Page 104 of The Falcon Laird
On the floor, his uncle was just sitting up, moaning. He placed his hand to his head in exploration, then looked up at Gavin and grinned. “I’m fine, lad,” he said hoarsely.
Gavin chuckled. “I’d expect naught less, you tough old Scot. You are indestructible.”
“If the Saracen devils in the Holy Land did not get me, then that cowardly king’s demon could not do the deed,” he said as he got to his feet. “Who trained those wee birdies?”
“Just luck,” Gavin said. “Though they surely came when we needed them most.”
“They were sent by the angels,” Christian said.
John laughed gruffly. “Aye, those doves looked like a flock o’ angels sweeping the king’s demon to his death. It is a sight I will not forget. And I will not eat dove pie again, I can tell you that.”
“I’ll show you a sight you’ve never seen before, John,” Gavin said. “Come through here.” He moved toward the huge door, stopping to put an arm around Christian’s shoulders ashe waited for his uncle to enter the chamber. Christian leaned against him wearily, and he glanced at her in concern.
John passed them to walk down the shallow steps. The lamp light still flickered within, illuminating the glittering walls.
“The hidden gold of Kilglassie,” John said, turning slowly in astonishment. “It is beautiful.”
“In the very heart of the stone, just as the legend says,” Gavin said.
“This must be the treasure that is meant to support the throne of Scotland,” John said. “Robert Bruce will be interested in this. By now he will have won Kilglassie from Hastings’s men.”
Christian looked up at Gavin. “Will you try to gain it back for England?”
“Kilglassie is my home, and I will defend it if it is needed. But King Edward has named me a traitor to England,” Gavin answered quietly. “I have no king, now, who expects me to hold a castle for his purposes.”
“My cousin burns Scottish castles when he gains them back. He will scorch Kilglassie, as he had me do once before.”
Gavin gestured toward the gleaming walls. “Let him see this before he decides to scorch our home.”
She nodded silently. He noticed her pallor, and how heavily she leaned against him. Rubbing her arm, he kissed the crown of her head.
John went toward the door. “I’ll go up through the well and see wha’ has happened inside the castle. And Robert Bruce must come down here. I’ll see to it.”
“John, be careful,” Christian said. “Hastings’s men may be waiting.”
“I will be fine,” he said. “You do not need to come with me, Gavin. Stay here and see to your lady. She’s looking muckle pale.I will not be gone long.” He stepped out into the corridor and was soon wriggling through the opening in the well wall.
“Are you ill?” Gavin asked Christian. “You look like you cannot stand up any longer.”
“I’m fine,” Christian said. “Only let me sit.” She took a step forward, but her knees seemed to buckle under her. Gavin caught her up in his arms, ignoring the stiff pain in his shoulder. Walking further into the chamber, he set her gently on the floor, kneeling beside her.
Christian gasped and stared at a long tear in her skirt that was soaked with blood. She drew the cloth up over her knee and sucked in her breath.
Across her thigh, well above her knee, was a long gash. Blood had soaked through her hose and skirts. When she shoved down her woolen hose, exposing the wound, blood trickled freely down her leg.
She looked at Gavin, her face pale. He saw that her hands shook violently. “I felt some pain in my leg and knew ’twas cut. But I did not think ’twas like this,” she said.
“It happens like that in battle sometimes. In the turmoil, you did not notice the pain, or how badly you were cut. How did it happen?” He took her garter and twisted it tightly around her leg, just above the gash. Then he tore a strip of clean cloth from her linen undertunic, folded it, and pressed it firmly over the wound.
“I felt something sting as I fell down with Hastings,” she said. “His dagger.”
“We need to stop the bleeding. And the gash is open. This pressure will help, but the cut will need stitching.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded, calm and uncomplaining. He wished profoundly that he could take this pain away from her. He knew her so well now; he knew that her very essence was made of finely tempered strength. She could endure anyhurt, any crisis, and triumph. But he did not want her to suffer anymore, in body or in heart.
“You will be fine,” he said, as he pressed on her leg.
“I know,” she whispered. “You are here.” She put her hand over his. “Gavin, touch me. Use your hands.”
