"Nay." Alice looked down at the youngster and knew that death was even now reaching out with icy hands to claim him. "That rash on his chest—"

"What of it?" Katherine asked quickly. "Have you seen its like before?"

"Nay, but mayhap my mother did." Alice knelt beside the pallet and felt for Young John's pulse. It was weak and much too fast. She looked at the miller. "Tell me everything you can about this sickness. When did it come upon him, John?"

"This afternoon, m'lady," the miller whispered. "One minute he was dashing about chasing the chickens and the next he did not even want to eat a bit of the pudding his mother had made."

Alice opened the handbook and quickly turned the pages until she found the section on strange fevers of the lungs. She studied it for a time. A redness of the chest. Harsh breathing. Great warmth.

"My mother notes that she tended a small child with such symptoms once." Alice turned the page, frowning.

The miller's wife moved slightly in the circle of her husband's arm. She wiped tears from her eyes. "Did the other child live?"

Alice looked at the woman. You must give hope as well as medicine, her mother had once said. Hope is as crucial to the cure as the right herbs. "Aye," she said gently. "He lived."

"Then we must try this remedy," the woman begged. "Please, my lady."

"We will," Alice assured her. She turned to Katherine. "I shall give you a list of the herbs I will need. Please bring them as quickly as possible."

The healer's mouth tightened. "Aye, my lady."

Alice wondered if she had offended Katherine by taking command of the situation. If so, there was nothing to be done about it. She looked at Joan. "I will need a pot and some fresh water."

"I shall get them," Joan said quickly.

"Set them on the fire."

Young John's fever broke shortly before dawn. His breathing quickly grew less labored. By the time the first light of the new day had appeared it was obvious that the child would live to chase chickens again.

The miller and his wife wept unashamedly with relief.

Alice, exhausted from the lengthy vigil, crouched beside the pallet one last time to check Young John's pulse. She found it steady and strong.

"I think he will soon be wanting a bit of pudding," she said quietly.

"Thank you, Lady Alice," Joan said softly.

"Do not thank me." Alice looked down at Young John. The boy's color was good. His sleep appeared normal. " 'Tis my mother's work."

Katherine gazed at her for a long while. "Your mother must have been a very learned woman."

"Aye. She corresponded with the wisest and most skilled herbalists in Europe. She collected their wisdom and added it to her own discoveries. And she put all that she learned into this book."

Joan's eyes were warm as they met Alice's. "Such a book has no value unless it be used by one who has a talent for identifying diseases through an analysis of symptoms. Such a talent, I have discovered, is uncommon."

Alice did not know what to say.

"Your mother would be proud of you, my lady," Joan continued softly. "You have learned how to make use of the knowledge she provided in that book. And tonight you used that knowledge to save this boy. 'Tis a great gift you have received from your mother."

Alice looked at the handbook Helen had written during the long, lonely years of her marriage.

Alice thought of how she had sometimes resented her mother's passion for her work. There had been so many times when it had seemed to bring the melancholy Helen far more solace than her children could ever provide.

But tonight the contents of Helen's handbook had saved a child's life.

There was a price to be paid for such a valuable gift. Alice knew that, in her own way, she had paid part of that price. So had Benedict. Helen had paid the highest price of all.

Yet tonight a little boy lived because of it. He was not the first one to be saved because of Helen's work, Alice reminded herself. He would not be the last.

Somewhere deep inside Alice a gentle warmth blossomed in a place that had known only resentment and sadness.

"Aye, Prioress. You are right. For some reason, I did not realize what a great inheritance my mother had left to me until now."

Young John stirred on his pallet and opened his eyes. He looked up at his mother. "Mama? Why are there so many people here?"

His parents answered with shaky laughter and went down on their knees beside the pallet.

Alice held her mother's handbook close to her heart. Thank you, she said silently.

Chapter 14

Alice stood in the hall and concentrated intensely. There was a fire on the hearth but the chamber was cold. "There is something missing from this hall, Julian."

"Stolen, do you mean?" Julian put down the harp he had been plucking in a negligent manner. "Not likely. No one would dare steal anything from Hugh the Relentless. The devil knows that there would be no peace for the poor thief."

"Not stolen. Just… missing." Alice waved a hand to indicate the barren walls and rush-covered floor. "This is where Lord Hugh dines every day with his men. It is where he sits to judge matters of law on Scarcliffe. 'Tis where he will entertain his guests. And it lacks a certain aspect. It needs something."

"Ah, now I comprehend you, my lady." Julian grinned. "The word you are groping for is elegance."

"Elegance?"

"Aye. This hall lacks elegance, grace, charm, and fashion."

"All of that?" Alice bit her lip as she studied the chamber.

"All of that and more. Lord Hugh is skilled at many things, my lady, but he has no interest in matters of fashion and elegance and, no offense, it shows."

"I do believe you are correct."

"The problem, as I see it," Julian continued, "is that Lord Hugh orders everything from his boots and tunics to his messenger's travel cloak made up in only one color. Black."

"Hmm. He does seem to have a strong preference for it. I do not believe that he would care to return and discover that everything had been done over in sky blue or pumpkin orange, however."

"I would not dream of suggesting that you get rid of the black." Julian began to stroll around the hall, examining it in some detail. "Black suits Lord Hugh in some way. But what if we were to enliven it with another color?"

"What color do you suggest?"

"Green or red, mayhap. The contrast would be most effective, I believe. White would be interesting, too."

Inspiration struck Alice. "Amber."

"My lady?"

Alice smiled with satisfaction. "Amber is the color of Lord Hugh's eyes. 'Tis a lovely hue. Almost gold. We shall use amber in contrast to the black."

Julian nodded thoughtfully. "A rich amber would suit this room rather well."

"I shall order a canopy made of those colors to go over the head table." Alice's enthusiasm grew swiftly as images formed in her mind. "And I shall have a new tunic made up for him in amber and black."

" 'Tis almost time for Sir Hugh to order new garments for his men," Julian said smoothly. "He does so every year. 'Twould be an excellent occasion to change the colors of their robes also."

"Of course." She was not particularly skilled at this sort of thing but it was clear that Julian had a talent for it. "See to it, will you, Julian?"

Julian swept her a deep bow. "With great pleasure, my lady. Shall I order a new gown for you also?"

Alice had a vision of herself greeting Hugh in a gown sewn in his new colors. "Aye. That would be most appropriate."

In London Hugh steeled himself against the gloom and despair that seemed to emanate from the very walls of Erasmus's private chamber.