[Norman Conquest 01] Wolves in Armour (14 page)

BOOK: [Norman Conquest 01] Wolves in Armour
9.87Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

With a quick glance around to make sure he was momentarily clear of further attack, Alan then kicked the his victim’s blade clear of his twitching hand. Looking around he saw that the thegns had finished off the two men who had been ravaging the maid. One, now a headless corpse, still lay on her, drenching her with his blood. One thegn was approaching the last bandit still standing in the clearing. Alan could see movement in the trees as two or three survivors fled into the forest.

“Hold on! We want a prisoner!” shouted Alan- unfortunately just too late as the thegn performed a beat-parry, striking the bandit’s incoming blade aside before using a thrust to the throat. “Ah, well! Too late! Alric, get one of the men to catch the horses then help me. Edward, you and a couple of the servants stand guard in case those vermin return. Ketel, can you look to the maid?” The last was in response to the hysterical screams coming from underneath the headless corpse. “Edwold, check the bodies of both sides. See if any are still breathing.”

As Ketel heaved to one side the corpse atop the maid, the screams from the blood-drenched woman subsided into heart-rending sobs. After carefully wiping his blade clean on the filthy and ragged clothes of one the bandits and then sliding it back into its leather scabbard, Alan hurried over to the still motionless form of the well-dressed woman lying near the pathway.

He turned her head and checked her tongue to ensure she would not choke and gave her a cursory examination. He knelt at her right side, while Alric knelt on her left, his face looking anxious. “Do you know her?” asked Alan. Alric shook his head, his long blonde hair swinging from side to side. “Definitely a broken leg,” continued Alan. “This is a nasty cut to the thigh, and…” gently sounding her ribs with his fingertips, “I think some broken ribs. There’s no way we can put her on a horse and this path is too narrow for a cart or wagon. Get a couple of cloaks from her dead retainers and cover her while I check the others.”

Edwold had found that one of the retainers was still breathing and had rolled him onto his back. Alan knelt beside them and noted the blood from a wound to the chest and the pink frothy blood on the man’s lips. Edwold, who had seen enough killing wounds to know what that meant, pulled a wry face to Alan and shook his head sadly.

Alan gave a slight nod of agreement. “We can’t put him on a horse either. Alresford is your demesne isn’t it? Right! Come with me and we’ll get some more horses and get some litters made. We are, what... two miles away?” Raising his voice he continued, calling to the eldest of the thegns. “Alric! Edwold and I will be back in about an hour. Keep these two warm. Don’t move them. And keep a watch out, as there may be other bandits.”

Three men rode back to Alresford, Alan, Edwold and the falconer Benoic, who had retrieved all four of the birds that the party had been flying and had extracted a promise from Edwold to be able to place them in his mews until the excitement was over. Alan saw Benoic’s devotion to the birds, in the face of the calamity they had come across, as being if not quite humorous at least interestingly single-minded. The man had his job, his job was hawks and that was all he was interested in.

As they rode towards Alresford at a brisk canter Alan issued instructions to Edwold. “The injured are about half a mile into the forest. We’ll need stretchers or litters to bring them out. It’ll probably be easier to carry them out by hand rather than using litters. Can you have a light cart brought to the edge of the forest so we can get them here as soon as possible? Fortunately they’re both unconscious at the moment.”

Edwold largely ignored the flow of ideas and words from Alan’s lips. He knew perfectly well how to make a litter and didn’t need any instruction, least of all from an outlander. As they rode though the gate of the palisade that surrounded his Hall Edwold was shouting for attention. Within minutes stretchers were being made, horses brought, a cart requisitioned and provided with a draft horse, and the village Wise Woman sought (she was not immediately available, being out in the forest picking herbs, but a boy was left on her doorstep with instructions to bring her to the Hall the moment she returned).

It was more than two hours later that they returned to the clearing in the forest with a multitude of helpers and horses. All of the dead, including the bandits, were thrown onto the back of packhorses, two or three to a horse. As they were loaded the horses sidled nervously, eyes wide and nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. There had been little change in the condition of the wounded man and woman. If anything the man was breathing more clearly than Alan would have expected. Placing his ear against his chest he could hear the rattle of air being drawn through blood. Alan grimaced as he sat back, well aware that the unidentified servant was slowly drowning in his own blood and there was nothing anybody could do about it other than pray for his immortal soul.

Alan directed that stout sheets of cloth be slid under the two injured people, and then used to lift them and place them onto the stretchers. They had brought with them two women and a firkin of water. The women went to work on the maid, who was now in a catatonic state sitting on a fallen tree trunk, washing away the blood that had clotted on her face, hair and arms and providing her with a change of clothing. She and the other women would be given a place on the cart for the journey back to Alresford.

 
“Anything else you think we have missed?” Alan asked Edwold.

“No, but I don’t understand why you want the bodies, and the one loose head, of the footpads,” replied Edwold.

“I intend to display them at all the villages around here,” replied Alan. “Perhaps somebody will recognise them and be able to give us some information. Can you lend me a wagon and a couple of intelligent men tomorrow to start the rounds? It’ll probably take a week to visit all the villages, and by that time they’d hardly be recognisable anyway. You’d need some men with strong stomachs for the job. Also, can you get your steward to call all the hunters and the poachers together for a meeting tomorrow? They can look at the bodies and you can ask them what they’ve been seeing in the forest. Any leads they have about where the outlaw’s hide-out may be, with no more questions asked and twelve shillings from me to the man who can locate their camp if we can catch them still in residence. Your people know you and will trust you more than me. One thing I’ve found is that no peasant, and few freemen, will talk to the local lord, and here we need the help of those that are... let’s say on the edge of the law.”

“I’ll have to tell them that it is your money!” said Edwold with a grin. “They know that I don’t have two shillings to rub together!”

Alan snorted with amusement. “Me neither, but I can find it if I have to.”

“By the way,” commented Edwold “I’ve never seen a horse behave like yours. He was a weapon all on his own.”

“He is a mean and vicious bastard, just like his owner. He’s very intelligent in his way. We get on well, although we frequently have disagreements about who’s in charge on any one day,” laughed Alan. “He was specially trained, like most destriers. That’s why they cost so much. The only problem is he’s pretty much a one-use animal, not like your rouncey over there that you can use for anything from a cavalry charge to a pack-horse to teaching your children how to ride.”

By this time everything and everybody was packed away and the party started out in the late afternoon towards Alresford. When they arrived and the cart was driven through the Hall gate the village Wise Woman Dona was waiting and climbed onto the cart immediately. Alan nodded to her respectfully and said, “Welcome! Edwold tells me that your name is Dona.” Alan though that the name ‘Mother Goddess’ was particularly suitable for a village Wise Woman. Dona gave a long thoughtful look as the rescued maid was handed down from the cart, noting the frozen expression of her face, and then turned to the two patients lying in the back.

Alan said, “Before I forget, you noticed that girl is badly affected by her experience today. May I suggest a strong sedative and constant supervision?” Dona tilted her head to the side and nodded, not committing herself but acknowledging the advice given. “Now as to this one,” Alan continued pointing to the injured man, and then waited while Dona performed a quick appraisal.

“I hope that you don’t expect a cure from me” said Dona in a nasal tone.

Alan pulled a wry face and replied, “No. This man, whoever he is, has his soul in God’s hands. And God will take it shortly. All I ask is that you ease his passing. I’ll send word for the priest to come and shrive him. Do what you can, and here is a price for your efforts,” pulling out his purse and extracting a dozen silver pennies.

Dona snorted. “More than I have been paid for many a year,” she commented.

“The workman, or woman, is worthy of his hire, and I can see that you are experienced and capable,” replied Alan. “Do what you can with both the man and the maid. I feel the woman will be the bigger problem and take more effort, as the man won’t be with us for long. I don’t feel that I’ve overpaid you. If you later feel that more payment is needed, come and see me.”

Dona’s lips twitched. “Although you speak English well, I can tell by your accent that you are not a native. I presume that you are our new Norman lord, come to enslave us all?” As Alan laughed heartily she continued, “And the lady?” with an indication of her hand to the other stretcher in the cart.

Alan glanced up to the sky. He estimated it was about three in the afternoon. Two miles to Thorrington. Half an hour, perhaps three-quarters if they had to slow down in the dark. “I’ll take her with me to Thorrington. She has some broken bones that need setting and then will need to rest for some time.” Edwold made several men available, including a cart driver and a couple of warriors. Alric and Edward decided to accompany Alan back to Thorrington for the night. Benoic was to follow with Alan’s hawk the next day.

They arrived at Thorrington just as full dark was falling. The journey had not been difficult but had been restricted by the pace of the horse and cart. “At least we didn’t use an ox,” mused Alan in impatience. “Lynn!” he shouted as they entered through the gateway of the wooden palisade around the Hall. The housekeeper appeared moments later in the light of the rush torches being held aloft by servants. “Lynn. Provide food and ale for my friends Alric and Edward and their servants. Set a brazier in my bedchamber and heat some water. I want as many candles, lamps and rushes alight in the bedchamber as possible. You four men! Unhook the stretcher on the cart, gently, and bring it inside. Lynn, is Brother Aldwyn still here? If so, please get him up here quickly. I want the lady bathed with warm wet cloths and ready for me to tend to her in fifteen minutes.”

The housekeeper was quite old, about thirty, portly and naturally slow-moving and slow-thinking, quite ugly with a wizened face and several large warts. “You want the lady naked on your bed?” she asked, with both eyebrows disappearing into her grey and sparse hairline.

“In fifteen minutes. I’m in a hurry.” Alan paused and then laughed aloud at her expression of concern. “Don’t worry, she is safe from any carnal intentions, but she needs urgent medical treatment. I don’t usually take advantage of unconscious noble ladies! Err… I suggest that it would be easiest if most of her clothes were cut from her. There’s no need to injure her further to save a few pieces of cloth.”

Just then Brother Aldwyn, the Infirmarer of St Botolph’s Priory at Colchester entered the room carrying a bag.

“Ah, Brother Aldwyn! I’m glad that you are still here. It’s fortunate that you were visiting. The lady here appears sore hurt and I would ask that you tend her.”

The middle-aged cleric nodded his willingness and then stepped outside to allow the ladies privacy as they stripped and washed the injured woman. He had visited because in a previous discussion Alan had indicated that he had several medical texts which the cleric had been keen to peruse.

After an abbreviated fulfilling of his obligations as host to Alric and Edward, and a careful washing of his hands and a change of clothes (the latter performed in the corner of the bedchamber, while the women looked demurely away) Alan stood over the bed on which the unknown lady was lying.

Brother Aldwyn stood at his side. The injured woman had, as instructed, been stripped naked and Alan had to admit to himself a certain interest. She had long rich dark auburn hair, tangled and disarrayed with the events of the day. Alan reached out and brushed loose hairs away from her face. She was petite, perhaps just over five feet in height, slim-built with a narrow waist and wide hips. Her breasts were small but firm, each about the size of a man’s hand. Lynn’s ministrations had cleaned most of the dried blood away from the large and ragged cut to the thigh. Brother Aldwyn cleaned the area thoroughly, applied an antiseptic unguent of garlic and alcohol into the wound before carefully stitching it closed and then applying a poultice of yarrow, marigold and ivy.

The cleric then carefully sounded her ribs, and decided that at least three or four on the left middle side of the ribcage were broken. He took Alan’s hand in his own and demonstrated to him the affected areas and how the broken ribs moved when compared to those which were unaffected. He instructed Dona and the housemaid Synne to lift the woman into a sitting position and then bound the ribs with bandages of linen. “Now for the difficult part,” he said as he gestured for Donna and Synne to allow the woman to again lie flat on the bed. Thirty minutes later he used the sleeve of his habit to wipe the sweat from his brow, even though it was still cold in the chamber, and swallowed a cup of wine which Alan proffered. “Praise be to the Lord that the lady was unconscious while I reduced the broken leg,” he said. “That didn’t go as well as I would have wished. Still the job is done, and I think properly done.”

Other books

Portrait of Elmbury by John Moore
A History of Silence by Lloyd Jones
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
Breathless by Dean Koontz
Extreme Elvin by Chris Lynch
Seven for a Secret by Elizabeth Bear