She snapped her mouth shut, either because my tone brooked no argument or because pain had stolen her strength. I set her on her feet, snatched up the bath cloth, wrapped it around her body, and drew it tight, shielding her as best I could.
Her face was far too pale for my liking. I guided her to the bed and eased her onto her side, then pulled the coverlet over her lap. “Where is the pain worst?”
“Everywhere,” she muttered.
Despite myself, I almost smiled. Almost. Then I looked again at the blood and bruising, and any trace of humor died. “I need to tend yer wounds.”
Her eyes widened. “Nay.”
“Aye.”
“Nay,” she protested. “Ye, ye can nae.”
“Then who?” I demanded. “Irma?”
That silenced her, though her cheeks flamed.
I crouched before her, keeping my gaze on her face. “Tell me what ye need. I’ll fetch it.”
Pride warred with pain on her face. I saw the very instant when pain won. Her lips pursed, and her nostrils flared, as if shehad to accept something distasteful, and I suspected that was my help. Luckily, my pride was not so easily wounded.
“There are herbs,” she said grudgingly. “In my pouch.”
I glanced toward her things. “Which ones?”
“The pouch with the blue cord. There’s woundwort, yarrow, and a little comfrey. I need them crushed with hot water. And if the innkeeper has clean linen…”
“I’ll get it.”
“And honey,” she added, her voice reluctant.
“Honey?”
“For the broken skin.”
I nodded. “What else?”
She hesitated.
“Katreine.”
“Pain powder,” she whispered. “If Irma has willow bark, or poppy, or anything of the sort.”
Asking for relief did not sit easily with this lass.
I rose. “Drink some wine while I’m gone.”
“I do nae need—”
“Drink it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are ye always this overbearing?”
“Are ye always this mule-headed?” I shot back, to which she snorted. I noted, as I turned to leave, that she tipped up the goblet of wine.
Irma was below, and if she was surprised to see me return so quickly, she hid it behind a smile that sharpened with interest. I kept my requests simple and my tone even plainer. Clean linen. Honey. A small bowl. More hot water. Pain powder, if she had it.
At the mention of pain powder, her smile faded. “Yer wife is unwell?”
