Blind Impulse (4 page)

She strode toward him, her hands fisted into her skirts.  Good glory, Garin had never seen her so angry.  “What are you trying to do, ruin any chance I may have of
marrying the man I love?”

Garin’s nagging headache suddenly intensified.  “Nay, Juli
ana.  Now is not the time nor place for such discussions.  I haven’t even seen a full night at Kirkoswald yet.”

Her eyes turned steely with anger.  “You cavort in here and turn everything upside down, lording over the barony before father is even cold in h
is grave.”

“
Juliana,” Garin growled, his voice laced with warning.

“
You are a beast,” she screeched.  Her hand darted up to slap him.  Garin deflected the blow but she lurched forward and her hand plowed into the wound on his chest.

Agony exploded within h
im and darkness spotted his vision.  Garin was dimly aware of dropping to his knees.  He tried to suck in some air and failed. 
Fancy that, a knight felled by his little sister.
His head buzzed and darkness descended.

Chapt
er Two

“
Garin,” Alyna shouted in horror.  Somehow she managed to stop his fall and ease him gently to the floor without being crushed under him.

“
Oh, Sweet Mary,” Juliana whispered.

Alyna glared at
Juliana but her anger melted in
to fright.  Juliana stare
d at her own hand.  A splash of crimson stained it.  Alyna turned back to Garin, incoherent on the floor.  Blood spattered his tunic.  The patch grew larger and brighter by the moment.  What had happened?  Juliana had no weapon, she could not have injured
Garin so terribly.

“
God’s teeth,” Geoff said from the door.  “Alyna
,
what happened?”

“
Father, give me your dagger quickly.”

He handed her the weapon.  Alyna was never more grateful that she knew the healing arts so well, having been taught by the best heale
r in the barony.  She cut Garin’s tunic open.  The blood soaked bandage on his chest sickened her but she cut it away as well.

“
Oh
,
sweet Jesu,” Alyna whispered, staring at the bloody, sword slash as long as her forearm.  A blade had sliced open Garin’s hea
vily muscled chest a long time ago.  The ragged wound festered badly.

Garin groaned and stirred.  Alyna gently smoothed his hair away from his face.  He blinked open his eyes, struggling to focus on her.

“
Easy, Garin, you need to lie still.”

His brow furro
wed.  “No need to worry, Alyna.  I will be fine in a moment.”  He struggled to sit up.

Alyna clamped her hands on Garin’s shoulders and forced him to remain.  Fortunately, he was too weak to fight her.  “Hold still,” she said sternly.

He slumped back and c
losed his eyes.

“
Why didn’t you tell anyone, Garin?”

“’
Tis nothing a little food and rest at home won’t cure.”

She tore her gaze from him and looked at her father.  “We must get him in bed now.  I’ll need clean bandages and hot water.  Have one of the serv
ants fetch my herbs.”

Her father, the knight, took orders from Alyna only in matters of healing and he did it with the ease of a veteran.  Geoff barked instructions to the servants then he at Garin’s head and Simon, at Garin’s feet, gently lifted Garin fro
m the floor.

“
I didn’t mean to,” Juliana whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Alyna had no time to comfort the girl.  True it wasn’t her fault, no one knew about the awful wound but Garin.  But Juliana should have never
tried to strike her brother.  Alyna hurried upstairs, ignoring the shocked stares of the others who had no idea why
their guest of honor had collapsed.

Alyna quickly rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands as her father and Simon settled Garin in his b
ed and stripped him.  Servants quickly brought the supplies she needed and Garin’s mother appeared at the door.

“
Sweet Jesu, what happened?”  Eleanor asked.

Alyna quickly explained the altercation.  “I fear the wound is festering.  That’s why Juliana was a
ble to topple him.” 

Eleanor paled.  “I will fetch Brother Martin.”

“
No need,” Geoff said.  “My daughter is the best healer in the barony.”  He paused and offered Eleanor an encouraging smile.  “I should know, she’s patched me together more times than I c
an count.”

Alyna approached Garin, her heart in her throat.  His body was sheer perfection.  His bulwark neck molded smoothly into his huge, well defined shoulders and chest.  He had arms greater than the village blacksmith and his stomach was flat, as if
laid with stone.  His long legs seemed to stretch forever, buttressed with large muscle.  Despite his obvious power, he had kissed her with such wonderful gentleness.

But Alyna’s examination of her husband to be caused her to frown.  Garin’s ribs were plai
nly evident and his waist much too narrow for his massive frame.  Alyna cursed under her breath.  “Do they not feed their crusading knights?”

Simon looked at her startled.  “Food was in short supply, my lady.  We all did our best.”

“
No wonder his wound won
’t heal.”  Alyna picked up a clean cloth soaking it in the hot water and held it to the wound.  While it bled, she needed to take the opportunity to clean it and remove as much of the infected tissue as possible. 

“
Alyna,” her father said softly.  “Is the
re anything else you need?”

She bit her lip, suddenly fighting tears.  “Heat a dagger so I may use it to cut away the infection but have the blacksmith ready an iron just in case.”  Alyna prayed it would not come to that, but as she stared at Garin’s wound
, bleeding copiously and the ragged flesh around it - fear assailed her.  She didn’t want to cauterize it but if the bleeding did not stop, Garin would die.

****

Simon stood back, his stomach knotting in worry as he gazed at his best friend and brother i
n arms l
ying so still in his bed. H
e had one comfort in watching Alyna.  Her hands moved with gentle surety.  Simon had seen many healers in the Holy Land.  Some were the finest this age had ever known but others were nothing more than butchers.  Alyn
a, he knew in his heart, was one of the finest, and she cared deeply for Garin. 

Simon knew Garin had been wounded in their final battle before leaving the Holy Land, but he had no idea
it festered so terribly.  N
ow he understood why Garin had struggl
ed with bouts of dizziness and weakness on the journey home.  Simon thought it only due to exhaustion and lack of food.  Why hadn’t he realized?  Why hadn’t he taken action?  It was his duty--

A soft, choked sob caught his attention and he looked up startl
ed.  Juliana stood at the open door, trembling violently, her face pallid and eyes wide.  Garin’s blood still stained her hand.

Simon quickly picked up a clean cloth and strode to her.  “My lady,” he said
gently, taking her hand in his and cleaning the blo
od from it.

“
Oh, Simon, what have I done?”  She stared up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“
You have done nothing,” Simon said firmly.  “Garin was wounded in the war.  Even I did not know it was this bad.”

She started to reply but tears abruptly strea
med down her cheeks and she covered her mouth with her free hand.  Simon wrapped an arm around her and quickly guided her into the corridor where she sobbed against his shoulder.

“
I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“
I know, Juliana.  Worry not, Alyna is a fine he
aler.”

She lifted her head, staring up at him.  Simon felt a strange tightness in his chest which he had never experienced before.  He automatical
ly stepped closer to her.  H
is gaze lingered over her face and agonized blue eyes.  Simon instantly recogn
ized a return to the sweet Juliana he once knew.

The warmth of her gentle fingers sent a fire searing through his callused hand - a hand only worthy of bearing a sword in battle, not of holding a gentle bred lady.

“
Juliana,” Peter said sharply, striding to
ward them.

Simon released her, focusing his attention on cleaning the blood from her hand.

“
Aye, Peter?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“
What ha
s befallen your brother?”  H
is voice lacked any care or compassion.

“
He...he was wounded...I didn’t know, Pet
er.”

Peter glared at Simon, who returned his gaze with stony silence.  “Come,” Peter said, taking her arm none too gently. 

Simon stiffened, automatically stepping forward, but he managed to stop himself.

“
You are distraught,” Peter continued.  “We shall
fetch you a cup of wine.”  He wrapped his arm around Juliana’s and strode away.

The tightness in Simon’s chest increased as his gaze remained locked on Juliana’s arm entangled with Peter’s.  Then he automatically denied it, certain the sensation was caused
only by his weariness and worry of his friend.

A servant appeared bearing a tray with cups of wine.  Simon acquired one, remaining in the corridor and staring in the direction Juliana had vanished. 

Drinking deeply, Simon battled the errant thoughts with
in him.  He should not be feeling such things, Juliana was the daughter of a baron, and a lady of breeding.  Simon was nothing more than a constable knight, with only Renwick Hall as his inheritance.  The land was prime but not enough to justify winning a
noble born lady.

S
eeing Juliana on Peter’s arm, galled Simon to no end.  The sod was equal in rank to her, but nothing more.  Peter had been knighted simply because his father could afford the expense and the boy king, Henry, was in dire need of knight
s.  Indeed, few could afford to become knights now and the justice duties of the assize bore heavily on all. 

Simon had been lucky, his natural talent and strength granted him attention of other knights.  Most notably Sir Salkeld, Alyna’s father, who took
a special interest in training him.  Simon had done
well under his tutelage.  A
fter the death of his wife, Salkeld left Kirkoswald to raise his newborn daughter alone.  Garin’s father became Simon’s patron.  Had it not been for Harold Swein’s sponsors
hip, Simon never would
have boasted the gold spurs because of the great expense even though his own father had been a fine knight and constable.

But Peter came by the knightly title only through money, not skill.  The active knights scornfully called Peter
and others like him, Holy Mary’s knights.  Although Simon noted in the past that Peter did have good speed and reflexes.  He probably would have made a skilled knight if he had applied himself to his training.  Peter had not and entered lists only when he
could not avoid them and then usually even a squire could best him. 

Simon snorted to himself and took another drink, returning to Garin’s room
to stand watch over his friend b
ut his thoughts continued to prick him like thorns.  As to war, Peter would
have been dead the moment he set foot in the Holy Land.  What Juliana saw in the sod, Simon would never know.

****

Alyna did not know the hour but if exhaustion was any judge - it was close to dawn.  She sat back and closed her eyes, fighting her tears.
Garin was delirious and had developed a high fever.

Fortunately, Alyna had managed to stop the bleeding and cut away the infection.  She had stitched the wound closed but as Garin thrashed in his delirium, blood spotted the bandage.  Many times, Alyna, he
r father, and Simon would have to hold Garin down to keep him from tearing his stitches out completely.

Alyna had also found many bug bites on Garin’s legs and arms.  They developed into a rash and Alyna used a decoction of Gooseberry leaves to cool the ho
t swelling.  She also bathed Garin in cold water to help keep his fever down.

Her father squeezed her shoulder and gazed down at her, his dark eyes worried.  “His mother told me the monk is insisting on a bleeding.”

Alyna’s stomach twisted.  The healer who
taught Alyna the ancie
nt ways detested bleeding. 
Alyna possessed her own reasons to hate it.  Her father said bloodletting had caused the death of her mother when Alyna was born.  Geoff blamed the passing of his beloved wife on the priest who tended
her.

“
Garin has lost too much blood already,” Alyna said softly.  “With his high fever, and weakness from malnutrition, bloodletting may kill him.”

“
I know,” Geoff said.  “I managed to convince Eleanor to refuse the monk but he keeps badgering her.”

Alyna
sighed and rubbed her eyes. 

“
You need to get some rest,” her father said.

She shook her head stubbornly.  “I don’t want to leave him.”

She heard a soft knock and Eleanor opened the door.  “How is he?” she asked wringing her hands nervously.

“
The same.”

Eleanor approached and looked down at her son, grief-stricken.  Suddenly her eyes widened.  “Oh sweet Mary, no, this can’t be possible.”

“
What is it?” Alyna asked, her heart lurching.

“
The rash,” she paused and looked closer, her face draining of all color
.  “He has the same fever that killed his father.”

“
What?”