blade into the flames. Now Osric took one of
Eudon’s arms, Marcion took the other, a third and fourth man held
his feet. Hugo knelt beside India, his hands on Eudon’s
shoulders.
“If you’ve never done this before,” Hugo said
to India in a low voice, “he’ll buck and heave at first, and it
will be hard to hold him. The cloth is to keep him from biting his
tongue. Don’t worry, Theu knows what he is doing, and he’ll make it
as quick and painless as possible.”
“I understand.” And she did, despite her
initial protests and her horror at what must be done. This, after
all, was not the familiar twentieth century, with hospitals and
antibiotics readily available. Without cauterization of the wound,
infection would soon set in and Eudon might well die. With it, he
had a chance to heal and recover. In the faces of the men around
Eudon, India saw the reflection of her own understanding of his
condition – saw, too, their open and honest concern for him.
Hardened warriors they might be, but the comradeship among them was
a fine and heartwarming thing, and for those few minutes India was
proud to be a part of it and determined to be worthy of their
acceptance.
Theuderic rose from his place beside the
fire, holding the heated knife. He came forward and knelt at
Eudon’s right side. India stared at the knife, then raised her eyes
to Theuderic’s face.
“Are you ready, Eudon?” Theuderic asked, but
India felt as if he were asking her the question. When Eudon said
something muffled by the cloth in his mouth and nodded his head,
India gritted her teeth and nodded her own head.
“Hold him,” Theuderic said in a quiet, calm
voice, and a moment later laid the knife flat upon the open
wound.
Eudon squealed in pain, his jaws clamped hard
on the cloth. His body fought the searing heat, and it took the six
of them to hold him on the ground. Theuderic kept the knife where
it was. Eudon went limp.
“Well done,” said Hugo, releasing Eudon’s
shoulders. The other men relaxed their grip and sat back. “You can
move now, lad. We’ll roll up his breeches and use them for his
pillow.”
India rose on unsteady legs, telling herself
she dared not faint, because if she did they would all know she was
a woman. Worse than that, she would be embarrassed before men she
was beginning to respect. She took a few deep breaths to clear her
head.
“He’ll need bandaging,” she said to Hugo.
“I’ll do it if you like.”
“That’s my job,” Hugo said.
“Someone should sit with him.”
“Osric and I will do it.” Hugo was a
big-boned bear of a man, but his massive hand was remarkably gentle
when he patted India’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I doubted you, lad. You
did what you said you would, and I thank you for it. Eudon will be
all right. Get yourself some food. There’s fresh meat tonight.”
She saw then what the rest of the men had
been doing while seven of their number had been occupied with
Eudon. Underbrush had been cleared away from the area around the
fire, and the horses had been tethered nearby and their trappings
removed. The boar had been skinned and cleaned, and the carcass was
cooking on a heavy spit set over the fire. With branches stripped
from the trees, the men had built several rough shelters for
themselves, little more than flimsy lean-tos against wind and rain,
and no protection at all against the cold. In one of these shelters
a bed of pine needles had been prepared and onto it the men who had
held Eudon were laying him under Hugo’s supervision.
“I misjudged you,” Theuderic said, very low.
He had come silently to stand before her. “You are no coward. But I
should have known that. No craven soul would be permitted to wear
this.” His right hand lightly touched the pendant that still hung
from the chain around her neck. With his eyes holding hers, he
moved his fingertips until they rested at the spot where one small,
firm breast began to swell. Very gently, he pressed against
Eudon’s arms, Marcion took the other, a third and fourth man held
his feet. Hugo knelt beside India, his hands on Eudon’s
shoulders.
“If you’ve never done this before,” Hugo said
to India in a low voice, “he’ll buck and heave at first, and it
will be hard to hold him. The cloth is to keep him from biting his
tongue. Don’t worry, Theu knows what he is doing, and he’ll make it
as quick and painless as possible.”
“I understand.” And she did, despite her
initial protests and her horror at what must be done. This, after
all, was not the familiar twentieth century, with hospitals and
antibiotics readily available. Without cauterization of the wound,
infection would soon set in and Eudon might well die. With it, he
had a chance to heal and recover. In the faces of the men around
Eudon, India saw the reflection of her own understanding of his
condition – saw, too, their open and honest concern for him.
Hardened warriors they might be, but the comradeship among them was
a fine and heartwarming thing, and for those few minutes India was
proud to be a part of it and determined to be worthy of their
acceptance.
Theuderic rose from his place beside the
fire, holding the heated knife. He came forward and knelt at
Eudon’s right side. India stared at the knife, then raised her eyes
to Theuderic’s face.
“Are you ready, Eudon?” Theuderic asked, but
India felt as if he were asking her the question. When Eudon said
something muffled by the cloth in his mouth and nodded his head,
India gritted her teeth and nodded her own head.
“Hold him,” Theuderic said in a quiet, calm
voice, and a moment later laid the knife flat upon the open
wound.
Eudon squealed in pain, his jaws clamped hard
on the cloth. His body fought the searing heat, and it took the six
of them to hold him on the ground. Theuderic kept the knife where
it was. Eudon went limp.
“Well done,” said Hugo, releasing Eudon’s
shoulders. The other men relaxed their grip and sat back. “You can
move now, lad. We’ll roll up his breeches and use them for his
pillow.”
India rose on unsteady legs, telling herself
she dared not faint, because if she did they would all know she was
a woman. Worse than that, she would be embarrassed before men she
was beginning to respect. She took a few deep breaths to clear her
head.
“He’ll need bandaging,” she said to Hugo.
“I’ll do it if you like.”
“That’s my job,” Hugo said.
“Someone should sit with him.”
“Osric and I will do it.” Hugo was a
big-boned bear of a man, but his massive hand was remarkably gentle
when he patted India’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I doubted you, lad. You
did what you said you would, and I thank you for it. Eudon will be
all right. Get yourself some food. There’s fresh meat tonight.”
She saw then what the rest of the men had
been doing while seven of their number had been occupied with
Eudon. Underbrush had been cleared away from the area around the
fire, and the horses had been tethered nearby and their trappings
removed. The boar had been skinned and cleaned, and the carcass was
cooking on a heavy spit set over the fire. With branches stripped
from the trees, the men had built several rough shelters for
themselves, little more than flimsy lean-tos against wind and rain,
and no protection at all against the cold. In one of these shelters
a bed of pine needles had been prepared and onto it the men who had
held Eudon were laying him under Hugo’s supervision.
“I misjudged you,” Theuderic said, very low.
He had come silently to stand before her. “You are no coward. But I
should have known that. No craven soul would be permitted to wear
this.” His right hand lightly touched the pendant that still hung
from the chain around her neck. With his eyes holding hers, he
moved his fingertips until they rested at the spot where one small,
firm breast began to swell. Very gently, he pressed against
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