'Lice, he said. 'I've been bitten to death the past fortnight, and one of them has rubbed on my gambeson and turned septic. I need to take a staves-acre bath.
'Lice? Her eyebrows rose towards her kerchief, and then she pursed her lips. 'Serves you right, she said. 'I'll warrant you caught them off that whore.
He cleared his throat. 'Likely I did. There was no point in making excuses. 'I suppose she had to give me something for my money.
Catrin sniffed and turned away to seek amongst Ethel's earthenware pots and jars. 'Well, if lice are all that you got, you can count yourself fortunate. There is a disease going around the dockside whores that rots the private parts of any man who lies with them, and Ethel says that there's no cure.
'I lay beside her, not inside her, Oliver defended, his complexion darkening, for even to think of the incident filled him with chagrin. 'Christ knows, I was too deep in my cups to have either the will or the way when it came to the act.
'Praise God for small mercies, she muttered sarcastically. 'It's the first time I've heard drunkenness extolled as a salvation.
'It was better than facing myself, he said deliberately, his eyes on her spine as she swooped in triumph on two small blue jars.
Her back remained turned, but he saw her pause. 'Not better, she said, 'but easier.
'Jesu, you're hard. I come to make amends and all you do is assault me with your scold's tongue.
Now she did turn round, hazel eyes flashing. 'Amends? she said scathingly. 'I thought you were here to rid yourself of lice. Am I supposed to heal your sore conscience as well?
'You could try not grinding salt into it for a start.
She glared at him, then made a small sound through her teeth and thrust one of the blue jars into his hand. 'Fill a tub with water as hot as you can bear, and mix this in, she said. 'Then bathe in it until it grows cold. You will need to take daily baths until the lice are no more.
He cupped the jar in his hands, and wondered if it was a dismissal. He did not want it to be.
She removed the stopper from the other jar and looked at him with pursed lips. 'Show me where the bites are septic'
'They're under my shirt.
'Well, take it off then, she said with laboured patience. 'How can I treat the place without seeing it?
Oliver set his jar on the floor and stood up. Unlatching his sword belt, he removed his gambeson, tunic and shirt. He was uncomfortably aware of people pausing to stare as they went about their business. There was a woven hanging that acted as a screen, but it was tied up out of the way.
'Don't scowl, it's bad for custom, Catrin said tartly, and indicated that he should be seated again. 'I need the light to see what I'm doing, she added, as if reading his mind.
The fresh air was cool on his naked skin and soothed the hot itchiness of the rash. He heard Catrin cluck her tongue as she looked at the patch which his gambeson had inflamed. 'If you're riding out again, you'll need to keep it bandaged, but otherwise you must leave it open to the air as much as you can.
'You mean walk around shirtless?
'Yes.
He heard a glimmer of amusement in her voice. Her hand on the back of his neck was cool and sent a small shiver through him, but not of cold.
'This will hurt, she murmured, 'but only for a moment.
'I knew you were going to say that. He braced himself, but still hissed in pain as she cleaned the affected area with a cloth soaked in astringent lotion.
'Salt water with scabious, she told him. 'Then I'll put on a light smearing of comfrey ointment to soothe the itching. After you have bathed, you must anoint yourself again or, if you cannot reach, get someone to do it for you.
The stinging pain of the first lotion was replaced by the soothing cool of the balm. He felt the gentle touch of her fingertips, and sensed her closeness behind him. 'You have learned a great deal in a very short space of time, he said, probing gently at the subject which had caused their quarrel, seeking an opening.
'I am keen to learn and Ethel is a good teacher. Her voice was suddenly wary.
Keeping his own voice quiet and reasonable, he said, 'I know that it is your chosen path and I have no doubt that in time you will make a worthy successor to Ethel, but I meant what I said before.
'Which part? Hostility had joined the wariness now.
He turned on the stool to face her so that she could see his expression was open and candid. 'The part about midwifery and herb-lore being dangerous trades. No, hear me out. He raised his hand as she drew breath to argue. 'I admit, I would far rather that you stayed in the bower or took up ale-brewing or spinning to support your widowhood, but it's not worth the quarrel. Trying to change you would be like warping a loom out of true, and I doubt I would like the end result. He glanced down at her feet, prepared to make a humorous comment concerning her scarlet hose, but she wasn't wearing any at all.
'But you don't like the one presented to you either, Catrin said, eyeing him narrowly.
'Only part of it, and I would rather learn to live with it than without the whole.
Colour flooded Catrin's face. She moved behind him again and continued smearing the salve. 'And if I say like it all or nothing?
'Then you also would be warping a loom out of true.
There was a long silence. Catrin attended to her task with a thoroughness that insulated her. He felt the touch of her fingers, but not of her mind.
'If it is not enough, then I am sorry. There is no more I can say to mend the rift between us. He tensed, preparing to rise, but the pressure of her fingers increased, bidding him stay.
'Then say nothing more. If not all, then it is indeed enough.
He turned again to look up at her. Her colour was still high and the wariness had not entirely left her expression, but there was a gleam in her eyes and the hint of a curve to her lips. 'And is it not said that enough is as good as a feast to a starving man?
She snorted with reluctant amusement and gave him a gentle push. 'Go and take your bath. Even if we are to be friends again, I don't want to share your lice!
'Scold, he grinned.
'I give as good as I get, she retorted, laughter dancing in her eyes.
Oliver was enchanted. He wanted to grab her waist and swing her round in his arms, but wisely forbore. Their relationship was on an even keel again and he was not about to rock the boat. 'Well, may all your «gettings» be fortunate ones, he answered mischievously for the pleasure of seeing her blush. 'Just one question. What happened to your red hose? Have you suddenly become a staid and respectable matron?
'I have always been a staid and respectable matron, Catrin said flippantly, then shook her head with a regretful sigh. 'The Countess's lap dog took a fancy to chew them when I left them on my pallet, and they're beyond repair. The Countess gave me a pair of her own, but they're brown wool and they wrinkle and fall down unless I add yards of leg binding. I have never considered myself a vain woman — how could I and wear a dress like this? But until the cold weather bites, I would rather go without. You need not laugh, she added, setting her hands on her hips.
'I wasn't. Oliver swallowed so hard that he almost choked. 'I count it a great tragedy.
'Your bath, she said sternly, and made a shooing motion. Oliver leaned back into the shelter to grab another of Ethel's oatcakes, and made off with a spring in his stride that had not been present before.
Shaking her head, Catrin took an oatcake herself and stooped to revive the fire with the bellows, her own movements light and joyful.