"Sir Guy's Dilemma" (Book 2), by Gratiana Lovelace, 2012-2013

"Sir Guy's Dilemma", Ch. 12--Too many Lords at the estate, 1/04/13

Sir Guy:  Being the elder in age by twelve years and seventeen years of his brother and his brother-in-law, Sir Guy opens the conversation.  “George.”  Sir Guy says haltingly, still becoming accustomed to addressing his brother-in-law so informally--as he does his brother Lord Archer.  “How did you fare with the healer woman’s treatment this morning?”  Sir Guy bites into his meat--if only to stifle a small smile threatening to burst from his lips at what George might have been subjected to.

Lord George:  Gulping down the wine, splattering it on his tunic, he blanches.  “The infernal woman insisted I drink her concoction of foul smelling and worse tasting putridity.”  He wrinkles up his face in disgust.

Sir Guy:  “Ah!  Well then you are sure to get well under her careful administration.  Last year she plied me with all manner of such drinks--bringing me back from death’s door.  Your arm wound should heal in no time.”  Sir Guy looks over the top of his own wine goblet at his brother, Lord Archer.  “Isn’t that so, Archer.” 

Lord Archer has been uncharacteristically silent--when he usually chats away like a magpie.  So Sir Guy is trying to draw him out.

Lord Archer:  “Indeed.  But your injuries are surely not as severe as Guy’s were.  So I wonder why you still use a sling.”

Lord George: “No, the wounds were not deep, nor did they bleed excessively.  But the blade found its mark and my arm has a continuing weakness that no amount of rest, nor medicine seems to be able to aide.”  George takes his arm out of its sling and his arm hangs limply at his side.  Then he raises it half way while grimacing in difficulty--there still being quite a bit of pain yet to abate in the healing process.  “That’s as far as it  will go, I’m afraid.”  He pouts, knowing that his battle days are over.  A soldier who cannot lift his sword or shield to defend himself--let alone to vanquish his foe--has no place on the battle field.

Sir Guy:  “I did not realize the extent of your injury, George.”  Now he says his brother-in-law’s name in a familial tone.  “You must have cut a tendon.”  Sir Guy [(3) right] tilts his head knowingly and sympathetically. 

Lord George:   “That is what the healer woman said.”  Lord George frowns, feeling quite despondent.

As an experienced soldier, Sir Guy learned to wound his foe in this way--but not to kill, leaving his opponent alive.   But now he wonders if there is honor in maiming a man so  grievously.  Would not the swift kill have been more kind?

Sir Guy:  Trying to lift his spirits, Sir Guy jests in a deadpan voice.  “And then the healer woman made you drink her foul elixir.”

Lord George: “Dammit man, if she didn’t.  Ha ha ha ha ha!”

Lord Archer and Sir Guy:  “Ha ha ha ha ha ha!”  The brothers laugh, too.  

Sir Guy:  “I remember the disgusting putrefaction that she made me drink last year.  I almost preferred death.” 

All three men:  “Ha ha ha ha ha!”

It is a male bonding moment--over hurts to the body and the pride that only men can understand. 

Or so men think.  As if women do not feel hurts and disappointments?   Were Lady Roseanna present to describe in detail the progress and pain of childbirth, one might doubt if even the most stout hearted of men could bear the pain and  suffering that women must endure to give life.

Now Sir Guy understands more fully why Lord George has come home to England to reclaim control over his estates--that he will be unable to return to the Holy Land as a soldier in service to King Richard.  Though Sir Guy wonders if Lord George has fully admitted his changed future to himself.  So setting aside his own wishes again, Sir Guy renews his offer to aid Lord George in transitioning to becoming master of the estates.