and she looked toward the heavens. “Give me strength. This man is badly injured and needs my help. Grant me the power to get him to the keep.”
With a great amount of difficulty, Shalan managed to drag the man across his horse, hoping that she had gotten him into a position that he would not fall to the ground when the giant stallion stood. Pulling on the reins until the horse stood once more, she watched to be very sure the wounded man did not slip from the saddle.
“Tis glad, I am, that you are an intelligent animal, and not like most. You must be very special.” And she ran her hand down his soft muzzle, and the big horse nuzzled her hand, hoping for a treat.
Calling her own Foxy, she managed to climb aboard, and taking the lead rein in hand to the clever stallion that carried the man, she started back toward her father’s manse. Not too fast, as she didn’t want to jar the man, and have him perhaps hurt worse in the process. Who could he be? And what was he doing crossing their land with an armed guard? There was no war, not even skirmishes or incidents in this part of Northumberland. Perhaps her father could enlighten her as to his identity.
Riding into the stable yard, she encountered the boy who had saddled Foxy. He came running when he saw what his lady was about.
“Rolfe! I need help! We must needs get this man inside and send for help. He has been wounded and is in dire need of a physician. After we get him inside to Addie, will you ride as fast as possible to command Peterson to come to the keep posthaste?”
Rolfe took one look at the gentleman and figured he wouldn’t last long, especially since he seemed to be in such bad shape. The man was out. Didn’t know what was happening to him. He called for another of the stable boys, Edgar, who happened to be nearby, and they carried the severely injured man into the house with Shalan admonishing them to be very careful.
Addie came running at the commotion, and Shalan shouted to her, “Follow me! I’ve found a man who is terribly wounded, and he needs attention as soon as is possible. I spotted him lying on the moor, his guards all dead.”
“I’m coming, my lady,” Addie stated breathlessly, leaving Ardith shaking her head. She was used to her lady being quite unconventional, but bringing home a wounded stranger? Although he certainly did not look the part, he could possibly be a highwayman!
Shalan watched closely as the two grooms carried the gentleman up the stone steps with Addie slipping in front of them to prepare a chamber for the stranger. As they laid him gently on the turned down bed, he groaned softly, indicating that he was coming around. And that Shalan did not want. She wanted him to be totally unconscious when the physician examined him.
“Addie, quickly! Fetch the comfort draught, please. I do not want this man to know he is injured. If he wakes, he’ll be in horrendous pain, I fear, and the comfort draught should keep him asleep. Please, hurry!” And Addie ran ahead of Rolfe and Edgar back down to the kitchen to procure the draught her mistress had asked for.
“What’s going on here?” her father stated loudly, charging into the room, looking the man over who lay quite still on the bed, and studying his wan face. “Ardith came running and told me you had brought home an injured man. Where did you find him, Shalan?”
“Near the copse up toward the north woods, Papa. I was riding on the moor, and at first sight, I thought it was nothing more than a bundle of rags. I’m glad I chose to investigate instead of riding on. He had three armed guards with him, but alas, I could do naught for them. I was hoping you might have some knowledge as to his identity.”
His eyes squinting in the darkened room, Lord Kiley gazed at the man lying before him. “I’ve never made acquaintance with the man before now, but he is most richly dressed. He is not a commoner, that’s for sure. Have you sent for a physician?
“Yes. Of course I have, Papa. Rolfe is even now on his way. And here is Addie with the comfort draught. I was afraid he might come to and be in terrible pain as he moaned when Rolfe and Edgar laid him down. As you can see, he is injured most gravely.”
“That he is,” her father stated as he examined the wound. Lord Kiley turned to his daughter and stated quite sternly, “You had better be getting out of those garments, my pet. They are wet and muddy and are surely ruined. I should hate to see you abed with the fever.” Since her own mother had succumbed to lung fever, her father was especially concerned with Shalan‘s health.
Shalan only then looked down at herself. She had been so concerned for the wounded man she had not taken into consideration how she must look. Her beautiful riding suit was ruined, with blood and muddy stains all down the front where she’d held the man and dragged him through the grass. She was sure the back of the costume was even worse where she had fallen on the wet turf.
“Light the candle, will you, Addie?” Lord Kiley asked the servant. “I can’t see well in here on such a cloudy day. I’ll stay with him, Shalan, while Addie assists you out of those damp garments.”
“Not before we get the draught in him. He can’t wake, Papa. The pain would be more than even the strongest man could bear, I fear. The draught is laced with poppy, so it should keep him unconscious.”
It took all three of them, with Shalan holding his head steady while her papa held the large man’s arms to his sides. He had started moving, clenching his teeth, and it would not be long before he came to himself enough to fight against the kind of pain he suffered. Addie was the one who administered the draught because she knew how to get it down him, holding his nose and rubbing his neck to make him swallow. Shalan could not imagine the large man shrieking, but she was not acquainted with him and he most certainly could be the type to rail against the pain.
They stood watching, holding him down, as he eased back into unconsciousness, but it took longer than they had anticipated, as he was quite a large man. When Shalan was satisfied that the man was certainly out of the world, she breathed a sigh of relief. Good! Now she could go bathe herself, get out of the soiled garments and into fresh clothing.
After her bath, she made her way back to the chamber where the injured man lay. The physician, Peterson by name, had arrived and was examining the damage, clucking his tongue, with a “My, my, what happened to this man?”
Shalan explained as best she could, and mentioned the three guards who were lying dead on the moor. Where their mounts had gotten to, she could not say, but her papa interrupted her long enough to tell them he had sent a wagon to bring the three into the keep until they could be properly buried.
“I only wish I knew who he was,” Lord Kiley put in. “My daughter runs across what seems to have been a skirmish, fought on my land, and I don’t even know how or why. It is most disturbing. Why, if she had arrived there only moments earlier, what might have become of her?”
“Papa, I think I have the good sense to have hastily run back to the keep if I had actually seen the attack. Give me credit for possessing some intelligence, would you, please?”
“But whoever caused this could have given chase, my darling, and we do not know what dire consequences might have occurred.”
“No one can catch Foxy if I don’t want to be caught, Papa. She’s as fast as the wind. You are well aware of that.”
While the two were arguing as to what her fate might have been, the physician was giving Addie orders as to what supplies he might need, and asked for a nightshirt for the man as the restrictive clothing would have to be removed. Peterson had examined the wound thoroughly and had started to pack the deep cut and bandage it. A century ago they would have seared the wound shut, but he felt with the packing and dressing, he could stop any infection that might develop.
“It was not as deep as it looked, Lord Kiley,” Peterson put forth with alacrity. “There is, however, a nasty bump on his head which accounted for the fact that he was unconscious when your daughter found him, and probably why the perpetrators thought he had been dispensed with. He would have more than likely come to himself had you not given him the comfort draught. I feel certain he’ll be up