Treasures - Book 4 The Frencolian Chronicles (complete)

Chapter 11

The storm reached its climax at the time Jobyna's fever began to break.

Soaked in perspiration, she was hoarse from screaming in delirium at the nightmares she experienced, all about suffering torture.

The nurse, employing other women to assist, bathed Jobyna's fever-ridden body, administering herbal drugs to draw out the effects of pneumonia. A hot poultice made with mustard, flax seeds, whole-meal flour, mineral salts and herbs, was cooled a little before it was placed on muslin cloth bandages and wrapped around Jobyna's chest and back. This was discarded and replaced by another as soon as it was back to room temperature. Cold compresses were used on her forehead and her arms and legs were cooled as well.

Elliad paced outside the sick room, angry that he couldn't stop himself thinking of anything other than this 'infirm child'. 

It was his one obsession, to talk with Jobyna. His control of the kingdom depended upon her.

The doctors warned him that to use pressure on the girl to gain information, at this stage, would result in her death.

"She must not die, not yet," he repeated, "I will not let her die yet."

While they were forcing the senseless Jobyna to swallow some thick syrup, King Elliad burst into the room. The servant-women curtsied. 

The elderly doctor and his nurse remained upright. Not taking his eyes off Jobyna, the doctor said, "Excuse me, Your Majesty, but we'll lose this poor creature if we're interrupted again. Every time the door is opened, the cool air rushes in."

Elliad's hands gestured impatiently as he muttered, "You heard him, shut the door and get on with it; don't stare at me, get back to work."

Looking at the situation realistically, Elliad knew Jobyna's chances were slim.

The king sought to channel his mind back to the mundane duties he performed when the weather forced him to stay inside the castle. However, he found himself pacing the long distance between his offices and the room where Jobyna lay. He braced himself each time to receive the news of her death. "At least then, this matter will be decided one way or the other, instead of being held in suspense like a hostage!" he complained. His impatient nature was at the end of its tether.

"I must pull myself together," he muttered.

The news that Jobyna's fever had at last broken and she was coughing up phlegm was received with great relief and satisfaction.

Elliad had not fully realized the extent of his desire for her recovery. The great schemer and destroyer of human lives had been committed, for the first time, to saving a life. How simple it was to snuff one out. "People die so easily," he said to himself, "but not this child!"

Jobyna lay face down, her head downhill, unable to move for pain. She cried voicelessly as the large nurse pounded on her back with closed fists. Next, she was sat up and held, leaning forward as the nurse rubbed her back while Jobyna coughed up copious amounts of thick green phlegm and blood-spotted bile into a bowl held by the old doctor. 

"Good girl, that's what we wanted." The nurse and doctor were pleased with themselves. All their hard work and long hours had paid off. He pressed his fingers to his patient's lips as Jobyna tried to say something between the coughs. "Don't try to talk now, you must rest and get well. You're still a very sick girl. King Elliad has gone to a lot of trouble and expense to save your life." 

Thinking about Elliad made Jobyna's heart race as she remembered where she was and why she was here. Why would he want to save my life? —She asked herself.

The nurse, perceiving Jobyna's agitation, added her advice, "Just be a good girl and do as you're told and everything will turn out well for you." 

Sitting on a chair by the table, the doctor spoke under his breath, "I'm much too old for this; I do hope Gilbert arrives soon."

The nurse spooned hot sickly syrup into Jobyna's mouth. It tasted like sour fruit mixed with bitter herbs. Jobyna wanted to say it was burning her throat, but there was no voice when she tried to speak. 

The words do as you're told echoed in her mind and she knew she must try to cooperate. Closing her eyes with her mind upon the valley, she allowed the thick, oily mixture to slide down her throat before she was laid back down in on the tilted bench. She felt herself drifting off into the dreamland of the sedated. 

The valley was the most beautiful place on earth to Jobyna so she followed her mind's vision to take herself there and sit on the green grass beside the laughing stream. I must go where the stream takes me, she told herself as she imagined stepping into the stream, moving deeper and deeper into the water, then floating away. 

The drugs and herbs in the drink gave her a relaxed, painless, deep sleep, bringing slow healing to her frail body.

~~~~~

Elliad stared down at the sleeping girl.

The doctor had announced, "The girl, Jobyna, will live. She'll need to be nursed for several days before she can talk to you, Sire, but the slightest upset could cause her to suffer a relapse and that will be worse than the original sickness; she'll die for sure."

The doctor also informed Elliad, "Her heart-beat is erratic, and the fever could flare up at any instant. She needs kindness, not, not, no, pressure..." —He had almost said, 'no bullying'.

Elliad reminded himself he just needed to get the required information from her before she died. How could he make her tell him where the treasure was? His scheming mind warned him to stay calm and to be patient. There were many roads to Frencberg and there must be other roads to achieve his goal. The word 'kindness' rang in his mind like some kind of warning bell and he tried hard to dispel it from his thoughts...

The rains continued all week. At this time of the year, it had been known to rain for up to a month. If this happened now, the kingdom would sleep on for a while and Jobyna could take as much time — within reason — as she needed, to recover.

"I must gain the information from this girl before any relapse," he reminded himself. "I know enough about these Christians to have discovered they're not afraid to die. I'm impatient about this, but I'll have to attack this situation from a different, perhaps a new, angle."

His conniving mind sought to invent an alternative strategy. A dog will not bite the hand that feeds it, so this girl likely will confide in someone who is kind to her. Who can I choose? Who can I trust with such valuable information from her? How can I be sure this man, or woman, will not keep what they learn for themselves?