The Fallen One (27 page)

The day drew long, the skirmish active, and
the sun eventually set as the battle continued in the dusk.
 
 
The old
Pelé tower was becoming very dark and very cold, and Cathlina knew she needed
to at least light a fire and get herself organized. Eventually, Mathias and the
knights would return and she wanted to make sure they had some comfort after
the horrific day.
  
Climbing down off her
privy perch, she went about her tasks.

The first thing she did was take stock of
any supplies in the tower and she came across more than she thought she
would.
 
There was a stash of peat on the
ground floor along with kindling and she was able to start a fire in the first
floor hearth.
 
The second floor hearth
proved a little more of a challenge because as night fell, the fog rolled in
and the air began very moist.
 
Trickles
of water dripped down the chimney to the second floor hearth and dampened
things up quite a bit but Cathlina prevailed.
 
When a fire was burning in the second floor hearth, she made her way
down to the bottom floor again and inspected what she thought was the well.

It was indeed a well and the water level was
high.
 
Since men had been living in the
tower, there were cooking pots and a store of food on the ground level.
Cathlina inspected the sacks and scrap that were all organized, more or less,
under a small table that was wedged into a corner.
 

She came across a sack of little brown dry beans,
some dried turnips, hoards of dirty carrots, and a half-eaten fowl of some kind
that was cooked until it was charred.
 
There were also stiff brown chunks of dried meat that was very
salty.
 
Pulling forth a fairly large
cooking pot from the remains in the hearth, she took a small bejeweled dirk out
of her satchel, cut everything up that could be cut, and threw it all into the
pot with enough water to fill it.
 
Then
she put the pot on the arm over the fire and let the snapping fire do the
rest.
 
She wasn’t sure if the stew would
be any good, but at least it would be something.

    
After that, she went
to check the battle again to see that it had moved to the north but was still
going on.
 
The sun had almost set
completely but the tower was fairly well lit thanks to the two fires burning.
Growing anxious, and the slightest bit bored, Cathlina ended up cleaning up the
remainder of the tower and fashion beds from the blankets and other items
strewn about.
 
She knew that Mathias and
the knights would return and she wanted to make it as comfortable as possible
for them.
 
Moreover, it was easier not to
think of what horrors might befall her husband if she was busy doing something.
 
She had to stay focused. She had to
prepare for Mathias’ return.

    
By midnight, in spite
of her best efforts to stay awake, she fell asleep in a chair next to the fire.

***

    
Mathias had no idea
how long he had been pounding on the old iron door to the tower when it finally
opened. It was the dead of night and he was carrying his father, who had been
hit by an axe in the chest.
 
Justus was
very conscious, and very active, and trying very hard to pretend his wound
wasn’t bad when it was.
 
Once the tower
door opened, he shoved inside and dragged his father along with him.

    
Cathlina gasped when
she saw Justus being carried in by his son.
 
“My God,” she said. “What has happened to him?”

    
As Mathias set Justus
down in the nearest chair, Sebastian and Stephen entered the tower. They were
dirty and somewhat roughed up, but neither was injured.
 
Mathias made sure his father wasn’t going to
topple over before turning to his wife.

    
“An axe wound,” he
said, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. “He took a blade squarely to the chest
although the mail stopped it somewhat. It could have been much worse.”

    
Cathlina had never
seen a battle wound before. In fact, she had never even been around a battle
until today.
 
She stood there, unsure
what to do, as Mathias and Stephen began pulling Justus’ protection off.
 
They moved carefully and with skill.
 
Cathlina struggled not to become ill at all
of the gore.

    
“What can I do?” she
asked her husband. “Please tell me what I can do.”

    
Mathias was trying to
pull the damaged mail coat off of his father’s chest without causing the man
too much pain.
 
Pieces of the mail were
stuck in the wound, which was starting to coagulate.
 
Stephen seemed to be guiding him, instructing
him quietly on how to accomplish the task.

    
“Hot water,” Mathias
finally told her. “Can you find something to boil water in?”

    
Cathlina nodded
eagerly and fled.
 
She went on the hunt
for a second pot she had seen while organizing the tower and soon came across
it with some of the other items she had stacked up.
 
Drawing water from the well, she filled the
pot to the rim and lugged it over to the burning peat, setting it in the coals
and trying not to burn herself in the process.

    
Meanwhile, Stephen had
brought his saddle bags and pulled forth a big leather satchel shoved deep into
them.
 
As Cathlina watched curiously, he
began pulling out all manner of mysterious instruments.
 
There were things that looked like tongs and
other things that looked like knives or hooks. Everything was made from either
iron or steel, wrapped carefully in linen to protect it.
 
Cathlina watched the man as he efficiently
and concisely began arranging what he would need to tend Justus.

    
Mathias was standing
over his father, trying to keep the man calm.
 
He was also watching Stephen work.
 
When he glanced up and saw his wife standing a few feet away, watching
everything going on with apprehension and concern, he caught her attention.

    
“Are you well, love?”
he asked softly.

    
Cathlina looked at him
as if he had gone mad. “Am
I
well?”
she repeated. “God’s Bones, Mat, you are the one who just fought a battle. Are
you
well?”

    
He smiled faintly.
“Well enough,” he said, watching her as her attention was repeatedly drawn to
Stephen and what the man was doing. “Stephen is a healer, and one of the very
best in all of England. He used to be a Hospitaller knight.
 
He will heal my father.”

    
Cathlina had heard of
the Hospitaller order, men meant to tend to the sick and poor pilgrims in the
Holy Land but who were also fearsome fighters.
 
She had never met one before and was properly awed.
  
Before she could voice her respect, however,
Stephen spoke.

    
“Mat,” he said,
hovered over Justus as the man slouched back on the chair. “I must cauterize
this wound. You must put this on the fire and get it nice and hot.”

    
Mathias went to
Stephen’s side, accepting the small iron implement from him to put upon the
fire to heat it.
 
It was about as long as
a man’s forearm with a flat end.
 
As he
tried to stoke the heat in the hearth so they could get a proper burn on the
end of the instrument, Sebastian came up behind his father and put both hands
on his shoulder to steady him. Cathlina thought he seemed particularly subdued,
unusual for the normally fiery man. He was exhausted like the rest of them.
When their eyes met, she smiled timidly.

    
“Are you well,
Sebastian?” she asked.

    
Sebastian nodded his
head, returning his attention to what Stephen was doing. “I am,” he said,
pausing for a moment. “I… I tried to look for Midgy. I did not see him at all,
but with all of the water around here, I am sure he has found a safe place.
 
I will look for him again in the morning.”

    
Cathlina was touched
and saddened; touched that he should go to the trouble and saddened because her
beloved pet was still missing. “You
do
like
Midgy,” she said to him. “You pretend not to care for him but I know you do.”

    
Sebastian pursed his
lips irritably. “Untrue.”

    
She smiled as she made
her way over to Sebastian and Justus, putting a hand on Justus’ arm as she
focused on Sebastian.

    
“You are not telling
me the truth, Sebastian de Reyne,” she declared, though it was gently
done.
 
“I know you are just as worried as
I am.”

    
Sebastian looked away.
“You are mad.”

    
Cathlina laughed
softly, looking to Justus as Sebastian tried to avoid her. “And you?” she said,
squeezing the old man’s arm. “You will be none the worse for the wear when this
is all over.
 
I will feed you great and
fattening things while you recover.”

    
Justus looked up at
her, a strained smile on his face. “I would hope you would tend a foolish old
man,” he said. “In fact, I smell something cooking now.”

    
Cathlina gestured
towards the floor above them. “I found some food scraps and put a stew in a
pot,” she said. “I do not know how it will taste but at least it will be
something warm.”

    
Justus merely nodded,
grunting because Stephen was picking bits of mail out of the wound. Cathlina
smiled encouragingly at him as she patted his arm one last time and returned to
Mathias, who was kneeling by the hearth and trying to work up a substantial
flame.
 
It was the blacksmith in him, the
innate ability to heat metal. She crouched down beside him.

    
“Who were those men?”
she asked softly.

    
Mathias was poking at
the peat. “Scots from Clan Wemyss,” he said. “They have been harassing the
outpost fairly steadily for months now.
 
This was just another raid.”

    
Cathlina pondered the
statement. “There seemed to be a lot of men.”

    
“There were enough.”

    
“Did they go home?”

    
He nodded. “They did
indeed,” he replied. “But they will be back. The outpost commander says they
have been hitting harder and harder each time, with more and more men from
other clans.”

    
Cathlina leaned
against his back, watching him as he fussed with the fire. “What does this
mean? What will happen?”

    
Mathias didn’t say
anything for a moment.
 
When he did, it
was softly uttered as he turned to look at her sweet face, so close to his own.

    
“It means I should
have never brought you here,” he whispered. “I knew when I came here that I
would be facing battle of some kind, but in my mind, you would be safely
bottled up somewhere far from the fighting. It appears that it will not be the
case.
 
I cannot have you in the midst of
hostile territory where fending off raiders will be a daily event.”

    
She looked at him with
her big brown eyes. “What will we do?”

    
He kissed the end of
her nose. “As much as I loathe the thought, I fear that I must send you back to
Kirklinton,” he murmured. “I have no choice. I cannot have you here in the
midst of a war.”

    
Her brow furrowed and
her eyes narrowed.
 
She moved away from
him. “You cannot send me home,” she hissed. “You are my husband. My place is
with you.”

    
Mathias could see the
brewing storm. “Love, I have no choice,” he said. “I cannot take the chance
that the next raid will tear down these walls and those barbaric Scots will get
at you.”

    
She was growing angry.
“I can take care of myself.”

    
“They will kill you
after they have made sport of you. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

    
“You want to send me
away!”

    
“I want you safe.”

    
Infuriated, and
sickened at the thought of going back to Kirklinton and being separated from Mathias,
Cathlina opened her mouth to argue with him but noticed that Sebastian was
listening.
 
She didn’t want him to
overhear.
 
Bewildered, angry, she turned
away from the group and hastened up the stairs to the first floor.