Page 88 of Peregrine's Call
Tav sank back against the stone wall, dropping his sword beside him. His whole body ached, and his left arm was throbbing. He clapped a hand over the wound in his arm, feeling the sticky warmth of blood.
He didn’t see the rest of the fight clearly, but he heard Rafe shouting orders and then the well-trained horsemen chasing down the already tired opponents. The second wave of attackers that Kevan warned him about had appeared, but lingered only long enough to cover the escape of their comrades.
Rafe, enraged that any hostile force got so close to Martenkeep, began to pursue them, his own men riding in a way that scattered the attackers into the woods.
Tav closed his eyes, concentrated on breathing, and only roused himself when he heard Rafe calling his name.
At least an hour had passed. Twilight was taking over the sky. Rafe ordered Tav’s wounds bound, and then announced that they’d all stay at the bridge to keep anyone from circling back and crossing during the night.
“Let them wander through the trees or find a way through the ravine, and may they stumble and die in the night. This bridge isours.”
Blazing fires were lit, both to keep the men warm and to make it clear the bridge was defended. The horses got herded into a spot where they could crop the grasses and rest after the breakneck ride to reach the bridge. They wouldn’t want to ride them back tonight anyway—they were exhausted.
In the morning, the men took their time gathering up the makeshift camp, the sun well up when Rafe finally ordered the whole company to ride back to Martenkeep at a careful pace. Along the way, Tav recounted to Rafe nearly all that happened, up to Rafe’s seemingly miraculous appearance at the bridge.
Rafe just laughed. He wasn’t usually in league with saints and angels.
Now safe at Martenkeep, Tav woke again to the soft light of a grey afternoon. Or he thought it was afternoon. He didn’t know if he’d slept a few hours or many days. He’d believe either.
He called out, his voice emerging dry and hoarse.
An older maid opened the door. “You’re awake! Do you need anything?”
“How long have I been sleeping? Where are Rafe and Angelet?”
“Oh, it’s been near a day since you got here. I’ll fetch Sir Rafe.”
Not long after, Rafe appeared with the doctor at his side. Tav had to argue his case for getting out of bed and being allowed to eat his supper in the great hall. “I’m not an invalid, but I will be if I don’t eat at least half a roast by myself. I’m hungry.”
The doctor insisted on redressing the wound on his arm and frowned in concentration as he sniffed at the cut. “Looks and smells well enough. It seems to not be festering,” he said cautiously. He held one hand to Tav’s forehead. “No fever. That’s good.”
“So you’re saying there’s no reason why I can’t stand up and walk about and act as I normally would?”
“I suppose not,” the doctor said, “but don’t overexert yourself. Avoid all food that is green in color. Drink wine instead of ale. And don’t consort with any women. It overheats the blood and taxes the body. Even looking at women can stir up the humors and destroy a man’s inner balance. Women are in general a detriment to a calm mind and healthy body.”
Rafe’s laughter boomed in the small chamber and echoed through the hall. “That’s why we keep them around!”
The doctor wrinkled his nose and declared his advice too good to waste on bloodthirsty, brainless knights.
Rafe hustled the doctor out, and Tav dressed in new, clean clothing that had been folded neatly on a chest at the foot of the bed. The long sleeves of the tunic covered all the bandages completely. He felt at his bruises, his fingers gingerly testing how sensitive they still were. Thankfully, the ointment the doctor used worked well, and he was much improved.
Downstairs in the great hall, fires burned in each of the fireplaces at the ends of the large room, and candles flickered in sconces set all along the walls, as well as in the great iron chandelier hanging from the massive central beam. Tav made his way to the high table, speaking to several people along the way, thanking the soldiers he recognized and greeting others he didn’t know before. Then he took his seat, more weary than he’d ever admit out loud.
Angelet and Robin entered together, their figures briefly framed in the doorway. The sound in the hall dropped to almost nothing for a brief moment.
What had the doctor said about women destroying a man’s inner balance? Robin, looking like a vision, was destroying Tav’s inner balance. And his calm mind. And the sight of her was certainly stirring up something in his body.
Supper seemed to go on without end. Despite being seated next to each other, Robin barely spoke to him or indeed even looked at him for longer than the space of a glance. At one point, a boy of about thirteen years—not the same boy as earlier—dashed up to her, leaned over the table, and whispered something.
Robin’s eyes lit up and she whispered something back.
“Acer,” Angelet said sharply, having seen the boy approach. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be out of your seat and you certainly shouldn’t be whispering. It looks like gossip.”
“The fault is mine,” Robin responded, her words shielding the boy from Angelet’s censure. “I asked Acer to do a favor for me earlier and he’s merely keeping me informed.”
Acer winked and scampered away.
“What was that about?” Tav asked.
