Greer eyed Dougall’s expression of grim concentration and almost held his breath as the man slowly pulled the arrow out through Saidh’s back. It seemed to him they all breathed a sigh of relief when it was done. Dougall pitched the weapon aside, and then he, Aulay and Alpin released their hold on Saidh and moved out of the way.
Greer started to lay her back on the bed then, but Rory stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Nay. Keep her upright. I need to clean and bind her both front and back,” the man said.
Greer nodded, and raised Saidh upright again. Holding her still, he gazed at her unconscious face, frowning at how pale she seemed. His gaze then shifted to her wound as Rory barked orders to the others to hand him strips of the clean linen Conran had fetched. While there had been little blood when the arrow was still present, there was certainly blood now. It was as if the arrow had acted as a cork in a bottle, now that the cork had been removed, blood was pouring out a thick, dark red and Rory was pressing linen into the wound both front and back trying to staunch the flow.
“She’ll be a’ right, will she no’?” Greer asked with concern as he watched the man work.
“Aye. She’s strong,” Rory said reassuringly, throwing the already blood soaked swatches aside and grabbing the fresh ones Niels held out. “The bleeding is already slowing.”
It didn’t look that way to Greer, but he held his tongue and merely watched as Rory continued to press linens against her wounds.
“Did ye put the tincture in the water as I ordered?” Rory asked, lifting up the edge of the linen he’d pressed to the front of her wound and then pressing it firmly back again.
“Aye,” Niels assured him. “Six drops.”
Rory nodded. “Then dip two folded linens in it, but do no’ wring them out ere ye give them to me. I’ll need to clean the wound ere I sew her up.”
“Are ye all right, me laird?” Alpin asked suddenly.
Greer glanced to the boy with surprise. “Aye. O’ course.”
His squire merely looked dubious at the claim. “Ye’re looking pale enough I’d think ye were the one losing the blood.”
The comment made Rory glance sharply at Greer and the man frowned. “If ye’re going to faint, let Aulay take o’er holding up Saidh and—”
“I’m fine,” Greer snapped, sitting a little straighter and tightening his hold on Saidh. He was feeling a bit off, but was damned if he was going to faint away like a puling woman in front of these men. He was just alarmed at how much blood Saidh was losing. It seemed a hell of a lot to him.
Rory eyed him for a moment longer, then merely turned his attention back to Saidh. After a moment, he replaced the now blood red and sodden linens with the tincture-soaked ones Niels gave him. As he pressed the wet material to her wound, he muttered, “ ’Tis good she’s sleeping fer this. This tincture stings like a son o’ a bitch and the sewing up part would no’ be a pleasure to endure either.”
Greer merely grunted and shifted his gaze to Saidh’s face. Her head was lolling back, her face upraised as if waiting for a kiss and he gently pressed one to her lips, then leaned his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. He had no desire to see Rory pressing a needle and thread into her flesh and back out again. Whether she would feel it or not, he suspected he would if he watched, so kept his eyes closed and merely held her silently as Rory finished cleaning and then began to sew the wound.
Judging by the shuffle of feet moving away from the bed, Greer was not the only one who had no desire to watch this part of the procedure and found it ironic that warriors like himself and these men could be so squeamish about mending a body, when they had no issue with causing such injuries. That thought brought him back to the question he hadn’t allowed himself to consider ere this. Who had shot Saidh with the arrow?
“Did ye see who shot her?” Aulay asked suddenly, his thoughts apparently turning in the same direction.
Greer opened his eyes and lifted his head, but steadfastly refused to look to see what Rory was doing as he answered, “Nay. She raced off and left me by the loch, pleating me plaid. I found her lying on the path moments later when I gave chase. There was no one around, jest her and her mare.”
“Could it ha’e been bandits?” Dougall asked.
Greer considered that, but frowned. “I suppose. But Bowie has no’ mentioned any issues with bandits around here, and if ’twas bandits, they were brazen. Where I found her was no’ far from the castle. Another hundred feet and she’d ha’e been out o’ the woods in full view o’ the men on the wall.”
“Conran, go fetch Greer’s first so he can ask him if they’ve had trouble with bandits of late,” Aulay ordered.
Greer didn’t comment on the order. While he was sure Bowie would have mentioned such an issue if there was one, it was better to be certain. Besides, he wanted to have him send men out to search the woods for any clue as to who may have done this. Chances were they wouldn’t find anything. It wasn’t as if the culprit would have left a scroll with a signed confession lying about, but they may have dropped something or . . . hell, he just didn’t know what else to do.
“Do ye really think ’twas bandits?” Niels asked and Greer could hear the doubt in his voice.
“Nay,” Aulay said on a sigh. “They’d gain nothing from shooting her except drawing attention to their presence.”
“Mayhap she came upon them in the woods and they feared she’d give their presence away anyhow,” Alick suggested.
“Then they’d be more likely to take her than shoot her on the spot,” Dougall growled. “That way they’d have something to ransom, or a good raping at the very least.”
Geordie snorted at the suggestion. “Rape our Saidh? She’d ha’e gutted them fer trying.”