But she had to ignore that self-doubt.She couldn’t let it hamper her ability to help.
“Maybe not,” she agreed.“But I have to do what I can.I won’t be frozen by fear.”
“Nor will I.But…ye said there was a convent nearby.Withrealnuns.Nuns with a knowledge o’ healin’.And, if they can’t save him, they can at least save his soul.We can take him there.”
Eve’s breath caught.She couldn’t go there with him.Not to her own convent.
Then Adam would know the truth.That she was a nun.That he’d trysted with a nun.
Thankfully, she was saved from coming up with an excuse not to go when Fonia suddenly let out a horrified shriek.
“The alehouse!Simon!”
Not far down the path, Eve spotted smoke billowing from the roof of a roadside alehouse.
It was on fire.And by Fonia’s cry, her husband was inside.
Just as Eve caught the woman to keep her from running into the burning building, Adam bolted past them both.
Without hesitation, he wrenched open the door, pulling it off its hinges.Smoke boiled out, and he raised an arm to shield his face.Then he disappeared inside.
Eve stilled in shock.Her heart leaped into her throat.
Why had he done that?
It was impulsive.Reckless.Dangerous.
What if he couldn’t find Simon?
What if he didn’t come out?
Eve held her breath, fearing the worst, while Fonia whimpered beside her.Time churned like an oxcart through mud as she watched the doorway with tearing eyes.The acrid odor of burning thatch stung her nose as flames licked up through the smoky roof.Still he didn’t emerge.
When she finally glimpsed Adam’s broad back, he was dragging a man out through the door and away from the conflagration.Her breath escaped in a relieved whoosh.
Fonia raced toward them, skidding to her knees beside the limp body.“Simon!”
Adam covered a racking cough with his sleeve.His face was sweaty and soot-stained.
Eve spared one glance at Simon.Then her gaze returned to Adam.
The hem of his robe was on fire.
“Adam!”she cried.“Your cassock!”
She charged forward.Together they beat the flames into smoldering submission.
By now, the entire roof was ablaze, roaring with fury.It was too late to save the structure.
Was it too late to save Simon?
Eve crouched beside him and felt his neck for a pulse.He was alive, but unconscious.
His chest was covered in blood from a nasty dagger that protruded from his side.
Eve felt a sudden twinge of uncertainty.She could cure headaches.She could bandage cuts and scrapes.She knew what herbs to use for stomach ailments and bruises and the pain of monthly courses.
But she’d never had to deal with mortal battlefield wounds like this.
