“I am a healer.”She feltthe sudden need to wipe her own heated face and neck down with acool rag.“I do notice such things.”
He flexed his scarred hand.“As wellas give them,” he said with a teasing grin.
“You’re never going toforgive me for that, are you?”she half teased back.“You know aswell as I do you deserved it for your brazenness.”
“And had my hand servedback to me bloody for my transgression.And rightly so.”He heldher gaze for a moment, then lifted his marked palm up to her.“Peace, lady?”
Lara took his hand in hers, the feelof his warm skin and calloused palm causing her cooling skin toflush once more.She lowered it to his lap.“Peace,Captain.”
He nodded and leaned back against thewall, closing his eyes with a heavy sigh as Lara wrung thewashcloth out and hung it over the stall’s gate.She put the tub ofcleansing balm back in her bag and sat forward, taking in thecaptain up close.He wasn’t a pretty man like Ranulf or the youngsoldier Dardinel; he had too many scars and his features were toorough-hewn, too hard.But he was a handsome man, ruggedly so, hismaleness palpable.He opened his eyes, staring straight intohers.
“So,” she said, sittingback and putting a little distance between them, “what is thiscurse that bedevils you?”
“Curse?”
“The curse that Phillipeand Anglbert spoke of, that causes you to fall from yourhorse?”
“Ah, that curse.”Heclamped his lips together and slowly shook his head.He wasn’tgoing to tell her.
“Well then, what must youdo to break this curse?”
He snorted and rubbed his jaw.“Nothing much.Just tame a wildcat barehanded without bleeding todeath.”
“A wildcat?Barehanded?”
He looked down at his scarred palm.“Apparently.”
“Then you will be free ofthis curse?”
He cocked his head at her andshrugged.“Who knows.”He laid his head back and closed his eyeswith a groan.
It would do no good to press himfurther, this much Lara knew about the captain.She also knew thatcurses weren’t always so straightforward.Did he really need totame an actual wildcat, or did the wildcat represent something orsomeone else?Was it a woman, as wildcats were usually portrayed?The carving she’d found in his chest came to mind, and how Phillipehad described her as a dream.A dream of what, or who?It wasn’ther.The captain had declared he didn’t want her in no uncertainterms the night of Mallus.As far as Lara knew, he hadn’t shown aspecial interest in any of the women in the valley, though plentyhad shown interest in him, especially Ravenna.She’d bought half adozen vials of love potion from Sophie since the captain had beengarrisoned here and had let Sophie know they were all intended forhim.That kind of attention could turn any man’s head.Larawrinkled her nose at the thought of the captain burying his noseinto Ravenna’s hair and breathing in the scent of her rose soap,then admonished herself.Why should she care whose hair he chose tosniff?
She got back to thebusiness of tending to her patient andpulled a long strip of bandage from her bag and set it by thetub of knitting balm, then pressed another dry cloth to his woundto soak up the bloody seepage.He didn’t wince or eventwitch.
“Captain,” she saidsoftly, then louder when he didn’t respond.He opened his eyes, andit took him a moment to focus on her.She held a finger up in frontof him.“Can you follow my finger without moving your head?”Shemoved her hand back and forth, and he tracked andfollowed.
“I know what you’redoing.”He sat up straighter and took a deep breath in and blew itout.“I’ve done it a few times myself to men with headwounds.”
“Then you know what I’mgoing to ask you next?”
He took another breath in and exhaled.“Yes, I only see one of you.No, I don’t feel dizzy or sick.Andyes, my head hurts like hell.”
“Good.That’s good.”Evenso, she didn’t want him nodding off again.“What sort of shortsword is it you carry?It’s not what the men of Gaul usually carry.Not a spatha.”
He squinted through his good eye ather.“It’s called a falcata.The soldiers of Rome use them.They’relighter made than a spatha, but the blade is as strong.”
“Was your falcata made inRome?”
“It was, by the swordsmithReynaldo.”
“The horse head hilt,”Lara said.“It fits you.”
He cocked his head at her, then wincedand cupped the back of his neck.
“You should soak a towelin hot water and lay it across your neck and shoulders,” she toldhim.“It will ease some of the tightness.”He grunted, and shescooped some of the knitting balm onto her fingertip.“This is abalm of yarrow and comfrey.”She smeared it over his wound thenwiped the excess on a rag as he touched a tentative fingertip tohis eyebrow.“You’re lucky.”She unraveled the length of bandage.“It won’t need stitching and should heal well with only a bandagefor several days.”
“Good.I’ve been prickedby a healer’s needle before.It wasn’t a pleasantexperience.”
