Going still herself, Alissende paused, straining to discern what her maid had noticed. She frowned, hearing naught but the usual sounds of the pavilion field: the rustling of breeze against the fabric of the tents, a few clattering of pots, and the low hum of conversation amongst the servants, who were all awaiting their masters’ and mistresses’ return from the royal reception.
“There—I heard it again, my lady…someone calling your name!”
This time Alissende recognized the sound herself. It was faint and in a voice unfamiliar to her, but it became clearer the next moment when it was repeated again, as if the speaker had come closer to the tent.
Springing to her feet, she ran to the tent flap and pushed it open, glad for the light of several torches that had been left burning along the path between the castle and the pavilion field to guide the noble guests back to their temporary quarters once the royal reception was finished.
“Lady Alissende—my lady!” the voice called, half-muted, in an effort to get her attention without attracting the undue notice of the servants in all the surrounding tents.
At that moment, Alissende caught sight of the figure running down the path. Startled, she took a step back before she realized it was one of Glenheim’s men, who had been given berth by the king-of-arms to sleep with the tournament mounts in the stables.
“What is the matter, Bernard—where is Sir Damien?” She searched his face with her gaze, desperate for some explanation of his strange approach.
“Are you well, my lady? Have you passed your time here in peace?” he asked through gasping breaths, not answering her question, she noticed, but rather looking around her as if for some intruder, his hand on his sword hilt in readiness.
“All is quiet, and it is only I and Edmee here, awaiting news.” She took a step closer, forcing Bernard to meet her gaze. “Where is Sir Damien, Bernard? I demand to know without further delay.”
“I am sorry, my lady. Under Sir Damien’s orders, I could not pause to answer aught until I knew you were safe,” Bernard murmured, having caught his breath now and appearing more confident that all was as it should be. “He was set upon in the darkness of the yard by three scoundrels who showed not their faces. He believes Lord Harwick behind the attack, and therefore feared for your safety as well, causing him to send me ahead to check upon you.”
“Is he hurt, then?” Alissende asked, gripping the edge of Bernard’s sleeve. “Sweet heavens, where is he—what injuries has he sustained?”
“He comes shortly behind me, lady, able to walk. In truth he refuses any assistance, though he will surely need tending once he reaches the pavilion,” Bernard answered, frowning. “You had best ready your remedies, for it is possible that he suffers other hurts worse than the cuts and bruises that were apparent upon looking at him.”
God have mercy…
After calling to Edmee to get out the casket of herbs and healing potions they always carried with them while traveling, Alissende started down the path into the darkness toward the castle, determined to seek out Damien herself and help him back to the tent, whether or not he stubbornly refused the assistance of his men. But she was pulled up short by Bernard’s hand upon her arm.
“Nay, lady. I regret that I cannot allow you to leave this pavilion.”
“You most certainly can!” she retorted, pulling her arm from his grip, turning her frustration on him in a blast of righteous anger. “I am your lady and bid you do it. There is naught else for you to consider.”
“Your lord husband forbid me it and told me it was on penalty of my life that I let you leave. He is now head of your household, and by rights, I must obey his orders above all else, my lady.”
That obstinate, mulish fool…
But before she could argue her point with Bernard further, a movement at the edge of the pavilion field caught her attention, and both she and Bernard turned to see three indistinct figures making their way down the path toward them. Alissende’s heart seemed to rise up to choke her. It was two more of Glenheim’s men, walking with Damien between them; they came very slowly, though as Bernard had said, Damien moved under his own power.
As they neared, she gasped and ran out to meet them, regardless of Damien’s orders or how it might appear to any who happened to be watching. He sported a gash on his brow that was already bruising, as well as a cut lip, though the fierce light in his eyes cautioned her to restrain herself from tending to him in any way out here, any more than he had allowed his men to bodily support him along the way.
“Where are you hurt?” she asked quietly, holding aside the flap of the tent, only taking his arm, helping him to the raised pallet of their bed once they were inside the confines of the tent.
“Everywhere,” he answered wryly, sitting with great care on the edge of the feather-stuffed mattress, then letting out his breath with a hissing sound when he released his arm from around his ribs.
“Here, let me help you disrobe, to get a better look at your injuries,” Alissende murmured, beginning to pull gently at one of his sleeves.
Damien stiffened, though she knew, somehow, that it wasn’t from pain.
“Perhaps it would be better if one of my men did the honors,” he said quietly, giving her a sideways glance. “I would not wish to disturb you with what you might see.”
“Nonsense. I learned to stitch wounds at the same time that I was taught to sew cloth, and I have treated scores of bruises as lady of the keep. You need not worry about offending my sensibilities in any way.”
“It is not the new injuries I mean, Alissende.”
The import of what Damien was saying—that he referred to those scars as yet unseen by her, the ones that affected the lower half of his body—finally sank in. He had never allowed her to see him completely naked in full light, she realized. Nay, even when they’d made love, he had always drawn the bed-curtains close to ensure that they were both cast in concealing shadow.
Remembering that now, she gave hardly a moment’s pause.
“There is no one else I would have tend you, Damien, but me.” She held his gaze as she spoke so that he would see the truth in what she said. Though it would surely disturb her to look upon any damage done to him, both old and new, it would be the result of anger at the cruelty of mankind, not disgust.
