Standing a few feet in front of him, Ghislaine understood what was being said for the most part, but not all of it. The man had a very strange accent and his Latin wasn’t conventional. She looked at Gaetan.
“I wonder if he speaks my language?” she asked.
The man immediately looked at her. “I do,” he said. “My people know the language of trading. It is how we purchase goods with the Saxonice. They are too lazy to know our language, so we were forced to learn theirs.”
Surprised, Ghislaine took another look at him. He wasn’t unhandsome but he was rather short, at least compared to Gaetan and his men. Still, he was a strong man and seemingly very agile. She studied his queer manner of dress.
“Why did you shoot your arrows at us?” she asked. “Why did you not simply come out and speak to us? We meant you no harm.”
The man eyed her. “When armed men enter our lands, we assume they are a threat,” he said. “We were on a patrol when we saw these men. We must defend what is ours.”
Ghislaine pondered his words. “A patrol?”
“We must protect our borders.”
Ghislaine already knew that about them. Truth be told, she was quite curious about this reclusive tribe. “You have engaged my brother in battle before,” she said. “This is Mercia, his territory, yet you do not swear fealty to him.”
The man’s brow furrowed. “Who is your brother?”
“Edwin of Mercia.”
That brought a reaction. “Nigrum Aeduini,” he muttered with disgust. “Black Edwin is your brother?”
Ghislaine nodded. “I am Ghislaine of Mercia.”
“Then you are The Beautiful Maid.”
Ghislaine looked a bit uncomfortable with her evident notoriety. She glanced at Gaetan, nervously, before replying. “Why would you say that?”
“Because Edwin has two sisters. You are not Edith, who is married to Harold Godwinson.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I saw her once, from afar.”
“You have battled Harold before.”
The man nodded with perhaps a twinkle in his eye. “I have battled many Saxons before.”
That was the truth. Since there was no denying her identity, Ghislaine eyed the man. “Now that you know who I am, what is your name?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Antillius Decimus Shericus,” he said. “These are my people and this is my land. It has been since the time of old, when the legions conquered this land.”
“Are you their leader?”
Antillius nodded. “I am, as was my father before me, and his father before him,” he said. Still addressing her, his gaze moved sideways to see the other knights standing around. “Who are these men you have brought with you, Lady Ghislaine?”
Ghislaine wasn’t sure she should tell him. She looked to Gaetan, who was gazing back at her quite emotionlessly. He wasn’t giving her any hint of what he wanted her to say. Her nervousness seemed to grow and she could feel her hands shaking. In fact, everything was shaking and she was feeling the need to sit down again because the world was starting to rock.
Camulos decided to pick that moment to move away from her. He had been standing in front of her as she held on to him, but when he moved away, everyone could see the massive bloodstain on her right leg, seeping through the bandages, the torn trousers, and her cote. It was even smeared on the dog. Ghislaine could see Gaetan’s dismayed expression as he looked at her leg and she quickly looked at it, too, seeing what everyone else was seeing. Blood was everywhere. With a gasp, she suddenly toppled onto her arse.
Everyone went running.
Gaetan dropped his arm from Antillius’ neck and rushed to her about the time Aramis and Téo and Lance de Reyne made it to her side. They were the closest. Blood was running everywhere and Gaetan ripped at her dirty cote, tearing a strip of material from the hem to wrap around her thigh to stem the blood.
“Bandages!” he bellowed to anyone who would listen. “Bring me bandages!”
Arrows, standoffs, and territorial tribes seemed to be forgotten as Ghislaine’s bloodied leg took all of the focus. Even Antillius, now quite free, went to stand over Gaetan’s shoulder as he and his men worked furiously to stop the bleeding.
“What has happened?” Antillius asked, genuinely concerned. “Why is she bleeding so? Did our arrows strike her?”
Gaetan was tying a tourniquet around Ghislaine’s thigh to slow the flow of blood. “Nay,” he said, grunting as he pulled it tight. “She was struck in a battle a few days ago and the wound became filled with poison. An apothecary cleaned out the poison, but that was only yesterday. The wound has not healed and the lady must have torn the stitches.”
It was clear she was bleeding heavily. Without proper care, she might not survive. Antillius tapped Gaetan on the shoulder.
“Bring her,” he said. “Quickly. There is no time to waste. I have a physician who will tend her.”
Gaetan was clearly hesitant. “If we can stop the bleeding….”
Antillius cut him off. “Will you take such a chance?” he asked, urgency in his tone. “Come with me if you want her to live. Hurry.”
Gaetan looked at the men around him; Aramis, Lance, Téo, and even Jathan had joined them. They had failed her once trying to heal the wound and because of that, Gaetan was fearful to try again. He didn’t want her life in his hands when he wasn’t a healer. He knew battlefield medicine, but so did every other knight. Yet, it wasn’t something he did on a regular basis because he employed several physics for his men. He genuinely felt as if he had failed her the first time. Now, he was torn.
“Taking her back to Worcester will take an hour or two, at least,” Aramis said, cutting into his thoughts. “She is bleeding heavily, Gaetan. She has torn her stitches wide open.”
Gaetan found himself looking at the wound as Aramis peeled away the bloodied bandages. It was messy to say the least.
“There are those hunting us at Worcester,” Lance put in. “They could capture us when we enter the city limits. We may not even have the chance to return her to the apothecary.”
That was a very real possibility. Gaetan didn’t want to return to Worcester only to be captured by the mob and separated from Ghislaine. Feeling cornered and as if he had very little choice, he turned to Antillius.
“How far is your physician?” he asked.
Antillius pointed towards the east. “Not far,” he assured him. “Bandage the leg as tightly as you can and bring her. I will send my men ahead to tell our physician to be ready.”
Gaetan nodded reluctantly. Then, his attention shifted to Ghislaine, who was now lying flat on her back and staring up at the sky above. She was so very pale. Leaning over her, he put an enormous palm on her forehead.
“We must take you to someone who can repair your stitches, Mousie,” he said softly. “All of this activity has torn them. That is why you are bleeding.”
Ghislaine’s gaze turned to him and Gaetan was struck, once again, by the faith in her eyes. She trusted him, no matter what the circumstances; she didn’t even have to put it into words. He knew simply by looking at her.
“I am sorry to have caused so much trouble,” she said softly.