So, this is the third part. I am not sure yet, if I continue this story or leave it be at this point. Please comment and tell me what you think.
Far
A change in perspective
The next three days passed by for Marke in a rush. He was seldom awake and clear in his mind, mostly sleeping or in a state in between, semi-somnolent in a feverish delirium.
Isolde spent much time with him at his bedside. She changed his dressings and bandages every time he was at least half awake, used a lot of herbs on him and infused him mostly hot healing drinks and put a couple of spoons with broth inside him.
In the meantime, she wept about Tristan. She switched emotionally between grief for Tristan when Marke was asleep and the feeling of caring and fearing for Marke when he was halfway awake.
After three days Marke still had fever. And the fever was not going down.
She knew that now there was only one way to save his life. She had to amputate this inflamed mess of flesh. She had to take his right arm. And she needed help with that.
Because she had feared that this would happen, she had already sent the day before a messenger to a barber-surgeon she knew of, living a couple of villages away. He would come soon and then they would proceed. She had to tell Marke what she was about to do, but at the moment he dozed away again, his mind was seldom clear enough for a decision like this. Therefore Isolde spoke to Edyth about it. Both agreed to proceed, and they did it the same day, instantly as the barber showed up.
Further three and a half days passed until Marke really woke up. Isolde had him sedated for the surgery, additionally to his feverish delirium. It worked. Eventually the fever dropped and his sleep changed into a healthier form. As he awoke he was over the hump.
Marke winked, as he opened his luminescent green eyes. For the first time in days his mind was sharp and clear. He was thirsty. His mouth felt very dry. The sun was shining through the windows. He looked around the room. It was his room, and it was in a relative mess. There he saw Isolde, sleeping on his armchair at the wall, her hair was tousled and her clothes filthy. Why?
Then, he felt the pain on his right upper side. A pain stinging and sharp like a knife. Different from the more general overall pain he experienced the days before, but not unfamiliar. Intrigued, he delicately reached with his left hand to his right upper arm - and found a freshly dressed stump.
He tried to sit up, but the pain in his stump held him back. He managed to lift his head a little to catch a glimpse of the sight. Yes, she had done it. His first impulse was anger. She took his arm without his permission! And now he was even more in pain! How could she dare to do that to her king!
But then, he came to the conclusion why she might have done such a thing. Very likely she had saved his life with the surgery, running out of options. No wonder that she was exhausted.
Marke observed Isolde, as she was sleeping on the other side of the room.
Yes, she had betrayed him with Tristan, but then, she had saved his life. If she'd only understood in time how much he had loved her - how much he still loved her! He sighed.
He did ask her what he could do for her, he did tell her that he wanted to comfort her, that he wanted her to be contended as his queen and his woman.
She had never really reacted.
But still... here she was, saving his life.
Marke fell back into his cushions and relaxed.
Time to accept his new body. He knew that he could adapt to the new situation. In time, he would learn how to accomplish the things without the arm. He had used it anyway mostly as a lever or to balance things. To his own astonishment, he was quite calm about the loss of the greater part of his arm. The stump was rather short, the tiny part of his arm that was left would be hardly of any good use. But that was ok with him. It was gone, so what?
In a strange way, he felt calmly centered within himself, the whole anxiety about the future of the kingdom was gone. He had no explanation for that, things were not changed to the better. Tristan still was lost on him. But in spite of his pain, he felt happy that he was still alive and in the same room with the woman he really loved.
