Read Online An Embarrassment of Riches by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro - Free Book Online

change the weather, I cannot think. If she has such power, it would smack of witc—”
    “She made a poultice for Erzebet,” said Gyongyi, keeping Csenge from finishing the word.
    “And Erzebet is still feverish, so perhaps Klotild isn’t—”
    “Remedies take time,” said the Konige sharply, cutting off the exchange between the two waiting-women; she went on in a quieter tone, “Erzebet has been ailing for some days. It will be a while before her fever passes.”
    “Of course,” said Gyongyi.
    “Let me tend to your feet, dear Royal,” said Csenge, ignoring Gyongyi’s efforts to claim the opportunity to tend to the Konige, taking her place in the chair, the basin balanced in her lap against the foot of the couch. To secure her command of their circumstances, she added, “Gyongyi, there’s a chalcedony jar on the table in our Konige’s private room. Would you be good enough to fetch it for me, so I can rub its ointment into Kunigunde’s feet?”
    Gyongyi gave Csenge a sharp look, but went to get the chalcedony jar.
    With a little maneuvering, Csenge managed to get Kunigunde’s right foot into the basin, where she washed it gently, noticing how truly swollen the foot was. “You should lie here for an hour or more, for the sake of your feet, my Konige.”
    “It is an accumulation of phlegmatic humors in the body,” said Kunigunde, repeating what Pader Stanislas had told her the day before.
    “All the more reason for you to rest,” said Csenge, lifting her foot from the water and patting it dry with the cloth.
    “The coolness is very pleasant,” said Kunigunde, offering her left foot.
    “Then I am more than gratified,” said Csenge, gently massaging her foot and ankle. When she had dried the Konige’s left foot, she dropped the cloth on the floor next to her chair, then rose and went to dump the water out the open window, and returned to her chair. “As soon as Gyongyi comes back, I’ll—”
    As if answering a summons, Gyongyi came through the door, the green chalcedony jar in her hands. “I found it, dear Royal,” she said, ducking her head before giving the jar to Csenge.
    “Thank you, Gyongyi,” said Kunigunde; her headache was making her feel slightly dizzy, which she strove to conceal, reminding herself that she could give her suffering to God and the Blessed Virgin.
    Csenge opened the jar and dipped three fingers into the yellow ointment. “It smells very nice,” she declared as she reached for the Konige’s right foot.
    “How pleasant,” said Gyongyi, starting toward the door. “Is there anything I may do for you, dear Royal?”
    “Not for the moment, thank you,” said Kunigunde.
    Gyongyi ducked her head, then left the solarium to return to her place at the corridor window; she was fanning herself with her open hand as she pulled the door closed.
    Carefully Csenge spread the ointment over Kunigunde’s foot, making sure to work slowly. “There is much virtue in this,” she said as the scent of the ginger filled the room.
    “Won’t it make my foot swell more?” Kunigunde asked, unable to hide her anxiety.
    “I suppose that’s what the arnica is for,” said Csenge, feeling her hands start to tingle. “Lie still, dear Royal, and let me tend to you.”
    Kunigunde closed her eyes, and tried not to see the vivid depictions of Hell that Pader Stanislas had impressed upon her during morning devotions. There were special torments in Hell reserved for women who did not present their husbands with sons, and if her next child should also be a daughter, then she would have to answer for her failure before God. At the time she had asked if the birth of daughters was not God’s Will, as all things on earth were. But Pader Stanislas had reminded her that only God or the Devil could change the world, and when a woman obstinately refused to deliver sons, as it was her duty to do, it showed that she had come under the influence of the Devil. Had not God sent His Son, to save mankind? Why,