As we walked back to our residence from the makeshift infirmary with our guards I sensed from Dr. Thorpe’s heavy breathing that he was worn out. I kept my eyes on him from the back listening to a few violent coughs rattle his lungs and the deep inhale after each one as he tried to catch his breath. I said nothing as I did not want to draw attention to it, however I wondered why his cough kept returning. He did not appear ill and otherwise seemed fine. I did not want to think of the possibility that something else was going on. He had never shared his medical history or the state of his current health with me . . . but something instinctual inside of me recognized the coughing of congestive heart failure. Suddenly I started to become concerned for him, not only for myself, but for the others as well. Dr. Thorpe was the only other person like us here and had been kind enough to take us in and show us the ropes. How would we carry on if something happened to him? I tried to shut the thoughts down after we arrived home and washed up before changing into our night gowns. I don’t even remember Sam sliding into her side of the bed as sleep claimed me.
The next morning we were able to sleep until sunrise for a change. We had to cut more cloth for bandages before returning to the Great Hall to try and discharge more soldiers today. After a brief snack, the three of us got to work. Within a few minutes of trying to use a dull blade to cut strips of fabric, I wished that I had the pair of scissors that I had seen in Princess Emeley’s treasure trove not too long ago. I wondered where Sam was, I had sent her into the kitchen to look for different knives several minutes ago and she still had not returned. Suddenly, without warning, the door to our clinic swung open and three finely dressed men marched in. I recognized none of them, however Dr. Thorpe greeted them and bowed before them. He then turned and gestured for me to line up next to him in the center of the room.
“My lords, may I present Miss Evelyn Remington, a nurse from my world,” he said as he swept his hand towards me.
A tall, lean, muscular man with short blonde hair, blue eyes, and strong angular facial features stepped forward and looked me over from head to toe, as if to inspect me for flaws. Our eyes met briefly before I lowered them as a sign of respect as I curtsied. He nodded and said, “Welcome to the East Village, Miss Remington.” He had a pleasant voice, but I sensed a dismissive tone to it. At least he seemed somewhat kind. I wondered who he was.
Just then, Samantha pushed the door open and entered the clinic from our attached dwelling and stopped dead after clearing the threshold. She glanced at Dr. Thorpe with uncertainty, as he gestured for her to join us in the center of the room. Quickly, she set the knives down and hurried over and curtsied. Surprise shook me as I watched the well-dressed lord quickly go to her and offer her a hand to shake. “And you are?” he asked gently.
Samantha glanced at me and then looked up at him warily. She had learned caution around the men in the village. Her soft-spoken and gentle ways fit in nicely here and her attractive features had already garnered attention from some of them.
“This is Samantha Chilton, your grace,” Dr. Thorpe cut in smoothly. “She is also from my world and is working with Evelyn and I to tend to the injured soldiers and villagers.”
“I see,” the lord replied, still staring at her, eyes bright, breathing hitching ever so slightly. It wasn’t just any stare, I realized. His face seemed to light up as he gazed at her, as if he were seeing the moon eclipse over the sun for the first time. I recognized it for what I was; awe. It was the same way I looked at the prince the day before yesterday. “Welcome to Eteryn, Miss Chilton,” said the lord pleasantly.
“Thank you, my lord,” she replied softly and respectfully, keeping her gaze low. I swear she blushed slightly as her cheeks developed a faint crimson hue.
“This is Sir William Wentworth, our feudal lord,” Dr. Thorpe explained as the two of us nodded respectfully again.
Not taking his eyes off of Samantha, Sir William began to speak again. “I have returned home and will be resuming my duties to the king to oversee the East Village, and that includes you and your wayfarer companions. I have been informed by the princess that your presence here so far has been beneficial to our community, therefore I will allow you to continue to carry on your tasks. Should any concerns arise, you are to report them to me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, my lord,” Sam and I replied in unison. He nodded, and, casting one last glance at Samantha, strode elegantly out the door.
∞
Little by little the frenzy of injured soldiers in need of medical care receded and the makeshift infirmary in the Great Hall was dismantled. I had never treated so many stab wounds and lacerations before. Back home I did not have much experience suturing wounds. Now I was a pro. I wished I could get back and show everybody what I had learned. Some of the wounds I encountered appeared a little strange to me . . . like a cross between a burn and a tear, leaving me wondering what could have caused them.
I went about my morning routine, making sure the clinic was spic and span. Dr. Thorpe left a while ago to fetch more herbs. Drew busied himself emptying and refilling our wash tub upstairs, and Samantha was out back weeding our small vegetable garden.
I had my back turned to the door dusting the shelves of the book case when I heard it open. A young man with brown hair wearing a soldier’s uniform strode towards me, stopping at the counter between us.
“May I help you?” I asked politely, taking in his handsome appearance.
“I am here to see Dr. Thorpe,” he said plainly.
“The doctor is on an errand and will be returning any time now. I am his nurse. Is there something I can help you with?” I inquired.
“You are not from Eteryn, are you?” he surmised. “You have a strange accent.”
“Dr. Thorpe and I are from the same world.” I really wasn’t in any mood today to justify my skills or give an explanation of how I came to be here.
“I saw you in the infirmary last week.”
I remembered him now . . . he had smiled at me. “Yes, that was me. If you want to wait for Dr. Thorpe, you can have a seat over there,” I pointed to one of the two wooden chairs near the door.
“Well, if you were helping out in the infirmary I suppose you could help me.”
“Okay,” I said, sliding our newly acquired patient log book to me and opening it. I took a quill and dipped it in the ink. My handwriting with such a primitive tool left much to be desired, but at least I could write. “Name?”
The stranger smiled at me. “Henrik Beaumont, Miss.”
“And what are we seeing you for today, Sir?”
“Drills were a little rough this morning and I need to be stitched up. Dr. Lachman was not available.”
I noted the log with his concern. “Where at?”
“My right shoulder, Miss.”
I closed the book and gestured for him to follow me to one of the cots. “Please be seated. Let me gather some supplies and I’ll be right with you.”
He nodded and watched me as I walked over to the supply cabinet. Once I had everything I needed, I returned to him and set everything down. I rinsed my hands in a nearby wash basin. “May I see the wound, Sir?”
He removed his tunic, set it aside, and then pulled his white undershirt over his head, leaving him half naked before me. Sure enough, he had a blood-stained bandage wrapped under his arm and around his shoulder, but I also could not help but notice his fine physique. I’m used to seeing people naked all of the time . . . it doesn’t faze me. But I rarely see anyone with washboard abs and sculpted muscles like they belong in a body building magazine. He was definitely not your average Joe. I may be a nurse, but I can definitely appreciate a fine body when I see one. Keeping my poker face, I unraveled the bandage and assessed his wound. A long five inch cut about a quarter inch deep ran down the back of his shoulder. Sword wound most likely. It was fresh and still oozing.
“Did this happen this morning?” I asked as I set to work.
“Yes. Lord Crievan drives us pretty hard,” he re
marked with a smile.
“The soldiers are back in training so soon?” I inquired as I cleansed the wound, noticing a few well healed faded scars scattered on his back.
“We have been away for months. It feels good to get back into a routine.”
“I’m going to need to suture this. You’ll need to take it easy on the arm for a week,” I said from standing behind him.
He laughed, apparently amused. “I will try, Miss . . . what did you say your name was?” He turned his head and looked at me with his attractive blue eyes.
“My name is Evelyn, Sir.”
“Miss Evelyn, how long have you been here?”
“Since the beginning of summer,” I said as I began to stitch him up. He barely flinched as the needle pierced his skin.
“Did you have family where you were from?” he inquired softly.
“Yes,” I replied, not wanting to talk about it.
“They must be missing you,” he said sympathetically.
I kept myself focused on my work as we continued to make small talk. I learned he resided in a manor near Silverstone and has been in the military since his early teenage years. He spoke in an upbeat tone and overall seemed pleasant. I placed an herbal poultice over the sutures and then re-wrapped the wound with a fresh bandage. When I had completed my work, he flexed his arm and swung it through the range of motion, testing it out.
“Excellent!” he announced with a broad smile before donning his clothes again.
I quickly went through his wound care instructions and when to return for suture removal as he gazed at me.
“Thank you, Miss Evelyn, . . . I look forward to seeing you again soon,” he said as he gave me a quick wink before walking out.
Chapter 9
The Kingdom of Eteryn seemed to liven up now that the war had ended and the soldiers returned home. Paul worked hard almost every day with the new events and banquets that went on. Most of the villagers turned out for the sporting events, especially the jousts. Today was no such exception. I had seen them in movies, at the Faire, or at the Medieval Times entertainment arena before, but never an authentic one. Although it was a Saturday, we attended because we needed to be on duty to tend to the wounded for it was our East Village against the West Village.
“At least we will have a good view,” Dr. Thorpe remarked as he led the way for me and Samantha to follow. I wondered if I would catch a glimpse of the prince while we were there.
Dust stirred in the wind as servants helped to prepare the arena. Colorful flags were hoisted and the wooden bench stadiums began to fill with people. In the center of the opposite side, a dais had been erected and two large ornate chairs had been set up. I can only assume that they were meant for Princess Emeley and Prince Eythan. With the bright mid-day sun, I doubt the king would attend.
I suppose about half an hour passed as the stadium became crowded with spectators and the opponents gathered at opposite ends of the field. We busied ourselves setting up our supplies on our side. We were situated near the end on the side that our challenger would ride towards. A noble family had gathered in the benches near us, talking and laughing energetically as their servants served their food. I wondered if they ever got tired of being waited upon as I looked down at my new boots. They weren’t nearly as comfy as my old sneakers and my feet began to let me know it. Too bad we had to stand the whole time.
Finally the crowd hushed as the trumpet blowers announced the arrival of the royals. I turned my head, eager to catch a glimpse of the prince, but it was only Princess Emeley that arrived with her ladies, gingerly taking a seat on the dais. The other throne remained empty. Disappointed, I turned my attention back to the tournament. Some official gave a small speech and each opponent rode up to the princess, who selected one of them and tied a handkerchief to their lance. More trumpet blowing followed and then the tournament began. The two opponents raced towards each other and I cringed as I heard the impact of their jousting poles. The crowd cheered and I immediately scanned the contestants for injuries. I figured wounds from this sort of sport could be fatal.
As the competition continued, the East Village contestants proved to be triumphant, winning most of the matches. The nobles behind us became rowdier and rowdier as they ate, drank, and cheered. Finally, the last opponents faced each other down from opposite ends. The trumpets sounded and they blazed towards one another. The nobles in back of me cheered obnoxiously as the West Villager fell, but their cheers suddenly turned to screams.
Sam and I immediately turned and rushed over as a heavy, older gentleman stood gagging and clutching his throat in a universal choking sign. I glanced back, looking for Dr. Thorpe, but he had not returned from his visit to the opposite side to check on a West Villager. I ran to the man and blurted out, “are you choking?”
Although red in the face, he nodded, obviously starting to panic. Adrenaline spiked through me as I realized he couldn’t breathe. Frightened villagers crowded around us as the whole side of the bleachers turned their attention on us. Remembering my training back home I shouted out, “I will help you!” as I circled around him and placed my arms around his mid- section preparing to perform the Heimlich maneuver. He was so large, my arms barely fit around him but that did not stop me from squeezing back in the upward abdominal thrusts, trying to dislodge the blockage.
A woman, who I assumed was his wife, started shrieking, “the wayfarer is attacking him! Guards! . . . Someone help!” I had a fleeting thought as I continued to work on him that they would not understand what I was trying to do, but I ignored it and kept going.
“She is trying to help him!” I heard Samantha yell back at her, defending me, trying to calm the woman down.
I mentally blocked everything out and heaved with all of my might, trying to open up this man’s airway. If I didn’t save him, I am sure it wouldn’t go well for me. Who knows what I would be accused of? I could feel him weakening due to the lack of oxygen. I had probably mere seconds before he passed out and took me down with him. Gathering strength from somewhere deep inside me, I squeezed one last time and finally the man coughed up what looked like a chewed-up piece of chicken as it sailed several feet away, followed by more coughing and deep gasps as the man sank to his knees before me. I knelt with him to keep an eye on him as I too tried to catch my breath. He looked at me in a cross between gratitude and fear. His wife started crying and ran to him as I stood.
The crowd that had gathered grew silent as I inched back to Sam. They all looked at me in bewilderment. Relief flooded me when Dr. Thorpe arrived and quickly ran to the man I saved, putting a hand on his shoulder. Seeing that he was okay, he stood up and proclaimed, “well done, Evie!”
I didn’t know what to say or do. Normally in my world if something like this happened, there would be cheering and clapping and congratulations in order for me for saving a man’s life, but not here. Here, the people just silently stared at me as if I were some kind of freak, almost accusing me of ill will. My patient still remained on his knees while his wife knelt with him, an arm around his shoulders while what I presumed were his other family members stood in a semicircle around him.
Quickly, the crowd began to part as if by some unseen force moved them. I knew it had to be royalty. They moved apart for Princess Emeley and her guards to come and inspect the situation. Her soft footsteps came to a stop near my patient. Everyone, including myself, kneeled as a sign of respect and then stood back up.
“Lord Gyfford, are you all right?” she inquired kindly.
“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied without hesitation.
“That woman nearly killed him!” Lord Gyfford’s wife wailed, pointing at me. My mouth dropped open in shock.
“That’s not true, Your Highness!” Dr. Thorpe protested immediately. “Miss Remington saved him by expelling the meat he was choking on!”
I stood silently awaiting my judgment, sweat pouring down my back. I hoped it wouldn’t be visible through my clothes.
“He would have
coughed it up on his own!” his wife insisted.
“That is highly unlikely,” the good doctor stated in a calm tone.
I glanced up as I saw two horsemen approach us from the edge of the crowd. Again, everyone kneeled, taking me with them, as I recognized the impressive figure of Prince Eythan. He rode next to Sir William, who had his eyes on Samantha standing next to me. Prince Eythan’s eyes were on me for a few moments, making me even more nervous, before he focused on his sister. Princess Emeley stepped closer.
“Miss Evelyn, did you intend to harm Lord Gyfford?” she asked softly.
I looked directly into her blue green eyes and replied, “no, Your Highness. I intended to try to save his life.”
She glanced at her brother, who said nothing, before turning her attention back to me.
“Lord Gyfford, you are very fortunate that Miss Evelyn is here with us today. I am relieved you are all right. Now everyone go back to the festivities! Let us enjoy the victory celebration!” she proclaimed before she and her guards turned and headed back to the dais on the other side. Prince Eythan and Sir William also turned their horses away and galloped off now that the show was over. I breathed a sigh of relief as the crowd dispersed. I turned to walk away with Sam and Dr. Thorpe when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned back and saw a young, finely dressed noble teenager staring at me.
The Twilight Star Page 9
