“Watch Merlin for me while I play the surgeon.”
She took his place on the stool, while Fulk ransacked the solar for clean linen and brought a bowl of water and a cup of wine from the kitchen. He set the bowl of water and the linen on a second stool, and handed Isoult the wine cup.
“Drink, my desire.”
“The dogs yonder will not take to the water, though Merlin lashes them with his tongue.”
“Have a care. If they see a face they will let fly at the window.”
He bathed her wounded forearm as gently as a falconer imps the wing of a hawk. It was a clean stab, and the blood had ceased to ooze; so Fulk left well alone, and pouring in a little sweet oil from a phial he had found in a cupboard, set to bandage the arm with strips of linen.
“Say if I hurt, Isoult.”
“Am I a child? And you are very gentle.”
She laughed softly.
“I must have my shift and tunic.”