Lys: Victory?

Cathair backed down. For the moment. Even as angry as he was, he wasn't going to interfere with a wounded man's life and death. That was a place reserved for God and healers, and woe to the warrior who stepped in.

He watched the bustle, knowing now who it was. Their lord- their young lord, at least, for there were two lords of this villa, from all he'd heard, was wounded badly. He might not know how to heal, but he knew pain and dangerous wounds when he saw them.

He stepped back out of the way, standing against the wall and being as unseen as possible. Another thing he knew- should the man die, the blame could fall to him as the nearest enemy. Perhaps even before death, if there was enough fear in the room.

"So." he muttered in the Gaelic. "A few moments more and Cunorix would have two blood-debts on his hands." He prayed that God would spare both men- Lord Artos, that he may recover, and Cunorix, that Cathair have the honor of killing the man himself.


Aithne caught the words, quiet as they had been. Two erics? But who was the other? There was no time to ask him, though, for with Jason attending Lord Artos, she and the others worked doubly hard at patching up the others who were coming in- groups of them now. It was from them she heard that the battle was over- that it was won and that the Fox had saved the day. She was more than thankful. Not only that they were safe, but that it meant Cathair would not be going back out. He was safe for now. Three holes in him, but nothing so bad as it could have been.

She only prayed he would be spared whatever judgement was to fall on their enemies.

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