Chapter Fourteen #3
Exhausted, but still feeding off a battle high, Gar stood at the top of the stairs of the great hall, watching people move about as they tended to the wounded.
He could see his grandmother, mother, and aunt as they helped the men.
Things they’d done a thousand times before, to a thousand different men, carefully ensuring they would live to see another day.
Avrielle was particularly good at it, as Scott was an excellent healer and she’d learned a good deal from him over the years.
Gar derived a strange sense of comfort watching the women of his family tend to his men as the world righted itself after the fight.
But then, he caught sight of someone new.
It was Mattie.
She was kneeling alongside the surgeon as he discussed a gash on a man’s forearm.
Mattie was very attentive, listening closely, but as Gar watched, it became clear that the surgeon asked her to stitch the wound.
He was pointing at the gash, pointing at the box she was carrying around, which happened to be the surgeon’s box with a sewing kit in it.
The surgeon took something out of his bag, told Mattie to stitch the wound, and then moved to the next patient.
“She’s trying very hard, ye know.”
The soft voice came from his right and he looked over to see his mother standing there, watching Mattie just as he was.
Gar smiled faintly.
“She is a woman of determination,” he said. “But I do not think she has ever tended wounded after a battle.”
“She hasna,” Rhoswyn said. “She came down here, asking tae help, but she has no experience, so she is shadowing the surgeon.”
Gar scratched his head dubiously. “I think the surgeon just asked her to stitch a wound,” he said. “She looks a little… green. I can see it from here.”
Rhoswyn chuckled softly. “Ye should have seen her with the man who fell from the wall,” she said.
“She wanted so badly tae help, but she caught sight of the bone sticking out of the man’s shoulder and gagged twice before yer mother sent her tae help someone who wasn’t quite so mangled.
But, God love the lass, she dinna fold. She’s still trying. ”
Smiling faintly, Gar watched Mattie pull forth needle and thread in preparation for stitching up the gash. As he watched, she took another look at the wound and gagged, trying to cover her mouth with her hand.
“Brave,” he muttered, snorting quietly. “She’s very brave.”
“She is,” Rhoswyn said. “And I suspect she’s doing it because she knows that’s what’s expected. I dunna think she wants tae disappoint ye.”
“She could never do that.”
Leaving his mother, Gar headed over to where Mattie was staring down the laceration on the man’s arm as if she were looking straight into the jaws of hell. She still had her hand over her mouth, swallowing hard, trying desperately not to get sick.
“Queenie?” he said softly.
Mattie’s head snapped up, her gaze fixing on him. “You are well,” she said, sounding relieved. “I mean to say that you look well. Are you? Do you need assistance?”
Fighting off a grin, he shook his head and knelt down next to her, leaning over to kiss her on the head. “I only need to see you,” he said. “It looks as if you are doing good work. I am proud of you.”
She smiled wanly. “Are you?” she said. “I’ve never done this before, but I think I am getting better at it.”
He didn’t want to dispute her, but once she threaded the bone needle, she just stared at the open gash, trying to figure out how to sew the thing up. She lifted the needle as if to start it, but hesitated.
Gar took pity on her.
“Do you have any ale or wine?” he asked.
She nodded, letting out a most unladylike burp as she pointed to an earthenware bottle next to her. “Aye,” she said, covering her mouth discreetly and hoping Gar hadn’t noticed. “The surgeon gave this to me. He told me to give it to the men to ease their pain.”
Gar reached over her and took it. “Nay,” he said quietly. “This is what you do. Watch me.”
He took it and poured it right onto the open wound.
The soldier groaned, Mattie gasped, and Gar took the needle from her and very swiftly stitched up the flesh that was still stinging with the wine.
His stitches weren’t the neatest, but they were swift and in no danger of pulling.
He made a row of five of them as Mattie watched with morbid fascination.
Finishing the last one, he tied it off and cut the end.
“Now,” he said. “Bandage it up tightly. It is a deep cut, so you will want to check it in the morning to make sure poison isn’t setting in. When you do check it, rinse it with more wine. That keeps the poison away.”
Mattie nodded unsteadily, picking up some boiled linen from the surgeon’s bag.
Without a word, she wrapped the arm very carefully, and very slowly, starting over at least three times because she wanted to get it perfect.
Gar watched her, thinking she had a lot to learn about battle medicine, but very proud that she wanted to learn.
She wasn’t going to give up, no matter how horrified or sickened she felt.
When she was finally finished, Gar inspected the bandage with approval.
“You did an excellent job,” he said. “Is this truly your first time tending battle wounds?”
Mattie nodded. “My very first time.”
“I would have never known it.”
She gave him a long look. “Not much you wouldn’t,” she said. “But it is kind of you to say so. I will get better, I promise.”
He smiled, kissing her head again before standing up. “You are already quite excellent,” he said. Then, he pointed to an older man slumped against wall. “Can you tend to him? See what his wound is and tend it accordingly now that I’ve shown you how.”
Nodding eagerly, Mattie moved to the older man with the dirty white hair to his shoulders. He had his face turned away, his eyes closed, and she looked him over to see what his injury was and came across a swollen jaw and broken teeth.
“His mouth,” Mattie told Gar. “What do I do?”
Gar peered at the man, but he could only see the side of his face. “What is amiss?”
“Broken teeth.”
“Ah,” Gar said in understanding. “Have him rinse his mouth with wine and ask him if he wants you to bind his jaw. We cannot usually do much for men with head wounds.”
Mattie asked the man gently if he wanted any help, but he shook his head and told her he only wished to sleep. She didn’t push him and Gar didn’t seem to think it was horribly important, so they moved on to the next man.
“Look at his wrist,” Gar pointed out. “See that it is swollen?”
Mattie nodded. “I do,” she said, visually inspecting it. “What should I do?”
“Wrap it tightly with the boiled linen,” Gar said.
“We may ask the surgeon if it needs a splint, but for now, simply wrap it tightly so it will not move around. In battlefield medicine, sometimes there is not time to give a man a full measure of attention. Sometimes you must do what you can and move to the next man until time allows.”
Again, Mattie endeavored to wrap a man’s wrist when she really had no idea what she was doing.
The first time she did it, she wrapped it so tightly that the man’s fingers turned purple.
Gar gently pointed that out, so she unwrapped the wrist and then did it again, this time without cutting off the blood supply.
By the time she was finished, there were no more wounded to tend.
Between Jordan, Avrielle, Rhoswyn, Mattie, Gar, and the surgeon, everyone was adequately tended.
The situation had calmed down significantly and by the time the sun started to rise in the east, Gleann na Fola was relatively peaceful.
William had sent about a hundred men into the village to tend to the fires and help the villagers, and Atreus and Maksim went with them.
There were many villagers who were significantly displaced and after much discussion with his father and uncles and grandfather, Gar finally gave permission for the villagers to come into the castle walls for protection.
At dawn, a tide of humanity began to trickle in.
That meant more work for everyone.
Mattie hadn’t slept all night, like everyone else, but she didn’t seem tired.
She was determined to ensure the villagers had a hot meal as the soldiers helped provide adequate shelter with spare tents and tarps strung up to create makeshift roofs.
Mattie and Brickie, working together this time, organized two enormous iron pots of water into which went beans, peas, and leftover pork that Brickie had roasted a couple of days before.
Carrots went in and plenty of salt, all of it boiled until a thick stew was created.
By noon, the pottage was ready to be distributed and hungry, burned villagers were grateful for the meal.
The wounded, too, were fed the nourishing stew.
And Mattie supervised it all.
She spent all morning outside in the elements, which turned out to be a cold wind on a sunny day, making sure the kitchens of Gleann na Fola produced enough food for the hungry.
At one point, Jordan and Avrielle offered to help, but she turned them down.
She wanted to do it herself and they let her, finally retreating to bed after a long night and long morning while Mattie remained outside, directing the feeding of the villagers.
Gar, for his part, split his time between making sure his bailey was still functional for the soldiers, since he considered the castle still on alert, and also retreating to the kitchen yard to make sure his wife wasn’t collapsing from exhaustion.
By midafternoon, the villagers were fed and settled, the wounded were sleeping, as were most of the knights and half of the army, but Mattie remained at her post.
Gar knew she must have been bone-tired because he was, but she wasn’t going to surrender to something as mundane as sleep.
Not when there was work to be done. He watched her work until she nearly tripped whilst gathering more water for the stew and that was when he put his foot down.
His lovely, na?ve, and completely dedicated wife had warmed his heart in a way he couldn’t have imagined.
She was trying so hard to be helpful, to do the right thing in a situation she’d never experienced before, and he couldn’t describe the gratitude he felt toward her.
Or the feelings.
But he knew they were strong.
“Queenie?” he said quietly, coming up behind Mattie as she stood near one of the nearly empty pots of stew. “Everything is in hand now. I think you and I should try to get some sleep.”
Mattie looked at him as if surprised by the request. “I am well enough,” she said. “I do not need to sleep now.”
It was a lie. Her eyes had dark circles under them, but to Gar, she’d never looked more beautiful. He felt as if he was seeing a woman, really seeing a woman, for the first time in his life.
Brave.
That was the highest form of praise he could give her.
“Mayhap you do not, but I do,” he said after a moment. “And I do not want to go alone. Will you at least go with me and sit with me until I fall asleep? I’ve just been to battle, sweetheart. I could use your comfort.”
The last part was manipulative, but he wanted to say something that would get her upstairs with him. Once he had her in bed, he’d make sure she didn’t leave, so it was with resignation that she agreed to go with him, leaving Brickie to supervise what was left of the food line.
Quietly, they made their way up to the master’s chamber.
When Gar opened the door, Winchester’s head popped up from the bed and, after a startled moment, the dog jumped down and ran at Gar.
Truthfully, Gar had had no idea that the dog was even here, but Mattie’s strong commands to the animal at least had him backing off any attack.
Mattie pointed to the hearth and told the dog to go lie down, which he did, but all the while, he was watching Gar like he wanted to eat him.
Gar didn’t really want to be worried for his life in his own bed, but if the dog wasn’t advancing, he would be gracious enough to allow the beast to remain. He knew it would make Mattie happy.
She might even want to stay and sleep.
It was a chance he was willing to take.
Luckily for Gar, once Mattie’s head hit the pillow, she went out like a doused candle.
She was instantly, and deeply, asleep. He pulled her into his arms and promptly fell asleep next to her.
They slept the afternoon away and when Gar finally opened his eyes again, it was dark outside.
It was nighttime and he could hear the soldiers’ distant calls on the wall in the course of their regular sentry duties.
Everything seemed normal, thankfully. In his arms, Mattie was sleeping like the dead and he gave her a squeeze, preparing to pull her closer, when he realized something very strange.
It wasn’t Mattie at all.
It was Winchester.
Somehow, the dog had gotten onto the bed, in between him and Mattie, and now was wrapped up in his arms with his wife snoring softly on the other side of the bed.
Gar opened his eyes in shock and found himself staring at a sleeping dog’s head, with Winchester’s teeth inches from his face.
The dog was as content as a baby in its bed, snug with his new master.
Realizing that, Gar laughed until he cried.