Valten and his men entered the room. Valten’s hand was unbandaged and still looked horribly bruised and swollen. The men indicated that he should sit at the end of the table opposite Dominyk, in the place of honor, and Gisela should sit at his left. Roslind squeezed in next to her husband, and Bartel spoke to Valten.
“I can see your hand will need some special attention, brother knight. Would you like to wait until after we eat?”
“Yes, I thank you.” Valten bowed to him respectfully. Bartel bowed back.
The two knights who had traveled with Valten and Gisela packed in with the rest of the men on the benches down the long sides of the table and began to eat, spearing venison with their knives and ladling gravy and cooked vegetables and fruits onto their trenchers with wooden serving spoons. Soon the only sound was the muted sounds of eating. Then Heinric belched … and smiled.
Gisela couldn’t help smiling back. She caught Roslind’s eye. The girl was also smiling at her, sitting shoulder to shoulder with her husband, who didn’t seem to mind that she was crowding him.
Valten’s knee brushed hers under the table. She glanced up at him and could have sworn he was blushing.
They all went back to eating, and Gisela sighed, feeling more content in this house full of misfit men than ever in her life.
“We are expecting the arrival of your brother, Lord Gabehart,” Dominyk said, looking at Valten, “and Lady Sophie this evening. They are on their way from Hohendorf to Hagenheim for a visit.”
Valten’s eyes widened slightly. He didn’t say anything right away, but continued to chew his food. “Will you have enough room for everyone? My men and I can sleep outside.”
“If your men have no objection to sleeping in the stable, we shall have accommodations for all.”
Valten’s guards grunted their consent, saying a pile of hay was as good as a feather bed.
Gisela finished eating and sat waiting for the others to finish so she and Roslind could clear the table. She laid her hands in her lap. If Valten’s hand wasn’t broken, would he try to hold hers?
Everyone seemed to have finished eating and were taking the last swills of their drink. Then three of the men stood and started clearing the table. Gisela looked at Roslind, but she sat still, talking quietly with Siggy. Was she letting the men do the menial task of clearing the table?
The other men stood and Dominyk herded the rest of them outside, with Roslind and Siggy the last to go, leaving Valten, Gisela, and Bartel still sitting at the table.
Bartel fixed Gisela with a dark brown eye. “I will look at your ankle now.”
“But Valten’s hand is in more urgent need of your care.”
“He will not allow me to look at his hand until I’ve tended your ankle.” Bartel spoke factually, his expression as calm and still as the small lake near her home.
Valten stared straight ahead in stubborn silence, his chin looking like it was carved from stone.
Gisela decided not to argue. A few more minutes wouldn’t matter.
They moved to the adjoining room, with Valten helping to support her as she walked, and Bartel had her sit on a bench. Valten sat beside her and Bartel sat across from her on a stool. He lifted her foot and silently examined it, pressing lightly, looking at it from all sides.
“It isn’t badly swollen, but you should not walk on it if it is painful to do so. Be sure to rest and keep it propped up whenever possible. And in a week or two it may be well.”
“May be?” Valten asked.
Bartel shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. It depends on whether she is careful or not. But I do not believe it is broken.”
Bartel moved his stool closer, and Valten squeezed her hand with his right one as Bartel took his poor swollen left hand. Bartel turned it every which way and pressed his fingers on the back of Valten’s hand, which seemed three times its normal size and was covered in dark shades of purple and green.
Valten’s good hand tightened on Gisela’s, and sweat appeared at his temple. Bartel bent Valten’s fingers forward while pressing down on the broken bone in the back of his hand. Valten’s face took on an ashen color as sweat ran down his cheek, but he kept his jaw clenched and did not make a sound or pull away.
What good did it do to press on the broken bone? Her heart constricted at the pain he was inflicting. But she kept quiet, hoping the healer knew what he was doing and that he was doing Valten more good than harm.
Bartel then grasped the knuckle of Valten’s middle finger, held his wrist with his other hand, and yanked in opposite directions.
Valten let out a gasp, then he slumped forward, breathing hard. Perspiration coursed down his temple and cheek, beading on his forehead and upper lip.
Gisela glared at Bartel. Must he make Valten suffer so? She leaned forward and touched Valten’s arm, wishing she could comfort him. His eyes were closed and he was still pale and breathing hard.
“Don’t move,” Bartel said. “I’ll be right back with a splint and some cold water.” The man stood and stumped out of the room.
Gisela moved her hand along his upper arm. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.
He grunted.