The Duke and the Enchantress

Chapter Two - The Physician

Chapter Two 

The doctor was a small, slight man with hunched shoulders and curly white hair that was receding from his broad forehead.  A pair of glasses perched on his pointed nose, giving him the look of a curious old bird.  Alan had served Connor Keep since the Senior Connor was in residence, but Liam had been a healthy boy and a strong man, so he’d hardly had any need of the man’s services.  Now he came into the Duke’s chambers at such a brisk pace that Mrs. Short was practically running behind him. 

“Your grace,” the physician offered a perfunctory nod .

“Doctor.  You have seen the child?” 

“I have seen, and her condition is dire.” 

He pressed his lips together and waited for the doctor to explain. Alan shoved his wire rimmed spectacles back up his nose so he could peer at the duke through the glass.  “The child does not tolerate cows milk, or goats milk, Liam.”  The duke flinched at the familiar use of his name.  No one dared call him by his first name.  “She is vomiting everything she is given.”  Alan shook his head.  “She is barely weighing in at two kilograms, and she is severely dehydrated.” 

“Then what, doctor?” Liam asked impatiently.  “Can she be saved?” 

“You need a wet-nurse immediately.” The doctor pulled his glasses off and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to rub at the lenses.  “Not just any wet nurse.  You need a woman who has recently delivered.  This child needs colostrum.” 

Liam's brows wrinkled together.  “And how am I supposed to find such a woman?”  

Liam looked to Mrs. Short.  She shook her grey head, her expression grim.  “Don’t look at me, your grace.  The only woman I know who has delivered is my niece, and that was neigh on a year ago.” 

“We will have to send messengers out through the village--” 

Eisen coughed into his hand.  “Ah...” 

The duke glared in his direction, “What is it, man?  Do you know of someone?” 

His face flushed a deep red, and he scratched the back of his neck.  “Well, maybe, that is...”’ 

“Spit it out man!” Liam growled.  He liked Eisen, and considered the guard one of his few friends, but he had no time for this stuttering now.

“I heard there is a woman that delivered last night in the dungeons.” 

Everyone turned toward him then, the doctor, Mrs. Short, the two maids who were hovering around the edges of the room.  The doctor spoke first, his face screwing up in disapproval.  “You kept a pregnant woman in your dungeons?  You allowed her to deliver under those conditions?” 

Liam passed a hand over his face.  “I had no knowledge of this.”  That was the truth.  He rarely bothered with such matters.  He allowed the local magistrate and the Priesthood to handle the few complaints that came up.  The duke only heard the most serious cases, which were few and far between.  He hadn’t even stepped into the dungeons in over a year.  “What were the charges against her?”  For a woman to be thrown into the dungeons, it must have been a heinous crime.  Had she murdered her husband?  Burned her children alive? 

Eisen's eyes looked anywhere but at the duke.  “Witchcraft, your grace.  The Priesthood tried her and found her guilty.” 

Liam made a disgusted noise in his throat.  “The Priesthood and their bloody witch-hunts.” he growled.  There were no witches, just unfortunate old women whose brains were addled with age.  He was disgusted to know some poor wench had been locked under the Keep on such ridiculous suspicions. 

“And she survived?” the doctor pressed Eisen for details. 

Eisen nodded.  “That is what I heard.  But the child...” he swallowed, and his Adams apple bobbed, “The child was born dead.” 

The doctor nodded, “To be expected under such stress, poor thing.” He placed his glasses back on his sharp, beak-like nose.  “I suggest you take this woman from the dungeon as soon as possible, even if it is only temporary while you look a more suitable wet-nurse.  If the child takes the breast immediately, she may yet survive.  If not?” He shrugged a thin, stooped shoulder.  “There is nothing more I can do.  Good day, your grace.” 

Liam picked up his short sword and slid it into the scabbard that hung down his back.  “Lets go,” he snapped. 

“Your grace?” Eisen’s face went from red to blanched white. 

“To the dungeons, man.  I will see this woman myself.”