Somewhat hampered by the child she held upon her shoulder, Emma set her candle down and busied herself to find a clean cloth to soak in vinegar or water, if vinegar could not be found. She was indeed unable to find the vinegar, and settled for water, placing the cloth to cool the child's heated brow. During all this, Master Archer slept peacefully, and Emma rather sneered to herself, marvelling at how peaceful and unbothered men could be when there were children in pain by their side. She told herself she'd been wise not to rouse a man who could have proved himself just as useless in his woken state as he was in his sleep.
To her relief, the child dozed off and she was able to take him back to the bedchamber, where she placed him on the bed. She frowned though, because his forehead was heated again, in spite of the cooling cloth she'd placed on it earlier. The child had complained he was in pain, but to Emma's relief he was now breathing peacefully. Still, Emma reasoned it was not good his forehead was still hot, and she resolved to make soothing tea to give him if he roused again, and stand guard over him while he slept. Returning to the kitchen, she busied herself to find herbs for the tea, and was happy to be able to find dried willow bark in one of the clay jars. Through all this, Master Archer still slept and Emma decided to pay him no mind as she attended to making the tea. She would only rouse him if there was need to fetch an apothecary for the child.
When she returned to the chamber, carrying the tea with her, the little boy was still sleeping, somewhat fitfully, and his forehead was no cooler than before. Emma decided she could not sleep at this time, and she was proven right because soon the child woke up again and wanted to be held and comforted. Emma did so, taking heart whenever the boy seemedto fall asleep with a cooler forehead, and becoming anguished whenever he woke and asked to be comforted. She had a restless night, and at dawn she resolved to go and rouse the child's father to bid him to call for an apothecary.
The child was now fully awake, and had been again complaining he was in pain. It seemed the willow bark tea she'd made him drink hadn't helped much. When Emma stepped inside the kitchen, she saw in some relief that Master Archer had already roused and dressed as he turned to face her.
“You’re here,” he said abruptly instead of bidding her good morrow, and it seemed his voice was astounded.
Emma dismissed his words, because what had occurred between her and this man did not matter at this moment.
“The child, there’s something wrong,” she said urgently, leading Master Archer to the bedchamber where the child lay in bed.
The little boy had obediently drunk the full cup of tea she’d made for him. At this time however he had decided to remove the cold rag she’d earlier placed upon his forehead, and he was now playing with it, trying to wrap his wooden horse in its cloth.
Master Archer strode to the bed and looked upon the child.
“Wrong? What could be wrong with him? Nothing that I can see. Robin, how fare you, lad?”
“Horsey’s tied,” the little boy who was called Robin chirped happily, showing his father his handiwork.
“Indeed he is,” Master Archer nodded with a smile.
Emma narrowed her eyes, because the child had been weak and suffering just moments before. She was not in the least reassured by the way he was acting now, because he could fall ill again at any moment. Feeling his forehead, she decided it was indeed cooler than before, but that he was still warmer than he should be. It was plain the child had a fever.
“I think he’s ill,” she said, casting Master Archer a worried glance.
Master Archer felt the child’s forehead in turn.
“He is a bit warm,” he conceded.
Emma nodded in chagrin, picturing in her mind this beautiful boy consumed by a fever and taken from this world just as her own son had been.
“We should call for an apothecary at once,” she said resolutely.
Master Archer stared at her, and it seemed to Emma he was somewhat surprised.
“He's been like this at times, but soon after he is right as rain. Let’s wait and see,” he said. “I will come back at lunch. And we shall see then.”
Emma glared at him. How could this man be so callous when the child could soon waste away?
“He’s sick,” she said in an urgent voice, hoping Master Archer would understand she had the right of it.
Yet the stubborn man shook his head.
“I do not think so. But we will have a care nevertheless.”
Emma did not feel reassured by his words. She decided to stand guard over the child and take him to an apothecary’s shop herself even if she had to battle his stubborn father. Soon Master Archer was gone about his business and the elderly woman from yesterday came to be with them. Emma assumed Master Archer did not trust Rowena enough to leave her alone with their son and, in this, she conceded he was indeed being a sensible parent. Emma herself would not have left someone as fickle and deceitful as Rowena alone to watch over a child’s welfare.
The woman came to look upon the child, feeling his forehead.
“He’s fine,” she proclaimed with an unconcerned wave of her hand.
Emma frowned. Were all commoners as careless when it came to the health of their children?
“He has a fever,” she said in full chagrin, despondent that the woman seemed to be just as unconcerned as Master Archer about Robin.
“Perchance, a bit,” the woman nodded.