wassurely no more than thirteen or fourteen, she thought, from the size of him. But looking at him, Attica could understand why de Jarnac had thought her so young if he had compared her to this lad. The squire might have the ruddy cheeks and smooth forehead of a boy, but his eyes were old.
Thank you, she said. By gritting her teeth with determination, she managed to find the strength to push away from the chestnut and go help untie the bonds that held Walter to the back of the big roan.
The sudden cessation of movement had brought Walter to semiconsciousness. As she reached his side, the groom groaned and lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, then rolled back in his head.
Watch it, she heard de Jarnac say from behind her. He's going to fall.
She stretched out her arms to stop Walter Brie slipping sideways from the roan's back, but he came crashing down on top of her, buckling her beneath the impact of his unconscious weight.
She heard the click of de Jarnac's spurs on the stairs and felt the overwhelming power and size of his man's body ashe came up behind her, his strong arms enfolding her, his hard chest pressing against her back as he lifted Walter from her. I've got him, de Jarnac said, his face close enough to hers that the warmth of his breath ruffled her hair. Move out of the way.
She ducked beneath his arm and backed away, oddly shaken.
I'll get his legs, said the infirmarer, hurrying down the steps. He was an incredibly tall, thin monk with a long but gentle face and the almost emaciated form of a hermit. As Attica watched, the two men lifted Walter Brie's unconscious body between them and carried him up the steps.
She followed them through the infirmary door, which opened directly into a small hall lit by four long, tall windows, their shutters thrown open to the midday sun. Put him in here, she heard the infirmarer say as he backed down a dark corridor to the curtained doorway of a small cell. They hefted the groom up onto the low pallet and he groaned again, a dark rivulet of fresh blood gushing from his wound to run over de Jarnac's supporting arm and drop in bright red splotches at his feet.
At the sight, Attica made a thin, strangling sound in her throat. De Jarnac's head fell back, his brows lowering as he realized she had followed them into the cell. There's no need for you to see this if it distresses you. He straightened. You might as well make use of the time to find yourself something to eat. You look as if you're ready to collapse yourself.
Attica shook her head. I should stay with him.
De Jarnac shrugged and turned away to help the infirmarer, who had already begun to strip off Walter's tunic. As you wish, he said, no longer looking at her. But be warned. I leave as soon as his wound is tended. And if youbecome too tired and hungry to keep up with me, I won't wait for you.
He would do it , she thought, staring at his hard, implacable profile. She could see nothing but ruthlessness in every set feature. Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and left.
Attica knew she needed to eat, but it wasn't until she neared the door of the abbey's old timber kitchen and smelled the enticing scents of roasting meat and simmering pottage that she realized just how hungry she was. Her stomach rumbled louder than a waterfall, and it occurred to her that she probably felt faint almost as much from hunger as from exhaustion.
In the end, she ate far more than she had expected, leaning against the warm trunk of an apple tree in the orchard and washing the food down with several droughts of watered ale. She might even have dozed, if the distant lowing of a cow hadn't brought back to her the passage of time.
Mother of God, she whispered. She leapt to her feet, seized by the sudden terror that de Jarnac had already left, without her. Her heart pounding in her chest, she raced across the abbey's carefully tended garden and entered the infirmary at a quick half run.
After the
Thank you, she said. By gritting her teeth with determination, she managed to find the strength to push away from the chestnut and go help untie the bonds that held Walter to the back of the big roan.
The sudden cessation of movement had brought Walter to semiconsciousness. As she reached his side, the groom groaned and lifted his head. His eyes fluttered open, then rolled back in his head.
Watch it, she heard de Jarnac say from behind her. He's going to fall.
She stretched out her arms to stop Walter Brie slipping sideways from the roan's back, but he came crashing down on top of her, buckling her beneath the impact of his unconscious weight.
She heard the click of de Jarnac's spurs on the stairs and felt the overwhelming power and size of his man's body ashe came up behind her, his strong arms enfolding her, his hard chest pressing against her back as he lifted Walter from her. I've got him, de Jarnac said, his face close enough to hers that the warmth of his breath ruffled her hair. Move out of the way.
She ducked beneath his arm and backed away, oddly shaken.
I'll get his legs, said the infirmarer, hurrying down the steps. He was an incredibly tall, thin monk with a long but gentle face and the almost emaciated form of a hermit. As Attica watched, the two men lifted Walter Brie's unconscious body between them and carried him up the steps.
She followed them through the infirmary door, which opened directly into a small hall lit by four long, tall windows, their shutters thrown open to the midday sun. Put him in here, she heard the infirmarer say as he backed down a dark corridor to the curtained doorway of a small cell. They hefted the groom up onto the low pallet and he groaned again, a dark rivulet of fresh blood gushing from his wound to run over de Jarnac's supporting arm and drop in bright red splotches at his feet.
At the sight, Attica made a thin, strangling sound in her throat. De Jarnac's head fell back, his brows lowering as he realized she had followed them into the cell. There's no need for you to see this if it distresses you. He straightened. You might as well make use of the time to find yourself something to eat. You look as if you're ready to collapse yourself.
Attica shook her head. I should stay with him.
De Jarnac shrugged and turned away to help the infirmarer, who had already begun to strip off Walter's tunic. As you wish, he said, no longer looking at her. But be warned. I leave as soon as his wound is tended. And if youbecome too tired and hungry to keep up with me, I won't wait for you.
He would do it , she thought, staring at his hard, implacable profile. She could see nothing but ruthlessness in every set feature. Wordlessly, she turned on her heel and left.
Attica knew she needed to eat, but it wasn't until she neared the door of the abbey's old timber kitchen and smelled the enticing scents of roasting meat and simmering pottage that she realized just how hungry she was. Her stomach rumbled louder than a waterfall, and it occurred to her that she probably felt faint almost as much from hunger as from exhaustion.
In the end, she ate far more than she had expected, leaning against the warm trunk of an apple tree in the orchard and washing the food down with several droughts of watered ale. She might even have dozed, if the distant lowing of a cow hadn't brought back to her the passage of time.
Mother of God, she whispered. She leapt to her feet, seized by the sudden terror that de Jarnac had already left, without her. Her heart pounding in her chest, she raced across the abbey's carefully tended garden and entered the infirmary at a quick half run.
After the
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