Chapter Sixteen
Talus was demanding far too much of her attention.
It was true that the man had a nasty, and large, gash on his left leg, one that the physic had to pick mail out of, but Talus was convinced it was the end of his world as he knew it.
At least, for Annaleigh he did. The moment the returning army entered the confines of Castle Questing and Talus had been helped into the great hall where Jordan and Jemma had set up a corner to treat the wounded, he asked for Annaleigh and she’d been forced to attend him.
That’s where she found herself now.
Truthfully, it was a terrible gash and it had been painful to have it cleaned out and finally stitched, but Talus was determined to milk Annaleigh’s sympathy for all it was worth.
He groaned and made faces, asking her to hold his hand as the physic dug into his leg, and she’d begrudgingly complied.
She wouldn’t have done it at all except for the fact that she’d been told that War and his men were still in Coldstream, so there was no immediate chance of War seeing her hold Talus’ hand.
But the moment the physic was finished stitching, she pulled her hand from his sweaty grip.
He’d tried to reclaim it, but she’d moved far enough away that he couldn’t.
Talus groaned and grunted as Annaleigh calmly told him that there were other wounded men that needed her attention.
He didn’t argue with her but it was clear he hoped that all of his moaning might convince her that he needed her most of all.
But she was immune to it, helping the physic collect his things as they moved on to the next badly wounded man, who had been gored in the leg.
Eventually, Talus fell into a fitful sleep, bringing relief to Annaleigh.
Until he passed out from sheer exhaustion, she could hear his grunts and sighs all across the hall.
Anthony even came in at one point to see to the wounded and showed genuine concern for Talus.
He and Talus may have been love rivals, but there was still a bond between them, as most knights who served together had.
Annaleigh assured Anthony that Talus would recover and he seemed relieved.
But then he began to follow her around the hall.
Under the guise of being concerned for the wounded, Anthony stuck to Annaleigh as she moved from man to man and she couldn’t shake him.
While she was bandaging arms and legs and hands, he was holding the limbs steady for her.
She didn’t need him, but he seemed to want to be helpful.
Still, Annaleigh knew it was more than that.
He kept brushing a hand against hers or smiling at her when she looked at him.
That went on for quite some time until Kieran, exhausted from having been up all night and on the wall because no one knew where Anthony had gone, entered the hall and chastised the knight in front of Annaleigh for leaving his post.
Humiliated, Anthony fled back to the battlements.
Kieran was usually such a cool and collected man that Annaleigh had been surprised that he’d been nasty with Anthony.
He even threatened the knight with something called the Helm of Shame, which Annaleigh had never heard of but sounded awful.
It was enough to send Anthony fleeing from the hall.
Annaleigh hoped she would never be threatened with such a thing.
The night eventually passed into morning.
Annaleigh was sitting next to a man who had been gored in the abdomen because the physic felt he was the most seriously wounded when she heard the faint cry of the sentries on the wall.
The morning’s light was barely peeking over the eastern horizon as she wearily stood up from her post, making her way to the entry to the great hall, gazing out over the cold and purple bailey and listening to the soldiers on the walls.
Men had been sighted and that’s all she knew.
She hoped it was War returning but she wasn’t certain until the gates opened and knights came pouring in, including a massive warrior astride a black and white stallion.
Annaleigh was fairly certain it was War simply by the size of the man but she couldn’t be sure.
She stood there and watched until the knight dismounted and then she was certain he’d returned home.
And he was uninjured.
She murmured a brief prayer of thanks and returned to her wounded man.
But she wasn’t alone for long.
Knights entered the great hall, clamoring for food and drink and sending the sleepy servants running. Annaleigh looked up from her gravely wounded patient to see War crossing the floor in her direction.
And he was looking at her.
She smiled wearily at the man and he smiled in return, but the closer he drew, the more she could see that he was spattered in gore. Blood had dried on his tunic and mail, hands, and seemingly everything else, and she stood up, looking at him in horror.
“God’s Bones, man,” she said, pointing to the mess. “Is any of this blood yers?”
He was still smiling wearily. “Nay,” he said. “I am quite well. Have you been up all night?”
Annaleigh was relieved to hear he was in one piece, uninjured and unpunctured. She nodded to his question. “Aye,” she said. “There are many wounded. This man took a blade tae the belly. The physic isna sure he’ll survive.”
War looked at the man, an old soldier who was pasty in pallor, but his attention quickly returned to Annaleigh.
“You are brave and compassionate to tend the wounded, my lady,” he said softly. “But do you think you could spend a few moments away from them?”
She cocked her head. “What do ye mean?”
“So you can sit with me while I eat something.”
There was something warm and promising in that sweet invitation and a smile spread across her lips.
“Of course,” she murmured. “I can spare a few moments.”
With a grin, War turned around, back towards the feasting tables where food was being delivered, and Annaleigh followed behind him.
She hadn’t taken five or six steps, however, when she heard her name being called weakly.
Pausing, she turned to see Talus over near the wall, lifting a hand to her. He was summoning her.
Frustrated that her plans with War were being delayed, she came to a halt with War beside her.
“He took a bad cut tae his leg,” Annaleigh said. “Let me see tae him. I’ll join ye in a moment.”
War cocked an eyebrow, immediately suspicious of Talus’ motives. “I’ll come with you,” he said.
War followed her over to Talus, who immediately grasped Annaleigh’s sleeve when she came near.
“My lady,” he said hoarsely. “May I have some water?”
He seemed terribly pale. Unusually so. Frustration turning to concern, Annaleigh put a hand on his forehead and emitted a hiss.
“He’s burning with fever,” she said, suddenly filled with a sense of urgency. “War, will ye find the physic and send him tae me? Quickly, please.”
War didn’t seem so annoyed, either, as he realized something was seriously wrong with Talus. He quickly set off to find the old physic that had been tending men, women, and children at Castle Questing for several years. As he rushed away, Annaleigh called to the nearest servant for water and rags.
She had to get the man’s fever down.
“When did ye start feeling so poorly, Talus?” she asked, pulling the covers off him. He was dressed in a sweat-stained tunic and linen breeches that had been torn to shreds because of his thigh wound. “I was sitting on the other side of the hearth and ye slept soundly all night. I could see ye.”
Talus sighed heavily, closing his eyes as Annaleigh began to remove his tunic. “I do not know,” he said weakly. “I dreamed of fire. When I awoke, my eyeballs felt as if they were ablaze, yet I am both hot and cold.”
Annaleigh managed to get the tunic off of him. “’Tis the fever making ye feel like that,” she said as the servant brought over a bucket of water and the requested rags. “We must cool ye down.”
With that, she dunked the rags into the cold water, wrung them out, and began bathing Talus’ head and neck. The servant also took a rag and began to do the same thing with the man’s arms and chest. They were hard at work when the physic appeared, a man by the name of Collingwood.
Oddly enough, Collingwood was a sickly man himself.
He had a disease of the lungs and, sometimes, he could hardly breathe, but he was an excellent physic and William had learned to trust him.
More than likely, he wasn’t going to live much longer, but that didn’t stop him from working very hard when there was the need for a physic.
William kept him on because the man had nowhere else to go, but also because he needed a physic for a castle this size.
Even if the physic was a patient himself.
“The poison is in his veins,” Collingwood said after a quick assessment of Talus’ fever and the color of his eyeballs. “You are doing the right thing, Annie. Cool him down. I must fetch the rotten brew I’ve been steeping since last eve.”
Annaleigh looked at him queerly. “Rotten brew?”
Collingwood nodded. “It is made from rotten bread, but only bread that has turned blue,” he said. “I’ve no time to explain. Keep doing what you are doing and I will return shortly.”
Annaleigh nodded quickly and the man fled.
Talus was quickly sliding in and out of consciousness.
Sweat had formed on his upper lip and forehead.
Annaleigh and the servant bathed him steadily, but whatever poison had him in its grip was working swiftly and savagely.
As Annaleigh worked over him, trying to bring his fever down, she could see War’s shadow over to her right. She paused a moment to look at him.
“I am sorry I canna join ye for yer meal,” she said softly. “But he needs help. I hope ye understand.”
War did something then that surprised Annaleigh. He moved forward and began taking off Talus’ boots, which were still on.