snort. "Well, as soon as I'm convinced that the Beau isn't dim, I'll regret my words, too."
"You know what I think? I think you're jealous!" Roger stared at her, speechless, and she continued, "You can't fight, can't hunt, can't do anything manly, and he can, so you're jealous!"
Lynet didn't believe any of that, of course, but in her anger, she aimed her words toward the most likely sore spot, and not toward the truth. It worked. Roger closed his mouth and set his lips, then turned sharply away from Lynet. It is hard for dwarfs to stride firmly, their legs being so short, but Roger managed to walk away with dignity. Lynet watched him go, suppressed an impulse to call out an apology, and went off to brew her potions.
For three days, Lynet stayed with Beaumains, treating his wound with soothing salves and giving him potions to ease his fever and help him sleep. By the second day, his appetite had returned. Lynet rejected Sir Persant's physician's diet and gave Beaumains whatever he felt like eating. By the third day, he was much improved. He was still weak and his left shoulder still very painful, but he was able to sit up and talk and even receive long visits from the silly Sir Persant and his equally empty-headed daughter. Lynet was well satisfied with the results of her care.
Lynet's only concerns were her nagging worry about Lyonesse and her frustration with Roger. The dwarf had withdrawn from her. He spoke to her seldom, and when he did, it was politely, even punctiliously. Lynet discovered that without Roger to talk to, she ended up talking to no one at all. Then, on the fourth dull day after Beaumains had received his wound, as Lynet walked toward the camp with fresh herbs from the fields, she saw Roger step into Beaumains's tent, then step quickly back out.
Roger saw her too. "Don't go in there, my lady!" he said sharply.
"For heaven's sake, why not?"
"It's ... it's not a good place ... he's dressing."
"Well, he ought to be in bed," Lynet said with a scowl. "He's been up all morning, and he needs rest."
"Oh, he's in bed all right," Roger said. "But he doesn't need any help right now."
"I thought you said he was dressing," Lynet said suspiciously.
"I lie a lot. Never trust a dwarf. But Beau's resting comfortably now. He doesn't need you."
"I'll just put some more salve on his wound, then leave him alone," Lynet said, stepping forward.
Roger barred her way. "No, Lady Lynet," he said loudly. "I think that the Beau is ALREADY ASLEEP. Why don't you leave him alone for now?"
"If you haven't wakened him with your caterwauling, I certainly won't disturb him," Lynet said with a frown. She heard a rustling inside the tent. "There, see? He's awake."
Roger licked his lips, then said, "Oh, very well, go on in. But I would have thought that you'd be more concerned about your horse."
"My mare? What's wrong with her?"
"Didn't Sir Persant's grooms tell you? She hit her leg on a branch. It may be broken, they say."
"Broken!" Lynet gasped, dropping her basket of herbs. "No one's told me a thing! Is she still in the paddock?"
Lynet hurried to the area set aside for the camp's horses, where she found her mare perfectly well. None of the grooms knew of any injury to the mare, and
with a puzzled frown she returned to the camp. After a quick peek at Beaumains, who was sleeping peacefully, she began to look for Roger. After two hours of fruitless searching, she asked Sir Persant, who replied, "Oh, your dwarf! Ay, I forgot to tell you. He said he was off to take a message to your sister. Good fellow, that dwarf!"
Roger was gone for two weeks, a century to Lynet. She hardly slept at all, and when she did collapse into fitful slumber, she dreamed of Roger's body, hacked and bloodied by the Red Knight's sword, lying at the gates of the Castle Perle. During the day she devoted herself to Beaumains, watching over his wound and keeping him from overexerting himself, but Beaumains was young and strong, and he healed quickly. Soon
"You know what I think? I think you're jealous!" Roger stared at her, speechless, and she continued, "You can't fight, can't hunt, can't do anything manly, and he can, so you're jealous!"
Lynet didn't believe any of that, of course, but in her anger, she aimed her words toward the most likely sore spot, and not toward the truth. It worked. Roger closed his mouth and set his lips, then turned sharply away from Lynet. It is hard for dwarfs to stride firmly, their legs being so short, but Roger managed to walk away with dignity. Lynet watched him go, suppressed an impulse to call out an apology, and went off to brew her potions.
For three days, Lynet stayed with Beaumains, treating his wound with soothing salves and giving him potions to ease his fever and help him sleep. By the second day, his appetite had returned. Lynet rejected Sir Persant's physician's diet and gave Beaumains whatever he felt like eating. By the third day, he was much improved. He was still weak and his left shoulder still very painful, but he was able to sit up and talk and even receive long visits from the silly Sir Persant and his equally empty-headed daughter. Lynet was well satisfied with the results of her care.
Lynet's only concerns were her nagging worry about Lyonesse and her frustration with Roger. The dwarf had withdrawn from her. He spoke to her seldom, and when he did, it was politely, even punctiliously. Lynet discovered that without Roger to talk to, she ended up talking to no one at all. Then, on the fourth dull day after Beaumains had received his wound, as Lynet walked toward the camp with fresh herbs from the fields, she saw Roger step into Beaumains's tent, then step quickly back out.
Roger saw her too. "Don't go in there, my lady!" he said sharply.
"For heaven's sake, why not?"
"It's ... it's not a good place ... he's dressing."
"Well, he ought to be in bed," Lynet said with a scowl. "He's been up all morning, and he needs rest."
"Oh, he's in bed all right," Roger said. "But he doesn't need any help right now."
"I thought you said he was dressing," Lynet said suspiciously.
"I lie a lot. Never trust a dwarf. But Beau's resting comfortably now. He doesn't need you."
"I'll just put some more salve on his wound, then leave him alone," Lynet said, stepping forward.
Roger barred her way. "No, Lady Lynet," he said loudly. "I think that the Beau is ALREADY ASLEEP. Why don't you leave him alone for now?"
"If you haven't wakened him with your caterwauling, I certainly won't disturb him," Lynet said with a frown. She heard a rustling inside the tent. "There, see? He's awake."
Roger licked his lips, then said, "Oh, very well, go on in. But I would have thought that you'd be more concerned about your horse."
"My mare? What's wrong with her?"
"Didn't Sir Persant's grooms tell you? She hit her leg on a branch. It may be broken, they say."
"Broken!" Lynet gasped, dropping her basket of herbs. "No one's told me a thing! Is she still in the paddock?"
Lynet hurried to the area set aside for the camp's horses, where she found her mare perfectly well. None of the grooms knew of any injury to the mare, and
with a puzzled frown she returned to the camp. After a quick peek at Beaumains, who was sleeping peacefully, she began to look for Roger. After two hours of fruitless searching, she asked Sir Persant, who replied, "Oh, your dwarf! Ay, I forgot to tell you. He said he was off to take a message to your sister. Good fellow, that dwarf!"
Roger was gone for two weeks, a century to Lynet. She hardly slept at all, and when she did collapse into fitful slumber, she dreamed of Roger's body, hacked and bloodied by the Red Knight's sword, lying at the gates of the Castle Perle. During the day she devoted herself to Beaumains, watching over his wound and keeping him from overexerting himself, but Beaumains was young and strong, and he healed quickly. Soon
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