“Nay? Then why does it hurt him so? Why cannae he move it without pain?”
“The mon has pulled it away from his shoulder. Feel. But, gently,” she advised as Hacon touched William’s shoulder joint. “’Tis something easily mended, although he will find it painful. I am not certain I have the strength to do it swiftly and neatly, but I can easily tell you what needs to be done. We must yank it back into its rightful place.”
All the men looked wary, even Hacon, but none suggested that she might be wrong. Jennet carefully instructed the men to hold William steady, then explained to Hacon what to do. She winced when Hacon snapped the arm back into place, for she knew it was hurting William. A quick check of the man’s shoulder told her it had been done correctly. The way all the men were now looking at her in some surprise and with new respect made her a little uncomfortable.
“’Twill ache rather badly for a while,” she told William as his companions helped him down off the table.
“Thank ye, mistress,” William said.
“’Twas nothing verra grand.”
“’Tis my sword arm ye have saved, mistress.”
She sighed and shook her head as William and the others left. “Mayhaps I should have left it alone.”
Hacon leaned back against the table. “That would leave him helpless.”
“It would also have stopped him from killing anyone.”
“Aye, but made it verra easy for someone to kill him.”
Jennet had no answer for that. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and slumped against the table. Her gaze fell upon her newly scrubbed floor. Tracks of mud now crisscrossed it. All her hard work had been wasted. Besides, the fact that she was deeply aware of the man at her side proved that scrubbing floors would not kill the feelings he stirred within her, feelings that ate away at her ability to hold him at a safe distance.
“Then he should put himself out of harm’s way by staying home with his family,” she finally said.
“His family was murdered when Edward the First entered Scotland and drove the Bruce into exile.”
“Did ye go into exile too?”
“Nay, though what we had to endure was nearly as bad. Our lands were given to a supporter of the English, a family called de Umfraville. We became but serfs upon our lands. ’Tis little better now. True, our land is held by the Bruce himself now, but until he gifts us with the return of Dubheilrig, we cannae really call it home.”
“Instead of but part of your gains going to the king, all is his to claim.”
“Aye, all is his.” He looked at her with an expression of curiosity. “Do ye truly have a healing touch?”
“I cannae cure anyone simply by laying hands upon them, if that is what ye ask. The abbess said I had an understanding, a God-given skill. When choices need to be made, I seem able to make the right ones. I learn whate’er I can, and do so easily, yet I am not bound by that learning. I am able to make use of new ideas when the need arises.” She shrugged. “’Tisnae such a grand gift.”
“’Twill be most useful when we finally set out from here.”
“How will it be useful? Do ye not mean to return to your home now? Ye have regained Berwick for Scotland.”
“Aye, but we will soon plunge deep into England.”
“Why?”
“To harry the enemy, lass. We need time to secure this place, to strengthen our hold upon it. Sir Walter has been named the steward of Berwick, and he is a good mon. Howbeit, even he might falter if the English make a unified attack upon the town too soon. By harrying their lands south of here, we can divert them.”
“Ah, I see. When they hear that their fields and homes are threatened, many English lords and knights will rush to protect them.” She thought it a cruel battle tactic, yet could see its military advantage. “Now I see where my skill at healing may be of some worth. One or two of your men may be bruised a wee bit whilst cutting down the English serfs and merchants.”
“Ye have a harsh view of the world, wee Jennet.” Hacon moved to stand in front of her.
Jennet tensed when he put his hands on her shoulders, for although his touch was gentle, his expression revealed his deep displeasure at her words. “’Tis a harsh world,” she said.
“Aye, if that is all one tries to see.” He slid his hands up and down her slim arms. “To see mercy and honor sometimes requires a closer look.” Hacon ached to pull her into his arms, but she was still too wary of him.
“They should not be so weel hidden that one must sort through all else to find them.” Jennet told herself to pull away from him, but his tender caress of her arms held her in place.
“Mayhaps.”
