The matters of state were beyond her, as her father said, but not the concerns of humanity. And not of conscience. Whether this man deserved his hunted fate, she knew not. She only possessed a firming feeling in her middle that he had been delivered unto her for a purpose, and that God would desire her to love and help all men, no matter the station they were born into or their personal spiritual beliefs.
She lowered her hand and extended the damp cloth to swipe at the grime along his forehead. “What is your name?”
“Lorenz Meier.”
His face was nearly clean, so Christyne clasped her hands in her lap. She needed to garner as much information as she could while he remained lucid. She feared he would faint again once she began to remove the arrow’s head. “Do you recall what happened to you?”
“All too vividly, I fear.” He didn’t offer more.
She thought to press for details, but then her gaze caught on the exposed flesh beneath his torn hosen.Red, angry, and swollen.
First, she needed to dislodge the metal, then she would probe for further information.
Mayhap after that she could decide what to do with him.
Her eyes moved back to capture his gaze, and she sucked in a breath. Would the otherworldly color never cease to startle her? Or the directness and intelligence written across every fleck?
She pushed her shoulders back and straightened her spine. “The arrow remains lodged in your leg. I can send Hette for a physician who has skill to—”
“Nay!” He gentled his tone. “Nay, I beg your mercy. That will not be necessary. I trust the angel the Lord has sent above human hands.”
Christyne raised her palms with a small smile. “These are no ethereal limbs,GelerhteMeier.”
His brow creased. “How did you know I am a scholar?”
She motioned down the length of him. “Your clothes, for one. Your high brow and ink-stained fingers, second.”
“I see.”
Christyne paused. “No physician then?”
“No. I thank you.”
She sighed but nodded assent. He rolled to his side and exposed the wounded area to her scrutiny. Fabric soaked with blood that had since dried clung to the outer edge of the injury. She would never be able to see properly with his clothes still covering his skin.
She turned to Hette, who yet clutched at her rosary beads but with knuckles that had returned to a natural skin hue. “We need to expose the wound.” She widened her eyes at the girl and then returned her gaze to their patient. Understanding washed over Hette’s face, and she lowered her hands from the beads and picked up the knife.
A ripping sound rent the air and sent a quiver through Christyne’s muscles. For the second time that day, her lips formed the words of the Lord’s Prayer.
Pushing her shoulders back, she turned then stilled. She had never seen a man’s unclad limb before. The stark flesh caused heat to climb up her neck. “What…” She swallowed down her trepidation. “What shall I do?”
“Though the tip can be seen, the arrow is yet too deep to pull out. You must push it through from the other side.”
Her eyes rounded. “Will that not cause great pain?”
“Verily.” He pulled a stick out of hisschaubecloak. “I will bite down on this so as to not cry out.”
She nodded and he continued.
“Wrap the ends of two probes in linen then dip them in honey. You will need to use them to enlarge the opening around the arrowhead. Mayhap the knife, also.”
Christyne blanched but willed herself to focus on the scholar’s instructions.
Lorenz grimaced as he adjusted his position slightly, then continued. “Once the opening is wide enough, you must push the shaft until the arrowhead has completely passed through. Then you should be able to grasp the base of the shaft, just above the arrowhead, and pull the rest through.” His eyes closed momentarily, his head tipping back as though this speech had sapped the last of this strength, but a moment later he raised his head again and regarded her intently. “It is important you remember these instructions, in case the pain causes blackness to overcome me. And it is especially important that you do not try to pull the arrow through by grasping the arrowhead. To do so may detach the arrowhead from the shaft, leaving it lodged in my leg.”
Christyne swallowed nervously but nodded, injecting as much confidence into the action as she could.
“Once the arrow has been removed, clean the wound thoroughly with wine then pack the wound with the honey poultice and bind it tightly with linen. I know not how much bleeding there may be. We can but pray the bindings will be enough to stem the flow.”
