Chapter 15: Ch. 015 – (Then) A Last Goodbye

Jonathan flung open the door to his father’s bedchambers. As soon as he saw him, he feared the worst. Lord Shaw was as pale as death, his head and left arm were heavily bandaged with clean linens. He looked like he was dead already, but the doctor assured him that he was still breathing. That was the only good news though, and Jonathan had to sit down as he watched a man as strong as his father struggle weakly to take shallow breaths. The doctor and his father’s manservant Harven both spoke to him, but he was in shock and and even though he heard everything they said, he couldn’t really listen to any of it. For the first few minutes all he could do was sit by his father’s bedside and hold his hand as he watched the most strongest person he’d ever known lay there unconscious, barely clinging to life. All he could manage was not to break down in tears, and the doctor took his leave before Jonathan managed to finally compose himself. That left Harven to explain what had happened, while Jonathan listened and kept his eyes glued to his fathers chest as it slowly rose and fell to reassure himself that the man was still alive.

“We didn't find him until morning, you see young master.” Harven said nervously. That in itself was almost as strange as seeing a man as strong as his father so weak. Normally the servant was utterly unflappable, but now he was almost at a loss for words. “He’d gone out to speak with your older brother after everyone else went to bed. To talk we think, and there must have been an accident. No one noticed that he hadn’t returned until I came in in the morning you see - to dress him, and—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Harven.” Jon spoke numbly, holding his father’s hand. “You couldn’t have known.” This was no accident. Jonathan was sure of that much as Marcus’s final jab festered in his mind. He’d done this. He hadn’t just tried to rob the dwarves or kill his own brother - he’d actually tried to kill his own father, and it looked like before too long he would be successful. There was no need to burden anyone else with those terrible truths just yet.

“But I should have, sir! I should have known!” the old servant exclaimed. In all the years he’d served the Shaw family Jonathan had never known the man to show emotions like this, but he completely understood. “We organized a search party just after dawn, and found him part way down the bluffs. He’d taken a nasty spill, and it took men with ropes to bring him back to the house. We summoned the doctor immediately of course, but… well - that was too late sir. If only we’d found him last night we might have been able to do more than make him comfortable. ”

“And if we still lived in the capital we could summon a water blooded healer to give him a better chance,” Jonathan said mechanically. He didn’t mean it though. He wanted to rage just as Harven had done. In this moment that was the right reaction, but someone needed to be the calm voice of reason. That’s what his father would have wanted. Jonathan was sure of that much. “But that’s not going to happen either, so let’s focus on what we can do. Tell me what the doctor said.”

“That there’s nothing more he can do. He recommended making sure he was warm and—” Harven started explaining. 

“No. About his condition. Why is he running a fever from a blow to the head? That makes no sense.” Jonathan interrupted, biting back his frustration as he tried to understand something he was powerless to do anything about. 

“The wound has stopped bleeding, and we splinted his leg, but there might be further damage from the fall we can’t see,” Harven tried again, doing his best to give Jonathan the answers he wanted. “The bigger problem right now, according to Doctor Erram, is that he was left out all night and that the cold air and rain unbalanced his humors. He already tried bleeding him twice while you were out, but it did no good. He hasn’t regained consciousness and the doctor says we shouldn’t expect him to.” 

Jonathan cursed that today was the one day that he wasn’t at the station when they tried to send for him. Not that him being here would have done any good. “So there’s nothing else we can do?”

“No sir,” Harven said. “The doctor said he’ll be back this evening after he makes a few other house calls to change the dressing and the poultice, but he said that it would take an intervention from the gods to see him through the night.” 

Jonathan looked up finally, tearing his eyes away from his father’s peaceful expression and looking to Harven for the first time since he’d entered the room. “You did everything that could have been expected of you and more Harven. Have one of the maids bring me up something to eat please, and then leave me. I wish to be with my father for what little time he has left.” 

“But what about Marcus. Surely we need to—” Harven said.

“The hells take my brother! For this and for everything else.” Jonathan spat, letting real anger leak into his voice before he bottled it up again. “I’ll tell you everything that has happened soon enough, but he’s not important right now, Harven. Just give us some privacy, please.” 

“Very good young master,” Harven said, withdrawing. A few minutes later there was a knock and a sandwich, but after Tilly closed the door behind her, there was finally silence. 

Jonathan looked to the sandwich, before setting it on the night table. He knew he should eat, but he had no appetite. He didn’t want anything now except for his father to wake up. Jonathan opened his mouth to speak finally. “I’m sorry father. I’m so sorry. I…” his breath caught in his throat then. He couldn’t speak anymore. Instead his body was wracked with sobs as all the pain of the day combined with the bottomless well of sadness that his father’s current condition inspired, and washed away all of his defenses in a flood of tears. No matter how many tears he cried though, there were more to replace them. He’d managed to stay strong where the servants could see him, just like his father had taught both of his sons, but in private he had no strength left. 

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The rest of the day would have been enough to crush him on its own, but the combination was unendurable, so Jonathan didn’t even try. Instead he laid his head down on his fathers chest and sobbed inconsolably. “If I had know…” he stammered. “If I had seen I could have…” but words were a futile exercise until the sadness left him, and when the torrent finally ceased ten minutes later, all that was left behind was grief. Grief for everything he’d lost today. So many dead, and for what? For greed? It sickened him, but if he’d known this was what it would come to he would have done everything that Marcus asked, just to spare their father. 

Jonathan considered telling his father everything that had happened today. It was his duty as his son to do so, but on the off chance that he could hear him speak, Jonathan decided he didn’t wish to upset him any further. Any strength he had left needed to be devoted to healing alone. So instead he prayed to all the gods that he thought might listen. He prayed to Ollasa, the dual goddess of healing and plagues for her attention, and for Haden, ruler of the heavens to give back a glimmer of the strength his father had always shown until now. After that he prayed to Hestania for nature's blessing, and then decided against praying to Arvoz, the god of war and vengeance for anything in this matter. Instead he turned to the lesser deities. He racked his brain for spirits and demigods that might listen to his pleas, and he only stopped hours later when the doctor arrived. 

Jonathan hadn’t even noticed that the sun had fallen to the horizon when old Doctor Erram came back bag in hand. “Please, isn’t there anything else you could try?” Jonathan rasped through his sore throat while the old man slowly changed his father’s bandages. “Anything at all?” 

“None of my potions or tinctures would do any more than your prayers would, lad, and as weak as he is, we dare not risk another bleeding.” he answered quietly. “You’re doing the right thing lad. Intercede with the gods on his behalf and I’m sure they’ll listen. They have a soft spot for expectant mothers and youngest sons after all.” Jonathan nodded, but didn’t say anything else until the doctor left. If there was nothing he could do to help then he didn’t want him here stealing precious moments from his father. Jonathan sat with his father until the sun set and the moon rose. He sat there in the dark for a long time, and when Tilly tried to come in to light the lamps he shoed her away. Jonathan sat there until he could stay awake no longer, and when he fell asleep it was with his head on his fathers chest. When he woke hours later to the cold room it was to the discovery that his father had grown cold as well. Sometime during the night he’d finally passed. 

Jonathan expected to start crying again at the discovery, but this time no tears came. He’d already cried them all, so there was nothing left but grief and the anger bubbling away beneath it as he stood and gazed at his father in the moonlight one last time. Even in death Lord Bernard Shaw looked stern and imposing, he thought as he covered his father’s face with a sheet. As he left the room Jonathan recalled that he’d never eaten the sandwich that still sat on the table. He wondered idly, why his brain would even bother to remember such a thing as he left the room, and walked downstairs. He found Harven waiting on the bottom step, asleep where he sat. He was such a good and loyal man that Jonathan almost didn’t want to wake him, but unfortunately he had to. Preparations had to be made, and now that his vigil was done he could go to bed like everyone else had. Everyone but Jonathan. He still had things to do. 

“Harven, wake up,” he shook his shoulder gently, making the old man start awake. 

“Young master, has your father—” he asked. 

“The Lord has passed. Please go to the priest tomorrow and tell him to make preparations for the funeral.” Jonathan said softly. 

“I’ll do it at once,” Harven agreed, but Jonathan shook his head. 

“You’ll do it tomorrow morning,” Jonathan commanded, “But for now you’ll go to bed. You look as tired as I feel. That’s an order, old man.”

“But what will you do sir?” Harven asked. 

“I’m going to go see my brother and let Boriv know exactly what happened.” Jonathan replied calmly, rising to his feet and offering Harven a hand up. 

Harven opened his mouth to ask a question and then closed it as he thought better of it. When he opened it again all he said was “Very good sir.” Then he turned and walked down the hallway to the servants quarters to do as he’d been told. Harven was practically family, he reflected, along with Miss Marne. With his sisters so far away now they were really all the family that Jonathan had now, he reflected as he walked out the front door, because Marcus was dead to him whether he was still breathing or not.

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