“This tavern better not be far,” she said, glancing down at the blood soaking into his baldric.
He winced as pain lanced through him. “Come on,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s get moving.”
Chapter Eight
The lights shining out from the tavern were the only spots of yellow in an otherwise black landscape.
As the sun had set clouds rolled across the sky, turning a dark night into the blackest Jessica had ever known. It was so dark she kept seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, flashes within her brain trying to create something out of nothing.
She could barely see Eddard and for that she was grateful. He had begun to mumble to himself as they walked, words that meant nothing to her. Was he talking in Gaelic? Old English? She had no idea.
He tripped time and again while trying to march and she’d had to force him to slow down and focus on giving her directions.
How he could tell his way in the dark with so much blood loss, she had no idea. She prayed he did know the way because otherwise they were about as lost as two people could be.
When she saw the lights in the distance, tiny twinkling specks that shifted and faded and then glowed once again, she felt a wave of relief washing over her.
Even if it wasn’t the tavern, it would be somewhere they could stop and she could examine his injuries properly. He had at least two sword cuts to the chest and his hand had been slippery with blood whenever she helped him up from yet another fall.
“The tavern,” he said, standing upright for the first time since the sun had set. “There.” He pointed toward the light and it was as if the life came back into him. He began to march again and she had to jog to keep up. The terrain underfoot was smooth. They were on a track of some kind. It wouldn’t take long to get there.
Within half an hour the lights grew big enough for her to make out what they were, candles and a glowing fire visible through open windows. She could hear voices talking, laughter echoing out from inside. The building was smaller than bars in her time but it was all the more welcome after a trek through the dark with an injured man.
It seemed to have taken the last of Eddard’s strength to reach the tavern. He shoved the door open and fell into the nearest chair, head on his chest. She followed, getting a proper look at him.
It wasn’t as bad as she’d first feared. The wounds in his chest had stopped bleeding. Keep him warm and the edges clean and they should mend themselves. She was more concerned about his hand. Each time he’d fallen he’d reopened the cuts across his fingers and they needed covering if she was going to stop any more blood loss.
She barely noticed the faces staring at her as she crossed to the makeshift counter near the back wall. Behind it a man was hefting an empty barrel onto his shoulder, turning away to carry it through a swinging door.
“Hey,” she said. “I need help.”
“And I need to get this barrel away and a fresh one out.” He continued walking.
“I need a cloth. Have you got a rag or something and some hot water?”
“Haud on.” He pushed through the door and disappeared. She looked back at Eddard. He was slumping down on the chair, blood still dripping from his hand.
“I haven’t got time for this,” she said, stepping around the corner and following the landlord through the door.
“Oi!” he said as she snatched a cloth from the wall. “You can’t be back here.”
“Hot water,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Now.”
He paled at the expression on her face, nodding and turning away. “Over here.”
She watched as he dipped a tankard into a huge steaming cauldron. For some reason she thought of the witches of Macbeth. Hubble, bubble, toil, and trouble.
She took the pitcher from the landlord and rushed back through to the other room. Kneeling in front of Eddard she dipped the cloth into the water, soaking it for as long as she dared, wishing she had access to a pharmacy or a decent hospital, just this once.
With the cloth burning her fingers she wrapped it around his hand. He stirred, looking up at her, blinking, his eyes coming back into focus.
“I like you,” he said. “You’re a decent lass. I like you. I. Like. You. Like you.”
“You like me,” she replied, knotting the cloth in place. “Got it. Just keep still for a minute.”
She waited, watching the cloth and holding her breath for what felt like forever. Blood began to soak through it but then it stopped. Only water was dripping to the floor anymore.
“Keep that still,” she said, lifting Eddard’s chin, watching his eyes come back into focus again. “Got it?”
