The tragedy did not arrive with the blast of war horns or the screaming of raiders. It arrived wrapped in beautiful, imported Byzantine silk.
It was late autumn. A highly anticipated caravan had passed the outer quarantine zone, bringing exotic textiles for the Queen. Astrid, now thirty-nine and the absolute Matriarch of the city, had personally inspected the goods, running her hands over the raw, unwashed silk to check the thread count.
Three days later, the Queen collapsed in the Great Hall.
It began as a severe cramp. By nightfall, she was gripped by violent, agonizing dysentery. The color drained from her face, leaving her as pale as winter snow.
Bilal sprinted into their bedchamber, his heart hammering in his throat. When he saw her clutching her stomach, vomiting violently into a wooden basin, his modern mind immediately diagnosed the terror. Giardiasis. Or a severe amoebic parasite. It had hitched a ride on the merchant's unwashed cargo.
"Out!" Bilal roared at the terrified servants who were trying to tend to her. "Everyone out! No one enters this room without washing their hands in boiling vinegar!"
The Giant of Axiomra, the man who had broken King Olaf's army with fire and dogs, was suddenly reduced to absolute, trembling helplessness.
He could build a trebuchet to crush a castle, but he could not forge a weapon small enough to kill the microscopic parasite eating his wife's intestines. In 2026, it would take a simple course of antibiotics. In 1024 AD, it was a grueling, horrific endurance test of the human immune system that lasted for months.
For the next five months, Bilal vanished from the throne.
He locked himself in the royal bedchamber. He stripped off his heavy Jarl's armor and wore a simple linen tunic. He became a nurse. When Astrid was too weak to walk, the 105kg Warlord carried her gently to the washroom. When she soiled herself in agony, he did not call for the maids; he washed her himself, his dark eyes filled with tears, whispering prayers to Allah in the dark.
"Giant..." Astrid whispered one night, her cheeks hollowed out, her vibrant body reduced to a frail skeleton. "Let the servants do this. I smell of death. You are a King... you should not see me like this."
Bilal dipped a cloth in warm, clean water and gently wiped the sweat from her forehead. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her pale, dry cheek.
"I am your husband first," Bilal choked out, his voice breaking. "You are my Queen. In the silk or in the sickness, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."
He forced her to drink boiled water infused with honey and willow bark, keeping her hydrated drop by drop, refusing to let her die