her
heart’s wild beating. The villager’s leg was bleeding profusely,
and Dominick bent over him to examine the wound.
“Bring him to the great hall,” she shouted
up.
Dominick shaded his eyes to see where she was
then signaled he’d heard her. With one motion, he slung the injured
worker over his shoulder and carried him down the scaffolding.
Eleanor met them in the great hall. A table was cleared, and
Dominick laid his human burden on it.
Eleanor struggled to remove the fabric
covering the wound and looked to her husband. “Dominick could you
help me tear away the britches? I can’t see the wound.”
He did so, and she found the gash deep and
near the bone. Steeling herself against the ghoulish sight of torn
flesh and blood, she concentrated on what needed to be done.
Martha carried in water, bandages and clean
moss to pack in the wound. As gently as Eleanor could, she cleaned
out the debris, removing embedded splinters and dirt. All the while
Dominick stood close, keeping his hand on Henry’s shoulder while
Eleanor poked and prodded. The villager’s color was ashen and he
shook from the pain, but he never cried out.
“How is your wife, Henry?” Eleanor said as
she threaded her needle. “The baby’s due any day now, isn’t
it?”
She continued to talk casually, hoping to
distract Henry from what had to be done. “Have you picked out
names?”
“Samson, Sam, if it’s a boy and Lau. . . ra!”
he shouted as she pulled on another splinter. He gripped the table
and clenched his teeth.
“Samson, that’s a wonderful name,” Eleanor
cooed. “My grandfather’s name was Samson.”
He squeezed his eyes tight. Eleanor’s heart
went out to him.
She lightly stroked his damp forehead and
whispered close to his ear, “Henry, I’m going to place this moss
into the wound to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. I will
try my best not to cause you too much discomfort.”
Henry looked up at her with pain-filled gray
eyes that cut to her core. “Aye, my lady. I will be fine.”
She glanced at Dominick then placed the moss
in the wound and bandaged the leg. He held Henry’s shoulder tight
with one hand and used the other to immobilize the injured leg
while Eleanor tended the wound.
Martha held the candle close enough for
Eleanor to see clearly. With the first insertion of the moss, Henry
jumped, startling her. Her heart pounded like a hammer in her
chest, but she swallowed and started again. When Dominick placed
more pressure on the knee Henry groaned, but couldn’t escape
Dominick’s grip. Soon the binding was done and the blood stopped
flowing.
“I think a tankard of ale is called for after
your ordeal, Henry,” Eleanor said when she looked up from her
handiwork.
He was regaining color. “If it will ease the
pain, I most heartily accept, my lady.”
“It certainly will help.” She turned to
Dominick. “You need to stay off your leg for a while. The moss will
need time to do its work. Any undue pressure could pull the wound
apart, and it may start bleeding again.”
Henry began to protest, but Dominick stopped
him. “You will rest as the lady has ordered.” Dominick patted his
man on the shoulder. “Take advantage of this opportunity, for you
will not get another. In a few days, I will have you rebuilding a
cookhouse.”
“There is a room just up the stairs and to
your right. He can stay there. Someone will let his wife know that
he is here. Martha and I will check on him from time to time to
make sure the wound doesn’t fester.”
Dominick helped Henry off the table and
wrapped his large arm around his waist, leading him toward the
stairs.
After they were out of sight Eleanor turned
to Martha. “Henry lost a lot of blood and needs to be refortified.
Give him broth as well as the ale.” Martha nodded in agreement, and
Eleanor added, “I will check on him later this afternoon to make
sure there is no fever. He was bleeding so badly that I may have
missed a splinter or
heart’s wild beating. The villager’s leg was bleeding profusely,
and Dominick bent over him to examine the wound.
“Bring him to the great hall,” she shouted
up.
Dominick shaded his eyes to see where she was
then signaled he’d heard her. With one motion, he slung the injured
worker over his shoulder and carried him down the scaffolding.
Eleanor met them in the great hall. A table was cleared, and
Dominick laid his human burden on it.
Eleanor struggled to remove the fabric
covering the wound and looked to her husband. “Dominick could you
help me tear away the britches? I can’t see the wound.”
He did so, and she found the gash deep and
near the bone. Steeling herself against the ghoulish sight of torn
flesh and blood, she concentrated on what needed to be done.
Martha carried in water, bandages and clean
moss to pack in the wound. As gently as Eleanor could, she cleaned
out the debris, removing embedded splinters and dirt. All the while
Dominick stood close, keeping his hand on Henry’s shoulder while
Eleanor poked and prodded. The villager’s color was ashen and he
shook from the pain, but he never cried out.
“How is your wife, Henry?” Eleanor said as
she threaded her needle. “The baby’s due any day now, isn’t
it?”
She continued to talk casually, hoping to
distract Henry from what had to be done. “Have you picked out
names?”
“Samson, Sam, if it’s a boy and Lau. . . ra!”
he shouted as she pulled on another splinter. He gripped the table
and clenched his teeth.
“Samson, that’s a wonderful name,” Eleanor
cooed. “My grandfather’s name was Samson.”
He squeezed his eyes tight. Eleanor’s heart
went out to him.
She lightly stroked his damp forehead and
whispered close to his ear, “Henry, I’m going to place this moss
into the wound to stop the bleeding and prevent infection. I will
try my best not to cause you too much discomfort.”
Henry looked up at her with pain-filled gray
eyes that cut to her core. “Aye, my lady. I will be fine.”
She glanced at Dominick then placed the moss
in the wound and bandaged the leg. He held Henry’s shoulder tight
with one hand and used the other to immobilize the injured leg
while Eleanor tended the wound.
Martha held the candle close enough for
Eleanor to see clearly. With the first insertion of the moss, Henry
jumped, startling her. Her heart pounded like a hammer in her
chest, but she swallowed and started again. When Dominick placed
more pressure on the knee Henry groaned, but couldn’t escape
Dominick’s grip. Soon the binding was done and the blood stopped
flowing.
“I think a tankard of ale is called for after
your ordeal, Henry,” Eleanor said when she looked up from her
handiwork.
He was regaining color. “If it will ease the
pain, I most heartily accept, my lady.”
“It certainly will help.” She turned to
Dominick. “You need to stay off your leg for a while. The moss will
need time to do its work. Any undue pressure could pull the wound
apart, and it may start bleeding again.”
Henry began to protest, but Dominick stopped
him. “You will rest as the lady has ordered.” Dominick patted his
man on the shoulder. “Take advantage of this opportunity, for you
will not get another. In a few days, I will have you rebuilding a
cookhouse.”
“There is a room just up the stairs and to
your right. He can stay there. Someone will let his wife know that
he is here. Martha and I will check on him from time to time to
make sure the wound doesn’t fester.”
Dominick helped Henry off the table and
wrapped his large arm around his waist, leading him toward the
stairs.
After they were out of sight Eleanor turned
to Martha. “Henry lost a lot of blood and needs to be refortified.
Give him broth as well as the ale.” Martha nodded in agreement, and
Eleanor added, “I will check on him later this afternoon to make
sure there is no fever. He was bleeding so badly that I may have
missed a splinter or
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