Page 25 of The Dragon Ring
Merlin departed with Cottia in search of what I’d asked for. They weren’t gone long. Cottia had the sewing equipment. Rather unwillingly, she handed it over, then sat down next to Cei, where she could best keep her eye on me and make sure I didn’t hurt her precious Arthur.
I poured some of the spirit into the emptied bowl and then soaked the threaded needle, hoping it would be enough to sterilize them both, and that twenty-four hours wasn’t too long after the wound had been made for stitching. Then I poured a liberal dose of the spirits over the open wound, drawing a short gasp and wince of pain from Arthur. I finally dowsed my own hands in spirit as an afterthought, mentally crossing my fingers. I wasn’t working in what I’d have called clinical conditions.
“This is going to hurt,” I warned him, taking his hand again.
Cottia’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the table. If looks could have killed…
“Go on,” he said, “it’s no matter. I’ll have had worse.”
The needle was sharp, thank goodness, but even so I had difficulty getting it through the tough skin on the back of his hand. However, all I heard was a sharp intake of breath from him, and his hand never moved. Carefully, I made a stitch holding the wound together and tied it off. Merlin cut the thread for me, and I moved on to a second stitch. Beads of sweat formed on Arthur’s forehead, but as they were on mine too, I ignored them. The mouth of the wound began to come together, until at last, after six more stitches, I had it closed entirely from end to end. Merlin cut the last thread, and I set down the needle with a sigh I couldn’t hide.
Arthur looked up. “I don’t know who was more worried about that, you or me. You keep a steady hand for one so nervous.”
A laugh of relief escaped me. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
Cei picked up the now half-empty bottle of spirits and took a long swig from it, then passed it to Arthur. He did the same, and putting it down, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “A bit more of that and I won’t feel a thing.”
“I’ll have a bit more.” I picked up the bottle with a slightly shaking hand and took a mouthful. It ran fiery hot down my throat again. “And now a fresh bandage– which must stay clean and dry. You mustn’t use this hand for anything that might make the stitches come apart, or make it dirty. That’s very important.” He really needed a course of antibiotics, but that was impossible. He’d have to take his chances. Having applied honey to the wound, I carefully bound the hand with a clean linen pad and fresh bandages.
Arthur looked up at me. His solemn face softened into a smile. He gave a little bow of his head. “Thank you, Lady Guinevere.” His dark eyes twinkled. “I think you’ve come to us at an opportune moment, and already proved your worth. Will you tend to my other warriors who also have been wounded?”
Others? Of course, there’d be others after a battle. For the first time I felt there was a real reason for my being there. I couldn’t say no. I nodded.
“Bring them here and I’ll look at them, but I’ll need a lot more hot water and cloths and spirit. It’s the spirit that cleanses the wound. If dirt’s in a wound, even dirt you can’t see, it can fester. And if the invisible dirt gets into the blood, then sickness follows, and soon after that, death.” It was the best explanation I could think of, especially as I was only a first aider and was just going on information I’d read in the papers about sepsis. I was glad I’d watched so many hospital soap operas. You can learn a lot from television.
Arthur nodded to his brother, who, like Cottia, was still glaring at me. “You’d better fetch Bran and Tegid.”
Cei got to his feet, pushing back the solid wooden bench he was sitting on as though it weighed nothing, and disappeared out of the Hall to fulfill his mission. Merlin went in search of more spirits, and Cottia, muttering under her breath, left to get more hot water and clean cloths. Arthur and I were alone.
It was quiet in the Great Hall. The flames in the hearth fire crackled loudly in the silence, and from outside came the sound of voices calling and a dog barking. I was much too close to Arthur and his raw masculinity for my own liking.
He looked me up and down in a speculative fashion.
“Do you like what you see?” I asked him in annoyance. Was I a horse to be judged by my appearance?
The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. One thing I’d never have expected the real Arthur to be was so full of good humor. “What’s not to like?” he retorted. “You’re beautiful, you fill your gown well, you look strong and have good child-bearing hips. What more could a man want?”
A lot,I thought crossly, but what I said was, “That’s a bit shallow.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand. What d’you mean, shallow?”
“Judging someone by their appearance only, not by personality.”
“Well, so far your personality seems pleasing, too.” He paused. “And you have some very useful skills.” He held up his bandaged hand. “I can almost bring myself to agree with Merlin that it would be a good idea to marry you.”
“Almost?”
Why did I feel offended? After all, I didn’t want to marry him myself.
He shrugged. “I’m not looking for a wife. Merlin is. Well, he’s looking for one for me. I don’t need a wife. Not yet. Now’s not the time.”
“What about the prophecy?”
“Huh.” He got to his feet. “You believe that story?”
I shook my head. “Why would I? How could anyone predict the future?”
As I said the words it occurred to me that he was, in fact, talking to the one person on earth who could do just that. If he only knew. However, everything known about Arthur in my time could be written on the back of a penny piece, and all the rest dismissed as speculation. So I could only begin to guess at his future. I had no idea what bits of the hundreds of legends about him were true and which were made up.
