A Dishonorable Knight - By Morrison, Michelle Page 0,49
and Isrid's sides with the force of arrows as the river shot them downstream. Squinting through the steady downpour, he guessed Bryant's horse would reach the far bank in a few more strokes and for the first time, he began to believe they would make it. Bryant's horse was not ten feet from the bank and had just got its feet on the river bottom when a huge log slammed into it, throwing it off balance. The horse screamed and scrambled clumsily to regain its footing. As soon as it was on its feet it bolted for the shore. Bryant held a tight rein on him but the horse refused to be stayed. Gareth felt the rope lurch and nearly lost his balance in the saddle. Elena moaned as the wet cord cut into her waist.
"Bryant!" Gareth yelled. "Pull back! Pull back!" Isrid strained against the pull of Gareth on his back and Gareth and Elena were suddenly pulled off the horse. Though the rain was cold, the river was freezing. Gareth struggled to the surface, pulling Elena up with him. Her full skirts caught in the current, trying to pull her away from him and still unconscious, she was a dead weight, dragging Gareth under. Just as he got both their heads above water, he felt another abrupt lurch as the horse reached the opposite shore and tried to run. Bryant quickly jumped off and began hauling in on the rope. Gareth's feet had just touched bottom when Cynan splashed up and helped them to shore. Gareth collapsed in the mud until his gasps for breath slowed. He quickly reached for Elena, convinced she should be dead after such a trial. Her pulse still beat strongly but despite the dunk in the cold water, her skin still burned to the touch.
"We've got to get her to shelter," Gareth yelled over the roar of the water. Both Bryant and Cynan nodded grimly. Cynan untied the swollen rope from Gareth and Elena while Bryant chased down his still-jittery horse. Within minutes they were tearing along the muddy road to Machynlleth.
Two hours later they rode into the small town, exhausted and mud spattered. Gareth stopped at the first inn they came to. With Elena in his arms, he kicked the door open and strode across the small room.
"I need a room. Now," he gasped. "My wife is ill. Get a fire going immediately."
The innkeeper and his wife stared at him as if he were Lucifer himself until he bellowed, "Move!" Quickly jumping up, the woman ran upstairs while the man gathered an armload of wood from a box in the corner of the room. Gareth followed the man upstairs, willing his legs not to collapse until he reached the bed. As soon as the innkeeper had a fire going, Gareth said, "Get out. No not you," as the wife moved to follow her husband. "I need your help undressing her. She's soaked through and burning with fever.
Although the woman had first seemed as timid as a field mouse, she soon proved both competent and wise as she deftly pulled Elena's kirtle and chemise over her head. "There's a cloth on that wash stand," she said, gesturing with her chin as she laid Elena gently on the bed and began pulling off her boots. When Gareth handed her the cloth, she briskly rubbed Elena dry and quickly pulled the covers up.
"I'll prepare a compress," the woman said as she spread Elena's clothes in front of the blaze. "You'll want to add a few more logs to that fire and get out of your wet clothes. You'll do your wife no good if you catch the fever yourself."
Gareth stared at the closed door for several moments before rousing himself enough to unlace the cuffs of his shirt. He paused with his hands on the waistband of his chausses and glanced at Elena. Perhaps he shouldn't even be in here. At the time, saying she was his wife had seemed like the best reason to have an unchaperoned young woman with him. Now he wondered what Elena's reaction would be should she wake the next morning to find him in the same room. He was about to grab up his shirt and join Cynan and Bryant when the innkeeper's wife returned.
"Here, you may borrow this shirt while yours dries. It belonged to my brother. He died last spring. Your friends are settled in the small room downstairs." She set a large wooden bowl on the