SOME DISTURBING INFORMATION
It took two days before Rufus was considered ready to return. He waited for the cart-horses who hauled the too badly wounded after them. He turned to look at the troops who walked behind.
“Lots of casualties, eh?”
Blanchard said nothing. He just sighed. His face said it all. He still had a bandage on his forehead though his eyes had stopped swelling. He looked like himself again. Rufus gave a long sigh.
“Well, we're almost home.”
Blanchard nodded. “He's looking grim.” He nodded toward their commander. He rode at the front of the column, Rufus and Blanchard in the midst.
“He's feeling badly,” Rufus said levelly. The man blamed himself.
Blanchard sighed. “He didn't tell us all to come out here and inflict ourselves.”
Rufus chuckled. “No, he didn't. He's not thinking clearly.”
Blanchard rolled his eyes. “He'll not be alone...I think the last time my head was this addled was when I fell on the village field and some blighters kicked it for me.”
Rufus couldn't help a laugh. It hurt his head so he held it in.
“I won't ask.”
“No,” Blanchard grinned. “I wouldn't, myself.”
They both chuckled. Rufus found himself watching the knights who were riding behind the leading charger. They were all tired and riding slowly, all bandaged. Of all of them he could hardly see anyone who wasn't injured to some degree.
He felt the wrongness settle on him and decided to ride to the head of the column. He had to speak to their lead officer. The man shouldn't bear all that unassisted.
The ride took longer than he would have thought and by the time he reached the top of the column his head was aching sorely. He found his thoughts straying to Amabel as he rode.
He had no idea how she thought of coming to find him here. It was so wild he could barely imagine it had happened and half-considered he'd dreamed the whole episode. She had stayed with them until the least wounded among them – and he figured in that head count – were ready to go. Then she had ridden back to the town and thence, presumably, to court.
That lady is indomitable.
He couldn't imagine anyone who could tell her what to do and, more to the point, couldn't imagine how anyone might wish to. She was a force of grand proportion and he would not think of it.
He recalled how her hands had worked on him and he was at once moved and grateful that she'd intervened like that. He thought that he would not have recovered nearly so quickly without her. He was still smiling, recalling her cutting critique, when he reached the front of the column.
“You're cheerful,” his commander said acidly.
He sighed. “I suppose I am,” he said, quickly wiping off his grin. He realized at once how wrong it was for the situation.
“Well, I don't mind,” he said aridly. “You carry on. At least someone's cheerful.”
Rufus sighed. “How bad was it, sir?” he asked.
The man fixed him with that flat gray gaze. It was like a sword striking his cheek and he flinched, the weight of the bleakness hurting his heart.
“We have lost a fifth of them,” he said thinly.
Rufus stared. A fifth! That was ten men. Of the wounded, some weren't likely to walk. He had not had any idea the losses had been so great. “We're overcoming insurrection?”
“We quashed it,” he said with a voice that sounded like sword striking shield.
“Good.”
He rode silently alongside him for a way. He couldn't stop thinking about Amabel and he knew that he'd probably start smiling again. To his surprise, his commander smiled at him.
“You seem like you recovered well.” he sounded glad.
“I did,” Rufus said, wonderingly.
“I heard there was some assistance,” he said.
“You did?”
He nodded. “The men were all quite tight about it. I questioned them, but they had interesting tales. Apparently, a vision from the outermost reaches of their feverish dreams condensed and healed them. I asked the priest what in the devil he's been putting in those poultices, to make them hallucinate so well, but he was secretive.”
The smile wove through Rufus, amusing him.
“It's true, my lord,” he said. “I saw it myself.”
“You did?” he asked. “You also had an enchanted poultice? Well, for compassion's sake give me some.”
Rufus laughed. “You don't need to hallucinate, sir. She exists!”
“Now I doubt that your head's as healed as the physician suggested.”
“No, really,” Rufus insisted, wondering if the man honestly thought they'd all lost their minds on the priest's new poultice. “Her name is Amabel.”
He stared.
“Lady Amabel?”
“You know her?” Rufus was surprised.
He chuckled harshly. “I don't know her, man. I've heard of her, though. We all have.”
“Why?”
“Well, she is, as I said before, feverishly lovely. No wonder all the fellows think they're hallucinating now.” He shook his head. “But what's she doing?”
“She thought we needed assistance,” Rufus said.
His commander nodded. “Well, she was right.”
“Yes, she was.”
“We could do with any assistance we could get,” he added wryly. “A new cart would be nice. I had to take this one on loan from the abbey.”
“I know, sir,” Rufus supplied.
“I know that's not the sort of help she was doing,” he added grimly. “But we are in a mess. I'm glad to have you here, by the way. An experienced individual.”
“I am, sir,” he agreed.
“Now, we need carts,” he said. “I need men. We need armor. And yes, we did need someone to deal with casualties,” he added with a sigh. “Though why the perdition she thought she was the one to do it, I've no idea. It's not the task for ladies.”
“No,” Rufus supplied. He found he was surprisingly angry about that. The lady had risked much to come here. He could at least acknowledge her help.
“No need to look at me like that,” his commander chuckled. “I'm telling the truth.”
“I suppose,” Rufus said thinly. “But you have to admire the lady.”
“I do admire the lady,” he agreed. “So do all of the court.”
“But?” Rufus had an idea he was going to say something. Anything on the subject of Lady Amabel was of interest.
“But she's promised to Lord Callum.”
“No.”
Rufus stared at him. It wasn't possible. How could it be? If she was, he would know – she would say...
“It's true, good sir.”
It felt as if the whole world had stopped.
He looked around. He was deaf and blind. Nothing made sense to him. He couldn't see or hear or feel the saddle under him. He had no sense of anything. Was there sense in anything?
“I'll join the end,” he said.
He rode to the end of the column. He couldn't ride up here. He didn't want anyone to see him and he didn't want to see anyone. He was as shaken as if that sword had struck him.
He rode past the men riding up to the hill. He passed the carts of the wounded men. Some of them smiled at him – they recognized him as the instigator, somehow, of their surprise assistant.
He joined the rear of the column and didn't blink.
A man rode up and he turned to hear the hoof beats. It was Blanchard.
He turned away sharply. Whatever the man had to say to him, he didn't want to hear it.
He didn't want to hear anything anymore.
The depth of his reaction surprised him.
“You've only known her a week.”
He sighed. It didn't matter. He already felt closer to her than to anyone else he'd ever known, he trusted her.