“Didn’t know what he was doing,” said another.
“Not good hunters,”
Those words were untrue, and it annoyed her to hear them. Knowing her husband was not injured she went to see if there was anything she could do to help the injured man.
Greta was being helped to her feet after having examined the wound. “It is beyond repair. From the knee down needs to come off or he will die.”
Shouts of “NAY” filled the air.
Tavia felt a hand on her arm and saw it was Wilona.
“Lath is my sister’s son. Please help him. Please do not let them take his leg,” Wilona pleaded.
Bhric gave a commanding nod, and his men went to approach the injured man to carry him off to have his leg cut off.
“WAIT!” Tavia called out.
Her husband glared at her.
“I will have a Highland healer look at it,” Tavia said and waved Hertha forward before her husband could deny her.
Tavia was glad Hume joined her and together the three squatted down beside Lath and while Tavia placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and spoke softly to him, assuring him all would be well, Hertha and Hume looked him over.
“Can you stitch it?” Tavia asked.
“It will take a multitude of stitches and an experienced hand,” Hertha said, “and much healing time without any promise that…”
Tavia knew what Hertha left unsaid… without any promise that Lath would survive.
“I beg you, my lady,” Lath said, grabbing hold of her hand. “I would rather die than lose my leg.”
A memory gripped Tavia, her da shouting, “You will not cut off her leg You will heal it.”
Tavia squeezed Lath’s hand tight. “We will not cut off your leg.”
“Your leg will come off! And let go of my wife’s hand!”
Tavia looked up to see her husband standing over them, a stern and determined look in his eyes.
Lath released her hand mumbling apologies while keeping a pleading eye on Tavia.
She stood. “We can save his leg.”
“We?” Bhric asked.
Hertha stood then. “Lady Tavia is an exceptionally skilled stitcher. Her talent is needed to sew the wound closed.”
“Impossible,” Greta said, shaking her head. The leg is too damaged. It is beyond repair. Besides, either way he will die.”
“Then what difference does it make if we try?” Tavia asked, her eyes on her husband.
“Hertha will stitch his leg,” Bhric ordered.
“She is not skilled enough. I will do it,” Tavia said.
“I forbid it,” Bhric commanded.
Tavia’s chin went up and her courage came from deep down inside. “I am a Highland woman and I stand with my Highland brethren. I will do what I must to save them as you would with your Northmen tribe. You have a foot in both worlds. Will you stand this time with your Highland brethren?”