Elysian Fields
Emily tried not to dwell too much on Electra’s absence. Fixating on it didn’t change things. She couldn’t help wondering where she was in her journey or how the Prince was treating her. Would he be the gentleman Simon and Richard claimed? At least with the craziness the rip in time brought, they had each other. Without Electra, she was like Alice down the rabbit hole.
A warm breeze filled the chamber with contrasting smells. The sweet scent from the nearby apple orchards was undercut by the smell of a cart of stable manure sitting unattended in the bailey. Unfortunately for Emily, the driver had parked the cart beneath her chamber window. The sun baking the animal leavings made the odor even worse. She stepped from the window and changed from the soft booties she wore into a sturdier ankle boot with hard sole. Time to take a walk in the fresh air by the river.
The main path down to the Severn was a stone’s throw from the kitchen door and next to the castle’s vegetable garden. As she cut through the garden, Emily pinched off some parsley buds to munch on her way. The dirt path had grown hard packed from all the deliverymen coming from the river. If she wore jeans or anything other than the long, heavy gown, maneuvering down the hill would be easy. The skirt caught on protruding large rocks and the branches of the wild shrubs that bordered the path. When the skirt wasn’t catching, it twisted around her legs nearly tripping her more than once. Out of desperation, she gathered the skirt into the crook of her arm. To hell with propriety. If there were men on the river who saw her, then so be it. It was better than tumbling down to the riverbank. There was one man fishing on the bank when she reached the bottom. Simon.
How casual he looked without the trappings of a knight. So normal. “Simon.”
He turned and waved. She waved back and headed toward him.
Simon, even at dinner, wore crisp tunics or a surcoat over loose hose. Emily assumed he wore his hose looser so it was easier to tie the one leg up rather than let it hang. But, he also always had some piece of armor showing: mail on his arms or feet, or gauntlet gloves draped over his baldric. But not today. Today he had baggy chausses with one leg still tied up, a loose tunic with simple belt, and not one piece of mail or armor.
His eyes lingered on her legs. It was only for a fraction of a moment but long enough for her to notice. “You should cover yourself, Lady Emily. It’s most improper to display your legs thusly,” he told her, frowning.
“Don’t pretend to be in a huff. I’m sure you’ve seen a lady’s legs and ankles before.” She made no effort to lower her skirt just to see what he’d do.
“I am not the subject here.” He pulled his line out of the water. “Hold this.” He handed her his fishing rod. As soon as she took it, he tugged her skirt from her arm so it dropped down. “What I have or have not seen is not important. I am not the only man on the river.”
“Fine. Whatever.” She handed him back his rod. “You’re doing pretty good,” she said, peering into a bucket of fish by his feet. “My dad likes to fish. He says it relaxes him.”
“It does me as well and Beulah can always use the extra food.” Simon drew back and cast his line into the river again.
“I’d try, but the idea of handling worms grosses me out.”
“What does grosses me out mean?”
She kept forgetting the fact everyday modern slang escaped understanding here. “They’re slimy. I don’t like touching them.”
“Do you want to try?”
“Yes and no. I wouldn’t mind, but I still don’t want to fiddle with worms.”
He pulled his line out and lay his rod on the ground. “I have a lure you’ll find acceptable,” he said and dug into a pouch tied to his belt. “That boat,” Simon nodded toward a wooden rowboat sitting on the bank. “belongs to the castle. There should be another pole in it. Would you fetch it for me, please?”
Emily brought it over. In Simon’s hand, he held a lure made up of the brightly colored portions of two peacock feathers. The shafts were tied with twine and covered with wax to secure the string.
“I’ve caught my fair share of trout with feathers,” Simon said. “Attach the hook just so.” He looped the hook through the twine, which Emily knew to do, but it clearly pleased him to show her. He gave her the baited rod and moved behind her. “Now, I’ll show you how to cast your line. If you don’t do it right, you might snarl the hooked line on your skirts.”
He wrapped his arms around her. His left arm lay against her left. With his right, he guided her arm back. Then pressing his chest to her spine, he guided her arm forward to cast the line into the water.
The lure landed several yards out and floated along the surface. Simon no longer pressed against her, but he didn’t move away either. “The fish love the colorful feathers. They wiggle like the wings of the flying insects they feast upon and so fool the fish into biting.”
When he spoke, his beard tickled the top of her ear. Like Richard, Simon kept his well-trimmed and close-cut. She turned just enough to look up at him. She hadn’t noticed before, but in the bright sun she saw how thick his eyelashes were. They were darker than his reddish brown beard and hair that had the occasional strand of gold. The stern expression he wore around the castle was gone now. He wasn’t what she’d call handsome but he had a rugged, masculine look that could compete with any leading man she could think of.
“Thank you for helping me. Let’s see if they bite for me.”
They didn’t wait long before a fish snapped onto the hook. “Flick the line out,” Simon said, helping her put a snap in her wrist.
As she did, Simon moved next to her, smiling when she brought the fish within reach. She held tight to the squirming trout and removed the hook. She couldn’t bear how its mouth opened and shut rapidly in its struggle for air or how the eye locked on her. She threw it back into the water as hard and far as she could.
“What are you doing?” Simon asked, gawking at the spot the fish plopped down.
“Catch and release.”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“It’s an act of kindness. I wanted to enjoy the relaxation of fishing, but I don’t want to hurt the fish.”
“You’re mad. Do you not eat fish in your land?”
“Yes.”
“How, unless a woeful fish surrenders to you and lays down upon your table? I do not understand how this ‘catch and release’ business works in your country but here in England we practice catch and eat.” He stared out at the return spot, looking dismayed. Emily wasn’t certain if he felt dismay at the loss of the trout or at the possibility she was touched with madness.
“Let me try again,” she said.
“And if you get a fish?”
“I’ll keep it and give it to Beulah.”
He snatched the line from her and dug out another feather lure. “I should hope so.”
Simon gave her the pole and stepped behind her again. This time when he helped her send the line farther out, he stumbled backward and almost went down on his good knee.
Emily dropped the pole, turned, and grabbed a handful of shirt. “Simon.”
He managed to maintain his balance but he grimaced, gave a short grunt and pulled from her grasp. Bending, he began to vigorously rub his thigh.
“What’s wrong with your leg?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine in a minute.”
That wasn’t even a mediocre lie. “Let me help.”
“No!”
“Simon—”
“I said I’d be fine and I will.” He straightened, but a blind man could see he tried to not put his full weight on the leg. Good thing his crutch was made of sturdy oak, or it would’ve broken apart from his grip.
“You need to sit and rest the leg.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Simon...sit. Now. I’m not one of your scaredy-cat squires you can bully. Do what I say, or I’ll kick your bucket of fish into the river.”
“Emily, do not test me. I’m not in the mood.”
“Don’t test me.” She picked up the bucket. “I’ll do it.”
“God’s teeth! Who’d have guessed you to be such a scold?” He sat on the bank with gingerly effort, folding his undamaged leg under him. When she knelt next to him, he asked, “What do you intend?”
She tapped the knee of his good leg. “Straighten your leg.”
“Not until you tell me what you plan.”
“It won’t hurt. Your bones have muscles attached.” She squeezed his thigh. “Those on your—” she paused not wanting to say your good leg, “weight-bearing leg will tense and tighten from overuse. They may become sore because you did something that made you move in ways different than normally. Rubbing your thigh and calf when they hurt gives you temporary relief, right?”
“Yes. If you mean to rub my leg, then I must object. You can’t go about doing things like hiking your skirt high and rubbing men’s legs. It is not done. Not here.” He shook his head. “I’m baffled this type of behavior by women in your country is tolerated.”
Emily shrugged and sat back on her heels. “If you’d rather be in pain, then so be it. If you want to feel better, then let me massage your leg.”
He didn’t move, just stared at her with a tight-lipped stubborn expression. He straightened his leg as she started to stand. She sat up on her knees and fixed her skirt so it didn’t pull and she had more mobility. She worked her way down his thigh, alternating between rubbing in circles using her palm and then squeezing. He leaned back on his elbows and after a few minutes, closed his eyes. After she worked her hands over his thigh, she felt the muscles relax under the ministrations. “Your leg feels better, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but I can rub my own thigh.”
“Shall I stop then?”
“No. I confess you have a way of making my leg feel better than I do.”
“Roll over on your stomach.”
His eyes flew open. She’d entered a new level of shock to his medieval sensibilities.
“Don’t start with the I shouldn’t do this talk. Your leg is feeling better, I know from how it feels in my hand. I’m going to massage your calf and it will feel wonderful too. Trust me.”
“Perhaps we should share some wine first. It feels like we should. My wine bag is in the basket next to the fish bucket.”
Several swallows later, his mood mellowed and he let her work on his calf. She suggested letting her massage the thigh of his injured leg but he said absolutely not and refused to discuss it further.
Emily settled for a partial victory. Once his pain passed, Simon fished until time for the midday meal. While he fished, she walked along the riverbank gathering flat rocks as equal in size as possible.
****
After dinner that night, when the minstrels Richard had hired left, some of the men went into the village. Richard, Simon, and Emily retired to their chambers.
Emily warmed the stones she found in a pan she borrowed from the kitchen. Unsure how exactly to heat them other than over a fire in her chamber, which she feared would make them too hot, she thought to try heating them in hot water. When the stones were hot enough for the heat to penetrate cloth but not too hot to handle, she wrapped them in a length of linen. She checked that the corridor was empty and went down the hall to Simon’s.
She knocked on his chamber door. Hopefully, he’d let her use the hot rocks to help ease the tension in his good leg. In the past she’d had trouble with stiffness in her neck and back and she’d given hot stone massage therapy a try. It worked for her.
“Emily. Is anything wrong?” Simon asked, answering his door. He peered down the corridor in both directions. “Why are you here?”
“I’m going to help you even more than I was able to earlier today,” she said, stepping past him and into his chamber.
He opened his mouth to object, no doubt. She quickly added, “I know this is improper...in your world. I’m fine with it and if you think about it, you should be too. There’s only us and Richard on this side of the castle and he’s done for the night. No one else is around.”
“And, you took the opportunity to barge your way into my chamber to show me rocks?” he asked, looking from her to the stones and back.
“These are part of the treatment. I need you to lie down and I’m going to plant these warm stones in different places along your spine and leg. You’ll feel great when I’m done.”
Simon touched several of the stones.
“They won’t burn. They’re not painfully hot,” Emily reassured him.
A placating half-smile was followed by a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You obviously don’t know how they stopped the bleeding from my injured leg and the battle wounds of many others.”
She didn’t remember the details of medieval medicine. From his demeanor and the barbarity of the treatment in this time she did recall, whatever they did, it was horrible. “Like I said, this won’t hurt. I’ll need you to undress a bit for the treatment to be most effective.”
“I won’t take my chausses off. People or no people close at hand, I am not taking the chance. I will remove my shirt.” He’d slipped out of the tunic he wore at dinner and put on a blousy linen shirt Emily assumed he slept in. He loosened the leather lacing from the shirt and pulled it over his head. In the soft candlelight, the few strands of grey that had begun to dot the brownish hair on his chest caught the light and looked like silk threads. She knew he was barrel-chested. That was easily seen no matter what he wore. With his shirt off, she saw how well built he truly was, with a much narrower waist and heavily muscled arms.
He sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. When he finished he asked, “Now what?”
“Lie on your stomach and try to empty your mind of worries and everyday matters.”
He stretched out with his arms crossed under his head. She put the linen aside and lined his spine with half the warm stones. The second half of the stones she placed on the back of the thigh and calf of his good leg. “All right so far?”
“So far.”
Working the muscles of his shoulders with her hands, she asked with genuine curiousity, “How did they stop your leg from bleeding?”
The muscles across his back flexed under her fingers, forcing her to manipulate them harder. She didn’t have a lot of strength in her hands and they’d be sore later, but he was hurting. The crutch threw ordinary movement off, not just the leg. His shoulders and back had to suffer with the shift in weight. She pressed the heels of her hands deeper into his shoulders and along his neck. He hadn’t answered and when she figured he wouldn’t, he did.
“First the arrow from a crossbow pierced my greave and entered below my knee. I continued to fight, of course. The wound was bad but not so crippling as to keep me out of the fight. I was close-in fighting a French cavalryman when another came to his aid. Trapped between them, the second knight struck the knee of my injured leg with his morning star, crushing the bone.”
The knotted muscles in his back relaxed as he talked. Perhaps speaking of the event that dramatically changed his life, helped, gave him a bit of emotional release. Emily credited her contribution too.
“I knew when the injuries occurred both required cauterization. After the battle, the Prince sent his personal battlefield surgeon. My leg from the knee down was beyond repair, which I knew, but it’s still a gut-wrenching thing to hear. Blood poured from the morning star wound and would from the arrow wound once the barb was removed. Two burly priests had me bite down on my sword belt as the barb was removed. The same two held me down while the surgeon heated my sword to red hot.”
A shudder passed over Emily in anticipation of what was coming next.
“They put the blade to my wounds, burning damaged flesh, sealing the veins and stopping the flow of blood.”
“Dear God, how could you bear it?”
“I didn’t have much choice. The first was the worst pain imaginable. That is until the second cauterization after the amputation. I fell into a faint when they applied the heated sword again.” He gave a deep sigh and said, “You can press harder. I won’t fall faint beneath your ministrations.”
She briefly entertained the idea of climbing on top of him and straddling his hips to massage his back and shoulders. She chickened out, afraid he might get the wrong idea. To avoid being considered a tart, she’d have to tell him no, if he became too amorous. A man like Simon wouldn’t ask twice. She’d settle for massaging from the side.
He moaned and turned his head so they could talk eye-to-eye. “You’ve the hands of an angel. The feel of them upon my sore body is a touch of heaven.”
She smiled and said, “Thank you.” You don’t feel so bad yourself.