Toby was struggling not to become ill at the sight of so much gore. “I am here to help. Tell me what I can do.”
Wallace shook his head. “Go back to your room. This is no place for you.”
“If you will not tell me what I can do then I will just figure it out for myself,” she snapped. “I can just as easily walk to the next man and do what I can.”
Wallace glared at her. “Battle is not for womenfolk.”
Toby growled with exasperation. “Good lord, man, I shall not be the first woman who has ever tended battle wounded. You have more than you can handle. Why must you argue with me?”
The old man’s glare intensified and he stood up, hoping to scowl her to death. But Toby stood her ground. She wasn’t one to be bullied. Finally, Wallace indicated the man whose arm he had just amputated above the elbow.
“I assume you can sew?” he asked irritably.
“Of course I can.”
“Then sew up this arm so the man will not bleed to death,” he gestured to a dirty length of gut and big bone needle on the ground. “Get to work.”
Toby was sickened by the suggestion but she was not going to shy away; she had asked to help and he was going to give her a very dirty chore in punishment. Yet there was no way she would admit she could not do it. Without another word, she sat next to the unconscious man, collected the gut, and went to work.
Wallace pretended that he wasn’t watching her but he really was. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, struggling with the bleeding flesh and he felt wicked pleasure in making her suffer. He knew she would not be able to handle it and he took fiendish satisfaction in knowing that she would more than likely give up. Then he would send her back to her chamber and be rid of her. But as he waited for the inevitable to occur, a funny thing happened.
Toby didn’t give up. She struggled with the hacked limb but managed to sew up the end moderately well. The old servant, taking some pity on her, brought wine for her to clean the wounds with and all of the extra rags he could find. There wasn’t much by way of medicine but he brought her what he could. It took Toby some time to realize that it was the same old servant that had given Ailsa bread with honey. The next time the old man brought her some boiled rags, she smiled gratefully at him.
Toby didn’t even ask Wallace what more she could do; there were so many wounded in the hall that she simply moved to the next man and began working. It became easier with timeto forget her squeamishness, but still, with each new gory injury, she had to steel herself again and again. She began to wonder where Stephen was, given that he was a Hospitaller, but she suspected his fighting abilities were needed more than his healing. It was evident, as time passed and more wounded were brought in, that the battle was intensifying.
Toby lost count of the men she had worked on. Some had nothing more than a big gash that needed sewing, but some came in with their torsos split open and guts falling out. Those were the worst. Wallace usually tended those as they came in the door, sparing Toby the horror of it, so she focused on the men she thought she might be able to help. The blood on her hands turned black, staining her nails and coagulating on her surcoat, but still, she pressed on.
She was bent over a man with an arrow imbedded in his shoulder when she noticed a pair of massive boots standing very close to her. She glanced over; from the boots to the legs to the heavy mail and armor, to finally the head. Kenneth was standing over her, an enormous man in full battle protection. Toby sat back on her heels, brushing stray hair from her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Sir Kenneth,” she said. “Are you injured? Do you require help?”
He shook his head, his ice-blue eyes fixed on her. “I brought in an injured man,” he regarded her a moment. “Why are you here?”
She stood up to face him. “Because there is a battle going on and these men need help.”
Kenneth’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before turning away. But Toby reached out a hand to stop him. “Where are Tate and Stephen and the king?”
“In the heat of battle.”
“Is everyone all right?”
“So far.”
“But I saw towers from my window being moved towards the walls. Has the fortress been breached?”
“We managed to burn down the first one that came close enough,” he replied. “The second tower is still a threat.”
She didn’t know what else to say. As she turned back to her patient, Kenneth started back across the hall when the entry door suddenly burst open and a soldier raced in.
“The wall has been breached!” he shouted.
Kenneth swiftly turned to Wallace, who was several feet away. “Drop what you are doing and get your weapon,” he commanded. As the wild man raced to do his bidding, Kenneth swung in Toby’s direction. “Bolt this door after we leave. We will burn the stairs in our wake so they enemy cannot breach the keep. But bolt the damn door and do not open it for anyone. Do you understand?”
Toby realized she was shaking as she nodded her head firmly. Dropping what was in her hands, she raced to the entry as Kenneth, and eventually Wallace, ran through it. The old servant was beside her and together, they managed to get the heavy wooden bar across the doorway to secure it. They dropped in the iron pin to lock it. Panting, and terrified, Toby turned to the little old man.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Althel, my lady,” he replied.
