«Not really, Sire. He'd be far safer and more comfortable in a litter or a wagon, if one can be arranged».
«See to it», Donal ordered two of his men. «And go gently, Rannulf. He took that arrow for me».
They were several hours getting Kenneth home, carrying him in a litter until they could commandeer a wagon and bed him down in that. They padded out the wagon bed with hay and wadded cloaks to keep the injured leg supported, and Alyce settled down beside him to keep careful watch over his condition. The king had ridden on ahead with the prisoners, and another party had taken the queen and the rest of her ladies back to the castle by the most direct route, though a junior maid had been left behind for propriety's sake, riding just ahead of the wagon with Jiri Redfearn. Zoë rode anxiously alongside the wagon, and half a dozen of his knights behind.
After a while, Alyce allowed Kenneth to regain consciousness, blurring as much as she dared of his pain. She could feel the eyes of the king's men upon her as she sat there — judging, assessing, many of them disapproving — for she had been obliged to use her powers far more openly than was her usual wont; but it was not in her nature to let any living thing suffer, if she was able to do something about it. Sir Kenneth Morgan was the father of her dearest friend, a kind and gentle man, and had always treated her with the utmost courtesy and even affection, though he knew full well what she was.
«I must be dead», he murmured, after a long interval of jouncing along in comparative silence, accompanied by only the rumble of the wheels, the jingle of harness, and the occasional low-voiced converse of their escort.
She looked at him sharply.
«Are you in pain?»
He gave her a faint, strained smile and a slight shake of his head.
«No worse than before, dear girl. But since I am in the keeping of an angel, I can only suppose that I have passed to the next world».
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a genteel snort, along with a faint smile of her own.
«I doubt these gentlemen would agree, my lord». She gave a slight jut of her chin in the direction of the men accompanying them. «Most would judge me anything but an angel. But I am glad that your discomfort is not too great».
He raised his head slightly to glance down at his leg, lightly touching the shaft of the arrow with his fingertips, then lay back with a grimace and a sigh, casting a reassuring glance at his daughter, riding along beside them.
«Is the arrowhead embedded?» he asked, returning his gaze to Alyce. «Will it have to be cut out?»
She shook her head slightly. «I think not, my lord — or, only a little, perhaps. It mostly went through — though I fear that your saddle is ruined. And your horse is in a very ill temper — though he is only slightly injured».
He chuckled bleakly at that, smiling faintly as he looked back at her. His eyes were the same shade of sandy steel-gray as his hair, though with a hint of sea-blue in their depths. Though his face was weathered and tanned, bespeaking much service in the field, she sensed that the crinkles at the corners of his eyes came mostly of good humor.
«He isn't a very good horse anyway», Kenneth confided. «I'd meant to ride another today, but the vile beast cast a shoe and there was no time to have it reset». He glanced away with a snort. «Not that that horse is much better. When the shoe came off, the nails ripped an almighty chunk out of the edge of his hoof. I suspect he'll be lame for weeks. And I reckon it could be months before a smith will be able to keep a shoe on that foot. But I don't suppose that I shall be riding again very soon anyway…».
He was talking, she knew, to take his mind from his injury. In fact, Sir Kenneth owned excellent mounts, some of them given him by the king. All the horses had been fractious before they rode out that morning, for the weather had turned very cold in the past few days, and a hard frost had been on the cobbles. She had seen Sir Kenneth's first horse cast its shoe in the stable yard as they were mounting up to leave, jinking and kicking out at any other animal that got too near — and somehow managing to catch the edge of the shoe with its own hoof, so that it very nearly fell.
Alyce smiled and nodded knowingly. «I was aware of the incident, my lord. The queen was convinced you were both going down. They should spread more straw on the cobbles when it's frosty».
«A sensible horse wouldn't act up like that on slick cobbles», Kenneth retorted. «But he is fast — at least when he isn't trying to kill himself and me».
He fell silent at that, tensing as he shifted in the hay, trying to find a more comfortable position. Alyce checked his wound, but he did not seem to be bleeding — though he would, when the arrow was drawn. When he grimaced and closed his eyes, obviously concentrating on trying to ease his pain, she considered nudging him back into sleep; but there were too many eyes upon them.
They rattled into the forecourt of Rhemuth Castle just as the shadows were lengthening. The king's physician and Duke Richard's battle-surgeon were waiting as they carried Sir Kenneth through the hall and into one of the ground-level guest rooms that opened off the royal gardens. The queen joined them very shortly, and directed Alyce to assist the physicians as they dealt with the wound, she and Zoë holding basins and towels as the surgeon eased the arrow through far enough to cut off the arrowhead and then drew out the shaft.
Though Kenneth uttered not a sound as this was done, and bled less than they had feared, his face went gradually more and more taut and pale, until Richeldis nodded minutely to Alyce to intervene. The patient had been given a draught of strong spirits before they began, and now Alyce gave him more, at the same time brushing his mind with hers as she lifted his head to put the cup to his lips, nudging him gently into sleep.
If the surgeon noticed how quickly the draught worked, he said nothing, only bending to his work of cleaning and bandaging the wound, backing off then to wash his hands as the queen laid a hand on the sleeping man's forehead.
«The test will be whether a fever develops», she said, shifting then to help Alyce and Zoë pull the blankets up to cover him. «It appears we should have given him more drink, and sooner. It would have spared him some discomfort. We'll let him sleep now», she said to the room at large. «Alyce, I know you and Zoë will wish to sit with him and keep him comfortable. I'll send someone to relieve you in a few hours».
The guarded look that passed between her and Alyce made it clear what she meant, having experienced the ease of Deryni powers during childbirth and other times of discomfort — though usually from Jessamy. The church did not approve, of course, but it was a perquisite of royalty to ignore certain of the laws that governed ordinary folk, though discretion was always essential, even for a queen.
Still, the wife of the king and the mother of future kings could be forgiven certain lapses, so long as they did not occur too often or too flagrantly; and none could dispute that Sir Kenneth Morgan was the king's good servant, and had taken an arrow meant for his sovereign. Alyce saw the hardening of Father Denit's expression as he watched from the doorway, and guessed that he suspected what had just transpired, but she did not think he would countermand the queen's order, under the circumstances, though he might well mention his displeasure to the king — or to the archbishop. He gave them a stiff nod in lieu of a bow before turning on his heel to leave the room.
«I'll send Jessamy to you a little later. Be careful», the queen whispered to Alyce, briefly hugging her and Zoë around the shoulders before herself departing, along with the physician.