“In my defense, I did spend a summer at horse camp when I was twelve.” At his puzzled expression, she added, “It’s where children learn to ride and care for horses.”
“A wise custom,” he said. “Children should learn such skills early.”
Their conversation was interrupted by excited barking as the hunting dogs caught a scent. The party quickened their pace, following the hounds deeper into the woods. Beth’s mare trotted to keep up, each bounce sending jolts up her spine.
“Slower,” Baldwin called to the others. “Mistress Beth is still learning the saddle.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted. “Don’t hold back on my account.” Beth felt a flash of gratitude, followed quickly by embarrassment at being the reason they had to slow down.
Baldwin’s eyes traveled over her face, assessing. “As you wish.”
They continued at a moderate pace, the dogs’ barking growing more distant. Beth was secretly relieved not to witness whatever animal they were pursuing being brought down. The thought of watching a deer or boar being killed turned her stomach.
As they rounded a bend in the forest path, one of the hunting dogs, separated from the main pack, came bounding toward them, something dark in its mouth.
“What’s he got there?” Sir Roland called.
Beth squinted, then felt her blood run cold. “Stop him!” she shouted, sliding awkwardly from her horse before Baldwin could protest.
Her feet hit the ground with a jolt that sent pain shooting up her legs, but she ignored it, rushing toward the dog. “Drop it!” she commanded, her voice sharp with urgency.
The hound, confused by her tone, hesitated long enough for Beth to reach him. She grabbed a stick and knocked the berries from his mouth, then used her boot to scrape away what had fallen to the ground.
“What madness is this?” Sir Roland demanded, dismounting.
Baldwin was already beside her, one hand on his sword. “Explain.”
“Nightshade,” Beth said, pointing to the dark purple berries. “Deadly nightshade. It’s poisonous. It could kill him.”
The dog whined, pawing at his muzzle.
“How certain are you?” Baldwin asked, his voice tense.
“Completely. The berries contain atropine and scopolamine—” She caught herself. “They’re deadly poisons. We need to make him vomit what he’s already eaten.”
Without hesitation, Baldwin knelt beside the dog. “Tell me what to do.”
Beth looked around frantically. “Salt water would be ideal, but...” Her eyes landed on a patch of grass nearby. “That will work.”
She rushed over and plucked several blades, returning to the dog. “Open his mouth,” she instructed Baldwin, who complied immediately.
Beth tickled the back of the hound’s throat with the grass until he retched, bringing up the contents of his stomach. She repeated the process twice more until she was satisfied.
“He should be alright now,” she said, sitting back on her heels and wiping her hands on the grass. “I think we got to him quickly enough.”
The hunting party had gathered around, watching with a mixture of awe and suspicion.
“How did you know?” one of the knights asked.
“I’m a chem—” Beth stopped herself. “My father taught me about plants. Nightshade is distinctive. The berries are sweet but deadly.”
Baldwin was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite decipher. Respect, certainly, but something else too. Pride, perhaps?
“You’ve saved Brutus,” he said, scratching the dog behind the ears. “He’s been my hunting companion for three years.”
“Just basic plant knowledge,” Beth said, uncomfortable with the attention.
“Few possess such knowledge,” Baldwin replied. “You continue to surprise me... Beth.”
