The Lost Lady Page 21

  Ellie chatted almost none stop as she followed Luveday around the healing tent. It was chilly outside, but the number of bodies in such a small space made the tent exceedingly warm. Christabel and Adela were somewhere outside. The old woman had started ordering more hot water, knowing that Luveday would need it soon enough. The healer in the tent was watching the women with veiled hostility. The master healer was currently absent. From what anyone could gather, he was out seeing to the wounded in their tents, as most knights tended to take care of their own injuries. Luveday had been tuning the girl out for a while as she methodically looked over each man. Right now, there were over a dozen men in cots and palettes that lined the tent walls. They worked on the seriously injured in a small room at the back. With the flaps down, and the lamps lit, it was stuffy and smelly work, and Luveday wondered how anyone could see what they were doing in such an uncomfortable state.

  “Elysant.” Luveday’s voice seemed to catch her off guard, and her friend was suddenly silent, “help Mistress Adela start brewing some feverfoe and sorting out the bandages. We will need more cooking pots than the two we brought and what I saw out front.” Luveday had seen enough and decided it was time to really get to work. “I will start cleaning the more serious wounds, and we will move anyone we can out of this tent.” The young healer who had been watching her with a keen eye, stepped forward as if to say something, but Luveday purposefully ignored him. “Lord Frasier offered another tent, we will need it. I imagine there will be more wounded on the morrow. Have them set it up behind this tent, and have them open one of the sides on the back room. No need to carry the injured through this lot to reach the table.”

  Ellie nodded and ran out of the tent. Luveday rose from her position beside one of the cots and looked at the healer. “I know you do not want me here, but I am not leaving.” He was taken aback by her hard eyes and determination. “I swore I would see to the injured and I mean to be of whatever help I can. You are either with me, or you can leave. I have permission from Lord De Lane and Lord Frasier to care for the injured here, and I don’t need someone in my way.” At the mention of the two lords’ names, he seemed to start.

  “I am Thomas Moore, apprentice healer to Master Liam Pope. My master is one of the finest healers of the King.” The young man finally introduced himself, showing the first signs of cooperation.

  “I am Lady Luveday of Lander’s Keep. Lady Christabel of Rindstaff, Lord De Lane’s betrothed, her servant, Mistress Adela, and my aid, young Elysant of Lander’s Keep are here to see to the wounded. We have brought healing supplies, and some remedies with us.” Thomas looked around as they heard men rolling up the tent’s side flap in the back room. Thomas seemed to be resigned to the lady’s interference, and Luveday looked at him seriously. “I have not been trained as you have, though Lady Emmalyn has taken great care with me. If I am doing something wrong, then tell me. If you have suggestions, then show me. I am here to help.”

  “Aye, My Lady.” She could tell that it would take time from him to truly see her skill and sincerity. She could have been nicer, but she was about to step on his toes, and she didn’t have time to play nice with lives hanging in the balance.

  “Where are your healing supplies?” She asked.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “You have seen them.”

  Luveday was momentarily dumbfounded. “All you have is in the back room?”

  “My master has a case with him as well,” Thomas said gruffly.

  “A healing case? A few jars of salves and you expect to treat an army?”

  He frowned at her censure. “We treat those who can afford our services.”

  “That stops now. We will treat the injured, regardless of coin.” Luveday left the tent, suddenly ill. She spotted Mistress Adela and Ellie as they worked by the fire. Men were raising the second tent. A few young women looked on. Looking back into camp, she could see familiar silhouettes putting up their own tents in the growing darkness. Some of the men had started cooking the evening meal.

  Iain looked over and spotted her. He appeared out of the shadows. “You do not look so well, Lady Luveday.”

  “I am fine.” She said a little too clipped. “I need the healing supplies unloaded as soon as possible. I plan to see to the men here tonight.”

  “You should rest. It was a long journey.” He watched her intently.

  “I am not tired.” The sigh that left her was loud and heavy and carried with it all of her pent-up frustration. A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she looked up into Iain’s face and smiled hesitantly. “The situation is both better and worse than I imagined.” He didn’t say anything, just looked at her. “The men have been seen to, but they are not being cared for as they should. One healer and his apprentice are hardly enough to care for an army.”

  She looked at Gregori as his voice rang across the area. She noted that the tent was nearly up. “We will need more help, men or women, I do not care.” She turned back to Iain, his hand on her shoulder a comfort. “They have barely any healing ointments, I will start preparing the raw ingredients we brought with us. I will need men to help move some of the injured into the new tent.” Looking up into his eyes she hesitated to involve him, but perhaps he could think of some better way. “Apprentice Moore has informed me that they only see to those who can pay.”

  Iain nodded. “‘Tis a common practice.” He wasn’t at all surprised by the fact.

  “Can you spread the word that that is about to change. We will see anyone who is injured, no matter how small. Do you know how to get the word out quickly?” She looked at him hopefully.

  The small smile that moved his lips was heartening. “I can think of something.” He looked to Benedict who only nodded before heading out again.

  “Thank you.” She was about to say more, but Ellie appeared at her shoulder looking at her expectantly. “Elysant, see if Lady Christabel can help you unpack the supplies into the back room of the tent. Perhaps the men can devise something to hold everything, a shelf of some sort. Make sure to keep the bandages and linens clean. Perhaps we should set up a drying line between the two tents. We will need an area for washing.”

  Ellie nodded solemnly or was it that the girl was just tired. “The hot water is almost ready. Mistress Adela is watching it now.” Some women were talking to the old nurse, and Luveday wondered if they could be able to persuade them to help in the healing tent. They could feed any who would help as a form of compensation.

  “Good. See if those women wouldn’t come to help in the tent, or perhaps they would know someone who can. We need hands that will not get sick at the sight of blood. Spread the word if you can. We will feed any who come to help.” Luveday thought she saw some of the women perk up as they overheard her words.

  She headed back into the tent, as Iain issued orders to the men, and Elysant ushered Lady Christabel over to the crates and baskets of healing supplies. Luveday had faith that Ellie would set up the workroom as neatly as the one at Lander’s Keep and, so she focused on the men before her.

  When she looked up from the last cot, it was to see Iain standing in the middle of the tent, watching her with a furrowed brow. Healer Thomas was opposite her, on their patient’s other side, as they cleaned and bandaged a nasty gash that was starting to fester. Thomas had begrudgingly admitted that with more injured coming to them each day, he didn’t have time to change all of the bandages as often as he should. Luveday hoped that with some extra help, they could delegate such tasks to others.

  Iain watched as she applied the salve and placed the clean strip of linen over the wound. Thomas kept glancing up to see the large knight and shuddered a time or two. Luveday didn’t have time to think about the apprentice’s reactions, she was just glad that he had settled in to help her. She thought they might be able to get along after all.

  A deep voice scattered Luveday’s thoughts as she put away her supplies. “It is very late, My Lady. We’ve prepared a palate for you in my tent.”

  In his t
ent? She thought. The other women must be there as well, and so Luveday finished her tasks for the night and wished Thomas a good rest as she left the tent. It was not far from the Lord’s tent, though she didn’t know how she would have made it if he hadn’t kept a steady hand at the small of her back. His presence seemed to give her energy, though she didn’t know were hers’ had gone since stepping into the chilly night air.

  She was given a mug of something which she ate with relish before being shoved into the tent. Iain held the flap back as she stepped inside. A small lamp illuminated the space, which wasn’t anything like the elaborate tents that the King and his lord inhabited. The space was practical. Pallets lined the walls, a small table was spread with parchment, a few crates and a chest held their belongings. Coll was already asleep near the front tent flap, as was Ellie, who was curled up in a pallet made for two opposite another one which Luveday assumed was for Iain as it was covered with fur and one of his wool cloaks. She was too tired to wonder were Christabel and Adela were sleeping. Iain excused himself for a moment, and Luveday undressed, putting on a tunic and slipping in beside her friend. The lady was asleep before Iain returned a few moments later.

  He watched the sleeping figures for a moment and couldn’t help the sense of pride he felt when he looked at her. He blew out the light, not because it was an expensive luxury, but because he feared that if he looked on her for too much longer, his thoughts would get away from him again, and that was something he needed to avoid at all costs.

  Dawn came too quickly. Iain was in the King’s tent a few moments later, though it was clear that many of the nobles were unhappy to be there so early in the morning. De Lane was informed that he and his men were leading the charge that morning, a fact that he had already been aware of, the announcement was more for morale than anything. Benedict, who had a keen sense for strategy, was given charge of a group of men who would scout the surrounding areas and hinder Sterling’s spies and supply lines when able. He was happy to harry their enemy any way he could but didn’t relish the fact that he would be separated from his friends, though a special mission from the King was nothing to sneeze at. Iain and Benedict’s only had time to exchange a brief farewell and wish each other health and victory, before the young lordling left to lead his own group of men, wondering when he would be back again.

  De Lane and Frasier had talked briefly with the King after their arrival. Edward wanted his champion front and center so that Sterling knew just who he would be dealing with. Iain agreed that a show of strength was what was needed. Sterling had been beating them back too easily, but with De Lane’s arrival the majority of the King’s forces were assembled, and the fighting would begin in earnest.

  When Iain returned to his tent, Coll was already arranging his armor, and he was about to scold the boy for making so much noise when the women were still sleeping, only he was informed that they were already up.

  “Lady Luveday readied herself not long after you left,” Gregori said from over his shoulder.

  “Aye, My Lord.” Coll set down the knight’s helmet that he had been polishing, although the item already shined even in the dim morning light. “Ellie followed her over to the healing tent after a quick breakfast, though she didn’t look happy about it.”

  “Lady Luveday is already at the tent?” Iain looked over to see the healing tent surrounded by the swirling mist of the morning fog and wondered at the chill that went down his spine.

  Gregori, grunted as he sat down on a log to put on his boots. They were preparing the armor now, and it would take some time to get into the heavy chainmail. Men moved to ready horses, and already caldrons boiled before the healing tent. The men said nothing while they readied themselves, but prayed they’d carry the field, and not end up on Lady Luveday’s table, but would return to have a warm supper with her later that night.

  Luveday worked on ointments and potions to ease pain and fever. The supply she had brought might last a few days if the fighting was light, but she knew that Frasier and De Lane’s arrival meant that the battle would really begin. A few women arrived after word had spread that they asked for aid. Luveday set them to checking and cleaning wounds and several left within the hour, but that was as she had planned. They needed women who could stomach what was to come, because sure as day, the worst was not yet upon them. Out of the three that remained, two shown some skill. An older woman called Margaret and one about Ellie’s age called Clair. Clair had the same dark coloring as Christabel, and out of the corner of her eye, Luveday had almost mistaken the two, except Christabel, was nowhere to be found.

  The women worked, and when men walked in with cuts and bruises, they helped as best they could. Margaret had some cooking skill and arranged for meals to be made for the men in the tents. Sir Templeton was seen eating with her at the midday meal, but the rest of the men had yet to return. Every once in a while, some noise would travel far afield and reach the women. Many would stop and cross themselves, Luveday would take a deep breath, send off a silent prayer, and focus once more on the task in front of her.

  When the stretchers arrived, and men screamed in pain and fear, she would not even flinch. Every fiber of her being was wound tight, and it was as if she had been doing the work all her life. Luveday willed life into each man she touched. Her prayers were a never-ending litany in the back of her mind as she methodically treated each man. The smaller injuries she left to the skilled women while she and Thomas took care of those whose life hung by a few bits of sinew. She did not let even one doubt enter her mind as she stitched together muscles and set bones. She issued orders like a general and never glanced to see how quickly they were obeyed, but knew that what she needed would be at hand.

  By evening, groans filled the tent, and men came to visit their comrades and share the news of their victories, however small. Voices filled the dusk, and despite the devastation she had just witnessed, there was a lighter air around the camp that let Luveday breathe a little easier.

  Thomas stretched as they exited the back room and looked to the Lady. His Master had not returned, and Thomas suspected he was catering to some Lord on the other side of camp. Several had come to battle with wagons of provisions fit for the King’s high table, and he knew Pope had a weakness for good wine. He was not perturbed by his master’s absence, but rather grateful that they did not need to deal with the stubborn old man.

  The lady washed her hands in water so hot he could barely stand it. Over the hours they had spent together he had witnessed something extraordinary in her. Not even Master Pope would have performed the miracles that she had. Men he thought could not be saved had lived through the day. The Lady refused to let even one life slip through her grasp, though he knew she had no illusions about who truly had the power here, and it was neither of them.

  As she turned towards the other tent removing her soiled apron and tying on a clean one, he grabbed her elbow. The clothes she wore were covered in blood, and sweat soaked the collar of her gown. The simple material would never come clean, but she was unaware or uncaring of her appearance. “Leave it.” He pulled her towards the fire and Margaret who was scooping out large bowls of stew. Their patients already had their meal, and he looked at the simple fair with ravenous eyes. The lady didn’t budge, and he had to pull her away from the tent and set her down on a crate.

  Thomas accepted two bowls and turned back to his companion. Somewhere among the blood and pain he had looked up and found a compatriot in this bossy, demanding woman. They had worked side by side all day, and he had become aware of her skill, and her knowledge of the body rivaled his own, perhaps even excelled what he had spent nearly his whole life studying. He turned back to her and found a lost lady. She looked around as if nothing was familiar. “Here, eat.” Shoving a bowl into her hands, he took a perch nearby and ate as if he had not had a meal in days. Perhaps he hadn’t, not a decent one, he mused. His Master was not one to spare coin on comforts for anyone but himself. What food he consumed was usually tasteless or bur
nt as neither of the two men spent time on such a skill if it did not earn them coin or further their profession. Some of the camp followers brought goods in exchange for medicines. Thomas was not shy and knew his reasonably good looks had gained him more than one meal from the women, though his Master looked down on helping such creatures.

  A shadow seemed to fall over them, and he looked up to see a large figure before them blocking out the light of the fire. Dirt was caked on the side of the knight’s face, and a dark scowl made his hard features fearsome in the night. Thomas sat back and reached out for Lady Luveday as the instinct to protect her kicked in. The Wolf’s expression darkened as he reached for the lady as well, and brought her to her feet before Thomas could do more than blink.

  “My Lord.” The Lady protested as the two moved off.

  Thomas watched as they talked, but he could only hear a few words. It looked as if the knight were berating her and his hackles rose, but at heart, Thomas knew he was a coward. He had once seen what the King’s Champion could do to a man. They had tried to save the knight’s arm, but the damage had been too much, even for the knight to take. They had found the man dead from a dose of painkiller. He had downed the bottle rather than face a life without his lost limb. Thomas had cursed the knight, cursed a man who could take everything from another without so much as a hint of regret. Though word had later reached his ears that De Lane had offered some aid to the knight’s family, what kind of compensation could he provide for a man’s life? No, men like De Lane, the Wolf, dealt death wherever they went. It was Thomas’s task in life to try to repair the damage such men meted out.