She slammed the pewter pot onto the sideboard and ran toward the bedroom. He was half-crouched on the floor, just getting to his feet—he had apparently fallen as he climbed out of bed, and overturned the table beside it. “Bruce!” she screamed at him, but he was not conscious of her or of what he was doing. Slowly he lunged to his feet and turned to push open the casement window which she had left unlocked. She rushed on toward him, grabbing up a candlestick from a chest-of-drawers and just as he put one foot on the recessed sill she grabbed his arm and swung the heavy stick, striking him hard across the base of the skull. Vaguely she realized that there were people below in the street, looking up, and she heard a woman scream.
He started to fall, sagging slowly, and she flung her arms about him, trying desperately to push him back onto the bed. But he was too heavy for her and in spite of her efforts slid slowly toward the floor. Knowing that she would never be able to lift him from there onto the high bed, she gave a sudden violent shove and he fell sideways, sprawled half across it; she stumbled and pitched down onto him. Swiftly she was on her feet again, and she jerked a quilt from the bed to fling over him, for he was naked and streaming sweat. Pulling and hauling, swearing with fright and rage, at last she got him back into the bed. She collapsed then into a chair beside it, completely exhausted, her muscles quivering and jumping resentfully.
Then, as she looked at him, she saw that a dark streak of blood was beginning to make a crooked path down his neck, and she got wearily to her feet again. With cotton and cold water she sponged it off, and wrapped a clean linen band—torn from a towel—around his head.
“Pox on that nurse!” she thought furiously. “
On her way back to the kitchen she stopped and took a long drink of the posset. It was supposed to be highly invigorating and, at least for a time, did make her feel stronger. Putting the pot down she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. If only that pestilent wench would arrive! she thought. Maybe I could sleep then. I’ll die if I don’t get some sleep. Exhaustion came over her in waves and for several minutes she would think she could not make another move, or take another step. And then it would pass, leaving her no less tired but able to do what had to be done.
It was several minutes before Bruce regained consciousness and then he was even more restless and violent. He tossed and threshed about, throwing off the blankets; his voice was loud and angry, and though she could not understand very much of what he said she knew that he swore continuously. She was not able to pour much of the posset down him before he gave a sudden swing of his arm that sent the pot clattering violently to the floor.
When at last he grew quieter she took a pen and paper and sat down at a table close by the bed to write a letter to Nan. It was difficult, for she wanted to tell the girl the truth without scaring her, and she worked over it for half an hour, scrawling out the words laboriously, making several drafts before she had one that suited her. She blew it dry and dripped on a great blob of gold sealing-wax. Then, picking up a shilling from the table, she went to the window and opened it, thinking that if she could find some youngster passing in the street below she could give him the coin to take it to the post-office for her. The price of postage would be paid upon delivery.
The sky was turning pale blue and a star or two had come out. There were not very many people abroad now, but as Amber leaned out she saw a boy, going down the middle of the street, hold his nose as he passed her house.
She looked down and saw a guard there, lounging against the wall with his halberd on his shoulder. That meant the red cross had been marked on her door too and they were shut in together for forty days and nights, or until both of them were dead. A few days before she would have been terrified; now she accepted it almost with indifference.
“Guard!” She spoke softly, and he heaved himself away from the wall and stood out from it to look up at her. “Will you give this letter to someone to post for me? I’ll give you a shilling.” He nodded his head, she tossed down the letter and the coin, and closed the window again. But for a moment she stood looking out, like a prisoner, at the sky and the trees. Then she turned and once more spread the quilts up over Bruce.
It was almost nine when the nurse arrived. Amber heard someone below talking to the guard and then a rap on the door. She took a candle and hurried down to admit her. “Why are you so late?” she demanded. “The doctor told me he’d send you here in the middle of the afternoon!”
“I come from my last patient, mam, and he wasn’t a quick one to die.”
