“Gabriel,” he answered, choking down a cough and wincing. “Gabriel Parr.”
Royce lifted his head and looked at Giles. “You heard those insults.”
“I did. We can’t leave him here. I don’t know if they’d even tend him.”
“True.”
Giles sighed and trusted his instinct. It had yet to let him down. “Let’s get him into the carriage. We’ll take him to Wolfbridge with us.”
Chapter Five
All the lights were on at Wolfbridge as the carriage pulled up to the front steps, and Giles was thrilled to see the door fly open even before they’d stopped.
They would need all the help they could get.
Royce scrambled out, as did Giles, then they bent to the man they’d all but carried on their laps for the last long hours of the trip.
“Evan, Jeremy…we need help here,” called Giles.
In an instant they were there, at his side.
“What the hell…” Jeremy blinked at the sight of the bloodied figure sprawled on the carriage cushions.
“Giles, who is this…” Evan reached in, lifting one leg. “He’s wounded. We must get him inside.”
“A very good idea,” drawled Royce, coming around the back of the vehicle. “A carriage is not a good place to die.”
Giles clenched his teeth. “He’s not going to die. Make yourself useful and help Jeremy and Evan get him inside.”
Between them, they manhandled the young man into the hall, and then stared at Giles. “Jeremy, get a room ready for him. And Evan, Royce will want hot water and we both could use something to eat. I suppose we could put him in the parlour…”
“Top of the stairs, third right,” said Jeremy. “I set that up this morning. Always good to have backup accommodations ready to go.”
“Efficient,” commented Royce, picking the body up by the shoulders and frowning at the moan his move elicited from the man he held. “I’m Royce, by the way. I suppose we’ll get formally introduced soon, but for now, this man has multiple bruises, possibly a couple of broken ribs, and I don’t know what else. Let’s put him where Giles suggested so I can take a closer look.”
They carried Gabriel carefully up the stairs and Jeremy pulled the linens away. None of them knew the extent of his injuries, or even if he was still bleeding anywhere.
Royce bent over and checked the pulse once again. “Still with us, are you, Gabriel? I’d say you were one hell of a fighter, my lad.” He looked at Gabriel’s left hand, and the broken and damaged skin. “A left hander, by the look of it. And you fought back too, didn’t you…”
Jeremy started the fire as Evan walked past. “I’ll get you that hot water right away,” he said, a worried look on his face.
“You’ll need to get him out of those clothes. I’ll get a knife and a robe for him.” Jeremy looked down at Gabriel, also worried. “He’s the look of an angel about him, right enough. Gabriel’s a good name for this one.”
Royce was bending over the bed, feeling the lad’s limbs. “Let’s see if we can keep him earthbound for a bit longer.”
“Right.” Jeremy nodded and left to take care of his assigned tasks.
Royce glanced at Giles. “You’ve got them well trained.”
Giles narrowed his eyes. “Not at all. They’re fine men who do the right thing. Don’t sneer at them, Royce. I won’t allow that under any circumstances. You don’t have to be their brother, just act like a normal human being.”
Royce huffed out a snort of what might have been laughter. “Don’t even know what that is.” He eased away what clothing he could, and then felt his way down Gabriel’s leg. He paused. The thick wool sock that was so typical for country gentlemen walking through fields, was thicker than it should have been. “Hmm. What do we have here?”
Giles neared the bed, watching Royce’s fingers as they gently eased the sock down, freeing it of the blood which had dried and stuck to the skin. It revealed a tight bandage.
“Another wound? An earlier one?”
“Possibly,” muttered Royce, struggling to untie the knot. “There. Got it.”
He unwrapped the length of cloth that had been bound around Gabriel’s leg, just above the ankle, and as he did so, a very small dark red velvet pouch fell out.
“Ah. Seen these before. My men would do this with letters from home, the odd coin, little treasures,” said Royce. “An easy way to keep such things with you at all times.”
Gabriel picked it up and weighed it. “Very light.”
“You can’t carry much, that’s for sure,” agreed Royce, continuing to examine Gabriel.
Intrigued, Giles moved to a small table and lit a couple of candles, since the sun was well hidden and the day definitely on the dark side. He gently loosened the ribbons that held the pouch closed and emptied the contents out onto the shining wood.
A slight gasp of surprise attracted Royce’s attention. “What?”
“A piece of jewellery. A locket perhaps…” It was flat, oval in shape, and probably gold, but it had aged to a darker glow. Giles managed to open it.
Inside was a tiny portrait, a miniature, of a beautiful woman with fiery hair and ivory skin. She was dressed according to a fashion not seen in generations, and Giles couldn’t even guess at how old this delightful piece might be. “A lovely image of some ancestress, I’d assume,” he said. “And the locket looks like gold.”
He snapped it closed. “There is some engraving on the front…” Nearing the candle, he brushed his thumb over the writing, polishing it up so that it became clearer.
He was silent for more than a few minutes.
“What does it say? Can you read it?”
Giles nodded. “It says Illuminabit ad te.”
“My Latin is rusty. What does that mean?
