came. Instead he felt heaviness as the animal slumped onto him. It twitched frantically, then lay still. A moment passed as Hugh’s brain caught up with the sensations he was feeling. He opened his eyes and craned his neck. The wolf was lying across his body, a crossbow bolt protruding from one eye. Spittle and blood dripped from its open jaws. He raised himself up onto his right elbow but it gave way immediately and he felt the first true pulse of agony course through his body.
Hugh collapsed back onto the dirt, his head spinning, and turned to look in the direction the bolt had come from. Instead of Duncan or Jack, as he was expecting, Aline stood white-faced, with the crossbow reloaded and now aimed menacingly at his heart.
This was the final straw, and a wordless exclamation of disbelief burst from Hugh’s aching lungs. He closed his eyes, blood loss and pain making him light-headed and hysteria in danger of consuming him. In a moment of clarity he was struck by the absurdity of the situation. His own men were next to useless in a crisis and a woman, his prisoner, who for some reason had saved his life, was now threatening to end it.
* * *
Despite Sir Hugh’s order Aline had stayed outside the cart. She had watched transfixed with horror as the wolf attacked.
Jack had still been frozen to the spot, his earlier whimpers replaced by a keening cry of, ‘No...no...no...no...no!’
Hugh’s shriek of pain had broken the trance they’d both been under. At the same time as Jack picked up his boning knife Aline had snatched the crossbow from where it had been lying. Breathing slowly to steady her nerve, she’d taken careful aim and fired. With trembling fingers she’d slid another bolt into place and wound back the string, but there had been no need. Her aim had been true and the beast lay dead.
Now she stood stiffly, holding the weapon at arm’s length, uncertain what to do. A noise behind her made her jump. She turned her head, though she kept the bow aimed at the man on the ground. Duncan had returned at the commotion and stood red-faced and panting at the edge of the clearing, his short sword drawn. Jack stood with his knife outstretched, still holding his rabbit, trembling and close to tears.
Aline stared at the Captain, who now lay laughing uncontrollably under the body of the wolf. For a moment she considered the likely outcome if she did shoot him. She walked slowly towards him, still holding the crossbow at chest height. Sir Hugh’s face changed as she stood over him, doubt and possibly fear in his eyes, his hysteria over as quickly as it had arisen. His chest rose and fell heavily, the muscles straining with exertion.
‘What will you do now, my lady?’ he asked, his voice hoarse and slurred. ‘What purpose would it serve to kill me? Even if my men don’t execute you immediately, how long do you think you would last on your own in the wilds?’
Aline looked deep into the eyes of the man who had captured and humiliated her. With her sweetest smile she aimed her bow and pulled the trigger.
The bolt thrummed close to the Captain’s head and stuck in the ground by his ear. Aline had the satisfaction of seeing him jerk in alarm. She lowered the bow and held out a hand; he took it, grunting as she helped him up.
No sooner was he on his feet than his legs buckled underneath him and he slumped forwards with a groan. Aline caught him in her arms. but could barely support his weight. She let the crossbow fall and awkwardly lowered the man to the ground. She cradled his head in her lap as Jack and Duncan rushed forwards to haul the body of the wolf away to the edge of the clearing.
‘Get some torches lit,’ Sir Hugh ordered weakly, ‘and bring one over here. I need to see how bad this is.’
A warm stickiness was starting to soak through Aline’s bodice. She tensed, alarmed at how clammy her dress felt. Sir Hugh had been such a short time in her arms before he fell. The man’s injury must be serious if the blood was soaking through his clothing so quickly!
Duncan brought a torch and cautiously peeled back the Captain’s coat and tunic, both now crimson and sticky. Duncan swore, Jack made retching sounds, and Aline blanched as the flickering light revealed the terrible state he was in.
There were scratches covering his torso, but these were nothing in comparison to those on his chest. Where the wolf had razed him with its claws the wound was shallow, but long. It stretched from his shoulder to finish just over his heart, three ragged gashes in all. The Captain pressed his good hand tightly down to try and slow the blood oozing out. From the controlled sound of his breathing Aline could tell he was fighting hard to remain alert, but she knew he could pass out at any moment.
‘Get one of those bottles of whisky quickly and start a fire, Jack,’ Duncan rasped. ‘I’m going to have to cauterise that before he dies from the loss of blood.’
Sir Hugh let out a deep, wordless moan of protest and closed his eyes.
‘What can I do to help?’ Aline asked.
‘Hold him. Comfort him as best as you can, my lady,’ Duncan said kindly. ‘I don’t know if you understand what is going to happen here, but I have to seal the wound. Be warned: when the knife touches he’ll be in terrible pain—more than he is in now. You’ll have to be ready. Can you do that?’
Aline nodded dumbly. Sir Hugh began to shake, whether from the knowledge of what he faced or from loss of blood Aline was uncertain. She reached down and smoothed his matted hair back from his face with a trembling hand, then stroked his face gently. She made vague shushing sounds, as though she was comforting an injured animal or a child.
Jack ran across with the bottle of whisky and a leather strap from the carthorse’s halter and wrapped it around a thick twig. Duncan picked up the fallen dagger and poured some of the liquor over the blade, then took it to the fire. He balanced it in the flames, his face solemn as he prepared for his task. When he was satisfied the blade was hot enough he nodded to Jack, who held the bottle for Sir Hugh to drink from, then tipped more of the liquid over the injured shoulder and chest.
Sir Hugh swore as the sharp spirit flowed over his injury. Again Jack gave him the bottle, and Hugh took a couple of deep gulps. As an afterthought Jack took a swig, passed it to Duncan, and then to Aline, who took a hesitant drink, glad to feel the sharp warmth in her stomach.
Duncan carried the dagger over and knelt astride his captain. He nodded his head and Jack pushed the leather-wrapped wood between Sir Hugh’s teeth, then leaned across his legs to restrain him. Aline laced her fingers through Sir Hugh’s, noting with alarm how cold they felt. She moved his hand away from the wound and gave a reassuring squeeze, which he answered almost imperceptibly with one of his own.
‘Ready, lad—my lady?’ Duncan asked. ‘I’m going to count to three, then I’ll do it. One...two...’
Without waiting for the third count Duncan pressed the knife against the largest laceration on the Captain’s chest. He held it for a couple of seconds, then quickly removed it. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, assaulting Aline’s senses. Sir Hugh bit down on the wood but could not prevent himself from letting out a groan, more animal than human, deep in his throat as his skin blistered.
His hand gave a spasm and his fingers squeezed Aline’s so tightly she cried out. His body jerked, then fell still as he collapsed into a deep faint. Bile rose in Aline’s throat and she let out an anguished sob, while Jack leaned away and vomited loudly. Duncan removed the wood from the unconscious man’s mouth and inspected his handiwork, then smiled grimly at a job well done.
‘You both did well. Two more to go,’ he told them. ‘I need to reheat the blade. Too cool
