Chapter Twenty-One #3
Tristan waved him off. “I will be there in a moment,” he said.
As Alexander headed out of the hall, Tristan’s gaze was soft on Andromeda.
“If you are going to help the wounded, then please stay in the hall. Do not go out into the bailey, because the Welsh are shooting bolts over the walls. And if the command comes to seal up the hall, you will do so without question. Am I clear on this?”
She nodded as she went to him, her fingers looping into his. “Of course,” she said. “But why would it need to be sealed?”
“If the Welsh make it over the wall.”
“But the walls are very tall. How can they do this?”
He didn’t want to tell her about the ladders or the bombardment on the gatehouse. He simply bent down to kiss her and took strength from it.
“Strange things happen at a moment’s notice,” he said vaguely. “Just keep everyone in here—and you stay in here, please. There is too much happening out there that could kill you.”
“I understand.”
“Good,” he said, giving her a wink. “I must return.”
Andromeda force a smile, blowing him a kiss as he turned for the door. She turned for her patient at the same time, suddenly realizing it was her father as he lay there and bled on the floor.
Tristan was halfway to the hall entry when he heard her gasp. Concerned, he turned to see that she was backing away from Carr. Tristan returned to her, grasping her by the arms because she nearly backed into him.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
Andromeda had a strange look on her face. “Him,” she breathed. “I… I do not think I can help him.”
Tristan recalled the conversation he had with Carr not a half-hour before, a conversation where many revelations were brought into the light.
He was quite aware that Andromeda knew none of them and was, in fact, still in the mindset that her father was her enemy.
The last time she saw him, he had been rough with her.
Though Tristan understood Carr’s perspective now, it didn’t absolve him from being brutal with Andromeda.
But he couldn’t tell her what Carr had told him.
That was a secret he would never reveal.
“Listen to me,” he said, turning her to face him. “Carr has been working hard to keep the Welsh from taking possession of Wrexham. I would consider it a personal favor if you would tend his wounds. He also fell from the wall walk, so he may have more injuries than those you see. He needs help.”
She looked at him sharply. “How can you ask me that?” she hissed. “You know what happened the last time I saw him!”
He nodded patiently. He wasn’t without sympathy. “I know,” he said. “But he is injured. Time in the vault… it has changed him. He is sorry for what he did. He told me so. Mayhap if you tend his wound, you will give him the time he needs to apologize to you, too.”
“But—”
“Will you ruin a chance to make peace with him?” Tristan interrupted softly. “Please do not disappoint me, Andie. I know you are made of better stuff than that.”
She was still frowning, but at least she wasn’t refusing any longer. She was simply standing there, eyeing her father, and Tristan kissed her on the cheek.
“I must go,” he said gently. “Please, Andie… do the right thing. Sometimes bravery is not about facing your fears. Sometimes it is about facing things we simply do not want to face. It is about being the bigger person and showing that you are a woman of honor.”
She sighed and looked at him. “When you put it like that, how can I resist?”
He smiled. “You cannot,” he said. He tilted his head in Carr’s direction. “Do what you can, my lady. I know he is in good hands.”
With that, he headed out of the hall, for good this time, leaving Andromeda to take a deep breath and focus. Tristan had asked her to forget and forgive, so she would try. He was so fiercely protective that she knew he wouldn’t ask her unless he had a good reason to do so.
She was going to have to trust him.
She called to Flora, who was walking among the wounded, carrying a bowl of very watered wine with a cup for those who were thirsty.
When Flora came near, she asked the woman to find a couple of strong male servants, because her father had two arrows sticking out of him, and Andromeda had learned the hard way that they were difficult to remove.
When she first came down to the hall, she’d caused a man unnecessary pain trying to remove one.
Flora handed over the bowl of watered wine and cup to Andromeda before going in search of male servants.
When she was gone, Andromeda knelt down beside her father.
“Carr?” she said softly. “Can you hear me?”
Carr’s eyes fluttered open and moved in her direction. When he finally saw that she was kneeling down beside him, he sighed faintly and closed his eyes again.
“Andie,” he muttered thickly. “What are you doing here, lass?”
Andromeda waved over a female servant, who came bearing rags and hot water and a flask of wine. As the woman crouched on the other side of Carr, Andromeda began peeling back his layers of protection to get a look at the damage.
“I am the wife of the garrison commander,” she said. “It is my duty to tend the wounded. Even you. Are you in much pain?”
He grunted. “Enough.”
“Can you breathe?”
“I’ve been better.”
Andromeda had to call for a knife so she could cut away his tunic, but he had a mail coat underneath it that was providing a substantial barrier.
“I’m going to have to have someone help me with your mail,” she finally told him. “I must remove it so I can see how badly you’re injured. Mayhap you’d better take some wine. It might help with the pain.”
She poured some of the wine into the cup and helped him lift his head. He drained the entire cup, though some of it ran down his chin as he smacked his lips. When he laid his head back down, it was wearily, as if it had taken everything out of him simply to lift his head.
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes opening again as he fixed on her. “You are kind. I do not deserve it.”
Andromeda could feel her emotions starting to rise again, but she fought them. “Nay, you do not,” she said. “But I promised Pat that I would help you, so I am. I will do my best.”
Carr didn’t say anything, but he continued to look at her. Andromeda gazed back at him, waiting for him to say something more, but he didn’t. He simply looked at her.
“What is it?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows. “Why are you looking at me?”
Carr shook his head weakly before closing his eyes. As a couple of male servants came over to help her get the mail off and remove the bolts, Carr suddenly spoke up.
“I do not expect forgiveness,” he said. “I will not ask for it. But know that I am… regretful for the things I’ve done. What I’ve said to you. I wasn’t angry at you, lass. It was something quite different.”
He turned his head away from her, and Andromeda sat there for a moment, feeling a stab of…
something. Sadness? Forgiveness? Anger? She wasn’t sure, to be honest. All she knew was that Carr’s words made her feel something.
She wasn’t sure she liked it, but there was nothing she could do about it at the moment.
He needed help, and she’d promised to give it, so she was prepared.
The male servants were on either side of Carr.
One was standing immediately to her left, the other one directly across.
She explained what needed to be done, removing the mail coat and then removing the bolts, but the servant directly across from her pointed out that they needed to remove the bolts before they could remove the mail.
The bolts were literally pinning the mail to Carr’s body.
Andromeda saw the logic of it and agreed, so the plan was to remove both bolts quickly, pull Carr into a sitting position, and then pull the mail coat over his head.
Everyone took their positions.
The servant across from her had his hands on the bolt sticking out of Carr’s shoulder.
That was to be the first one. She instructed the servant standing next to her to hold Carr still so he wouldn’t move around and hurt himself.
But the servant didn’t move, nor did he obey her instructions.
Puzzled, she looked up to see why he hadn’t obeyed, only to be confronted with something she hoped she would never see again.
Dermot was looking down at her.
And he had a dagger.