It looked like a panicked flight of a man who knew his life expectancy was only counted in minutes now. Deep down, Gryffyn was a coward. He knew he was out-manned and the eventual outcome would not be in his favor. He had to get away from the knights who were intent on killing him. He ran straight to the hearth and shoved open the servant door, bolting through it as George, followed by a bleeding Aimery, went in pursuit. Chrystobel could hear the scuffling and shouting as they ran off.
With the fight having moved on without him, Keller was struggling to push himself up off the floor as Chrystobel raced to his side, trying to steady the man. Horrified, she could see deep red blood staining the right side of his tunic and leaking onto his mail.
“Keller,” she gasped. “Stay down. Let me look at your injury.”
He shook his head as he attempted to get to his feet. “Later,” he grunted. “I must go after your brother.”
Chrystobel had her hand on his shoulders, trying to keep him from rising. “You are in no condition to go after him,” she said, sounding as if she were scolding. “Your knights are in pursuit. He will not get away.”
Keller was on his knees, looking up at her and realizing she was more than likely correct. He trusted George and Aimery to subdue Gryffyn. More than that, he didn’t feel particularly well. If he were to go after Gryffyn, he would only be a hindrance. Frustrated, he sighed heavily.
“Then I should find Wellesbourne at the very least,” he said. “He must know what has happened.”
“We will find him in a moment,” Chrystobel insisted. “You must let me tend your wound.”
Keller didn’t seem particularly concerned about it. “It is not too severe,” he said, although his lips were pale with shock. “I would wager that a few stitches should take care of it.”
He was trying to stand up and no amount of pushing could force him to remain down, so Chrystobel got him by the arm and pulled him over to the bench next to the feasting table. He sat heavily as she pulled away layers of clothing and mail to get to the puncture wound. Keller tried to hold her off but she wouldn’t be dissuaded. Eventually, he gave up trying and sat there as she finally revealed the wound. He heard her sigh heavily at the sight.
“It does not seem to be bleeding too heavily,” she said, concern in her tone, “but I need to sew it up right away. Can you make it up to my chamber?”
Keller nodded, suddenly feeling very weary. He hadn’t slept in almost two days and his fatigue, now compounded by the injury, was catching up to him. So he stood up as Chrystobel positioned herself next to him, slinging his big left arm over her slender shoulders. She was very determined to assist him and he was touched by her resolve. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had showed him such concern.
“I must find Wellesbourne,” he repeated as they slowly moved for the hall entry. “He must know what has happened.”
“Then we will send one of your men for him,” Chrystobel replied steadily. “You’ll not go on the hunt for him.”
“Not even a little?”
“Not even a little.”
He fought off a grin at her firm tone but didn’t argue with her. He rather liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to deny him, so he kept his mouth shut as they moved out into the bright bailey beyond. As they walked across the mud, carefully, heading for the keep, they could hear shouting off to the right where the kitchen yard was located. Soldiers were breaking their posts and running in the direction of the yard. Keller watched them run, wondering what was so vital that had them breaking posts. But as he watched his men, a thought occurred to him.
“That passageway that is next to the hearth,” he ventured. “Where does it lead?”
Chrystobel was watching the ground where they walked, careful to keep them both out of the slippery mud. “It is used by the servants,” she said. “It leads to the kitchen yard. Gryffyn must have been hiding in it.”
He looked at her lowered head. “And you did not think to tell me that there was such a passage where he may hide?”
She felt rather guilty. “It is such a common passage,” she said truthfully. “It never crossed my mind. The passage is used constantly so I never imagined he would hide there, but he did, and when I entered the hall to wait for you, he was waiting. He killed the soldier that was my escort and then tried to kill me also.”
Keller sighed. Frankly, he didn’t want to think what could have happened had he been a few seconds later into the hall, so he pushed those thoughts aside as he turned once more towards the commotion in the distance.
“So your brother and my knights ran through the passage and ended up in the kitchen yard,” he said. “That must be what all of the chaos is about. Mayhap they have your brother cornered.”
“Mayhap.”
The more they walked to the keep, the better the angle towards the kitchen yard. Keller could eventually see the wall that surrounded the yard and the open gate that led into the area, but not much more. Men were shouting and someone was bringing horses from the stable, which soldiers quickly mounted. They tore off through the gate and on into the kitchen yard.
“Where are my men going with horses?” Keller wondered aloud.
Chrystobel kept her focus on the ground. “There is a postern gate there that leads to the slopes beyond,” she said quietly. “Mayhap my brother slipped through it and they are going in pursuit.”
Keller turned to look at her, recalling a mention of a postern gate from their first acquaintance. “The same postern gate you used yesterday when you were chasing the injured rabbit?”
“Aye.”
Keller grunted, visibly unhappy. “That gate should have been locked and guarded,” he grumbled. “Someone will have to reckon for this mistake if, in fact, your brother was able to escape.”
Chrystobel didn’t say any more, fearful that he might become angry with her somehow. She continued to help him across the bailey, dodging the puddles and kicking away the dogs. As they neared the keep William emerged, his eyes growing wide at the sight of Chrystobel helping an obviously injured Keller. He rushed forward to assist.
“What happened?” William demanded.
Keller ended up leaning on the man heavily. He had been keeping his weight off of Chrystobel so he wouldn’t topple her over but found he could no longer suffer the strain. He gripped William as the man struggled to steady him.
“Gryffyn was in the hall,” Keller said. “He managed to catch me with his dirk. George and Aimery are in pursuit, over near the kitchen yard, I believe.”
“My brother stabbed him,” Chrystobel clarified since Keller seemed inclined to make light of what was a very harrowing incident. “He has a wound in his back.”
William gazed at Keller with great concern. “How bad is it?”