Thirty-four

“Oh, God!

Rian vomited.

“Oh, God!” Wilfred repeated. “Lord have–!”

“Turn his head!” Selden told him. “Don’t let him choke.”

Selden cleaned the boy’s mouth with his fingers and wiped away as much of the vomit as he could. He looked up for the healall, feeling almost desperate. Wilfred’s tearful anxiety, as much as he tried to control himself, made Selden feel helpless and afraid.

Granny was still in the distance, struggling against her aching legs. Selden would have liked to have lifted her up in his arms and bring her to the boy.

A gourd of water arrived. Selden took it and splashed all its contents on Geoffrey, who sputtered and came nearly awake. He rolled his head and moaned.

“Where are the blankets?” Selden demanded.

“There are just two.”

“Then cover this one,” he pointed. “We’ll need the second to carry Rian. And find something to cover that one, will you? And send for the sheriff. He should know.”

“Sister, where shall we take him?” Selden called. If she heard, she gave no recognition.

“Gad! Is she deaf and lame?” he asked.

Wilfred wouldn’t hear him.

The old woman grew close and, muttering as if to herself, she said, “Such an innocent. Stabbed dead, they say. Maybe. Maybe not. No. Never. He will be healed. Oh, yes.”

“Sister, where shall we take him?” Selden again asked. The healall saw him then and asked, “And what have you done, Pater?”

“I’ve calmed him. There is a lot of blood, but I’ve not looked closely.”

She came close and looked at the boy’s pale skin.

“Have you called him?” she asked the priest.

“I’ve called. He hears.”