Cold bit deep, penetrating to the bones and Yaroslav took yet another fur and pulled it tight around his shoulders. With no immediate effect, he ordered his servants to bring more wood and stoke up the fire in the hope of warding off the violent shivering which refused to stop.
He sat on a rickety stool, huddled over, eyes gazing at the floor, aware of the heat from the fire but not feeling it.
Some days before, with fever taking hold, he"d sent for his physician Bartholomew, who prodded and poked, mumbled for the king to make a motion, studied, screwed up his face and shook his head. The physician had hobbled away to his private rooms, re-emerging hours later, a great, dog-eared tome in his hands, wrinkled brow and serious eyes. “I shall have to bleed you, my liege.”
The fever gripped
