl got up from the sofa, and walked towards them with a smooth, dignified gait. She was followed by a younger woman who didn't look much older than Jade. Two girls with bright, curious faces trailed behind.
Claire held Jade's hands firmly, and spoke. "Here is Mlle. Bouta, Pierre's friend from Paris. Mlle. Bouta, these are my daughters, Marie and Therese."
Stepping up to Jade, the youngest woman excitedly took one of her hands, and then cried, "Mlle. Bouta, we've been waiting for you all day!" Her eyes were soft and warm, and Jade saw Pierre's sincerity in them.
Claire interrupted, and guided Jade towards the kitchen. "Tsk, tsk Marie. She will be tired from her long ride. Let her sit down and have something to eat." She pulled a wooden chair out from the table, and motioned for Jade to sit.
Jade hesitated and the women looked at her expectantly.
"Mme. Aubert, thank you for your hospitality. But if you please, I'd like to see Pierre first," she said in a firm voice.
Nodding slowly, Claire signaled for Jade to follow. They walked side by side down a dim corridor as Claire leaned towards the younger woman, and spoke in a low voice.
"His fever has been high all day and sometimes he has a strong chill. We gave him extra blankets to make him as comfortable as we can."
"What medicines have you been giving him?" Jade asked. Claire explained the herbs she had used for the fever, and Jade made a mental note.
Stopping outside of the door at the end of the hall, Claire turned to Jade and gave her a steady look. "He's called for you several times in his sleep today." Then she smiled faintly, and opened the door.
The room was softly lit with a brace of candles and a small fire. Pierre lay stretched out on the bed covered by blankets, with his eyes closed.
Jade went to his side, and stood over him.
His flushed face was dry and still, and had a heavy quality. The air felt stuffy around him, as if he had emptied it of oxygen. Touching his forehead with the back of her hand, she felt an intense heat. His lips were cracked, and he breathed loudly through his mouth as if he were trying to strip the room of its last bit of air. She would have liked to have opened the windows, but decided against it. They would need to keep the room warm for what was to come.
Resting her fingers on the pulse at his throat, the throbbing vessel hit them forcefully and nearly threw off her touch. She placed her hand on his cheek, and then slowly ran it along the stubble to his cheek.
Seeing him was easier than imagining his pain from afar, and she sighed with relief. I'm here, dear friend. I will not leave you, she said to him silently, and then smiled gently.
She pulled back the covers and searched for the cut. It was bandaged with a poultice, which covered the wound's angry, red edges. The poultice had done some good since the pus was minimal. Jade thanked God that Pierre had an attentive mother to care for him.
Michel had come in, and was watching the women silently as he held Jade's bag.
Turning to Claire, Jade asked, "Can you bring a tub in the room so that we can bathe him?"
"Yes. Michel, help me bring the tub in from the bath," Claire said firmly to her grandson.
While they filled the tub with tepid water, Jade went to another room and changed out of her riding clothes.
Pierre groaned when they lifted him out of bed, and thrashed around when they placed him in the water. Jade and Michel held him down as he moaned and cried out, until he finally went limp. Removing his bed shirt, Michel covered his groin with a towel, while Jade studied his color and reactions. Then she picked up a cloth and started to bathe the parts of him that were uncovered by water.
When the water began to cool, more hot water was added to keep it at body temperature, as she continued to run the wet cloth over him.
After a little while, Pierre awoke, and staring at her with feverish eyes, he whispered her name. Jade gently stroked his brow with the tips of her fingers, and then lightly kissed his forehead.
When his pounding pulse lost some of its force, she pulled a paper packet out of her medicine bag, and emptied its contents into his mouth.
Michel sat in the corner and watched them with heavy lidded eyes. Occasionally he nodded off with his chin dropping to his chest. Claire would bring in a fresh bucket of hot water, and then prod Michel who would jump up, and haul away the other bucket. Meanwhile, Jade moved the soaking wet cloth over Pierre as he lay in the tub, too weak to move.
Checking his pupils, Jade noted that they were no longer dilated from the fever. Beckoning Michel to help her, they hauled Pierre from the bath and after drying him, laid him on the bed. Another dose of the remedy was given, and she dressed his wound with the salve that Erik had made for the roan mare.
In an hour, the fever broke. Pierre let out a deep sigh as sweat covered him. Smiling, Jade gently tucked the blankets around him, and mopped the moisture from his face. She continued to spoon water laced with sauerkraut juice into his mouth as Claire retired to her bedchamber. She had been convinced by Jade that she would need her sleep if she was to take care of her son later in the day. Michel gratefully left as well, and went to his bed.
The danger was past but she wouldn't leave him. He still needed fluids. As she nursed him, she sang in a quiet voice the folk songs that he had sang to her when she was ill. When she finished them, she hummed the music in her mind while stroking his forehead and hair.
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Dawn broke and a faint light erased the shadows from Michel's sleeping face. A light tap on his door awoke him. Marie was telling him that she needed to sleep and that it was his turn to watch over Pierre and their guest. Stretching his long arms over his head, he yawned loudly, and then crawled out of his warm bed. Crossing the hall, he opened the bedroom door. Inside he found Jade slumped in the chair with her arm resting on his uncle's chest while Pierre slept peacefully beside her with his hand resting on top of hers.
They looked content. Although he knew he should awaken her, and lead her to the guest room, Michel thought it best to leave them alone for a few more minutes. Who knew when they might be this close again?
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Erik hid his horse, and moved cautiously towards the stone house. He crept to each window, and finally found the room that Pierre lay in. By then, Jade was already bending over the sick man and examining him.
Standing near the window, he watched her face as she stared down at the man. Feelings were shifting across it: concern, relief, and gentleness. When her touch lingered on his rival's cheek, Erik's jaw inadvertently clenched.
Jade asked for the tub of lukewarm water, and he nodded in agreement. Clever girl, he thought. She knows something about fevers.
The fire cast a golden light that surrounded the sick man and the woman who nursed him. Slowly the cloth slid along the man's body as she soothed away his fever. When she kissed him, the cold night grabbed Erik by the throat, and he swallowed hard to force down the injury.
When the fever broke, the look of relief and joy that crossed her face was as distinct as the sweat on the man's brow. Then the gray haired woman and boy left them alone.
Stepping closer to the window, Erik was pulled into their intimacy. He heard her soft voice singing the simple melodies to the man. When she hummed, he knew it was the music from her mind. Closing his eyes, he imgined her lying next to him with her throat vibrating softly against his. The image arose of great swans intertwining their white necks as they courted in the night.
Dawn was only a couple of hours away.
Erik left, and returned to his horse. The stallion nickered when he saw the dark cloaked man, and greeted him with a gentle head butt to the chest. Erik patted him, and then gave him a sweet that he had filched from DuChant's desk.
"Well my friend, we had better move if we want to escape the daylight."
Climbing onto the big horse, he nudged him with his heels, and they traveled back to the main road.
The inn was three miles away. Its modest stone structure was set back with an attached stable. Erik set up his horse in a stall, and then walked to the inn's entrance.
The man who opened the door barely glanced at the hooded, tall figure, as a pouch of money was thrust into his face accompanied by a gruff request for a room.
Moments later, Erik was lying on a bed with the door to his room firmly latched and his boots neatly placed on the floor. A knock on the door signaled an early breakfast.
After his meal, he stared out the window, and watched the delicate light advance. She would be going to bed about now. Someone in that household would have taken her under his or her wing and ushered her to a quiet room where she could slip under a down comforter and sleep. She may have saved the man's life, and his family would be grateful.
To the east of the inn some miles away was vine country, miles and miles of it. What was once beautiful land was by now probably decimated by the blight. It was on behalf of his rival's brother that Jade had asked Erik for advice concerning the grape blight. She would probably stay a little longer in order to build more trust with the family. Then she would carefully share her information about the vines with them. By then, they would have enough respect for her that they would take her advice seriously.
Dipping the cloth into the basin of water, he washed the grit from his face and body. It had been a long time since he had ventured this far from the city, and he was unaccustomed to the layer of dust that had worked its way into his skin's crevices.
After finishing his meticulous toilet, he stretched out on the bed. Then he relived what had occurred at the country house that night.
His rival had not died. And when he was fully recovered, he would pursue Jade with even greater determination than before.
Oddly enough, at that moment, Erik had little malice for the man. Jade's tender administrations in the sick room had touched him as well, and temporarily dismantled his normal ferocity.
He shut his eyes, and remembered her stroking the sleeping man's face while she sang to him. Watching her, he had suddenly felt his heart open. The hardness fell away, and at that moment, he knew that if it had been him lying there, she would have showered him with the same tenderness. His eyes widened as that feeling of grace rushed in.
Lying there, he allowed himself to believe that someone could care for him. A tear ran down his cheek and his chest tightened from the ache in his heart.
After the wave of emotion passed, his head cleared, and he turned to the situation before him.
He must decide what to do next. Clearly, if he left her here without intervening, his rival would have the upper hand and could sway her.
Erik considered his choices as he watched the day's light creep into the room and eat away the shadows.
A/N: Hello dear readers. When I finished chapter 6 of this story, somebody asked me how many chapters I planned to write. I said in an off hand way, "about 25 or 30". Well, here it is, chapter 30 and there's still more to be said. I hope you'll continue to stay with this and enjoy it.