Page 47

“Run, Elena. Run back to the village and seek the alcalde.”

“No!”

“Do it, now!” She went to run past him, but Dushard lunged and sliced through her side as she ran. She stopped in shock. Blood soon oozed through her dress. The fury Thomas felt at that moment urged him to take out his own knife and charge Dushard. They danced around each other, lunging and parrying as they did. They were well matched, but Thomas knew he had to kill Dushard and make it quick. Elena’s life might depend on it.

Running full on towards Dushard, he caught him around the middle. They both fell to the ground like feral dogs. They wrestled, kicking and punching each other until Thomas managed to get his knee on Dushard’s arm. The knife fell from his grip, and Thomas plunged his knife into Dushard’s chest. Their eyes met, and Dushard muttered something that sounded like touché before the life left his eyes. Thomas was panting as he pushed off Dushard’s body and ran, stumbling to Elena, who was now sitting in the middle of the road.

“Oh, God, Elena,” he said as he picked her up and took her to the side of the road. “Let me look?” She took her hand away, and there was a deep gash in her side, blood running out. “Tell me, tell me what to do!”

“My bag,” she said in a gasp.

He ran for her bag and brought it to her. “What do you need?”

“Alcohol…to clean the wound. I have catgut to sew the wound. A needle as well.”

Thomas panicked. He would have to sew her up. He knew nothing of sewing, but they had been taught how to sew on a button in case they had to repair their uniforms. He rummaged in her bag, holding up various things until she nodded. He took off his jacket and put the things required on it.

“You will need to hold some cloth to the wound to keep it together while you sew it.”

“Elena. I don’t know how to do this.”

“I will talk you through it.”

“What if I don’t do it right?”

“It will be enough,” she said as she reached up for him. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. Let me fix you first.”

“You need to put alcohol on the cloth, and I will hold it there. Then you must thread the needle.”

Thomas’s hands were shaking as he did what he was told, handing her the cloth. When she put it to her side, she screamed but held it there.

“I need the rod that is in the bag. I must bite on it when you start to stitch.”

“Can I not give you some milk of the poppy for the pain? Just a small amount?”

“I used it all on the donkey. Just…do as I instruct.”

“Is there nothing else you can take for the pain?”

“No, you just need to close up the gash as soon as possible to stop the bleeding.”

He threaded the needle, though it took a few attempts with his shaky hands. She instructed him on how to do the stitches and then bit down on the piece of wood. He had sweat dripping down his face by the time he had got to the end. He looked up and Elena had stopped grunting and screaming in pain. He panicked, tapping her face to try to wake her up, hoping she had just fainted.

“Elena, wake up. Don’t you leave me. Please, Elena. Come on, stay with me.”

Her lashes fluttered.

“Elena, I’m here. Please.” His voice was as thin as the thread he had used to sew her up. He couldn’t seem to get enough air in. “I’m here. Come back to me, please.” It was then that he realized he was speaking English, and she probably didn’t know what he was saying.

He repeated his urgent request again in Spanish before adding, “Te amo, te amo, Elena.”

Her eyes flickered again, and this time she focused on him. Breathless, she said, “Say it again.”

“Oh, lord, Elena. I thought I’d lost you.” He kissed her forehead and then her lips.

“I have to be dead before you tell me you love me?” she whispered.