hoisted herself up in a very unladylike manner, which made G smile, and then they were off.
There was no guard or lookout to stop them from entering town. G led the horse and wagon to the center of the small village, where light glowed in the windows of the largest structure. As the wagon came to a stop, the soft moans of the wounded met their ears.
G climbed down. “Wait here,” he told Jane.
Apparently, “wait here” meant “hurry along” to Jane, for she scrambled down the carriage before G had taken one step.
He rapped at the door, and when no one came to open it, he turned the latch himself.
“Who are ye?” a tired-looking man said.
“We are a husband and wife who heard of your misfortunes, and we bring food and supplies for the binding of wounds.”
The man narrowed suspicious eyes.
Jane stepped forward, took the man’s hand softly in her own, turned the palm up, and placed a piece of bread there. “Sir, I have bread and dried beef and mead.”
G glanced at his wife. “Where did you get the mead?”
She ignored him. “Please let us be of service.”
A portly woman—who had been tending a boy’s leg—came forward. “We would be grateful for it, my lady.”
“Oh, I am not a lady,” Jane said, although she couldn’t hide her elegant manners and way of speaking.
The woman didn’t argue. “Let ’em through, ye stubborn man,” she said.
The old man stood aside while G and Jane distributed food, strips of linen, tinctures, and salves to the people. G grabbed for the bottle of mead, but Jane said she would be in charge of its distribution.
His wife, he realized after all of two minutes, was magnificent. She was not afraid to wipe away blood, and patiently taught the villagers how to properly dress a wound and how to prepare more tinctures.
“I could use some meat,” an old man said to G.
“Quiet, please,” G said. “I’m watching the lady.” (This was obviously G’s first foray into helping the needy, or anyone beyond himself, for that matter, and he was not used to the protocol of service.)
“Do you think she was ever employed as a healer?” G said.
“I don’t know. She’s your wife,” the old man said.
Jane looked up and caught G staring at her. She smiled and tossed him some linen strips. “Get to work,” she said.
As the two of them tied and cleaned and washed and fed and comforted, they began to hear rumblings of complaint, but not about them. About the king.
“The Pack grows in power, and yet the king does nothing.”
“The previous king would never have let it get to this point.”
“The previous king was a lion. King Edward is a mouse.”
At this, Jane looked grievously offended, and G wondered anew about the nature of her feelings for the king.
The murmurs continued. “It’s all the fault of those filthy E∂ians.”
“How are we to protect ourselves when they can transform into such cunning creatures? They should be rounded up and locked away, for the safety of the country.”
Jane flashed G a worried expression. He smiled in what he hoped was a comforting way and tossed her some fresh bandages.
After a couple of hours, every wound had been bound, every cut washed and cleaned and wrapped. As Jane and G made their exit, grateful lips kissed the knuckles of the two anonymous benefactors.
Jane had not recovered her good humor after hearing the people’s grumblings about E∂ians and the king, so G tried to rouse her spirits by talking about what he would do if he ran the country, and eventually Jane joined in. Pretty soon they were shouting decrees they would implement if only they were the rulers of England.
“No more hungry people!” Jane said.
“Accessible medicine for all! Including steeping tinctures! And more tinctures that need to steep!” G said.
“Prosecution of those who prey on the weak!” Jane said.
“An unlimited fountain of free ale!” G said.
At which Jane frowned.
“And . . . the funding of higher education for women!” G said.
That seemed to satisfy his lady for the time being.
When they arrived at the house, G had only a couple of hours before horse time. In their bedchamber, Jane set a pillow and blanket on the floor next to the bed.
“Jane, I cannot allow you to sleep on the floor,” G said gallantly.
She smiled. “The pillow and blanket are for you, my lord.”
“Ah. Of course.”
G lowered himself onto the hard wooden floor, and Jane climbed into the bed, blowing out the candles as she