Knight Treasures

by C. C. Wiley

  She did not really lie to Sir Nathan, she just happened to stretch the truth a bit. She had read the books her father kept in his laboratory, and Nandra had shown her a few methods of healing, but there had never been much time to put any of it into practice. She just hoped and prayed she could remember most of what she’d learned.

  His stomach full, Chance fell asleep by the time she gathered all the supplies she would need. Finding a basket, she laid him gently inside the woven shell.

  Sabine crept towards the man lying on the cot. She scrubbed her hands down her skirt. The arrow protruded grotesquely from his side. The blood seeped through the hole in his tunic. Feeling the thread-thin heartbeat under his jerkin, she was relieved to find that he held onto his life. Gently, she tried to pull the tunic over his wide shoulders but it would not move past the arrow’s shaft. After pondering her limited choices, she shrugged. The man could yell at her later…provided he lived…if he did not approve of her reasons for destroying his clothing.

  Taking the dagger that hung from her waist, she sliced the tunic open, gently peeling it back. After deciding it was beyond repair, she cut it into smaller strips. Once boiled, it could be used as bandages.

  Now bared, Sir Darrick’s broad back was marred with many scars, some old, and some new. Muscles rippled down to his chausses. Sabine slowly looked over her patient, measuring his strength to hers. She would definitely have to wait for Sir Nathan’s return. She would need his help should Sir Darrick awaken and struggle against her.

  Trying to recall her studies with her father, she remembered their discussions regarding his theory that battle wounds became black from the dirty water and tools used by the surgeon. Unable to locate fresh water in the cottage, she found a clean piece of cloth and poured wine over the wound. Expecting him to be past feeling anything, she was caught off-guard as his massive arm swung around to deflect the pain-inflicting apparition. She held her small dagger over his chest

  “Hold, wench,” Nathan bellowed. “What do you think you are doing? Do you dare to take his life while I am away?”

  “For the love of Mary, when will you see I mean no harm to you or Sir Darrick? I’m cutting away what’s left of his tunic.” She nodded over her shoulder. “We’ll have to tie his arms and legs down before we can work on his injury. Although his strength weakens, he is too strong for me.”

  Staring at Darrick’s long tapered fingers, she forgot Nathan stood beside her. Just looking at his huge hands made her warm all over. Her body tingled in intimate places she thought best left undiscovered. Her breasts pushed against the soft material of her dress, aching for his…

  Nathan cleared his throat, bringing her out of her musing. “If you are ready.”

  He moved Darrick’s heavy leg over. “We’ll have to tie them at the knee. His legs hang over too far to tie them at the ankle.” Taking his friend’s arm, he gently moved it to the head of the cot.

  Wiping Sir Darrick’s brow, Sabine turned to get the herbs she had gathered earlier from the shelves and rafters. Nathan leaned all of his weight on top of his friend to keep him from thrashing about while she poured the potion down Darrick’s throat.

  “We must do it now, Sir Nathan, or the herbs I gave him will wear off. I will press the shaft of the arrow down and try to pass it through. If luck and God’s will are on our side, then it shall miss his lungs, and not catch on any ribs.”

  “Then let us pray God is with us, and be done with it.”

  Sabine examined the broken shaft. Nathan had already rid it of its feathers. Shivering, she noted it might as well have been a log instead of the arrow’s narrow shaft from an archer’s bow. Cursing the archer that set sail the deadly missile, she offered a prayer and began the arduous job of pushing it through Darrick’s satiny flesh.

  The shaft quivered in her hand. Startled, she released her hold. Glancing over, she could see Sir Nathan, concentrating on holding Sir Darrick down. Sweat already dripped off his grim face.

  Her heart went out to Sir Darrick. The mountainous man was helpless, depending on her skill to keep him alive. She wondered how he could be so quiet. Memories of his gentle care flooded back. His long lashes covered his steel gray eyes. His raven black bangs were sweat soaked and lay over his forehead. The desire to stroke his brow overrode her consuming fear. Pushing back his hair, she felt the heat of his body radiate through her fingertips. She gasped from the fire raging in his body. Time was working against them.

  Bending over, she whispered, “All right, Sir Darrick, we will be doing our part, your friend and I, but you must hold on and come back to us when we are finished.”

  Nathan cleared his throat. “Excuse me, my lady, ’tis time we start. Do you know what to do?”

  “Just…gathering wits.” Swallowing the knot that had formed in her throat, she wrapped her fingers around the arrow’s shaft and pressed down.

  Darrick’s body jerked. He yelled as if under attack.

  With sweat dripping down her face, she renewed the pressure.

  Sir Nathan held on to Darrick’s shoulders and growled impatiently for Sabine to hurry up and get the damn thing out. Her whole weight dropped onto the arrow as she gave one final shove. The arrow broke through the skin. Sabine fell on top of Sir Darrick. Resting her head, she pressed her ear against his back to listen for a heartbeat. Looking up at Sir Nathan, she nodded. He was still alive. For now.

  “Make haste, Nathan. A dagger is needed to pry the head out the rest of the way and then, I pray, one more push should do it.”

  Both hands busy, Nathan motioned with his head. “Over there, ’tis on the table.”

  Sabine ran for the dagger while Nathan continued to keep his friend from moving. Gasping, she turned the dagger in her hand. Jewels encrusted the handle. The shape of a swan’s head gazed up at her, winking with its emerald eye. It was the same emblem and styling as the dagger in Elizabeth’s pouch. Upon hearing Darrick begin to groan and Nathan cursing at her to hasten, she quickly turned and laid the sharp edge to the wound.

  As the blade of the dagger cut through, the arrowhead finally protruded. Darrick yelled once and then he went limp.

  Sabine triumphantly held the prize she sought, the deadly missile dripping his blood onto her hand. She threw what was left of the arrow across the room towards the fireplace.

  Nathan caught it before it landed in the flames. “’Tis needed. Perhaps it will tell the story of our attack and what poison might have been used.” He patted her shoulder. “Go wash up and tend to his wounds. I will see to the baby. Thank God, he slept through this.”

  Sabine washed the blood from Darrick’s wounds and packed them with the healing herbs. When she was done, she noted her depleted supplies of herbs. Soon as she was able, she would have to leave the cottage and search for more. Sitting beside her patient, she worried he would not survive the attack. They had retrieved the arrow, but they still had to fight the poison and watch for signs of infection.

  They rolled Darrick to his back. Sabine kept a wary watch for his flailing limps. “Sir Nathan, what of the owners of this cottage? Do you think they will return soon?”

  “’Tis certain. I’ll scout around when I go out to look after our mounts. I cannot help wondering what happened to Thunder and your crazed goat. They should have returned by now.”

  “Will they be able to find us?”

  “Aye, if Thunder has any say in the matter. He has managed to stay by Darrick’s side through many a battle. Will probably be your pet goat that he’ll have to convince to go with him.”

  Sabine sniffed at the insult directed towards Matilda. “She is not that bad.”

  “Hah!” he snorted. “Darrick told me about the cave and your tumble.”

  “I think more than necessary has been said.”

  Chuckling and shaking his head, Nathan laid the sleeping baby down on his pallet. “I’ll discover what delays our furry
friends. Remember to keep the dagger by your side.” Hooking the stool with his foot, he dragged it over. “Brace the door with this. If any surprises should come visiting, yell out. I’ll not be far.”

  After bracing the stool against the door as ordered, Sabine gathered the things she needed to care for Darrick.

  Taking a closer look at his battered body, she gasped at the number of scars tracking his chest and rock hard stomach. A deep furrow ran across his stomach. Layers of muscles rippled with each breath. She wiped at his chest, enjoying the feel of his hair tickling her fingers, springing up at her touch. His waist narrowed, nipping in at the waistband of his bloodied chausses. Her hands followed the delicious trail as her eyes dropped past his flat stomach, dipping down to his lower regions. Curious, she let her fingertips slide down the path of coiled hair. Feeling quite daring since her giant was sleeping, she decided to bathe him thoroughly; to gain the full benefit of a healing rest, of course, her conscience added.

  She tugged off his chausses, uncovering his muscular limbs. Admiring the strength of his legs, Sabine wondered how many hours on horseback it took to build such strength, and how many battles did it take to gather the numerous scars? Her brother and father may have worked side-by-side with the stonemasons and villagers to build the manor house. However, they would never succeed in gaining Darrick’s stature. His was that of a warrior.

  When she was a little girl, her old nurse, Nandra, used to fill her head with stories of giant warriors. They were super humans in height and strength. They fought battles for silly fair maidens who were always helpless and could not think for themselves. And the best part, Nandra always told of a special love where only the blessed of souls would find their one true love. The mighty warrior would fight for his ladylove and take her away to a very special place. She remembered standing at the top of the castle, waiting for her protector to rescue her from the tower. Time and time again, she was called away from her perch with promises of another day to watch for her love. Sadly, her warrior never came.

  Instead, she watched her mother wither from loneliness and then a terror that caused her to plunge from the parapet. Her father, his head stuck in his leather-bound tombs, had wandered off into the forest to a clandestine meeting. He was never seen again. Her brother, Taron, went to fight for King Henry. Upon his return from the king’s court, he left immediately in search of their father. Now, he too, was lost.

  Even Nandra had disappeared. Always a loner, she went off by herself. By now, Nandra was no doubt with her very own warrior. Perhaps, she had finally found the one she was always waiting for.

  Dark memories of her last days at Clearmorrow crept in, as they were wont to do when her defenses were down. Aye, one by one, her kinsmen dropped out of sight. Their disappearance left her to care for Clearmorrow and the people living inside its walls. When the raiders attacked the castle, only a handful of her household yet remained. Their payment for loyalty had been torture and death. The lucky ones perished the moment they fell. Those who were captured were taken to Balforth and cast into the dungeon. There, DePierce kept those who served his needs, either for pleasure or for his constant search for strength and power. There could be no doubt that he would continue his raids until King Henry put a stop to it. If only the king and his men would return from France.

  Sabine swore under her breath, cursing DePierce and despising her stupidity. To think she actually rode to that monster’s castle for help. The moment she crossed his threshold, she became DePierce’s prisoner. She could not leave her room unless escorted by one of his minions. If not for Rhys orchestrating her escape, she would never have been able to break free from Balforth. It was still a mystery to her as to why Rhys was willing to help.

  Lost in thought, Sabine caressed Darrick’s muscular thigh with the palm of her hand. The pad of her fingers followed the sloping ridges of his body. Enthralled with the contours of her patient, she failed to hear the door creak open, tensing only when she heard the shuffling footsteps draw near.

  Her hand crept towards the knife laying on the edge of the cot. She caught hold of the cool metal.

  “You do not belong here.” A hand wrapped around Sabine’s shoulder.

  She turned with a start at the sound of the graveled voice. “Nandra! ’Tis been so long.”

  “You still live? How can this be? I was told you died in the raid. How did you manage to hide for so long?”

  Sabine was confused. Why was Nandra angry to see her? Sabine’s senses humming, a wariness of her childhood friend crept along her skin. Telling herself it was exhaustion and not Nandra that caused this feeling, she decided to ignore the warning.

  “Tell me, child,” Nandra questioned, “who lies in my bed?”

  “A knight. One who shall help us defeat DePierce.”

  “Humph,” Nandra snorted. “Looks more dead than alive. Are you so foolish to think one man can defeat someone as powerful as DePierce?”

  “I vowed to repay DePierce.” Reaching out to touch the back of Nandra’s hand, she held the gnarled fingers in her hands, pressing them to her cheek. “Now I have you by my side to help.”

  The old woman snorted and withdrew her fingers from Sabine’s grasp.

  Squaring her shoulders, Sabine studied the haggard old woman that stood before her. Once beautiful, she was now marred by a hard edge glittering in her eyes.

  “Nandra? I, too, thought you died the night they raided our keep. I did not see you during the attack, nor when I fled to Balforth. I heard that his men torched your cottage. Where have you been?”

  “Foolish child. I hid in the forest just like the rest who were unprotected by your family. Why do you ask?”

  The humming grew louder in Sabine’s ears. “’Tis just that you disappeared so quickly.”

  “I learned to save my skin long before you took a breath. ’Tis of no consequence.” The old woman bristled. “Seek help for your man, instead of wasting time on me.”

  Sufficiently chastised, Sabine knew her questions would have to wait. Darrick could not. “I’ve done all I know to do. The wound bled freely after I removed the arrow. Then I slowed the blood flow with a tree moss poultice. Nevertheless, I cannot help worrying ’tis not enough.”

  The old woman’s watery glance slid towards her and then bounced away. “Why is that, child?” her reedy voice crooned. “Surely, you did all that is necessary. Is there perhaps something,” the old woman whispered, “more you wish to tell me?”

  Nandra, whom Sabine remembered as truthful, was unable to look her in the face.

  “I fear there was poison on the tip of the arrow which struck him. He slips deeper into an unnatural sleep. There must be an antidote, but I cannot recall what it is. Perhaps you know of one.”

  The old woman’s skin stretched tightly over her cheekbones, looking as if she were made of stone. Unmoving, Nandra weighed her answer.

  Sabine could not understand her hesitation to help. “Please,” she pleaded.

  The old woman’s eyes filled with hatred, her skin drew even tighter, masking her face with tension. “I ask you this, child. Who is the man that lies here? Did you foolishly spurn DePierce’s offer, for this man?”

  “DePierce has never held a love for me. He wants only the land that Clearmorrow offers. Please try to remember that this is the man who will deliver DePierce’s defeat.”

  Sabine looked over at the man lying motionless on the cot. The bandages wrapped around the upper half of his body were stained red with his blood. His chest barely rose with each rasping breath. Sweat ran in streams down his face. She feared the precious time of healing was running out.

  “It will be over soon enough. Tell me, girl, is there an army waiting to lay siege to DePierce’s castle?” Grabbing her shoulders, the old woman’s bony fingers dug into Sabine skin. “How many men does he have?”

  Sabine began to fear her old friend had lost her mind. “It
matters not. You must show me which elixir I can use for an antidote against the poison. I already used some of the herbs but they have not helped to counteract it. I beg you, Nandra.” She placed her palm against the leathery cheek. “Try to remember.”

  Nandra loosened her grip, letting her hands drop to her side in defeat. “So you have made your decision. To him, you have attached your alliance.” She turned away and shuffled slowly to the door. Her hand on the latch, she spoke over her shoulder. “As always, you are determined to have your way in this. Just like your mother, you are. So be it, then you will gain the exact help you justly deserve.”

  Sabine took a step towards her.

  “No need to follow,” Nandra said “Tend to your fallen knight and I will be back to fix this little matter.” She hobbled out into the dark, leaving Sabine to wait and worry.

  Chewing on her lip, Sabine wondered why Nathan had not returned. He had been gone for quite some time. She was certain that the concern for his friend had been real. Doubts began to form. Was he the traitor who betrayed their position to the mercenary soldiers? She rubbed her temples. Nothing in her life made sense anymore.

  Nandra was taking an eternity, poor thing. She prayed the woman remembered what she went out to fetch. She would have to trust that the dosage would be correct. Darrick depended on her.

  Bending over Chance, she looked to see that he was safe and sleeping soundly. She tucked the blanket tightly around the baby’s limbs to keep him warm. Relief had poured through Sabine’s veins when Nandra failed to notice the baby.

  Unease settled over her soul. She could not ignore the shiver that ran down her back. This was not the same woman from her childhood. It had been almost a year. Could people change as much, in so short a time? Had Nandra always behaved this way and she never realized it until now? Maybe that was the reason her father was always so terse when he discovered she went alone to visit with Nandra at her cottage in the forest.