Chapter Three
Richard stretched out his legs slowly.The sunshine shone in through a rotted slat on the side of the barn. At least he could tell the passing of time. It had been one day since he had opened his eyes. He could feel his strength returning. His side was still tender, and his lip still swollen. He could almost see out of his puffy eye; the swelling was easing. The woman, Mercy, had given him a cloth with herbs in it to place over the swelling. It seemed to be helping.
It was his head he was worried about. Last night, pain had pierced through his mind like a sword. He could barely sleep. Now, he was tired but wanted to rise and test his mobility. He vowed he would stand today. He was no cripple to be lying in a barn and be tended to. He was a knight and had had worse than a sound beating. Startled, he realized that hewasa knight. Some part of his memory was still there. Perhaps Mercy was right, and all his memory would return.
When he heard movement, he glanced at the door.
“I’m not going in when he is awake,” a voice said in a hushed tone, but not hushed enough that he did not hear.
“I will tend him.” He knew that voice. Mercy.
“I don’t like you treating him alone.”
“I treat many men alone.”
“They are villagers. All of whom we know.”
“Then come in with me.” The door opened and Mercy entered, carrying a bucket of water.
He grinned. He was beginning to really like her. He felt a strange rush of anticipation when he knew she was coming. Her presence made his pain tolerable.
He caught sight of an elderly woman standing with her arms crossed outside of the door. “I’ll be right here…”
The door closed on her words.
“That’s two,” he greeted as Mercy dropped to her knees at his side.
She lifted her blue eyes to his. “Two?”
“Two people who have warned you about me.”
Confusion marred her brow.
“The little boy and the woman,” he clarified.
She lifted her eyebrows in understanding and then brushed the thought aside with a wave of her hand. She took a cloth from the pile she carried in after setting the two basins on the ground.
“You don’t think I’m a threat?”
She looked him in the eye. “Are you?” She looked doubtful.
He took offense and drew himself up. “At times.”
She smiled and turned to the basin. She gently dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out.
He scowled. “I can be,” he insisted.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He sank back against the wall and lifted his knee. Agony flared up from his stomach, and he winced, even though he tried to hide it.
She paused, seeing the grimace. “How is your head?”
He lifted his hand to touch his forehead. “It will do.”
Mercy put a hand on her waist and cocked her head to the side. “It will only help your recovery and my ministrations if you tell the truth. There’s no need for you to feel threatened by me.”
“Threatened?” he asked in disbelief. He didn’t find women threatening.
