Believing Your Eyes
Chapter 1 - Page 4

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Ian saw Stephen's concern, and tried to encourage him. "Hey, look at us three," he joked, attempting to crack a smile. "It is the middle of the night, in the middle of a snowstorm, and here we are trying to save some woman we found lying in the forest. We do not even know her name!"

Matthew's face eased a little; it did seem a little unusual, with everything else going on in the world, for the three men to be working so intensely over an unknown woman.

Stephen did not break his concentration, staring thoughtfully at the wound.

"I think her name is Leslie," Stephen replied, and glanced at the sword at her side. Not so strange, after all, that they were helping her. The wars had made some strange alliances. With the Grays closing in, they might need all the help they could get. The Grays had wanted her for something. They’d certainly poisoned her by accident, and had wanted her alive. The poison - it didn’t seem to him like the arrow wound could account for her state. What, then?

He looked up at her face, at her closed eyes, down to the rosy lips. They were red against the paleness of her cheeks. Red? He looked more closely. There were flecks of blood around her lips. He took one of her trembling hands from Ian, examining it. He could see now that there was ash and blood mixed in with the dirt, and that they were singed, as if by fire. Suddenly, the answer hit him clearly. She must have tried to clean her wound herself, of course, when her enemy had fled. She had gotten the poison on her fingers. His mind searched the possibilities. Maybe, then, while building the cairn for her fallen comrades, she had burned herself. And, naturally, she put her fingers in her mouth to soothe them.

The poison wasn’t on her body - it was in her stomach.

"Sit her up," ordered Stephen, as he turned to the bench for his bowl of mixture. Leslie half opened her eyes as she was raised, and he could see again how dilated her pupils were. She tried to speak, but no words came out, and she gave up in exasperation and weariness. Stephen stood before her for a moment, holding the bowl. He looked across at the exhausted woman who now leant heavily against the robed monk.

"You must drink this," he quietly requested, again willing her to believe him. She hesitated, looking up at him. "Please. Trust me," he added softly, holding her gaze. She looked down at her tended wound, and at the rash that was visible even beyond the bandages. Looking back up at Stephen, she appeared to be weighing something in her mind. Finally, she nodded quietly.

Her hands were shaking too badly for her to hold the bowl herself, so he carefully poured the mixture into her mouth. She drank it down, closing her eyes at the taste of it. Almost immediately, she began to hold her stomach and moan in pain. Matthew grabbed a nearby pail, and after a few moments, she began to vomit convulsively, gagging out the contents of her stomach. She continued to retch long after her belly was empty, the shivers wracking her entire body. All the while, Stephen wiped her brow with a cloth, keeping her long, auburn braid to one side. Matthew held her shoulders, and Ian kept her from rolling back. When she was finally done, she slumped back onto the table, limp and exhausted.

Ian looked with concern at the still figure, but Matthew nodded at Stephen. "You were on the mark," he confirmed. "She must have ingested some. That explains the symptoms." He put the pail to one side. "We have done what we can to get the base of it out – we will need to keep her very warm now, and help her to stay awake, at least for a short while." He looked around at the room, which, while bright with candlelight, was chill and damp.

"It would be best if we could settle her in one of the rooms upstairs. With the seriousness of her symptoms, we should arrange a 24 hour watch too, for perhaps a week, until the symptoms begin to fade. Ian, could you arrange that?"

Ian brightened with a task to take charge of. "For my lovely lady, of course!" cried Ian. Stephen looked up sharply, but said nothing. Ian continued, "I shall go wake my father right away. We can arrange for her to have one of the larger bedrooms.” He looked over to Stephen, then his smile widened. “She should have great fun spending time with Anna once she recovers," he added with glee. "This will be great!" He grinned with pleasure, then turned and ran up the stone steps.

Matthew turned to Stephen as Ian's footsteps had finished echoing off the cold, stone walls. He chuckled, then looked down at Leslie, who lay with her eyes closed. "Aye, she is a pretty lass, though perhaps not the Lady Ian is hoping for! Whatever she is, she is real enough. And call me a fool if he is not already smitten with her." Matthew smiled to himself at how time had flown. He remembered helping bring Ian into the world, many years ago. Now Ian was a grown man, falling in love.

Matthew sighed at the memories, then began gathering a woolen blanket off the shelf to wrap around her.

Stephen turned away from Matthew and gazed down at the exhausted woman. Laying there, she almost seemed to be a child, her arrow wound perhaps a youthful nightmare. He reached absently to her face and eased a stray hair back into the braided weave. She made a small noise, then lapsed back into quiet.

Child indeed. Stephen could tell by the firm muscles in her arms that any appearance of helplessness was deceiving. She obviously knew how to wield that sword, and much else besides. Yes, it would be interesting to find out where she was from and what her business was.

Cursing quietly, Stephen turned to Matthew and growled, "She is probably the ‘companion’ of one of the mercenaries, and was being hauled back to pay the piper for some misdeed." Matthew could see there was something more troubling him, but held his tongue.

Stephen took the blanket from him and wrapped it gently around Leslie’s body. He lifted her swaddled form easily and headed towards the stairs. He could already hear muted footsteps and shouted orders as the great hall came to life. Above it all, Ian's voice gave the commands.

Believing Your Eyes - a medieval romance Leslie's homeland has been overrun by bandits. Desperation drives her to plead for assistance from a neighboring noble and his son, Ian. Ian's wenching ways and arrogance stand in sharp contrast with the quiet nobility and honor of Stephen, their best swordsman. Leslie's heart is broken when she discovers that duty has bound him in an engagement to another woman. Once Ian decides that Leslie must be his, Leslie is swept into a conflict of honor. One where death seems to be the only possible outcome ... Believing Your Eyes - a medieval romance on Amazon.com

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