Highland Warlord - Amy Jarecki Page 0,69
scar. It will heal like the others.”
Davy rode alongside him. “Nay, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“’Tis not the first time.” James tapped his heels, cuing the horse for a trot. “We ride.”
“How far do you think we can go before the horses need rest?” Ailish asked.
“They must endure until we reach the border.”
“Riding east?” asked Caelan.
“We’ll turn north at the River Eden, then skirt through Kielder Forest.”
“I’m glad someone kens where we’re headed,” said Davy.
***
Ailish clenched her cloak closed at her throat, though it did nothing to shield her from the driving rain. She was already soaked clean through, her teeth chattering and now night had fallen upon them. Worse, James had been hunched over his horse’s withers for ages. The man was clearly exhausted and yet he refused to stop. “If we do not find shelter soon, we’ll all catch our death,” she insisted.
In the lead, Davy pointed. “I see a burn ahead. ’Tis the border, for certain.”
“S-should be a chapel ’bout a mile on,” said James, his speech garbled and slow. “Keep a watchful eye. Edward’s men have infested these lands like rodents.”
As they came to the edge of the forest, Davy held up his hand, cueing them to halt.
“’Tis too dark and wet to see a damned thing,” said Caelan.
Ailish slapped her reins, driving her horse forward. They had to be close. “The darkness is in our favor. Haste. We’ve no time to spare.”
Before nightfall, she’d been watching a trail of blood as it spilled down the shoulder of James’ horse, a clear sign his wound needed to be tended. And by his posture, he was injured far worse than he’d let on.
Just as James had said, they arrived at a chapel in no time. But as the big man dismounted, his legs buckled beneath him.
“James!” Ailish shouted, hopping from her horse and dropping to her knees beside him.
His eyes rolled back. “Sleep,” he mumbled.
Davy pounded on the thick oaken door. “Open at once!”
After a great deal of pounding, the door was finally opened by a tall, gaunt priest. “May I help you?”
“My friend has been injured,” said Davy. “Please, we need sanctuary.”
The priest stood back and held the door. “Carry him to my quarters. The door on the left as you enter the vestibule.”
Davy and Caelan managed to hoist James up and sling his arms over their shoulders. But his feet dragged as they moved inside.
Ailish followed with the priest right behind. “Thank you, Father…?”
“Clive.”
“We need bandages and water to tend his wound. Have you any leeches?”
“None here. Mayhap we can ride to Hermitage Castle come morn. Sir Ralph de Neville keeps a healer within.”
“Nay!” James bellowed, and Ailish knew why. Neville was one of Edward’s vassals.
“Are ye in some sort of trouble?” asked Father Clive.
“We are looking for my brother,” Ailish explained, avoiding the question. “He was taken from Lincluden Priory not long ago. We were set upon by bandits in the forest.”
The priest held the door. “Lincluden? How did you end up here?”
“’Tis a long story.”
Inside, the chamber was spacious, a bed on the far wall, a warm fire burning in the hearth across. “Set him on the bed,” said Ailish, turning to the priest. “Please, I hate to burden you, but we need the water and bandages.”
“Yes, of course.” The priest picked up a pail. “There’s a well out back. I’ll be but a moment.”
Davy gave her a look while James grunted, settling face down. “Say no more to him. He may be a spy.”
She nodded. “You look nearly as ragged as he does.”
“Both of us were on watch last night and barely had a wink of sleep.”
“Then quickly remove his mail and shirt. The sooner we set him to rights, the sooner both of you can rest.”
Father Clive returned and set the pail beside the bed.
“Have you a cloth?” Ailish asked.
He plucked a folded bit of linen from a shelf. “Here.”
“My thanks.” She cringed as James bellowed while the men removed his garments. “I’m sorry to be a bother.”
“Not to worry. This is the most excitement I’ve seen at this wee chapel for ages.”
“Is it usually quiet?” she asked.
“For the most part, except on Sunday mornings.”
“Does Sir Ralph attend mass?”
“Heavens no. He employs a priest from London within his walls. Says he cannot withstand the Scots tongue.”
“Well, I’m certain you are of far greater service to the local kin than you would be to a knight who is hardly ever home.”
“I daresay you are right.”
Davy set the mail and shirt aside,