“Sorry, no, I don’t think I know him,” she answered as calmly as she could. “There are many of us, you know, spread over a few villages, so chances are he and I have never crossed paths. Is he here at the moment? Perhaps his face might be more familiar than his name?”
The last thing Torsten needed when he left the hut was for his old “friend” to see him. It would only bring back horrid memories and make him feel ten times worse. If the healer had informed the whole village that the Norseman they’d rescued had lost the use of the lower part of his body, with everything it entailed, Njal might well be unable to resist teasing him.
To her relief, the woman shook her head. “No. They live in the next village and don’t visit very often, especially not in the summer.”
From the way she sighed it was clear she regretted not seeing her cousin’s virile husband more often. Aife didn’t share in the disappointment. The longer Njal stayed away, the better.
“Oh,” was all she said, eager for the healer to leave. If she’d not brought anything useful and was only going to make her feel bad, she had no reason to be here. Fortunately, she took the hint.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Try to get some rest while you can. It’s not easy to look after an invalid, as you’ll soon discover.”
The loathsome woman.
“Are there any herbs in your basket I could use to make a tisane to give to Torsten when he wakes up, something to ease his pain?” she asked as calmly as she could. Was that not why the woman had come?
“Oh. Yes, here. Peppermint and willow bark. I suppose it can do no harm. Though it might help you more than it can help him. His headache is bound to be too strong for the remedy to offer much relief. It’s probably better if he sleeps the worst of it off. Here, give him this potion when he wakes up. It will help him sleep,” the healer said, placing two small leather pouches on the table along with a small vial filled with a brownish liquid. So she had come prepared. Why had she not offered the potion before? That was what she was supposed to do, was it not? Did she care so little for her patient? “Make him drink the whole thing in one go; a strapping man like him can take it.”
Aife didn’t answer, didn’t reach out to the pouches, she merely waited for the door to close on the vile woman.
Alone at last, she remained a long moment standing in the middle of the room, willing her heart to stop hammering. They needed to leave that place as quickly as possible. The people had saved them from the rubble and she was grateful, but it would be better for them to be amongst sympathetic people, and in a place where they were not in danger of running into Njal.
When she had calmed at last, she set the pot of water to boil over the fire and steeped the dried mint leaves and willow bark into the only cup she could find. Then, utterly drained of energy, she lowered herself into the chair. It was hard and too big forher to be comfortable. She brought it close to the table and tried placing her forearms on it before laying her cheek against the top of her hand. Better. She was dozing off when a movement on the pallet in the corner caught her eye. Aife shook herself from the torpor invading her. Had she imagined it? The whisper she heard next made it clear she had not. Torsten had finally woken up.
“Aife.”
She fell to her knees by his side, relief making her light-headed, hot and cold at the same time. “Oh, Torsten!”
At first he smiled at her, but then his eyes widened. As if unsure of what he was seeing in the dim light of the fire, he lifted a tentative hand to her left cheek. She knew from the constant throbbing that it was badly bruised, and the healer had cleaned a few cuts on her forehead earlier. She would look a fright, which explained his dismay.
“Who the hell hurt you thus?” he growled. “Not the Normans?”
The Normans? Her heart fell. Was he imagining himself back in the forest with Geoffroi’s men? Had he forgotten what had happened at the beach? Surely this was not a good sign. But then again, he had received a severe blow to the head. By the gods, would he have lost his memory as well as the use of his lower body?
“No one hurt me,” she said, placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder. “We got caught in a landslide, remember, while we were gathering cockles?”
He stilled and let his hand drop, taking his warmth away. “Oh. Yes.”
She barely repressed the urge to stroke his hair, take his hand in hers, brush his cheek, anything to feel that he was alive and breathing. Instead, she started to explain. “The edge of the cliffcollapsed while we were looking at the flower made of stones and we?—”
“It was a cabbage, not a flower,” Torsten shocked her by saying.
Aife stared at him in disbelief. Really, was that all he had to say? Then she took in a deep breath, feeling some of her anxiety melting away. He could not be in such a bad state if he was jesting with her. For good measure, she decided to play the game.
“Fine, it did look a bit like a cabbage, I will admit.” A nod and a side smile were her reward for this concession. “Anyway, while we were looking at the cabbage, the edge of the cliff collapsed. We got half buried under the rubble and could not escape. You had been knocked unconscious. Saxon villagers eventually found us, alerted by my shouts, and brought us here. A messenger has been sent to the village. I expect someone will come soon to get us.”
He nodded. “I’m thirsty,” he said, glancing over to the table as if in search of ale.
“Of course. I’ve made a tisane for you. It should still be warm and will help with the pain in your head.” She picked up the wooden cup from the table and settled back down by the pallet. “Let me.” While he drank, she did her best to behave as if it were normal that she should do that for him.
Once Torsten had emptied the cup he frowned and looked down the length of his body. “I feel odd. As if… I couldn’t move.”
A sob escaped Aife’s lips, anxiety returning fast. No wonder he felt odd. “Some heavy rocks fell on you when you shielded me with your body.” Another sob. Was she destined to do nothing but cry? “Without you, I would likely be dead now. You saved my life.”
And because of his generosity, he might never be complete again. Aife fell onto Torsten’s chest, sobbing. After a while, a careful hand landed on her back.
“Hush, it’s all right. You didn’t die.”
He was comforting her, when he was the one injured. It was unbearable. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t wanted to go to the?—”
