Michael let out an anguished whinny and tried to rise, but Anna held him down with one huge, red, work-chafed hand.
Bind it up, she ordered Centaine, and as the girl wound on the bandages, the agony faded and became a comforting warmth.
It feels better, Michael admitted.
Of course it does, Anna told him comfortably. My ointment is famous for everything from smallpox to piles. So is my cognac, murmured the comte, and recharged both tumblers.
Centaine went to the wash basket on the kitchen table and returned with one of the comte's freshly ironed shirts, and despite her father's protests, she helped Michael into it. Then as she was fashioning a sling for his injured arm, there was a buzzing clatter of an engine outside the kitchen windows and Michael caught a glimpse of a familiar figure on an equally familiar motor-cycle skidding to a halt in a spray of gravel.
The engine spluttered and hiccoughed into silence and a voice called agitatedly, Michael, my boy, where are you? The door burst open and admitted Lord Andrew Killigerran in tam o shanter, followed closely by a young officer in the uniform of the Royal Medical Corps. Thank God, there you are. Panic not, I've brought you a sawbones Andrew pulled the doctor to Michael's stool and then, with relief and a shade of pique in his voice, You seem to be doing damn well without us, I'll say that for you. I raided the local field hospital. Kidnapped this medico at the point of a pistol, been eating my heart out about you, and here you are with a glass in your hand, and- Andrew broke off and looked at Centaine for the first time, and forgot all about Michael's condition. He swept the tam o shanter from his head. It's true! he declaimed in perfect sonorous French, rolling his Rs in true Gallic fashion. Angels do indeed walk the earth. Go to your room immediately, child, Anna snapped, and her face screwed up like one of those fearsome carved dragons that guard the entrance to Chinese temples.
I am not a child, Centaine gave her an equally ferocious glare, then recomposed her features as she turned to Michael. Why does he call you his boy? You are much older than he is! He's Scots, Michael explained, already ridden by jealousy, and the Scots are all mad, also, he has a wife and four children. That's a filthy lie, Andrew protested. The children, yes, I admit to them, poor wee hairns! But no wife, definitely no wife. Ecossais, murmured the comte, great warriors and great drinkers. Then, in reasonable English, May I offer you a little cognac, monsieur? They were descending into a babble of languages, crossing from one to the other in mid-sentence.
Will somebody kindly introduce me to this paragon among men, that I may accept his fulsome offer? Le Comte de Thiry, I have the honour to present Lord Andrew Killigerran. Michael waved them together and they shook hands. Tiens! A genuine English milord. Scots, my dear fellow, big difference. He saluted the Comte with the tumbler. Enchanted, I'm sure. And this beautiful young lady is your daughter, the resemblance beautiful- Centaine, Anna intersposed, take your horse to the stable and groom him. Centaine ignored her and smiled at Andrew. The smile stopped even his banter, he stared at her, for the smile transformed her. It seemed to glow through her skin like a lamp through alabaster, and it lit her teeth and sparkled in her eyes like sunlight in a crystal jar of dark honey.
I think I should have a look at our patient. The young army doctor broke the spell and stepped forward to unwrap Michael's bandages. Anna understood the gesture, if not the words, and she interposed her bulk between them.
Tell him, if he touches my work, I will break his arm. Your services are not required, I'm afraid, Michael translated for the doctor.
Have a cognac, Andrew consoled him. It's not bad stuff, not bad at all. You are a landowner, milord? the Comte asked Andrew with subtlety. Of course? Bien sfir- Andrew made an expansive gesture which portrayed thousands of acres and at the same time brought his glass within range of where the Comte was filling the doctor's glass. The Comte topped him up and Andrew repeated, Of course, the family estates, you understand? Ah. The Comte's single eye glittered as he glanced across at his daughter. Your deceased wife has left you with four children? He had not followed the earlier exchange all that clearly.
No children, no wife, my humorous friend, Andrew indicated Michael, he likes to make jokes. Very bad English jokes.
Ha! English jokes. The Comte roared with laughter and would have clapped Michael on his shoulder had not Centaine rushed forward to protect him from the blow. Papa, be careful.
He is wounded. You will stay for lunch, all of you, the Comte declared. You will see, milord, my daughter is one of the finest cooks in the province. With a little help, Anna muttered disgustedly.
I say, I rather think I should be getting back, the young doctor murmured diffidently. I feel rather superfluous."We are invited to lunch, Andrew told him. Have a cognac. Don't mind if I do. The doctor succumbed without a struggle.
The Comte announced, It is necessary to descend to the cellars."Papa - Centaine began ominously.
We have guests! The Comte showed her the empty cognac bottle and she shrugged helplessly.
Milord, you will assist me in the selection of suitable refreshments? Honoured, Monsieur le Comte. As Centaine watched the pair, arms linked descend the stone staircase, there was a thoughtful look in her eyes.
He is a drole one, your friend, and very loyal. See how he rushed here to your aid. See how he places a charm on my Papa. Michael was surprised by the strength of his dislike for Andrew at that moment. He smelled the cognac, he muttered. That's the only reason he came. But what of the four children? Anna demanded. And their mother? She was having as much difficulty as the comte in following the conversation.
Four mothers, Michael explained. Four children, four different mothers. He is a polygamist! Anna swelled with shock and affront, and her face went a shade redder.
No, no, Michael assured her. You heard him deny it.
He is a man of honour, he would not do such a thing. He is married to none of them. Michael felt not a qualm, he had to have an ally somewhere in the family, but at that moment the happy pair returned from the cellars laden with black bottles.
Aladdin's cave, Andrew rejoiced. The comte has got it filled with good stuff! He placed half a dozen bottles on the kitchen table in front of Michael. Look at this!
Thirty years old, if it's a day! Then he peered closely at Michael. You look awful, old boy. Death warmed up. Thanks, Michael grinned at him thinly. You are so kind. Natural brotherly concern - Andrew struggled to draw the cork from one of the bottles, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. By God, isn't she a corker! He glanced across the kitchen to where the women were at work over the big copper pot. I'd rather feel her than feel sick, what? Michael's dislike for Andrew turned to active hatred.
I find that remark utterly revolting, he said. To talk like that about a young girl, so innocent, so fine, so so- Michael stuttered into silence, and Andrew held his head on one side and peered at him wonderingly.
Michael, my boy, this is worse than just a few burns and bruises, I'm afraid. It's going to need intensive treatment. He filled a glass. To start with, I prescribe a liberal dose of this excellent claret! At the head of the table the comte had the cork out of another of the bottles, and refilled the doctor's glass.
A toast! he cried. Confusion to the damned boche! A has les boches!
they all cried, and as soon as the toast was drunk the comte placed his hand over the black patch which covered the socket of his missing eye.
They did this to me at Sedan in 7o. They took my eye, but they paid dearly for it, the devils, Sacrg bleu, how we fought! Tigers! We were tigers-, Tabby cats! Anna called across the kitchen.
You know nothing of battle and war, these brave young men, they know, they understand! I drink to them! He did so copiously and then demanded, Now, where is the food? It was a savoury ragofit of ham and sausage and marrow bones. Anna brought bowls of it steaming from the stove and Centaine piled small loaves of crisp new bread on the bare table.