He wore a triumphant look for a brief moment before his gaze took on an amused glint. “There will be more where that came from when I get back.” He murmured with a sly wink. He kissed my forehead before letting go at last, heading towards the wagons with me in tow. “It’s only a week, and we are going to court properly when I get back. I promise.”
I wanted to say something, though I felt like anything I said would sound as hollow as it was. I just mustered up a smile for him and said. “I’m sure the week will fly by.” All to quickly, I knew. Rhian was staring at us too, an envious look written all over her face, though she smiled wanly as we approached. She was trying to be happy for us, and I had to give her some credit for that. A few months ago she would have burst into tears or had an outburst, but it seemed she was finally growing up. Sort of. It was a start.
At last, all belongings and supplies were loaded and people seated in their respective wagons or on their horses. Father eyed the position of the sun and grumbled about already running late and gave the call out. “All right! Let’s move!” Father turned to give me one last, fond smile, lifting a hand in a wave. “Be well, Carys. I know you will have everything whipped into shape when we return.” He chuckled and winked before steering his horse towards the gate, leading the entourage with a steadfast smile.
And in a matter of minutes, everyone was gone, leaving Ben and I standing in the yard. He was staring after the caravan, his jaw tight though it wasn’t out of anger, it was out of worry. Anger and worry looked so similar on him so it was difficult to say for sure, but I liked to think I knew him well enough to know the difference. “I’m sure they will be fine.” I murmured to him.
As the last member of the entourage faded from sight and the dust began to settle, I turned to go inside, pausing only when Ben murmured after me. “You and Brynmor have no connection. That kiss was nothing, and you know it.” It was my turn to stare at him, barely able to hide my growing unease as once again, Ben saw through my charade. I had no argument...no defense...and I had no energy for this quarrel all over again.
It seemed he wasn’t in the mood to argue about it either, and having said his piece, headed off to patrol the yard and leaving me standing alone in the yard.
CHAPTER 48
The day passed quietly as I sat in the study, Derryth occasionally interrupting to bring me food and drink, her tendency to hover ensuring that I lacked for nothing. Ben patrolled outside for a good portion of the day, finding tasks that would keep him some distance from me. He chopped enough wood to last the week and then some, eventually finding his way indoors for dinner. It was a quiet dinner, neither of us much in the mood for talking though we did manage some small talk, awkward and stilted, but it qualified as conversation nonetheless. This is going to be a long, quiet week.
The next day began in a similar fashion, quiet and unassuming. Finally it was too quiet and after lunch, I spoke up, my voice deafening by comparison. “Ben, would you escort me into Lund? I have a few things I would like to pick up.” It wasn’t like these errands couldn’t wait, but I was getting restless and thought going into town would break up the monotony of the day.
He nodded, rising gracefully from his chair. “I will get the horses ready.” He responded smoothly. He was possibly as eager as I to have something to do, though I was already praying to the gods to have mercy on us and allow us to converse like normal people. It seemed like every conversation we tried to have beyond the menu and the weather ended in controversy.
As we entered Lund, I glanced over towards him and offered, “If you have any errands of your own to run, feel free to go do them. We can just meet at the Stag when you are done.” His head was on a swivel, searching faces, rooftops, and shrubbery for dangers as though he expected the shadows themselves to jump out at us, but his head snapped over to shoot me a glare at the suggestion of parting ways.
“Your sister was kidnapped, and while she likes to pretend it never happened, it did. I will not leave your side.” He growled. We took our horses to the stables, opting to walk through the city as the roads had filled with people and carts laden with goods. The market was equally crowded, and we were forced to wait in line. Ben and I stood in silence while the city jabbered on around us, most commenting on the unseasonal warmth that had settled in.
I looked upwards as I listened to their gossip, the sun definitely growing warm as we stood in the market though my attention was soon caught by storm clouds off in the distance, rolling closer as the afternoon wore on. “It’s a little early in the year for a storm, isn’t it?”I mused, half spoken to Ben. His gaze turned towards the storm, though he seemed distracted.
It was only a few moments later when his hand gently touched my shoulder and he leaned down to speak lowly into my ear. “There is something I must do. When you are finished here, go to the Stag and wait for me. I will find you there and take you home.” He didn’t even wait for a response before he left my side, heading down the street and leaving me standing alone in the market with a dropped jaw. “But….” I started, but he was already out of earshot.
I sighed softly and muttered, “So much for you not leaving my side. City full of danger, indeed.” It was my turn with the vendor and so I carried on with my business. An hour later I headed down the street towards the Stag, frowning as I looked for Ben. He still had not returned, and I sorely wished he had told me what his errand was so I would know where to look.
I ordered some tea and made myself comfortable in the tavern while I waited, though I knew Ben would never leave me alone very long. He might dislike and avoid me whenever possible, but he would never shirk his duty when it came to my safety. The minutes ticked by, the skies through the window growing darker as the clouds rolled in. The front door opened and closed though none who passed through it were Ben and after another hour and two more cups of tea, I was starting to worry.
Thunder gently rolled outside and the gentle tinkling of rain hitting the windows filled the silence between conversations that echoed in the tavern, and as the dinner hour arrived, so did more drenched patrons, none of which were my guard.
Where is he? I wondered as yet another hour passed, feeling a mixture of exasperation and concern. How long does he expect me to wait? I knew the answer to that, though I didn’t like it. I could hear him growling in my head. “As long as it takes me to get there.”
My irritation grew swiftly as time continued to pass with no Ben, several scenarios explaining his long delay. Perhaps he got lost? Or was arrested for cheating at cards? Perhaps bears attacked the city and cornered him in a tree. None of these scenarios seemed particularly plausible, though it finally occurred to me that he left me waiting while he went to the brothel to find his pleasure for the afternoon. He left me alone and made me wait for hours just so he could have a woman? My irritation turned to fuming in an instant. It had been hours, I was tired, the weather had turned, and I wanted to go home. I didn’t relish the idea of going out in the storm, but I was livid and enough was enough!
I approached the counter where Jack was pouring a few ales for his latest patrons. The barkeep offered a beaming smile, complete with his slightly crooked teeth. “Aye, Miss Carys. Another tea? Dinner perhaps? Y’ must be gettin’ hungry.”
I moved a little closer so I could speak to the barkeep without having to raise my voice, and I shook my head and clenched my fists as I tried to rein in my seething anger. “No, thank you Mr. Redding, I am going to go. If you see Ben come in, tell him I was tired of waiting and I went home.”
Jack’s beaming smile flipped into a frown as he looked to the window. “It’s pourin’ out there, Miss Carys. Are y’ sure y’ want t’ be goin’ out in that?” He looked genuinely concerned before he added. “I can put y’ up in a room, only charge ya half price because I ‘preciate yer patronage.”
I was already pulling my cloak over my shoulders and tucking my hair into my hood. I gave him a tight smile, no longer trying to hide my irritation and answered truthfully. “Frankly,
I think the rain will cool me off just enough to prevent me from murdering the man.” I muttered, eliciting a short laugh from the bartender.
“Aye, well that’s probably for th’ best then. I’ll give him yer message if I see him. Goodnight, Miss Carys.” He answered as he gave me a bob of his head, grabbing a rag to begin wiping off the counter top.
The rain was heavier than I had anticipated, and my cloak did little to protect me from the elements. I reached the stables and tucked my parcels into my saddlebags, looking over the several other horses for Ben’s mare, Tirzah. She was gone.
I frowned more deeply with greater concern, if that were even possible. Where had he gone? He had abandoned me...left me completely alone in the city without telling me anything of his plans, and now I was both worried and furious. There was no word in Sirric or any other language that would accurately describe the emotion I was experiencing. If I find him at home in bed with a woman, I will do what he taught me and jam my blade so deeply into his gut that even the hilt will be lost to his insides.
Even as I write this now, I’m not sure how much of my wrath was worry for his unusual behavior, anger at his abandonment, or jealousy at the idea of him with another woman. I refused to acknowledge the jealousy, however, clinging tightly to the idea that he had shunned his duty and left me to rot alone and unguarded.
The thick storm clouds blocked out all other forms of light from the night sky and it was completely dark when I arrived home. I was well past drenched by the time I rode into the yard, my hair plastered to my head as I trembled from the cold, chilled down to my marrow as my coat, dress, and cloak clung relentlessly to my skin.
My ire had subsided enough that thoughts of bringing him a slow and painful death had no more place in my rather vivid imagination, although yelling...a lot of yelling...was now my top priority. I was too cold to come up with a suitable punishment, but I was certain something would come to mind. As I looked towards the unlit cottage, it was obvious that nobody was here though a soft whinny reached my ears.
My brow furrowed, as I looked around, knowing Ffion should have been the only horse here. I dismounted, squinting as I looked over all the stalls in the stable before leading Ffion into his stall to stay while I went to look around for the source.
I found Tirzah wandering free in the yard, her saddle, blankets, and Ben’s saddle bags soaked through. If she is here, Ben is here, but why didn’t he brush her down and put her in the stables? A knot began to tighten in my stomach as I approached the skittish black mare, the beast whinnying with my approach, though oddly enough, she calmed and allowed me to gently run my hand down her neck. “Where is Ben, hm?” She snorted softly, nudging me with her nose backwards, then taking a step towards me to nudge again, almost causing me to stumble back into the front steps of the house.
I frowned up at the mare, thinking for a moment the mare was as obnoxious as her master. Taking her reins in a firm grip, I led her to the stables to tie her next to Ffion in the shelter of the stable. I would go change first, then come back to tend them. My annoyance with Ben grew all over again, knowing that he knew better than to leave Tirzah wandering about in the rain still saddled. Another possibility occurred to me, though. Had she run from the stables in Lund and returned here on her own? I considered yelling at the Stag’s stable-hand, too.
I climbed the stairs to the front door, already beginning to pull off my wet cloak as my anger grew. My night seemed to grow more infuriating by the moment, and I was freezing and exhausted and wanted nothing more than a scalding hot bath. The house was pitch black save for the very faint orange glow from the last remaining embers in the hearth, and I sighed irritably, knowing the house would be far too cold for comfort.
There are some things...some moments...that never escape you, burned into your memory as a fierce black stain. I should have known something was wrong, but it wasn’t until I walked into the cottage that I understood. The smell of blood filled the room, thick and metallic, stinking of death. There was a faint rasping noise, the agonizing struggle for breath as someone’s life was ebbing away.
I couldn’t move, my mind reeling with this assault on my senses, though, unable to comprehend its nature, and I held my breath as I fumbled for the lantern and the matches, always kept next to the front door.
Tchsh. The match sizzled as I struck it, the flash illuminating my face in the dark before my trembling hands managed to light the lantern.
Fwoosh. The wick of the lantern caught, lighting up the room in a rush of orange light.
Blood. It was all over the floor. The crimson, congealing trail began at the doorway and led in a chaotic path towards the hearth where Ben lay sprawled in a growing pool of the sanguine fluid, his breathing little more than a scarce wheeze as he balanced precariously on the threshold between life and death.
A strangled gasp echoed in the darkened house as my chest went hollow, all thought and all anger vanishing in an instant as my entire being seemed to plunge into the icy depths of the northern sea, overwhelmed with an indescribable terror at the sight before me.
I have no memory of crossing the room, but in a moment I was kneeling at his side, my hands shaking as I pressed them over his back. He was covered in blood, his leather jerkin sliced through, shredded in several places where he had been dealt mortal wounds.
He was going to die.
I struggled to breathe, knowing there would be no getting him to the Lund Infirmary….there were no doctors or surgeons nearby, and he was out of time. There was nobody but me who could help him, and suddenly my short time in the Healing Ward in Perinthas was both a blessing and a curse. I knew some, but not nearly enough to save Ben from death.
There is nobody else who can save him. It must be me. Oh gods!
I gulped in air and swiftly looked him over. “Ben….it’s Carys. I’m here, alright? Don’t die...please, don’t die.” I whispered to him, not trusting my voice to remain steady. Across his back was a long gash that cut deep into the muscle, the blood pulsing from it nearly hiding the exposed slit of bone of his spine. He made it here, so the spinal cord wasn’t cut, I knew.
I swiftly rose and bolted to the cupboard, pulling out everything that looked like it might be useful. I hoped the tea towels were clean and I returned, pressing a cloth to the long wound to staunch the flow of blood, slowing only because of his weakening heartbeat.
He was barely conscious, groaning in agony as I worked. “I need to move you to see the rest of your wounds, Ben. I’m going to roll you a bit.” I kept talking to him, though I wasn’t even sure he knew that I was there. I struggled to roll the large man to his side only to see more injuries on his chest, a tourniquet already tightly tied around his leg, though it was already crimson. Oh gods….tears began to prick at my eyes, but I couldn’t afford to cry. I couldn’t afford to panic, as much as my body was trying to force me down that very dangerous road. Focus, Carys! Breathe!
I panted for air and tucked towels beneath him to stem the flow of blood from the slice across his chest before letting him gently back down. I wrapped another towel securely around his leg wound and returned to the long cut on his back, staring bleakly at the long gash. I had no medical supplies, only Derryth’s sewing kit.
Cauterize. Slowly, my training in the Healing Ward began coming back, and I knew where to start, at least. I needed light, and I needed something to prevent infection.
I grabbed a few logs and tosses them onto the embers, pulling the slender dagger from my boot and jamming the blade into the embers. It will have to do. I didn’t even wait to see if the new wood caught before grabbing candles and lanterns and lighting them quickly only to set them up near the hearth. I grabbed Father’s bottle of whiskey, remembering the Head Surgeon in Perinthas telling me that it could be used as an antiseptic in a pinch. At the time, I thought he had been joking, but right now it was my only hope of preventing any infection, should he actually manage to survive.
I dropped back to my knees next to him, my rain-soaked
skirts absorbing his pooling blood as easily as a wick soaked up kerosene, my wet hair curling into my face. The towel I had pressed over the wound was growing crimson and in that moment, all panic and terror vanished with the realization that his life was very literally in my hands. I will not fail him. I took a deep breath and took his knife, carefully but quickly cutting away his jerkin and peeling it from his body. His hand weakly grabbed at my skirt, any mutterings from his lips lost in his delirium. “I’m here, Ben. Hang in there.” I murmured encouragement to him.
His jerkin was filthy, mud packed into the wound which I realized without humor that his rolling around in the mud had very likely saved his life. The dirt had packed the wound, staunching the flow of his injuries long enough for him to get to the house before the cascade of blood pushed its way through. I grabbed the water basin and a towel, cleaning the remaining dirt from the cut while trying to staunch the flow at the same time.
I grabbed the bottle of whiskey next, popping the cork and murmuring. “I’m sorry, Ben...this is going to hurt.” I pulled the towel away and sloshed the whiskey over the wound with a wince, causing Ben to cry out in pain before slipping into the realm of the unconscious. It’s for the best for what I need to do next.
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