Page 17 of The Forsaken
“He spoke to me. He seemed aware of his surroundings,” Kate added.
“And his arm?”
“I don’t think it’s gotten worse. I will change the dressing once it gets light.”
Hugh shook his head. “There’s only one other thing we can try now,” he said, as he looked down on his brother. “I didn’t want to do it if he was dying, but if there’s even the slightest chance he will live…”
“What will you do to him?” Kate demanded. She felt protective of Guy, more so now that he’d spoken to her. She wasn’t sure why she’d been honest with him, but something in his eyes had prevented her from lying to him. Geoffrey had advised her to always trust her instinct, and her instinct had been to trust Guy de Rosel.
“I will cauterize the wound.”
She gasped. “No!”
“Sister, no amount of mead will stop the putrefaction from spreading. Guy will either live, or he will die, but we can’t remain here any longer.” Hugh added, “Will you help me?”
“Yes,” Kate whispered. Her stomach clenched at the thought of hurting Guy so badly, but Hugh was right. She had nothing on hand to treat the infection. It hadn’t gotten worse, but it hadn’t gotten better. Guy was still feverish, and the wound was oozing pus, a sure sign that the putrefaction was spreading and would soon kill him.
“I will send Walter to gather some wood for a fire,” Hugh said. He walked off, leaving Kate with Guy.
She reached for his hand and began to pray again, wishing she could give him some of her strength and vitality, and continued to pray as Walter and Hugh made a roaring fire in the nave. Its blaze seemed incongruous inside the chapel, especially since it was meant to be a healing flame and not a purifying, punishing pyre.
Kate removed Guy’s bandage and exposed the ugly wound to the light. She held her breath as the stench of decay assaulted her, but didn’t move away.
“I need you to hold his arm still,” Hugh said. “Can you do it, or should I ask Walter?”
“I can do it.”
“Probably best if you both hold him. He’s strong as an ox when he wants to be. Walter, hold his shoulder in place and Sister Catherine can hold his lower arm.”
Kate gripped Guy’s arm with both hands and held it against the stone floor by the elbow and wrist. Guy’s eyes fluttered open. He looked confused, but the sight of the glowing blade brought him to his senses and nearly undid him. His gaze filled with terror. “Please, Hugh, no,” he pleaded.
“I’m sorry, brother, it’s the only way,” Hugh replied.
The searing blade came down on the open wound, filling the chapel with the stench of roasting flesh. Guy let out an inhuman roar and went rigid as a plank, then his legs began to quiver as Hugh held the blade over the wound. Guy jerked wildly and Kate brought all her weight down on his arm to keep him from yanking it away. Had Walter not been holding his upper body, Guy would have broken free. As it was, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he mercifully lost consciousness, unable to bear the agony any longer.
Kate wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her habit once she was able to release Guy’s arm. The puckered skin was red and raw and smelled of charred flesh.
“Let it cool completely, then bind it,” Hugh commanded. “After that, we leave.”
“I must return home,” Kate told Hugh once she got hold of herself. “My parents will be frantic.”
“You’re coming with us, Sister. We can’t manage without you. You have my word that I will deliver you to your father as soon as Guy is settled in his bed and William is in his grave.”
“Seems I don’t have a choice,” Kate retorted.
“Walter can’t look after him properly on the journey,” Hugh replied, unfazed. “I need him to see to the horses and the armor. You’re doing God’s work,” he added with a sour smile.
Kate didn’t bother to argue. In truth, she couldn’t leave Guy. He needed her a lot more than her father, and he would benefit from her ministrations, even if they were feeble. She watched as Hugh and Walter tied up the armor in bundles made of their cloaks and tossed them over her horse to make room in the cart.
William’s corpse gave off a putrid odor, decomposition having set in. He’d been dead for four days, and even though the weather was cool, his corpse needed to be buried sooner rather than later. Kate tried not to look at what was left of William as she settled next to Guy, who was still insensible. Walter drove the cart, while Hugh led the horses ahead of them. The horses were spooked by the reek of death, so couldn’t be downwind from the cart.
Kate brushed Guy’s hair out of his face and laid a cool hand on his brow. His chest rose and fell evenly as he slumbered on. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his arm, which was a horrid shade of crimson beneath the bandage. She prayed they would get to where they were going soon. She could smell her own sweat and fear beneath the putrid smells in the cart, and her headitched from lack of washing. She hadn’t had a proper meal since leaving the priory, and she could feel that her courses were about to start. Her back ached, her belly cramped painfully, and her breasts were swollen and sensitive. She had nothing to use as rags if she began to bleed before they arrived at their destination, but couldn’t raise the issue with the men.
They stopped only once to buy food and feed and water the horses, and then they were on their way again. Guy came to twice, but only for a few minutes at a time. Kate tried to get him to drink, since he couldn’t manage any food, but he only took a few sips. When she spoke to him, he didn’t reply, not even with a grunt or a squeeze of the hand. The day seemed to go on forever as the cart rattled along rutted tracks and muddy lanes. Kate’s back groaned in protest and she tried to get more comfortable by leaning against the side, but had to fold her legs beneath her since William and Guy took up almost the entire cart.
It was nearly dusk by the time Hugh pointed out the shadowy bulk of Castle de Rosel in the distance. It stood squat and square on a hillside, overlooking the nearby town of Berwick, its crenellated tower dark against the lavender sky. The castle wasn’t as grand as some Kate had seen. It was more of a keep, but it looked impregnable. Kate could see the dark outlines of arrow shafts, but several glazed windows that had probably been added later also graced the top floors. The light of a candle flickered behind one of the windows, but otherwise, everything was quiet and dark.
A chorus of barking erupted as they drew closer to the castle wall, and the gate swung open, revealing a nearly toothless old man holding a lantern. “Saw ye coming, I did. We was beginning to give up hope. The Earl of Stanwyck returned from the battle two days since. Suffered heavy losses. Thank the good Lord ye’re home, Master Hugh.”
