Chapter Fourteen #2
“Here is your lady,” she heard Roger say. “Her story is the same as yours. And because you have been truthful with me, I will permit you to stay with her for now. But have no doubt that you and I shall have another talk very soon.”
Toby heard his words, struggling to open her eyes. Next she realized, a big hand was on her forehead and she opened her eyes only to look up into a familiar, well-beaten face.
Kenneth was gazing down at her, looking as if he had been beaten within an inch of his life. One eye was grossly swollen and his lip was split and bloodied. One look at him and Toby burst into soft sobs.
“Oh, Sir Kenneth,” she wept. “What have they done to you?”
He shushed her softly. “It looks far worse than it is, my lady,” he said quietly. “The bigger question is what have they done to you? I am told that you are injured.”
Her eyes closed again as if to ward off the throbbing pain in her torso. “Someone knocked me off the horse,” she murmured, tears spilling down her temples. “I think I broke something when I fell.”
Kenneth’s jaw ticked as his gaze moved down her torso. “Where does it hurt?”
“My ribs.”
“A sharp pain?”
“Very sharp.”
He grunted. “You probably broke a few. Can you breathe well enough?”
“It hurts if I take a deep breath but for the most part, I can breathe.”
“Good,” he moved to peel her cloak away. “Hopefully nothing has been punctured. Although I am not Stephen, I have tended my share of wounds. Would you allow me examine you?”
She nodded faintly and he proceeded to pull the heavy woolen cloak away. A simple woolen surcoat and heavy linen shift lay beneath but he did not remove them; instead, he began to gently push on her torso until he reached a tender area and she gasped.
“I am sorry,” he said sincerely. “But I must see if I can feel the bones moving.”
She nodded, eyes closed, and turned her head as far away from him as it would go.
Kenneth pushed a few times on the area in question, listening to her groan softly, knowing she was enduring excruciating pain.
He’d had a few cracked ribs himself and knew how painful it could be. Finally, he removed his hands.
“Well,” he said softly. “I do not believe anything has separated. I can feel the fractures but the bones are still intact. You will be all right once they heal.”
Toby did nothing more but nod; she was exhausted and in extreme pain.
She could feel Kenneth as he gently wrapped her back up in her cloak.
Then he sat beside her in silence because she could feel the heat from his enormous body.
For the longest time, neither one of them moved.
They lingered in dim, uncertain silence.
“What are you doing here?” she finally asked, opening her eyes and turning to look at him. “Why did you not go with Tate?”
Kenneth cocked an eyebrow at her. “Because someone had to come after you to protect you from the hordes of Mortimer’s men bent on capturing you,” he said.
Then he held up a finger. “And just so you and I are perfectly clear, if you do anything like that ever again, I will blister your backside, husband or no husband.”
He wasn’t serious and she knew it. Unwinding a hand from the cloak, she reached out and grasped his thick fingers. It was comforting. Kenneth, the man made of stone, squeezed her hand tightly.
“But it was also one of the most courageous acts I have ever witnessed,” his scolding softened considerably. “It was an honor to have been a part of it.”
“How did they capture you?” she whispered.
He patted her hand. “They did not exactly capture me.”
“What happened?”
He sighed, unsure how much to tell her. He opted for all of it for there was no point in keeping it secret.
“I was too late to help you; by the time I came upon you and the men in pursuit, they had already captured you. At that point, I had a choice of either returning to Tate to tell him what had happened or offering myself as a hostage so that I could stay with you during your captivity. I chose the latter.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because your husband made you my responsibility. You are caught up in something bigger than you can comprehend. I did not want you to face Mortimer alone.”
She squeezed his hand again. “But they beat you.”
He waved her off. “If you think I look bad, you should see the men who did this. Trust me when I say that at least eight of them are far worse off than I.”
He sounded rather proud of himself and she peered more closely at him, thinking he seemed amused by it all. Kenneth was an enormously broad man and she had no doubt he could do a substantial amount of damage. But he was enjoying it. She sighed with disapproval.
“You should have returned to Tate,” she told him. “He will not know what has happened to us.”
Kenneth’s amused expression faded. “He will know soon enough,” he said quietly. “I am sure that Mortimer is even now sending word.”
Toby stared up at him and Kenneth could see the thoughts rolling through her head. The tears were gone and she suddenly looked very serious.
“So Tate was correct,” she said softly. “The remnants of the forces that attacked Harbottle two days ago were waiting for reinforcements.”
Kenneth nodded slowly. “Tate is usually correct. But it did not take a great military genius to deduce that a larger, more substantial force was on its way to Harbottle. Once Edward had been located, it was just a matter of time. Mortimer has been trailing us for two years.”
“So the man that spoke to me earlier really was Roger Mortimer?”
“Aye.”
She fell silent a moment. “Sir Kenneth,” she ventured hesitantly. “I am going to ask you a question and you must swear to be entirely truthful with me.”
“Of course, my lady.”
“I have made a mess of things, have I not?”
“What do you mean?”
“Mortimer is going to send word to Tate that he has me as a hostage. Tate will want me back.”
Kenneth suspected what she was driving at. “He will undoubtedly negotiate for your return.”
“There is nothing he can negotiate with except Edward. And he will not turn the king over to Mortimer, not even for me. I would not want him to.”
Kenneth gazed at her a moment before averting his eyes, looking down at her hand as it held his. “It is possible that Mortimer will ask for Edward in exchange for you.”
Toby’s grip tightened and her hazel eyes were unnaturally hard. “This cannot happen, Kenneth. We must not put Tate in a position where he must choose between me and Edward.”
“It may not come to that. Tate is very skilled at negotiating; we must wait and see what transpires. Do not give up hope.”
She sighed heavily and looked away. The tears were returning and she closed her eyes tightly, trying to stave them off.
“I should not have run from Harbottle,” she whispered tightly.
“I should have stayed where you told me to and I should not have moved. Perhaps we all would have gotten away safely had I not interfered.”
Kenneth squeezed her hand again. “Lady, had you not fled when you did, Tate and Edward would have been discovered by two dozen men who would have quite eagerly speared Tate at the end of a broadsword and taken Edward a captive. What you did… you saved their lives. I believe you saved all of our lives. Do not question your bravery.”
Her eyes opened and she turned to look at him. “Do you really think so?” she sniffed.
He nodded, the ice-blue eyes oddly warm. Kenneth was not the warm type. “I do indeed,” he said quietly. “So you must not despair. We will all get through this. You must trust that Tate will do what is right.”
“But I am afraid.”
“I know. But do not give up hope.”
The tent flap suddenly moved again, issuing forth a small man with thinning blond hair. Icy air blew in after him, rattling the tent. The man was clad in heavy robes and held a big satchel in one hand. Kenneth was on his feet, placing his massive body between Toby and the new entrant.
“What is your business here?” the knight demanded.
The man was diminutive and meek, quite intimidated by Kenneth’s hulking presence. “I am the surgeon,” he said in a soft, high-pitched voice. “My name is Timothy. I have been sent to help the lady.”
Kenneth eyed him as if by sheer glare he could crush the man, but the little surgeon had yet to fade. Gradually, the knight moved aside to allow him access. The little man kept a close eye on Kenneth as he scooted to the lady’s side, setting his heavy bag down.
“She has at least three broken ribs that I can assess,” Kenneth said. “There is nothing to do but wrap her tightly so they will heal.”
Timothy St. Maur had been Roger Mortimer’s physic for three years.
He was a former priest, as many of them were, who had a gift for healing.
The fact that he was a consecrated priest had oft come in handy when giving last rites to patients he could not save.
But the small lady lying before him didn’t seem to be in need of that particular talent.
Toby opened her eyes when she felt the man beside her.
He was small and pale. She watched him as he opened his bag and rummaged around in it.
He pulled out a strange device that looked as if it was two wooden cones with some sort of leather string in between.
She began to watch him more curiously as he rubbed at the cones.
“What is that?” she asked.
The young physic smiled. “This is my listening tube,” he told her. When she looked worried, he held it up so she could examine it. “See? The cones magnify the sounds that travel through this leather tube. I will be able to hear many things from your body to determine your health.”
She looked dubious. “What do you do with it?”
Timothy gestured to her torso. “May I?”
She frowned. “May you what?”
“Demonstrate, of course.”
She looked up at Kenneth, who shrugged faintly. Toby reasoned that as long as Kenneth was standing nearby, no harm would come to her. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“Very well,” she said. “Will this hurt?”