Read Online Lords of the White Castle by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page B

seemed to have left his head and travelled rapidly south.
    As if aware of his discomfort, she gave him a slow, knowing smile: a little scornful, gently amused. 'My name is Oonagh FitzGerald, widow of Robert FitzGerald of Docionell in Limerick. Since my husband died in the winter, my home has been here, and since I also have some small knowledge of healing, it has fallen my duty to tend the unwell.' She wrapped one of her braids around her forefinger and considered him. 'And who are you?'
    Fulke managed a clumsy bow. 'Fulke FitzWarin of Lambourn and Whittington, squire to Lord Walter.' She looked far too young to be a widow. Her skin bore the flawless bloom and rounded outline that spoke of a girlhood still recent. He wondered if he should offer condolences on her husband's death, then decided it was better not to say anything.
    'And you did not suffer the seasickness yourself, Fulke FitzWarin?' Approaching the bed she laid her hand across Theobald's brow and gave him a reassuring murmur.
    'No, my lady, or only a little at the beginning.'
    'You are one of the fortunate ones then, like your liege lord the Prince.'
    'You have met him, my lady?' Fulke spoke without inflection.
    'Indeed I have.' Her own voice too was neutral, revealing nothing of her thoughts. 'He was in the hall when I was bade attend upon your master.' Reaching into the satchel slung from her shoulder, she withdrew a small linen pouch. 'Give him as much as will cover your thumbnail dissolved in hot wine. One cup now, another at compline and a third in the morning.'
    Theobald weakly lifted his head. 'How soon can I rise from my bed?'
    'As soon as the room ceases to sway and you stop vomiting,' she said. 'Although I think you could have answered that for yourself, my lord,' she added as Theobald lay back, his colour ashen and his throat working as he swallowed a retch.
    i feel like a puling infant,' he groaned.
    'Aye, well, 'tis the state of man from cradle to grave.' Her smile took the sting from the words. 'You must eat only dry bread and light broth for two days after you rise, lest the purging begins again.'
    Fulke opened the pouch, sniffed the contents, and turned aside to sneeze.
    'Mint and ginger, not suitable for inhaling,' she laughed and went to the door. Another word in Gaelic brought the massive dog to its feet.
    'How much does it eat?' Fulke asked.
    Oonagh gave him a teasing look. 'That depends on how hungry she is, and if anyone has been foolhardy enough to take liberties.' She gestured. 'Go on, stroke her if you wish. She won't bite unless I say.'
    Fulke was fond of dogs. Indeed, he was more afraid that Oonagh would bite him than the bitch. He went forward confidently, let the dog sniff his hand and swipe it with a long, pink tongue. He scratched her beneath the chin and braced his knees as she leaned on him, an expression of canine bliss in her eyes.
    Oonagh watched him thoughtfully. 'You have gentle hands,' she said.
    Fulke felt his ears begin to burn. 'I don't know about that, my lady'
    'I do. There are not many men who have gentle hands.' She stepped over the threshold. Another command in Gaelic brought the dog from her ecstatic trance to instant obedience and she followed her mistress.
    'Doubtless I will see you again, Fulke FitzWarin,' Oonagh FitzGerald said and, with a brief nod, went on her way.
    Moments later there was a warning snarl and the sound of her voice sharply raised as she called the bitch to heel. Fulke ran out to see what was happening and met Jean on his way up the stairs, a steaming jug in his hand and an expression of recovering shock on his face.
    'Jesu, have you seen the size of that brute?' he cried. 'It's bigger than a pack pony and it's got teeth like palings!' He looked over his shoulder as if expecting to see the wolfhound padding up the stairs after him.
    'Yes, we've met.' Fulke smiled, an air of smugness hovering at his mouth corners, its mistress came to tend Lord Theobald.'
    Jean cocked a curious eyebrow. 'You look