The Knight and The Healer: A Medieval Romance (2 page)

She arrived at Sir Malcolm's door to find there had been some changes. How is our patient doing"?

"He seems to be on the edge of waking up. His body has been moving a bit and he groans every now and again." Lady Margaret replied.

Beth turned to Leah and said "I've made a vinegar and mint poultice. We'll use it after I've cleaned him up. So could you soak some rags?"

First, Beth washed the wound with warm water. The dried blood came off with limited scrubbing and she had a chance to closely study the wound. The wound was a slashing strike with sharp edges versus a gash with ragged edges. That boded well for a recovery.

Beth liberally applied honey to the wound site  before closing the wound which she then sewed shut with catgut. Leah had soaked clean rags with the vinegar mix and laid the strips directly on the wound.

While Beth was washing Sir Malcolm's face, his eyelids fluttered but didn't open. Beth thought that was a very good sign. His temperature seemed normal.

She noticed, for the first time, even with several days' stubble, how really handsome Sir Malcolm was.

Thinking back, the appeal of his broad shoulders, trim waist and well-developed musculature were obvious when she first saw him lying on the bed.

She felt a faint blush and hoped Lady Margaret hadn't noticed. She reminded herself this is a patient not a man, lying nearly naked in front of her.

He began to stir and, suddenly, he opened his eyes

The deep blue eyes stared directly into hers. He said "What is going on? What has happened to me?" He glanced down at the cloths covering his wound.  "and who might you be, my beauty? Whatever it was, it hurts like hell!"

Lady Margaret approached the bed. "This, Mal, is our healer, Lady Elizabeth Duncan. She literally brought you back from the dead. In fact, the prior, Father Ditmas, gave you last rites just yesterday." You are way past introductions, but, Lady Elizabeth, this reprobate is the famous Sir Malcolm McIvor."

"If you are responsible of me still being on this good earth, I am particularly glad to have made your acquaintance."

"Well, you are not yet out the woods, you have days of recovery ahead of you."

"If you will excuse me, I must tell Paul you're awake. I'll have the servants' bring in the treasures that have been accumulating outside your door. And I'll be back soon," Lady Margaret said to Mal as she left the room.

No sooner had she opened the door when a woman pushed her way through it. She was plump with nut brown hair flowing down her back and beautifully attired. She rushed to Malcolm's bed, leaning toward his startled body, "Oh, my darling. You still live."

Malcolm struggled vainly to cover his body. Beth aggressively grabbed the intruder and dragged her away from the bedside. "I don't know what you are doing, or who you are but, this man is very ill and cannot be disturbed."

"Well, I am Lady Celia, chief lady in waiting to Lady Margaret. I don't know who you are to think you can touch your betters in such a rude way. I promise you'll answer for it. But, for now, you can go! I will supervise Sir Malcolm's care from now on."

"How will you do that? You have no idea of the magnitude of his injuries. And, I'm certain you haven't had 5 minutes of training in the healing arts or you could see how sick he is," shouted a very angry Beth.

"Ladies, please. Celia, I'll see you later, you'd best go now."

With that, Celia stomped out the door.

"I'm sorry for that display, she gets carried away sometimes."

"Is she your lover?"

"Ouch, don't say that. It hurts too much to laugh. Absolutely not. In truth I am her lover only in her dreams."

Servants began bringing in all manner of flowers nearly filling the room and adding their fragrance. Lady Margaret had already directed all the foodstuff and perishables to the kitchen.

"Look at this display", Beth said as she looked around the room," you must be well-loved."

"Frankly, this kind of makes me blush. They must not know me very well."

“Well, back to business. What kind of pain are you experiencing?"

“I'm pretty uncomfortable, mainly my chest is stinging.”

"I want you to drink this potion I've prepared. It will help you sleep. Sleep and time are the two things you need the most. I'm sorry about the taste."

Turning to Lady Margaret who had returned, Beth observed, "Of course, I can't watch him day and night. So, if I am not here, someone needs to watch for signs of infection. If the wound oozes pus, yellow or green, fetch me immediately. Also, watch for redness seeming to spread from the wound."

Lady Margaret replied, "Of course, decorum requires two women to be in a room with a single man, so there will be people with him all times. They will report any change to you and to me lest you be unavailable."

"I trust one of the watchers will not be Lady Cecila?

"She will not," Lady Margaret promised.

* * *

Beth was very concerned about the possibility Mal would become infected. Usually, the honey worked as a preventative, but his wound was deep. She was thinking about the risk as she walked home.

The first thing she did, after lighting the tapers, was to go to several brass pots arrayed on the second shelf. She looked inside them and found all three were nearly empty.

To refill them, she needed to make more of Uncle Alfred's potion, 'the brass pot remedy'. This was Uncle Alfred's special potion. Her uncle's research discovered this ancient remedy was used by the early Romans to cure gladiators' wounds. He shared the formula with her, but she and he were the only ones who knew it in the region. In part, because it was complicated to make.

The potion consisted of leek and garlic in equal amounts, pounded into a paste. Next, old wine and gall from a cow's stomach was added.  It was critical that the mix soak for nine days in a brass container. After the nine days of aging, it was applied to the wound area.

She hoped she wouldn't need the potion, but, as a healer she needed to be prepared.

Several extra chairs had been brought into Sir Mal's bedroom. Father Tobias took the seat on the left, his fraternal twin, Sir Morgan, sat on the right. While Sir Paul was definitely the Laird of Klayloch, he always made an effort to involve his brothers when there were serious subjects to discuss.

"We cannot tolerate an attack on our knights. It shows total disrespect and weakens us both in the eyes of our Clan and our foes. We are just lucky Mal here isn't dead today. Our problem is we don't know what happened. His memory is very foggy about the events that put him in this bed.

"He is missing his broadsword, "Intrepid", and his stallion "Black.” That sword was given to him when he was knighted nearly a decade ago. And Black is a vetted and blooded stallion whose value in battle has proven invaluable over the years. Mal, and we, cannot afford to lose either.

"Black's recovery is the easiest. I have dispatched our best tracker, Denis Brewer, with a couple of knights and I expect to hear something soon. Mal tells me as soon as he physically restored he wants to find the sword and return it to his hilt. I've given him leave to do so." Paul reported.

"We also continue to suffer raids near Nor'castle. The losses aren't particularly large but the tenants are complaining about the lack of protection from our House.

"Here, I am of two minds. We either try to catch the thieves in the act and get the name of the sponsor but that could take some time or we raid the adjacent territory and recover out property. That creates the possibility of a full-blown feud with Clan MacDugal with the potential loss of life. What do you think?" Paul asked.

Morgan was the first to speak. "I think we should go to Nor'castle and go in force. My men are getting stale with all the repetitive training. Let's turn them loose on a real operation."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I want to make a full sweep across the border. We should check every cow and every sheep we can find to see if the animal carries our mark. If it does, there is no question we are entitled to claim it as our own. Then, there is the matter of compensation. I think for every animal with our mark we find, the farmer forfeits two head.  And, since It needs to really hurt, perhaps we burn his stored hay and grain.  I want these bastards to shiver in fear at the thought of ever touching our property again.

"I think that fancified Laird, Sir Victor de Burque, will feel obliged to pay his tenants for the damages and that should put a big crimp in his purse."

Paul asked "How long do you think we should be gone from our castle?"

"I think a fortnight would be just long enough!"

"It sounds about right, but I do not want to go in blind. Mal, you've used spies before. Do you have a couple we can use? Your men are seasoned and they know what they are looking for.

"Sure, I can do that. . .but I can't even get out of this bed without help. So, it looks like I can't be going along with you on the strike. I'll have to stay here and recover with the pretty Beth.

Boos and whistles ensued as the men filed out of the room.

* * *

It was midafternoon and The Dancing Goat was nearly empty. The brew house was just north of the Castle's main gate. The brew master produced decent ale while his wife waited on tables. They were long-time residents of the Castle grounds and provided Castle Klayloch with much of its brew.

Paul and Morgan had taken a seat at a table near the back. They were nursing a couple of cold ales.

"Have you met Mal's spies before," asked Paul.

"I may have met one but I'm not sure. They like anonymity. Mal swears by them though, so I'm looking forward to their report. They should be here any minute."

Two men, dressed as peasants, entered the 'Goat'. As their eyes adjusted, they saw the brothers in the back and waved. They joined them.

"My Laird, Sir Morgan. Good to meet you in person. I'm Melchior Dunlay, this is my partner, Gavin McBee." The older of the two spoke. "We just returned from Nor'castle an hour ago. Let's talk after Gav and I have an ale, we're a bit dry."  The brewmaster's wife hurried to the table with two foaming mugs.

Dunlay did most of the talking. He was clearly the leader but quite disheveled. "After we got to Nor'castle, we easily slipped across the border.  We started by checking pens and pastures near the border. It didn't take long to find animals with your marks. In one case, there were only sheep, no cows, on the farmer's land. They were tended by a couple of young herdsmen. We saw no signs of soldiers."

"We must have checked a dozen farms and found your animals, mainly sheep, in every one. Some had quite a few while others just a random two or three. In no case did we see soldiers. I'm afraid most of the cattle have already been slaughtered or sent to market."

"We'll need to take herders and drovers with us to get the livestock back where they belong" Paul observed.

"Yesterday afternoon," Dunlay continued "We did encounter a patrol of 30 or 35 footmen led by three knights dressed in Sir Victor de Burque's colors. They were the only military we saw."

Morgan asked, "Were they heavily armed?"

"No, Sir. The soldiers just carried pikes and the knights' light armor with swords." Gavin McBee finally spoke.

"You men have done us a wonderful job. What do we owe you?" Sir Paul inquired.

"Absolutely nothing, Sire. Sir Malcolm has already taken care of us." The two men excused themselves and quickly left the 'Goat' leaving the brothers the bill.

"Well, that was good news. It sounds like surprise will be on our side. When do you want to do it?" Morgan asked.

"I'm getting increasingly angry as I sit. The nerve of Laird de Burque permitting this kind of activity. I’m thinkwe should take 50 knights and footmen and hit them hard. We should do so as soon as possible.  I can hardly wait. I don't anticipate any fixed battles, but even so, our battle-tested lads will be no match for de Burque's troops. Still, we need to leave a message they will never forget.  Forfeiture of their animals plus destroying the winter feed supply should be the lesson they need."

"I'm thinking we should only take five knights, putting them in charge of ten foot soldiers each. I also want to take one of our clerks to deal with the distribution of the livestock we'll be bringing home. Of course, every farmer in the area is going to claim they lost the most. And it goes without saying; we need some men from our stables to manage our horses. If only Mal were here, he could organize this in no time. But, he can do most of the tasks from his bed."

Morgan said "I'll tell the troops who we will be going and when. I think it is a great idea to take a clerk to help sort out the spoils.  We should be ready to march in 48 hours."

Each took his mug in hand, clicked with the other and said, in unison, "to victory."

* * *

Two days hence, the street was crowded with sixty plus soldiers and support staff. Sir Paul was at the head, Morgan was situated about halfway down the column. Upon Paul's command, the men began the march toward Nor'castle. The men were in high spirits and began singing marching chants that served to keep the units in step.

The soldiers' family members had shown up at the early assembly hour to bid their loved ones good luck and good bye. As the men began their march, the family members slowly returned to their huts and homes. In a half hour, it was as if nothing had ever happened there.

It took a day and a half of uneventful travel to pass through Nor'castle and move on across the unmarked border. They picked up a number of local drovers to deal with the expected successes. In no time, they reached the first farm. No one was home, the pens near the house were soon emptied, marked sheep and unmarked together.

A couple of the soldiers lit torches and began firing the hay barns. Still no sign of life from the farmers' places. "Take care to only burn the hay and grain and leave the house and outbuildings standing." Paul roared. He had dealt with overly exuberant men before.

The drovers began herding the sheep back down the trail they had just traveled. The sheep were complaining loudly at being disturbed. Essentially, the same steps were repeated at each and every farm in their path. In one or two cases, local farmers watched sourly at the army's work but said nothing.

After a time, Paul and Morgan were sitting on horseback and conferring near the road. "I think we should expect company any time. Why don't you send a few men out to give us advance warning if anything arises," Morgan observed. They had burned 16 farms and "rescued" their sheep. The smoke from the fires was rising straight up into the sky in a series of giant plumes. "If this smoke doesn't attract attention, I would guess they'd just surrendered the ground."

"How many places should we raid? I think we've pretty much accomplished what we came to do. What do you think?" Morgan asked.

"I was hoping, for our troops’ sake, we would have met some armed resistance. Thus far, we've spilled no blood."

No sooner had he spoken, the men began shouting. By squinting, he could see a contingent of maybe a hundred or so men marching from the north.

"Array the men, double deep and let's confront these bastards." The column flying Sir Antony de Burque's colors proceeded down the road. As they approached, he noticed they were led by a knight on a white charger. He was waving a black flag signifying a request to parlay.

"What the devil is that? Morgan exclaimed.

"It appears they want to talk, let's find out" so he nudged his stallion forward.

Sir Paul had only met de Burque on two occasions but this appeared to be him. He was small and rather light boned. He had dark hair cut short, no beard and dark brown eyes. He lacked the robust physique of most Knights.

"I'm suing for peace," de Burque said as they approached each other." I think you've taught the border raiders a sufficient lesson which, I dare say, won't need repeating."

"So, to be clear, you are saying if we stop here, turn around and go home, there will be no repercussions?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Are you in agreement?"

"We have an agreement, it would appear. Shall we seal it with a handshake?"

"Done"

Both men approached each other gingerly and, when close enough, shook the white gloved hand of the other. Without saying another word, de Burque wheeled his impressive charger and trotted away.