Gisele frowned, wondering why she was awake. A glance toward the mouth of the cave told her that it was not yet morning. After two days of nursing Nigel through a fever this was the first time she had been able to sleep for more than an hour or two. It annoyed her that, for no apparent reason, she was wide awake.
Her heart skipped painfully as she suddenly feared there had been some dire change in Nigel’s condition and that had been what had wakened her. She turned cautiously, almost afraid to look at him. Tentatively, she touched his forehead, and felt weak with relief. He was cool and damp. In fact, he was soaked with sweat. His fever had finally broken.
She quickly rose to get him a clean shirt and some water to wash him down. The cool air hit the back of her shirt and, as she shivered from a sudden chill, Gisele realized that it was damp. That was obviously what had woken her. She quickly changed her shirt before gathering what she needed for Nigel.
When she tugged off Nigel’s shirt he roused and looked at her. Gisele was a little surprised at the depth of emotion she felt when she saw that his eyes were clear and bright, all signs of the fever gone. Matters were obviously getting far more complicated than she had realized, she thought with an inward sigh. There might not be as much time as she had hoped before she had to face up to a few hard, cold facts. Her heart was obviously clamoring for her to heed it. For now, however, she could easily avoid any uncomfortable soul searching by keeping all of her attention fixed firmly on getting Nigel well and strong again.
“I have been unweel?” he asked in a hoarse voice, greedily accepting the drink of water she gave him.
“Oui, a little,” she replied in a slightly shaky voice as she began to wash the sweat from his body. “I am thinking you took a fever because I did not tend to your wound fast enough.”
“Ye couldnae have done it any faster, lass.” He gritted his teeth against the pain as she changed his bandage.
“Mayhap not. The delay allowed the bad humors to seep into your body, however. But now you will soon be fine again,oui?”
“Aye, but we are losing precious days hiding here. How many so far?”
“Two days. This will be the third.” She watched him pale as she helped him into his shirt, but he made no sound. “I have seen no one, heard no one approach this place, so I believe that we are quite safe here.”
“Weel, we must still leave here as soon as possible,” he mumbled, weakened by enduring the pain of his wound, as he closed his eyes.
“Not until I feel that you may ride your horse without endangering yourself by ripping open your stitches or weakening yourself so much that your fever returns.”
“That could take days.”
“Then we shall take those days. There is no good served if we leave so quickly it makes you weak and ill.”
Nigel knew she was right but he did not like it, and softly cursed. “We could easily be trapped here.”
She dampened a cloth with cool water and gently bathed his face. He needed to be calm, but she was not sure what she could do or say to accomplish that. There was a great deal that could go wrong the longer they lingered in one place. She could not really argue the facts that caused him such concern. Lingering where they were for so long troubled her, as well.
“This place is not easy to find, and I have left no sign of our presence where anyone can see it,” she said in a soft voice meant to soothe him. “I have even taken the horses’ leavings far away from here, dragging the muck away in one of the filthy blankets I took from those men.” She shivered slightly. “I have been tossing it down on top of the bodies. In truth, each time I go out for wood I toss a few things down onto those bodies. Rocks, wood that is no good for burning, anything I find that can be thrown down. I do not wish to go near them nor see them, yet I feel somewhat compelled to try to cover them.”
“Whatever your reasons, ’tis nay a bad idea. It will hide them from view, and throwing manure on them may also work to keep scavengers away.”
“I do not believe the horses have produced enough for that, yet. I am but trying to tell you to be at ease. We are truly hidden here. If it troubles you so greatly to remain in one place then rest, regain your strength as quickly as possible. The sooner you are strong enough to ride, the sooner we may leave this place.”
He opened his eyes and smiled faintly. “And you will make sure that I hold fast to that plan, willnae ye?”
“I will, Sir Murray. You may be assured of that.”
She smiled when he laughed softly and then closed his eyes. It took only a few moments for him to fall asleep again. Gisele watched him for a long time, saw no sign of any alarming changes in his soft, even breathing or the return of his fever, and she breathed a long sigh of relief. It was too soon to be certain that Nigel was beginning to recover from his wound, but she had hope now, something that had been sorely depleted in the last two days.
Yawning widely, Gisele moved to tend to the horses She took the manure away and collected some wood for the fire on her way back to the cave. After washing her face and hands, she sprawled on the bedding next to Nigel. He would not be patient with the pace of his recovery, be it fast or slow. Gisele knew that, it would become more important that she be well rested, her wits sharp, as he got stronger. For that she needed sleep, and it was time to try and recoup all she had lost while he had been wracked with fever.
Gisele waited patiently for Nigel to go back to sleep. He had been free of any sign of fever for almost two days, and she felt she could relax her close guard over him. Every time he had woken up she had made him drink plenty of water or wine, as much as she could force down his throat, until he swore he would soon wash away down the hillside. She had also made him eat something. At first it had only been a few bites of stale bread, but the amount he ate had slowly increased, even in the course of the first feverless day. It was good that he was eating well, for it would help him regain his strength, but it had also caused a new problem for her to deal with. They were rapidly running out of food.
There was really only one answer to that problem. She had spent several hours trying to think of another, any other, but there was nothing. They needed some supplies. She could not hunt, and there was nothing left to scavenge in the area. All she had was coin to go and buy something. There was a small village to the west. She had seen it one of the times she had been out searching for wood for the fire.
Nigel was going to be furious, she mused as she slipped out of the cave, dragging her reluctant horse with her. She briefly peeked back inside the cave to reassure herself that Nigel still slept, then hurried down the hill toward the village. It was going to be a risky venture, for she had quickly seen that her disguise fooled very few. She had not seen any of DeVeau’s men, but knew that did not mean that they were not around. She and Nigel had been caught by surprise before, and this time she did not have the assistance of Nigel’s sharp eyes to scout the area. Gisele knew that if Nigel were hale and had his wits about him he would probably tie her up before he would allow her to go anywhere alone. If he woke up before she could safely return, Gisele suspected he would find the strength to scold her soundly and loudly. She just hoped that if she could return safe and successful, her saddlepacks weighted with food, he would forgive her. A full belly was said to be the cure for a man’s ill humor.
Despite assuring herself that she could ride in, get all she needed, and quickly ride out again without any difficulty, Gisele felt her heart clench with fear as she entered the village. Suddenly, she wondered if what she was about to do was pure madness. Then she shook her head. Nigel was now as recognizable as she was, so it did not really matter which one of them showed his face. And she could not wait until he was well enough to watch her back. If she did not get them some food, the man might never get well. If she refused to take a risk, hid away in the cave out of fear, she and Nigel could easily starve to death or—she shuddered at the thought—be forced to dine on one of their horses. She stiffened her spine and kept riding, trying to keep a subtle but close eye on everyone and everything.
Gisele walked into the small, dark baker’s shop and inwardly sighed as the man closely watched her approach. “I need three loaves,” she said in a deep, firm voice.
“What game do you play with me, child?” the burly, sweat-soaked baker demanded.
“No game. I am here to buy some bread.”
