Page 65 of Feathers in the Wind
‘No small thanks to you,’ Perdita acknowledged.
‘Aye well. It's only what any poor Christian would do.’ Mary sniffed and wiped her hands on her apron.
‘Adam?’ Perdita asked.
Mary looked up sharply. ‘He’s all right, lass. Ridden on to report to Black Tom, he has. He’ll be back later.’
Perdita looked down at the bowl of congealing oats, hoping that Mary would not notice the relief that flooded through her.
Mary nodded at the bowl. ‘You eat now. If ye’re up to it, we’ve woman’s work to do.’
‘What sort of work?’
Mary’s lips narrowed. ‘Ye’re a camp follower now, Mistress Coulter, and there’s wounded to tend to. Ye’re not given to faints and swooning at't sight of blood are ye?’
Perdita shook her head. ‘No. I tended wounded after Edgehill.’
As soon as both women had eaten, Perdita donned an apron, took off her collar and cuffs, and picking up a basket of bandages Mary thrust at her, followed her new friend across the road to the church where the wounded had been taken.
The church had become an infirmary and the wounded were laid on straw around the walls. Perdita's nose curled at the smell and her barely-cured stomach lurched. She took a breath and steeled her nerve. She could not let sensibilities overcome her when there was work to be done and she had done this work before.
Adam had paid a price for taking the supply train but it could have been worse. Three men were dead and eight wounded, with three of those close to death.
Perdita knelt beside a trooper who had a bad blow to the head and was raving in a delirium. Someone had tied a rough bandage around the hideous wound and he fought her efforts to try and redress the wound.
The trooper sat up wide eyed. ‘We mun get away! They follow us.’
‘You’re safe now. Be still.’ It came as a command, brisk and harsh but it had its effect.
At the sound of Adam’s voice, the man quieted in Perdita’s hands.
Adam knelt beside Perdita and with firm but gentle hands on the man's shoulder, they laid him back on the rough bed. ‘Let this good woman see to that wound, Oldham.’
The man turned his wide-eyed stare on to his commander's face. ‘Are they gone?’ the man asked.
‘They’re gone,’ Adam replied.
The trooper, mollified, closed his eyes.
Adam did not move as Perdita finished her task without further resistance.
‘What was he talking about?’ she asked.
Adam shrugged. ‘Any number of incidents. Before I took command of this company they had been through hell. The north was all but lost.’
‘And now?’
‘Rupert is even now marching to relieve York and the fate of the north will be decided once and for all.’
‘It will come to battle?’
‘Inevitably.’
Adam stood up with a grunt, ruefully rubbing his leg. He held out his hand and helped her up.
‘Your leg still bothers you?’ Perdita asked.
He shook his head. ‘My leg’s fine. I’ve been on horseback the better part of three days. I’m just tired.’ He looked around the church. ‘And my men here are in considerably more need of your hands than I am.’
