The Lady at the River's Edge

4 - Blood and Vinegar

Despite their haste, by the time they arrived, Benedek had already been taken to the surgeon's quarters. In his place were only maids with pails of soapy water, scrubbing blood from the floor. It was mostly cleaned up, but even the pinkish tint to the suds made Erzsebet feel queasy.

For a moment she wondered if her father was right, that it would be best for her to go back and stay with her mother and sister, until all the grim business was sorted. The thought did not survive long, though–she couldn't shy away from the world, becoming sheltered and useless as some of the castle women were. More than that, though, she simply could not sit around and wait to know what had happened.

Even before these thoughts found shape, she was moving, taking strides as swift as her skirts would allow through the narrow servant's passages towards the surgeon's chambers. Only once did she lose her way among the humbler hallways she so rarely used, but her father was near behind and set her path aright with a gentle hand. He shared a brief look with her as he drew abreast, one of concern and pride both, and she felt an answering swell of gratitude. Not all fathers would abide daughters as willful as her, and for all his attempts at guiding the course of her life, he never stood in her way when something was truly important to her.

They arrived at the surgery room, set apart and away from the more commonly used spaces of the castle, so that the nobility might avoid the sounds and scents of sickness. Sir Janos stood placidly just outside, bowing to the count as he approached. Even through the heavy oaken door, Benedek could be heard, though his voice carried more with anger than with suffering. Only when Janos pulled the door open could his words be discerned: "--wretched beast came directly at me. They're trained to do as bid! I'll have his head, the bastard–"

"Yes, yes," the surgeon muttered, "but for now you must hold still, else you'll lose the eye." Marton, the surgeon, always had a curious manner to him. He seemed utterly uncaring, and yet deeply devoted to his patients at the same time. Whether by the tone of his voice or the threat of his words, Benedek fell silent just as Erzsebet followed her father into the room.

The surgery room was never pleasant to visit, with its variety of rank unguents and gleaming tools promising all manners of discomfort, but this was the first time since she had come to Petervarad that she had visited the room during active surgery. The surgeon's assistant, Pal, a boy younger than her, took a bloodied linen from the surgeon without the least distaste, only a grim seriousness as he set the soiled rag aside and took a clean strip back to his master. Marton was bent over the table peering at his patient, and took the fresh linen without looking up. Neither did he look up at her father's approach, though he said, "Not the worst, my lord Count, all things considered. After we cleanse the wound, there should be no lasting damage beyond a scar."

"Not the worst?" Benedek shouted. "I've been attacked, your man attacked me!"

"Hold still I said," Marton admonished him calmly. "The vinegar will hurt enough in the wound, you don't want it in your eye as well." He raised a small decanter and poured, eliciting a grunt from his patient.

"What's this about an attack?" her father asked.

"Your man, Janos," Benedek explained, his tone subdued by the scourging pain and the threat of more. "He did this. He set his bird on me, had it try to claw my eyes out!"

Erzsebet and her father both whirled about, looking back towards the doorway for some explanation from the knight, but he held his guard position, facing away from them. "Sir Janos, come here," her father commanded, a hard iron in his tone that he rarely used.

The knight obeyed instantly, coming to stand before them, his eyes respectfully lowered, impassive. "My lord Count," is all he said.

"You heard Lord Benedek's accusations."