My Lady's Favour

Chapter 16

Elena

I push down the nausea and skin-tingling fear. Dorigen's still here, so I grasp her elbow and drag her with me.

"What? What's the hurry?" She resists, until she sees my expression.

I push through the mill of people, now stretching and wandering around after the long period of inactivity.

"Richard's wounded. More than just bruising. I saw blood." I keep my voice hushed—no knight would want to be made a spectacle of when he'd just suffered a defeat.

Dorigen nods, grasping up her skirts so she can run. We reach Richard's pavilion to find him standing inside with his back to us, leaning heavily on his squire, and flinging the broken shards of his shield to the floor. His gauntlets follow with a complaining clatter and when he wrenches his helmet off, it looks doomed to follow. His squire, Geoffrey, clings to it with all his strength. All armour is precious and should be treated with care.

I'm awed by Richard's anger, never having seen him like this before, and pull up short.

He throws himself onto his arms chest, then seems to sense our presence. We are scowled at, and I am unreasonably wounded by that look, but then he pushes his sweat-dampened hair back from his face and stands up, bowing.

Dorigen, always braver than I, immediately steps forward to push him down again. He gazes up at her, mouth open in surprise, but says nothing. I look away—I don't want to be castigated for making a fuss about nothing. Particularly not by him.

"You—Geoffrey, is it? Your master is hurt in the shoulder and needs tending. Help me get this stuff off, quickly. Have you anything you can fold into a pad? Yes, an old shirt will do. Elena, you have nimble fingers—help me with this."

Dorigen has taken charge of the situation, ordering the men around as if they were children. I wish I could be more like her. I hope, when the time comes for my mettle to be tested, that I can find the same strength.

Perspiration is coursing down Richard's face, and he closes his eyes against the sting. He tries to hide his pain, but I can sense it. He remains still and obedient while Geoffrey and Dorigen remove the vambraces and rerebraces from his injured arm before it stiffens.

Richard's shirt must be removed so Dorigen can examine and clean his wound. I keep my eyes modestly lowered, but she calls me forward.

"Keep his arm out and press this pad here to staunch the blood."

I do as I'm told, my hands trembling. Richard lets his arm go limp and heavy so I must bend low, half-cradling it against my breast. His fingers close on my elbow. I'm relieved that he can still move them, so make no objection to his touch.

I feel his eyes on me and shiver.

"The Lady Elena has the misfortune of coming upon me in my very worst moments." He winces as Dorigen jostles him while trying to remove his padded gambeson. "A glass of wine would be most welcome, lady."

"No wine!" snaps his nurse. "Well, maybe later. Only water for now. Geoffrey! Water for your master to drink. And a cloth to bathe his face with."

While the loyal squire obeys his orders, Dorigen sets about the difficult and painful task of removing Richard's shirt. As I predicted, the man has overheated and the linen is stuck to his back. Several quickly smothered moans escape as we raise his arms and ease the garment over his head.

Dorigen then begins cleaning the wound so she can inspect it properly. I force myself to look—I'm determined not to be a coward. Gilbert's blow has missed the shoulder joint and no bones are damaged, but the muscle on Richard's upper arm looks torn, with the skin around it reddening and swelling rapidly. I hate to see him wounded so—thank heaven Dorigen knows what she's doing.