Page 27 of Feathers in the Wind
‘I have a musket ball in my thigh, Denzil,’ Adam pointed out.
‘You’re awake and talking so it can’t be too bad,’ Denzil said. ‘Find him a horse, Rob. There are a couple of your men, Coulter, who won't be needing theirs anymore.’
‘Denzil…’ Robin protested.
‘What are you waiting for, Rob? Go and find a horse.’
As Robin stomped away, Denzil crouched down beside his brother, studying Adam’s face.
Adam sucked in his breath. His leg burned like the devil and he wondered how Denzil expected him to sit a horse.
‘If I’d known it was you, I may have taken more trouble with my aim,’ Denzil said. ‘Louise will certainly not be pleased that I missed.’
‘I don’t doubt that. How is your wife, Denzil? Still generous with her favours?’
Denzil’s eyes narrowed. ‘Louise and I have an understanding.’
Adam was tempted to laugh but he knew that would hurt his injured ribs, and if he pushed his brother too far on the subject of his wife he risked another boot to his leg.
Further banter was spared by Robin, leading a dispirited nag that had no doubt belonged to one of Adam’s troopers.
‘All right, on your feet,’ Denzil said.
Adam closed his eyes and willed himself to comply but his head spun at the thought of putting any weight on his injured leg, filling him with dread. He braced himself for another well- aimed boot from his brother, but it was Robin who bent down and, with his arm around Adam's shoulders, pulled him to his feet.
Upright, every nerve in Adam's body protested and the world began to lurch in an alarming fashion, but he forced himself straight despite the shafts of pain that suffused his body from his leg and the cracked ribs. He set his jaw. He would not give Denzil the satisfaction of seeing him fail.
He shook off Robin’s arm. ‘I’ll be fine, Rob.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Robin said, catching him as he stumbled. ‘You’re stubborn that’s all. Denzil, he can’t ride like this.’
‘Ride you will, Adam, even if I have to tie you to the saddle,’ Denzil replied. ‘It will be dark in a few hours and I would like to close some miles between here and Oxford. Now on the horse.’
Adam surveyed the unprepossessing mount Robin had found. He had no choice it seemed. He set his mind to endure what would be a hellish few hours and, with Robin’s help, managed to straddle the beast without falling off the other side. Winding his fingers into the animal’s mane, he gritted his teeth and let it do the work.
Mercifully, the weather confounded Denzil's plans. The conditions worsened, dumping cold, soaking rain on the party. Soaked to the skin and so cold he couldn’t contain his chattering teeth, Adam gave up the unequal struggle and slumped across his horse’s neck, the harsh hair of the mane resting against his face. He sensed someone ride up beside him and felt a hand on his shoulder. From a distance he heard Robin’s voice.
‘Denzil, this is ridiculous. He can’t go any further and it’s gone dark. We’re only a couple of miles from Preswood. Take him there. We can rest for the night.’
Denzil grunted and muttered something that sounded like agreement and Adam closed his eyes with relief.
Robin’s fingers tightened on him, shaking him awake. ‘Stay with us, Adam. We’re nearly at Preswood.’
They’re taking me to Perdita, he thought. Perdita, with her stillroom and her calm efficient manner that had saved the lives of the men he had brought to her after Edgehill. Perdita, whose slender body he had held in his arms on the ride back from Stratford. Perdita, whose brown eyes drifted unbidden into his dreams as they did even now.
Every step the horse took echoed her name. ‘Perdita, Perdita, Perdita.’
Through the fog of semi consciousness, the horse came to halt. Denzil could be heard arguing with a woman, but at first he couldn’t make out any words. The squabbling voices came closer and the woman said, ‘How dare you presume on us like this, Denzil Marchant.’
Joan he thought, giving Denzil a scolding just as she did when he had been a boy. The memory made him smile.
‘Perdita, thank heavens you are here,’ Joan said. ‘Denzil has a wounded man with him. See what needs to be done.’
A gentle hand touched his knee. ‘Sir, where are you hurt?’
Adam raised his head and turned toward the voice, blinking in the light of the lantern she held up to his face.
‘Perdita. I’m sorry to be a trouble.’
