Chapter 5 #2
“He held tight to my hand and passed without great pain,” Heather said tears filling her eyes. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
“He had an honorable soul and was so very proud of being one of the Dark Dragon’s warriors. He was all I had and I will miss him greatly.”
Heather reached out and hugged the woman and when she stepped away from her, she saw the surprised look on the old woman’s face.
She often forgot that a chieftain’s daughter or wife did not hug those beneath them, but Heather never thought that anyone was beneath her.
It did not matter what station in life one held.
Everyone hurt, bled, or suffered in some way.
People were more alike than different, though few saw it that way.
“You are a very special woman, my lady,” the older woman said. “I can see by your torn garment that you gave much of yourself to help the injured. I am glad the Dragon chose you for his wife. You will be good for him.” She bobbed her head once again and walked away.
Heather had been so engrossed in making sure all the injured had been seen to that she had forgotten about her appearance.
Disheveled and her garment torn, was not the way for her to be introduced to Rhys’ people.
She hurried along anxious to make herself presentable.
She took only a few steps when she was stopped once again.
“Forgive me, my lady, for disturbing you, but I fear my husband’s wound has worsened and I hear that the wounds you tended are doing well.”
The woman was taller than Heather and thick in body, though it was a firm thickness. Her brown hair was sprinkled with gray, though her round face held few age lines. Her dark eyes held a note of worry and she gripped her hands anxiously.
“Let me have a look, and I will see what can be done to help him.”
“Thank you, my lady. I am Belle and my husband is Henry. He can be a surly and stubborn one. He let one of the warriors tend his leg, no doubt thinking they knew more than you, not that they do not know how to tend a wound. Most have learned out of necessity. But I hear you have a tender and kind touch that helps heal well.”
“It is my sister Emma I owe my knowledge of healing to,” Heather said as she walked alongside the woman.
Belle shook her head. “I think not. Your mum had the healing touch, God rest her kind soul. You are much like her.”
Heather almost stumbled over her own feet, she got so excited. “You knew my mum?”
Belle nodded. “Lady Enis saved my life. I am my mum’s only child, she being older than most women when she had me.
It was not an easy birth. I gave no cry when I was born, and my mum told me that her heart broke at the deafening silence.
But Lady Enis worked her healing touch on me and suddenly I was crying as loud as a banshee.
” Belle laughed. “And as my mum liked to remind me, I never stopped.”
Heather had no time to respond, having reached Belle’s cottage. There were questions she wished to ask Belle, to talk with her mum if possible, and to find out about the changes here, but that would have to wait.
“I warned you, woman,” came the gruff shout when Belle entered the cottage and announced Lady Heather’s presence. “There is no reason to be bothering Lady Heather. I am fine.”
“Then you will not mind if I have a look so that I may see what a fine job your warriors have done in tending you,” Heather said with a smile, though she could see from the soiled bandage on his leg that the wound was far from fine.
“It’s a scratch, nothing more,” Henry insisted.
He was a sizeable man, thick in body like his wife, though age lines clung to the corners of his eyes and his hair was more gray than brown. And where his wife kept a smile on her face, he wore a frown, except when he looked at his wife. His whole face softened even when he spoke gruffly to her.
“Then it will be a quick glance I take,” Heather assured him.
Henry looked to Belle. “You do not listen, wife.”
Belle laughed. “What wife does?”
“Bah,” Henry said frustrated, “have a look and be done with it.”
“Henry, your manners,” Belle scolded.
Henry shook his head before giving Heather a nod. “Forgive me, my lady, I am a rude, old fool.”
Belle walked over to him and draped her arm around his wide shoulder. “You are my old fool and I love you dearly, and I will not let your stubbornness take you from me.”
Henry slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. “You can be a chore, woman, but I do love you.”
Heather watched the couple with envy. She had thought that she and Quinn would be like them, growing old together and more in love each day.
“A peek and I will be gone,” Heather said as she hunched down to unpeel the dirty bandage off his leg.
Belle hurried and got a small stool to rest her husband’s foot on, making it easier for Heather to examine the wound.
One look at the wound, and Heather knew it needed immediate tending or it would turn putrid. She looked at Henry. “It needs some cleaning and a clean bandage applied.”
“I will fetch what you need,” Belle said, then pointed a finger at her husband, “and you will sit there and say nothing.”
Henry grumbled but did as his wife ordered.
Once the wound was cleaned, Heather saw the problem. “You have a splinter of some sort embedded in the wound. It needs to be removed, and then you should heal fine, for the wound is not deep.” She turned to Belle. “Though, you must change the bandage often.”
“Bah,” Henry snorted, “a waste of time and good cloth.”
“You will mind your manners, Henry, and do what Lady Heather says,” Belle ordered.
“Sorry, my lady,” Henry grumbled.
Heather bowed her head to hide her smile. He might be a gruff man, but he gave no guff to his wife when she gave him an order.
It did not take long to remove the sliver of wood with Belle’s bone needle and apply a fresh bandage to the leg.
After all was done, Heather stood and looked to Belle.
“He should stay off that leg for at least the remainder of the day, two if possible, to give the wound time to close some. And change the bandage in two days. If the wound has a bad odor or reddens, let me know right away. In the meantime, I will leave some leaves for you to brew and have Henry drink.”
Belle shot her husband a warning look before he could complain, and he grumbled beneath his breath.
Heather left the cottage, her stomach grumbling, reminding her that the day was winding on and she had barely eaten.
She also needed to change her garments, her appearance not at all presentable.
She finally made it inside the keep without being stopped and was delighted to see a familiar and friendly face.
Nessa was a few years younger than her. She was petite and plump with long red hair that she wore in a single braid.
She had the prettiest face and the loveliest dark eyes and a smile that never faltered.
She had worked, since young, alongside her mum in the keep.
Her mum had passed on a couple of years ago and last Heather knew, Nessa had continued her duties in the keep.
There was no one who knew the place like she did and Heather was glad to see her.
“Lady Heather,” Nessa cried and hurried to her.
The two hugged, neither noticing the stares from the few warriors and servants in the Great Hall.
“It is good to see you,” Heather said.
“I am so pleased to see you, though when I learned you were the Dark Dragon’s wife, I prayed for you.”
“The union was necessary,” Heather said.
“So I learned.”
“Tell me what has happened here,” Heather said. “I recognize few villagers.”
Nessa kept her voice low. “They are gone—disappeared—swallowed whole by the Dark Dragon.”
Before Heather could ask what she meant, Nessa’s face paled and her eyes turned wide. Heather turned to see the Dark Dragon standing a few feet away, raindrops running down his dark garments.