“It’s nothing,” I insisted, brushing away Baron’s hands. “We need to get to safety.”
CHAPTER 32
The soldiers would find us soon if we didn’t pick up the pace. The men couldn’t sustain the speed that Baron and I were pushing them at, and I was feeling the weight of traveling too. Father looked as though he would pass out at any moment.
“We have to stop,” Baron told me. I sighed, looking around for anywhere we could wait safely for the men to heal. We needed food, medical attention, and somewhere safe to recover.
A familiar distinctive thatched roof was visible beyond the crest of the hill. Baron looked toward it and grinned. “It seems like there was a nice couple who said Robin Hood could call on them if ever help was needed.”
“No,” I said, knowing exactly what he was thinking.
“Oh, yes!” Baron said, adjusting Lincoln over his shoulder and heading for the cottage.
“No!”
“Didn’t he say his wife is a healer?”
We argued all the way to the door.
“May the saints bless and preserve me!” an elderly, stooping woman cried as she opened the door, holding her hand up to herchest in surprise, then to her nose as our foul stench reached her nostrils. “What have we here?”
“Good morning, madam. Would you be Tildy?” Baron asked.
“Eh?” The woman leaned forward, cupping her hand around her ear. “What is that you said, young man?”
“Are you Tildy?” he repeated, raising his voice.
“Yes, I am.”
“This is Robin Hood”—he nodded toward Father—“and his men. We need refuge.”
The woman’s eyes widened as she observed our crew of haggard, bedraggled men. “Come in, come in! My, my, my…”
We shuffled over the threshold and closed the door shut behind us. Baron put Lincoln down, and Will Scarlet collapsed straight onto the floor. Little John and Dale were the only ones who seemed to have even a tiny portion of strength left. To their credit, both men stayed on their feet and went from man to man, assessing their needs and told Tildy they were willing to help in whatever way she needed.
Tildy took one look at me and clicked her tongue. “Arrow first,” she said briskly, guiding me to a stool by the fire and quickly gathering some things from around the room.
“This will hurt,” she warned.
I gave a strained laugh. “It already does.”
Before I could protest, she snapped the arrow’s shaft, braced a hand against my back, and pulled. White-hot pain burst through me and I couldn’t restrain the scream. Baron lunged forward, his eyes panicked, but I shook my head at him. “I’m fine,” I choked out.
She pressed a cloth steeped in something stinging and herbal against the wound, her movements quick and sure.
“Now what happened here?” Without ceremony, Tildy lifted my tunic partway to inspect the mangled skin underneath.
“Dog bite,” I said through gritted teeth.
“It looks nasty, but it’s fairly shallow.” Her fingers smeared a thick salve over the torn skin; the cooling burn of it made my eyes water. She wrapped my ribs tightly, tying the bandage off with a firm tug. “You’ll be right as rain in a few days.”
Looking me over again, Tildy turned her attention to my cheek and ear. They also received a thorough cleaning, and a pronouncement of healing quickly before she straightened and scanned the room.
Lincoln sagged in the corner where Baron had placed him. Father was pale, clutching his ribs; Will Scarlet had apparently pulled himself from the floor but looked like he and Little John could barely stand; the others were bruised, bloodied, starving. Tildy clapped once, sharply.
“All right, men, sit if you can, lean if you must. You and you”—she pointed to Baron and Little John—“Help me get these shirts off and check for bleeding. Lift anyone who can’t move themselves. Robin Hood’s next.”
“I can’t stay,” Baron said quickly. I looked up in surprise, and he hurried on, “I need to cover our tracks as soon as possible.”
