|
|
|
|
|
|
unloading the wains, leading away the animals, and carrying or helping along the wounded. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Will you look to the arrangement for the men or shall I?" Sybelle asked. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Rhiannon laughed. "I will," she said. "The word is about that I am a witch. If I smile and say all will be well, it may give a few enough heart to survive, but in this weather the weakest will certainly die." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sybelle nodded unsentimental agreement with that and turned away toward the keep, where the noblemen who had taken hurt would be carried, while Rhiannon moved toward the shelters that would be used to house the wounded. The common leech and those selected to assist him were already there; servants were laying out straw for the men to lie in and bringing in fleeces with which to cover themat least the lucky ones. If there were many, there would be only more straw for a blanket. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
As the men were carried in, the leech looked at the wounds. The worst wounded were only laid down; since there was little chance for their survival in any case, it was not sensible to waste time with them while others who might be saved grew worse. Rhiannon spoke to those who called to her or looked to her for help, offering what comfort she could, but she did not stay long since everything seemed to be in good order. Her skill was too precious to spend on these common folk, at least until after all those of the higher orders had been treated. And if Simon had been hurt, he would be in the keep. Rhiannon moved faster, controlling her fear. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
But there was no sign of Simon in the keep, nor of Walter. Nor, for that matter, was there any sign of Gervase or Marie, who had retreated to their chambers when the bloody wounded were brought in. Great lords could afford chirurgeons, and their ladies did not soil their hands with such work. Sybelle had noticed they were missing and had curled her lip with contempt, but she had more important things to think about. When Rhiannon came in, she called to her to look at Philip Bassett, who had a long slash on his back where a blow strong enough to break his mail had landed. It was not deep or serious. Sybelle stitched it up, and Rhiannon brought a salve to help the healing. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
He was the first of many. Soon torches and candles were lit, but neither Rhiannon nor Sybelle noticed. They were not |
|
|
|
|
|