The King's Witch by Cecelia Holland Read Free Book Online Page A

oxymel to drink and held her up while she coughed. The fever was steadily mounting, Gracia’s skin dry and harsh, her eyes dull as stones. Edythe wiped her mouth, and putting her ear flat against Gracia’s back she heard the squeaks and gurgles and rasps of the humors corrupted. She thumped Gracia’s back to get her to cough again. If Gracia could rid her body of enough of the cold, moist humor, the rest might come back into balance.
    Edythe’s heart knocked in her chest. She felt helpless against this. Although her arm was tight around the maid, she felt as if Gracia were miles away, and drifting farther every moment.
    Now Isabella was leaving, as swiftly as she had come, with a kiss for Johanna and an embrace, and then with her women out the door. Lilia came at once across the tent to Gracia.
    “Is she all right?”
    “No,” Edythe said.
    Lilia wrung her hands. “It’s this terrible place. It’s this terrible place.” She looked around the tent as at a cave hung with bats.
    Johanna was pacing nervously around the room. When she heard that, she came toward them.
    “What is it?”
    “The cough,” Edythe said, and put a hand on Gracia’s shoulder. “She’s not well.”
    “She always coughs,” Johanna said. She wound her hands together. Outside, the men’s voices rose again in a thunderous howl. Johanna said, “Mother was right, the whole Crusade is cursed. They call this the Holy Land, but it turns them into devils. The first thing they want to do is kill each other.”
    Berengaria came forward, her gaze on the sick maid. To Edythe, she said, “I help. I pray. I pray for Gracia.”
    Edythe smiled at her and touched her arm. Johanna flung her arms up.
    “As if that will do any good.” Her gaze was steadily on Edythe. “Come with me.”
    “My lady—Gracia—”
    “Let Lilia care for her awhile. I—” Johanna’s tongue slipped over her lips. “I must talk to my brother. Come.” She got a page and sent him on ahead, and took Edythe by the hand.
    Edythe gave Lilia a single, pleading look and followed Johanna out of the tent. She guessed Johanna needed to tell Richard what had just happened, that the Queen of Jerusalem had suddenly appeared. A great crowd stood all around the center of the camp. Night had fallen; the dim glow of lamps showed through the cloth of the three other tents near theirs. Johanna slid her arm through Edythe’s and held her close to her, and led her toward the King’s tent.
    Packs of armed men surrounded it, and now more men, shouting, streamed out of the tent, arms shaking in the air and feet stamping. The council was over. Moving through the crowd felt like being in the midst of a great jumble of moving rocks, the men stirring around them in their mail and shouting in their ears. The page went ahead, his voice unheard, and the women had to sidle and creep and edge their way forward to the tent door.
    There the page went in before them, but Johanna followed before she was announced, with Edythe on her heels.
    The tent was all but empty. Heaps of gear stood around in it, saddles and lances, lumpy sacks and barrels and the treasure chest, a bed back by the far wall, the middle ground trampled to dust, one lamp burning. Richard stood in the light. Johanna flew through the room toward him.
    “What are you doing? Is it true? Are you going to attack Tyre? This is folly, Richard—you must see—”
    He said, “We are not attacking Tyre. We are going to Acre in the morning.”
    That took some of the wind out of Johanna, but she pushed ahead, her voice swelling. “You must call off the Crusade. This is evil—what is happening is evil—”
    “Call it off,” he said, with a laugh. “We just started.” He turned to Edythe. “You can go.”
    She bowed and went back, as Johanna turned and watched her with a pleading look on her face. There was no way to refuse the King, and Edythe slipped out the tent door. Behind her, Johanna’s voice rose again, less certain.
    Edythe