The Eyes of the Dying by Joyce Lionarons

Author:Joyce Lionarons [Lionarons, Joyce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Stefan sat in the darkness of the men’s infirmary next to the bed of Nathan Egge, who had come to the spitalhouse several weeks before with the lung disease. His coughing and wheezing was keeping him awake while the rest of the patients slept, and he seemed grateful for the physician’s presence. A single candle burned at the far side of the infirmary, illuminating the doorway that led to the staircase and casting a dim light over the rows of sleeping men.

Disheartened by his failure to learn anything from Sister Cecilia, Stefan had balked at questioning any of the canons. Those he had spoken to while seeing to his patients had all expressed their shock and horror at the deaths. He did not want to rouse their suspicions by his behavior as he had with the nun. What did Matthew Cordwainer expect him to do?

Unable to think of anything else he might do to help, Stefan had instructed his household servant Annie to tell any of his regular patients that he would be unavailable for the next few days and had slept most of the afternoon. Now he would keep vigil over the residents of Saint Leonard’s infirmary throughout the night. If he was correct that someone was killing the dying, perhaps he might surprise them in the act.

Nathan Egge reached out and grasped Stefan’s arm as he struggled for breath, wheezing harder than before. Stefan helped him sit, stretching his other arm for a cup of water that sat near the bed. Egge coughed and gasped, then drew a calmer breath. Stefan held the cup to his lips so he might drink, using a cloth to wipe the spittle from Egge’s face.

When Egge was resting comfortably, Stefan leaned back against the wall listening to the snores and occasional groans that filled the infirmary. Despite his afternoon nap, he found himself yawning, struggling to remain alert. After a while, his eyes closed in the darkness.

He was awakened by the Matins bells. The candle by the doorway had burned nearly to its end. Stefan did not know whether to berate himself for falling asleep or for holding his vigil in the first place. Perhaps the daylight hours would have been better spent questioning the canons, although he still did not know what questions he might ask without arousing anger or suspicion. The entire idea of his conducting an investigation was hopeless. At sunrise, he would go to Cordwainer and tell him that the task was beyond his ability. He was a physician, not a coroner or sheriff’s man.

Rising from his seat, Stefan paced silently to the doorway to replace the guttering candle, then resumed his watch. The hours wore on towards dawn. He was considering leaving his post when a tall, thin figure dressed in the habit of the canons appeared in the candlelight, his cowl raised over his head to shield his face. Stefan froze, holding his breath as the man stepped down the row of beds carrying a

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