Chapter Fifteen #2
Guy peered at the torso wound. “He said that he saw you being set upon by the king’s soldiers. Your wife wanted to come and do battle on your behalf but I talked her out of it. I told her that I would help you.”
Sean shook his head weakly. “Are you serious? Why would you do such a thing?”
“Because of your wife,” Guy finally fixed him in the eye. “Make no mistake; what I did, I did for her.”
Sean gazed steadily at the young man. “I would not assume otherwise.”
Guy maintained his pointed gaze a moment longer before relenting. “Besides,” he said, averting his eyes. “You saved me from the dungeons. I should return the favor.”
Sean snorted softly. “A noble attitude. But you are not in much better shape than I am at the moment.”
“At least I am not bleeding to death.”
Sean sighed heavily, conceding the point. “Then I owe you a great deal of gratitude,” he said. “Where is Sheridan?”
“The priest is taking her from this place.”
“Where is he taking her?” Sean suddenly grew agitated. “Have they left already?”
Rapid, shuffling footfalls interrupted before Guy could answer. Gilby was abruptly beside Sean, his old face etched with a good deal of concern.
“Good God, de Lara,” the old man muttered, pushing Guy back so that he could assess the damage. “I thought you said that Gerard was dead?”
Sean lay back on the ground, staring up at the starry night and thinking so many thoughts that it was difficult to grasp one.
His most powerful thought was of Sheridan; he did not want to acknowledge that he was dying but he knew it was the truth.
He had seen enough battle wounds to know.
He reached out and grasped Gilby by the arm as the old man inspected the groin wound.
“Do not let Simon take Sheridan away, not now,” his voice was hoarse. “I will not make it from this place, Gilby. You know this. I want to see my wife before… before I pass.”
Gilby cast a long glance at Guy, who gazed back with a mixture of sorrow and resignation. They both knew how dire the situation was and neither one would refuse the request of a dying man.
“You will not pass if I can help it,” Gilby said steadily. “But I will send young de Braose to find your wife. Perhaps they have not left yet.”
Gilby nodded sharply at Guy, who struggled to his feet and took off as fast as his injured body would allow. When the young lord moved away, Gilby began attending to Sean’s groin wound.
“Stay with me, Sean,” he said evenly. “Do not go to sleep. Stay awake.”
Off to the west, the sounds of a battle began to fill the air as the attackers broke through the gate. But Gilby ignored the sounds, concentrating on saving Sean’s life.
“Gilby?” Sean muttered.
“What is it?”
“Do you remember I told you earlier that if I die this evening, I will die the most fulfilled man who has ever lived?”
“I do.”
“I lied. I want to see my children.”
Gilby glanced at the man, giving him a half-grin. “I know you were lying,” he refocused on his task. “That is the problem with you, Sean; you are too noble. Now see what your sense of duty has cost you.”
Sean nodded faintly. “It will cost my life. But we always knew that was a possibility.”
The groin wound was bad; a main vessel had been nicked and Gilby was struggling to stop the bleeding.
It had clotted somewhat but the flow was still heavy.
Without any choice, he stuck his fingers deep into the wound to pinch the vessel closed, feeling Sean flinch with pain as he did so.
But the man didn’t utter a sound. With his other hand, Gilby took his needle and cat gut and tried to throw a stitch into the big vein.
It was messy and excruciating. In the end, he wasn’t sure if he did any good given the fact that he could hardly see what he was doing, but he had to do something.
Sean was bleeding to death before his eyes.
“Stay awake,” Gilby commanded softly, wrapping up the groin and going for the chest wound. “Do not go to sleep. Stay with me. Talk to me.”
Sean was still staring up at the sky. “I am here.”
“Tell me of Trelystan. I have never been to the Marches, you know.”
“How did you know about Trelystan?”
“You would be surprised what I know about you,” the old man snorted; the chest wound had nicked a lung and he moved to seal it. “I know that you have a brother.”
“Everyone knows that. My younger brother serves the Marshall.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Years ago. Kevin and I do not speak much.”
Gilby opened his mouth to reply when a scream startled him; looking over his shoulder, he could see Sheridan racing towards them across the dark bailey.
For some reason, his heart suddenly felt very sad.
He knew what Sean and Sheridan had gone through to be together and to see it end in this fashion was overwhelmingly depressing. He looked at Sean.
“Your wife is coming,” he told him.
“I heard.”
Sheridan came upon her husband in a rush; in her torn, stained gown, she moved as if her leg had not been stitched earlier that evening.
She fell to her knees beside Sean, her upper torso collapsing on his neck and chest. Gilby wasn’t done with the chest wound yet and had to fend through her hair in order to find his target again. On Sean’s chest, Sheridan wept loudly.
“God, no,” she sobbed. “Sean, you cannot die. Please do not leave me.”
Now that Sheridan was with him, Sean felt a tremendous amount of peace, so much so that his entire body filled with an odd sort of warmth. He put his arms around her, his face in the top of her head, inhaling her scent and feeling it stoke his strength. His arms tightened as if to never let her go.
“I am sorry if I have frightened you, sweetling,” he murmured into her hair. “This was certainly not part of my plan.”
Sheridan was beside herself, terrified beyond reason that she was going to lose him. She raised her head to look at Gilby.
“Please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “Please save him. Please do not let him die.”
Gilby wouldn’t look at her; he couldn’t. It was becoming far too emotional for his liking. “I am doing all I can, Lady de Lara.”
“How bad is it?”
He did look at her, then. His voice made her blood run cold. “Bad.”
Sheridan’s hysterics abruptly faded; she didn’t know why, but suddenly, the anguish went beyond tears.
It burrowed deep into her chest like a great broadsword, hacking her tender heart to pieces.
She knew her tears would not help Sean. She wondered if anything could.
Swallowing hard, she gazed into her husband’s white face, stroking his cheek gently and struggling to calm.
“I love you,” she murmured, kissing him tenderly on the lips. “If there is only one thing I can tell you at this moment, it is how much I love you.”
His clear blue eyes glimmered weakly and his hand, cold and clammy, touched her face.
“Never did I think I would live long enough to gaze into the eyes of the woman I love and tell her what is in my heart,” he murmured.
“Now that this moment has come, I hardly know what to say. I do not think I can adequately describe what I feel for you. It goes beyond love, Sheridan. It is something timeless and immortal. I may die, but my love for you will live forever.”
So much for her attempts to remain calm; she couldn’t help the tears that sprang from her eyes, pelting his pallid cheek. She kissed his forehead, his cheek, rubbing her nose against his and feeling his hot breath on her face.
“You will live,” she whispered. “You will live to raise our children and watch your sons grow into fine, strong men. The name de Lara will live on and we will grow old together, I swear it.”
He kissed her cheek, her lips. His lips were cold and she struggled against the instinct to burst into tears again. He seemed so very cold.
“I will try,” his voice was faint. “But if I should not be able to keep that vow, then you must promise me something.”
Her lower lip began to tremble and the tears fell faster. “Anything,” she whispered.
Sean suddenly jerked as if he had been struck. Then, he exhaled heavily, paused, and abruptly resumed breathing. Gilby looked concerned and Sheridan nearly came apart.
“Sean?” she asked, trembling. “What is happening?”
He closed his eyes, patting her arms gently. “I am all right,” he took another deep, ragged breath and resumed. “If I do not make it out of here alive, then know that it is my wish for you to marry de Braose. He is an honorable man and will be good to you.”
Sheridan lost her battle against tears and she began to sob softly. “Do not say such things. You are not going to die.”
“But if I do, I want you to promise me. I will be comforted knowing you will be well taken care of.”
She was struggling against explosive grief. “If that is your wish, I will promise you,” she wept. “But you are going to get well. You are going to come with me to Lansdown and we are going to raise a dozen children.”
He smiled faintly. “I could only be so blessed.”
As Sheridan wept, she suddenly noticed a pair of boots standing on Sean’s other side.
She looked up to see Neely gazing down at her with a certain amount of distress.
He was dressed in full battle armor, having broken through the Bell Tower gate along with a thousand other ally soldiers.
He had come looking for Sheridan; now he found her.
“Oh, Neely,” she sobbed. “He was trying to take me out of the Tower. Now see what has happened.”