Seeds of the White Tree

Chapter 46 - The Worm and the Wolf

"The good news, Sire, is that I daresay you will live." 

For Elfwine, who had just spent a long and fearful night being subjected to all the various indignities of the healing arts - including being made to vomit up what had once been a perfectly good dinner - this pronouncement brought both relief and a tinge of exasperation. Exchanging a look of consternation with Lothíriel, he began to shrug back into his embroidered surcoat and cloak. The jeweled baldric he also re-fastened across his chest, the scarlet red of its topaz stones now returned as if nothing had ever happened. 

"And the bad news?"

Héostor, Edoras' chief physician, indicated the bowl where the wine from Elfwine's goblet had been poured out. One of the old healer's apprentices had previously been fussing over both it and the leftover food from Elfwine's plate. 

"The evidence is clear; there was indeed poison in your wine. Wolf's-Bane, otherwise known as aconite, if I'm not mistaken. If you had drunk of it, there would have been no help for you. Aconite is one of the more deadly poisons known to Men, and has no known cure." Seeing the looks on Elfwine and Lothíriel's faces, Héostor was quick to add "Signs would have arisen within two to six hours of having tasted the Wolf's-Bane, and it has been nearly twelve. Rest assured that you are out of harm's way, my lord." 

With a sigh, Lothíriel laid a hand on Elfwine's arm and squeezed. She had been by Elfwine's side throughout the entire night, just as sleepless and anxious as her son if not more. Outside dawn was breaking over Edoras, but the glow from the embers of the royal chamber's hearth revealed dark circles beneath Lothíriel's eyes. Her graying hair was escaping from the plaits beneath her circlet, and new worry lines furrowed the dowager queen's brow. Those lines only deepened as Lothíriel voiced the question which had been gnawing away at her all night. 

"Master Héostor, you said that the signs of aconite poisoning can include numbness in the hands and feet, weakness of the limbs, and mortal interruptions to the heart's rhythm? Does that not describe almost perfectly the condition in which you treated Éomer before his death...?" 

A pall of horrified realization descended upon the room even as Héostor considered Lothíriel's words. Elfwine was the first to react. Grey-faced and wide-eyed, he staggered and had to take a seat on the trunk at the foot of his bed. 

"It cannot be...Mother...you think that Father was murdered?!"

Lothíriel's throat tightened and her eyes watered, but she nodded. "Your father was not young, but he was strong and fit. I have always felt a wrongness in his having departed this world before his time. Now I know why. Somehow I know it in my heart; there was aconite in his morning meal before we rode out together...for the last time." 

"There is only one way to know for certain..." said Héostor, not without a note of reluctance. His bloodshot gaze flickered toward the window, the view from which overlooked the walls of the city and the royal burial mounds beyond. 

"No," growled Elfwine. "Absolutely not. I will not have my father's tomb disturbed, now or ever."

Lothíriel spoke pleadingly to the old healer. "You tended to Éomer on his deathbed, Héostor. Can you say beyond shade of doubt that his death was not caused by poisoning?"

Héostor thought for a minute. Then he shook his head. "I cannot swear to it that King Éomer died by Wolf's-Bane...but the symptoms certainly do align, uncannily so. If you want my opinion as a physician-"

"I do," Elfwine interrupted. Having recovered from the initial shock of such musings, Elfwine now stared down Héostor with a searing intensity. "You have treated my family for longer than I have been alive, old friend. I trust your conclusions in this matter above all else. Now please, be blunt and honest...do you believe that my father was likely poisoned?"