Long night vigils wear down those who keep watch. Bethberry was very tired, more from worry than from lack of sleep. Yet there was some relief in sight as the Princess slowly sank into a calmer sleep.
Hearing the breakfast bell and the commotion downstairs, Bethberry finally rose, covered her shoulders with a worn plaid shawl of soft wool, and sought the main room, where the Inn's staff was quickly laying a large table of comestibles and potables. She helped herself to a tray of two plates, filled with fruits and breads, mugs of hot beverages, and a bowl of thin gruel, to take upstairs to the invalided Estelyn.
The Innkeeper refused her questioning look of concern for his health, which made her all the more certain that he was hiding something about his condition from her, so she determined simply to watch him from time to time, from a distance. Her immediate responsibility was Estelyn.
Returning upstairs, she found the Princess awake, sitting up even, but wan in face. More worrisome was the apathy in the Princess's manner. She had no inclination to eat or even to talk, although her eyes acknowledged the presence and the concern of the woman who had saved her life.
Bethberry left the tray at the bedside, picked up a steaming mug of warm drink for herself, and walked over to the window, where the day's new light gave no hint of the night's terrifying activities.
[ January 06, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]
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I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away.
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