Give Up the Dead by C. B. Hanley

Author:C. B. Hanley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The History Press

Chapter Nine

They arrived back at the earl’s pavilion, although Martin wasn’t quite sure how they got there; he had no memory of walking through the camp. As they drew near he summoned one of the sergeants to help him, and then sent Edwin on his way. No point in complicating matters further.

When the lord earl saw them he said nothing, but his lips set in the thin line that meant he was seriously displeased. Not with them, fortunately; he barked at Hugh to follow him and stalked out, but not before casting a glance at Adam that betrayed some sympathy and telling Martin to lay him down on his pallet.

Martin and his helper dragged Adam into the sleeping area, and Martin then sent the other man off to find Brother William. While he waited for the monk he laid Adam down and put a rolled-up tunic under his head – lying flat might make him choke on the blood streaming from his nose. He spied the cloth and basin that the earl had used for washing that morning and knelt down to try and get the worst of it off Adam’s face.

‘How do I look?’

It was just a croak, but if Adam was alert enough to worry about such things then he couldn’t be all that badly hurt, could he?

He dipped the cloth again, turning the water pink. ‘Actually, not as bad as you did the first time I met you. You must be tougher than you look.’

Adam managed a weak laugh. ‘He thinks he’s hard. He wouldn’t have lasted an hour with my old master.’

Martin recalled the events of early May – only a few months ago! – and shuddered. Adam had never spoken of the time before he’d entered the earl’s service, but Martin knew that he’d been mistreated by both his lord and his senior squire. Well, the lord was dead and could do Adam no more harm, and if he ever saw the other squire again then Martin would know what to do. He still felt the energy coursing through him, could feel again and again the sensation of his fist hitting Philip’s face, and the satisfaction it had given him to see his enemy sprawling in the dust at his feet.

He busied himself cleaning Adam’s face. ‘I think your nose has survived intact again. How do you do it?’

‘It’s a talent. Or he can’t aim properly.’ His voice sounded slurred, but he remained lucid. ‘To be honest, I was more worried that he’d keep hitting me in the gut. It’s still not right after the other day, and …’

Martin contemplated for a moment the image of Philip being vomited on as he fought, but, cheerful as the idea was, he was glad it hadn’t happened in case it caused anyone to laugh at Adam for weakness.

He’d cleaned as much as he could, but he had no salve or anything, and he wasn’t happy with the way Adam was wincing and holding his side every time he moved.

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