Rafe stirred drowsily and opened his eyes. For a moment he couldn’t think where he was. The warmth of the furs that covered him and the softness cushioning his head felt out of place.
“Are you awake, Master?”
The question was an unnecessary one, as Druce was standing beside the bed and could see very well that he was. Rafe sat upright, holding his head in both hands.
“How long did I sleep?”
“Since yesterday afternoon, Master.”
“And Lady Adele?”
“She is still sleeping, my lord,” answered Druce as he made his way to the tent flap. Rafe heard him talking in low tones to someone outside before he returned with a bowl and pitcher of water. Rafe watched him carefully as he set out a dry piece of cloth.
“Well, Druce, what is it?”
Druce started nervously.
“M-my lord?”
“Come, Druce; with whom were you whispering?”
Druce flushed and hesitated.
“Master Leofric wished to be told when you awoke.”
“Did he?” Rafe climbed out of bed and stretched, yawning loudly. “I suppose that means I am to expect a visit from him then?”
“I believe so, my lord.”
Even as Druce finished speaking Leofric entered the tent. Druce, looking slightly harassed, withdrew with a bow leaving them in peace. For a moment they stared at one another in silence.
“What is it?” demanded Rafe peremptorily, seeing the gravity of Leofric’s expression.
“Finan is hurt.”
“How?”
“After we left you yesterday a message came through from Merrodon, and Finan rode out to meet with Lord Merrodon. He returned an hour later wounded.”
“Do we know how it happened?”
“Not precisely; Lord Merrodon’s men fought to retrieve him when he reached the safety of Rand’s camp. Finan is unconscious and a little feverish, he sleeps still.”
“Why did you not wake me?” exclaimed Rafe.
“Of what use would it have been? There was nought any of us could do.”
Rafe had to admit the truth of this statement, but it did little to quell his temper.
“You had best take me to him.”
“Come then, he is resting at Rand’s camp.” Leofric saw Rafe stiffen and reached out a hand, grasping his shoulder.
“It is time to forgive, Rafe.”
Rafe shook his head uncertainly.
“I cannot, you were not there, you never saw…”
“I saw how it effected both you and Finan,” responded Leofric quietly. “I saw you change before my eyes. We none of us will ever be able to forget, it would be wrong to try. Yet both of us know that Evoric would wish us to forgive, he would want us to be just.”
Both men were silent for a time, and then Leofric shook him gently.
“Come, Rafe.”
They walked to Rand’s camp in silence. Leofric did not try to engage Rafe in conversation; he knew that his friend needed the time to collect his thoughts. Rand met them as they entered the camp and Rafe pulled his sword from its sheath, hold it out toward him. Rand shook his head.
“No, Rafe, not between us.”
Rafe struggled awkwardly for something to say but could find nothing.
“How is Finan, any change?” asked Leofric.
“The fever is worse.”
They entered the tent to find Drogo bent over Finan’s form. He looked up as they crossed the threshold, but shook his head at their unasked question.
“No, the fever is yet in him, he talks still but I cannot make out that which he is saying.”
Rafe strode forwards, dropping to his knee beside the bed.
“What did they do to you?” His voice was steady, but there was a white line of anger around his mouth. Rafe took hold of the fur that covered the bed and attempted to pull it back. Leofric stepped forward and stopped him.
“Let go, Fricka.”
Leofric knew that Rafe would brook no opposition and shook his head regretfully, stepping back out of his way. The wound had been re-dressed that morning by Drogo, causing Finan some considerable pain. The aggravation had made the wound bleed again. Rafe pulled back the coverings on the bed to see that the bandage was marked red. He gazed at the blood stain silently for some time.
“He meant this for me.”
“’Tis not your fault, Rafe,” reassured Leofric earnestly.
“No?” Rafe’s voice was bitter. “Then whose fault is it? If it had not been for the fact that I made him enter into this ridiculous charade he would never have been hurt, you know that as well as I. Whatever harm was visited on him was meant for me.”
“Then I thank God that Lord Merrodon’s plans were foiled.”
Leofric raised his hand and grasped Rafe’s shoulder.
“You have to see past the fact that Finan was hurt, ask instead why Lord Merrodon would wish to harm you.”
“He would not, why should he?”
“Perhaps it is Finan he dislikes, only he believes him to be Lord Rafe,” suggested Rand.
Leofric shook his head.
“It makes no sense, not when he knows that it is Lord Rafe who acts as judiciary in this affair between him and Coughly.”
The three men fell silent until Rafe turned again to Finan. His foster brother’s face was flushed, a thin film of perspiration covering it with an unhealthy sheen.
“When do you expect the fever to break?”
Drogo shrugged his shoulders.
“There is no way to tell, but he’s strong; he should be able to fight it.”
“There must be some sort of sign that tells if he will recover or not!” demanded Rafe.
Drogo shook his head.
“I am afraid there is little we can do but wait.”
“Wait!” repeated Rafe bitterly. “Why is it always inactivity and patience that is required?”
He settled himself in a chair and commenced tapping his fingers against the wood. Drogo looked towards his master, but Rand shook his head and Drogo was obliged to hold his tongue. Rafe squirmed uncomfortably and began to fiddle with the leather tassel on his belt. Rand cast Leofric a speaking glance and Leofric searched his mind for a way to entice Rafe’s impatient restlessness from the wholly inappropriate setting of Finan’s sick room.
“Rafe, is there some action we should be taking now that Lord Merrodon has made this move?”
Rafe thought for a few moments.
“It would probably be best if we join our camps together, we are vulnerable apart.”
Rand knew very well that it was his much smaller camp that was vulnerable, and felt a certain appreciation for the fact that Rafe had phrased his sentence as he had.
“You think we should move within your boundaries?”
“No, there is no need to disturb Finan, it is better that we come to you.” Rafe’s face darkened as he looked again to Finan’s restless movements upon the bed. “But there is something I must do first.”
“Rafe?” It was Leofric’s voice, a little anxious, as though he were not sure what his friend had in mind.
“She has to know, Fricka.” Rafe’s face was set. “She has to know now, this has gone far enough.”
Leofric nodded his head but remained silent, he made no move to stop Rafe as he left the tent.
“He is going to Adele?” asked Rand.
“It is time.”
“I suppose,” Rand sighed. “He will feel better once he has made this plain to her.”
Leofric turned to Rand, his eyes a little unfocused as if his mind were on another, more important matter.
“You were always very clever in some ways, Rand.” Leofric shook his head. “But in others you remain the dunce.”
Chapter Twenty Two