Page 46 of The Herald's Heart
Larkin covered her mouth and turned her head.
The priest ran from the room.
Mother Clement peered closely at the running sores that bubbled and oozed over the woman’s skin.
“I canna chop, stir, or knead,” she sobbed. “What will become of me if I can no longer work?”
“Calm yourself.” Mother Clement patted the woman’s shoulder. “’Tis naught but itchweed.” She bent and searched in her bag, pulling out a cork-stoppered jar. “Rub this salve over your arms and anywhere else that the rash shows. The rash should disappear within three days. Do not touch any food or other people until the rash goes away.”
Timoras returned and sat by the abbess.
“Thankee, Mother Clement.” The cook nodded, took the salve, and made to rise.
“A moment,” Talon put his hand on her shoulder to keep her from leaving.
At his restraint, the woman turned startled eyes on him. “Aye, sir?”
“How did you come by this rash?”
“I ... I don’t know.” Her eyes widened.
“Have you been outside, away from the village and lanes?”
“Nay, Sir Talon. I been too busy setting the kitchen to rights, feeding the entire keep, and helping Larkin when I can to do much more than stumble to me bed after the fires are banked at night.”
“I am sorry for that and will get you more help. Now, are you sure you did not go near any three-leaved plants?
“I tell ye, I’ve not had time to blink, sir. Tonight was to be my first full rest in a long while.”
“What kept you from it?”
“Why, cleaning up the mess left from the earl’s death in the chapel. The men came and removed his body, as you ordered, but none of those silly maids from the village would go near the place. Larkin is here as you ordered. Someone had to put things to rights and scrub out the stench.”
Mother Clement’s expression turned avid. “Tell us exactly what you did.”
The woman thought for a moment. “First, I picked up the candlesticks. I loaded the stubs—there were so many—in my arms and went out to the kitchen. I put the stubs in a bowl to be melted down and used again. Then I got tallow candles, so I could see to clean.”
“Why tallow candles, Alice?”
“The earl, sir, keeps the beeswax candles locked in his counting room. He uses them for his chapel alone, and only he or Father Timoras replaces them.”
“Thank you; continue with your tale.”
“I got a bucket of water, soap, and scrubbing brush too. I returned to the chapel, put the new candles in place, and lit them. Then I scrubbed every stone in the place. I dusted the altar and other items. I took my bucket and brush back to the kitchens and emptied the bucket. After picking up beeswax and a clean cloth, I went back to the chapel to polish the altar. That’s when I noticed the rash and came straight here.”
Talon’s gaze met Mother Clement’s. “Tell me,” he asked, “who supplies candles to the keep?”
Alice answered. “Whatever we don’t make ourselves, the earl orders special from the anchoress. Larkin delivers those things. That’s how she makes her living.” The cook’s voice trailed off, and along with everyone, else her eyes turned on Larkin.
“You cannot possibly think that I would ...?” Larkin said.
Talon felt his blood turn to ice. He wanted so badly to believe in Larkin. He’d consented to her continued searchings, even though it meant he would lose all he hoped for. She had deceived him for the last time. He would risk nothing more for her. His heart threatened to crack with the pain of betrayal. Once again, he had laid himself open only to have what he wanted most snatched away. He held up his hand to silence her. “Alice, quickly, go and get the bowl of candle stubs from the kitchen.”
“Aye, Sir Talon.” She sped from the room.
“Mother Clement, can you determine if the candles contained itchweed?”
“Aye, Sir Talon.”
