“I will handle Gwaynn Massi. You be sure to handle his army.”
ǂ
Cyn de Baard watched as the wounded were hustled into the infirmary. She was no longer staying in the hospital tent, having moved back to her old room at the lumber mill a couple of days prior. But she still visited every other day to have her shoulder dressings changed by a young girl named Merra, who seemed competent enough, but chatted ceaselessly as she worked. However, when the bridge opened and the wounded began to pour through, the young nurse was momentarily rendered speechless.
‘Small favors,’ de Baard thought to herself. Her shoulder, though still very stiff and weak, seemed to be healing nicely with no sign of infection or complications. That was good; she would need it to be completely healed before she finally moved against the bitch…then Tar Nacht. The stitches along her jaw were beginning to itch and according to Linkler would be able to come out after another week or so. Her dislocated jaw was mending as well and she was now able to eat solid food which was a true blessing.
Merra had already cleaned and rewrapped de Baard’s face, the bandage passed over the Executioner’s nose several times but her mouth and eyes were now left free, then the wrap continued under her chin and up over the top of her head before being secured in place. The bandages were now only to protect the cut from dirt and germs and were not wrapped nearly so tight now that her jaw was better. de Baard didn’t mind them however, she was even beginning to like the way she looked in the bandages…it gave her an air of mystery and still left her eyes, by far her best feature, free and unspoiled.
“My!” Merra said as the wounded were hustled in. She was clearly alarmed, though apparently she’d recovered enough from the shock to regain her verbal capacities. To her credit however, she continued to work on de Baard’s wrappings as the wounded streamed by.
de Baard restrained a smile as the wounded soldiers quickly filled up the remaining space in the tent. The battle with the Palmerrio had clearly been a major engagement, not that de Baard particularly cared, but her interest peaked when she caught sight of Gwaynn rushing in and carrying the red-headed whore in his arms. He moved past without a glance in her direction and de Baard felt a stab of jealousy along with a twin stab of hope.
‘Let it be fatal,’ she thought…’but even if it’s not, it’s time I finished the job.’
“All finished,” Merra said with a large smile. The girl was relentlessly happy and upbeat. “You need to come back in three days for a clean bandage. Your wounds are coming along splendidly, but if you’ll excuse me I need to go and find Doctor Linkler.”
“Sure,” de Baard said but the girl was already gone. The Executioner hardly noticed; her eyes were riveted on Gwaynn kneeling over a cot in the far corner of the tent. Linkler was with him, though the doctor only stayed a moment before moving off to check on other patients.
de Baard’s heart soared. ‘Perhaps she’s already dead!’ She thought cheerfully, but then she saw the slut’s hand move up slowly and brush aside a stray piece of hair from the Prince’s face. de Baard’s heart fell. Samantha was alive and probably not in any real danger…at least not from her injuries.
‘She’ll not recover,’ de Baard thought, and though she was not a proponent on the use of poisons as were many of her fellow Executioners, she thought that perhaps it was time to make an exception.
She stood to leave but found herself watching the stricken lovers comfort each other.
“Nearly cut her arm clean off,” a soldier said from a bed nearby. de Baard looked down at the man. He clearly had a head wound, which looked to be superficial. There was blood all down the side of his face but the bleeding appeared to have stopped.
“The Valencia boy cut it the rest of the way off,” the man added. “But he didn’t tax himself, t’was hardly hangin’ on. She took it well but screamed to bloody hell when they fired her stump…nasty work, that is.”
“She…she lost an arm,” de Baard said and had to use all her discipline to keep a smile from rushing to her face.
The man nodded.
‘Who would want a cripple?’ She thought and her desire for Gwaynn Massi swelled briefly in her breast until she managed to fight it down. She did not want to go through any of that again; once was more than enough.
“The King’s been with her the whole time…it was a blow to him, especially after the death of his Weapons Master,” the man added.
“Logan’s dead?” de Baard asked very surprised. Logan was an excellent fighter and would have posed problems for her. His death was welcome news.
The soldier nodded once again, still eyeing his King in the corner. “Took an arrow to the head…from what’s said, he took it in the very opening of the battle. Cryin’ shame. We needed him.”
But de Baard was no longer listening. “Now if only Lee Brandt would die,” she whispered to herself.
“Pardon?” the soldier asked, but de Baard was no longer at his side. She’d left without another word.
ǂ
Gwaynn woke early the following morning to find Samantha staring up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He was sitting in a hard wooden chair which he’d pulled just as close to her cot as he could get it the night before. He smiled at her encouragingly but couldn’t stifle a groan as he sat up straighter. His back was aching and his neck was stiff. Cobb, who had also not left her side, was lying on the floor on the opposite side of the cot, snoring loudly.
“You still love me?” Samantha asked in a whisper so soft he could barely hear her. But he didn’t have to; instinctively he knew what was on her mind, her left arm…or lack of one. Gwaynn supposed that if he’d just lost a limb his mind would constantly dwell on the fact, like a tongue seeking a bad tooth.
“Enough to sleep in this hard, wooden chair for the rest of my life if I have to,” he answered, but she didn’t smile, instead she held up her injured arm. Its lack of length hit them both equally.
“Look at this,” she said. “And you still love me?”
Gwaynn tried not to roll his eyes. “I must admit, your left forearm was my favorite part of you. Truth be told, it was all that was really keeping us together…”
“I’m serious Gwaynn,” Samantha snapped so loudly that several nearby patients stirred.
Gwaynn got out of his chair and knelt by her bedside. He reached and gently raised her wounded arm and began softly kissing the blood soaked bandages.
“More than ever,” he whispered. “I remember when I first saw you, rounding the corner, running from Navarra. You’d just been thrown from your horse; you were dirty, your hair was a mess and full of twigs, you were bleeding from a dozen tiny wounds…and I remember…I remember thinking how beautiful you were even with terror etched on your face. But later after you’d cut his head off and I saw your courage…well then you were more than beautiful, you were radiant, like the sun, almost too bright for my eyes.”
Gwaynn held up her half arm once more. “Now…with this… I’ll see nothing but beauty and courage whenever I look at you.”
Samantha stared at him for a long moment without saying a word, but her eyes lost a little of the panic that had threatened to overwhelm her.
“Krys is dead?” She finally asked.
The fact hit Gwaynn like a hammer and he jerked involuntarily, but his eyes never left hers.