A knock came at his door. The old farmer groaned to his feet, why couldn’t who ever it was come just a few minutes earlier when he was standing? His gnarled right hand rasped against his wrinkled forehead, it’s partner opening the weather beaten door.
“What do you…” he started in aggravation, and stumbled backwards as the door forced open. An unconscious young man slumped through the entry way, knocking the old farmer to the ground.
“Lilly!” the hoarse sound of the old man screaming for his wife came out as panicked. He cleared his throat and tried again, “LILLY! Get him off me!”
A little woman shuffled quickly to the downed men, “Oh my…” she gasped. The dark haired stranger looked worse for wear, crimson blood seeped through his white shirt and along his back.
“Dear, are you alright?” she asked, crouching next to them. Her fingers felt along the young man’s throat, searching for signs of life.
“Of course I’m not alright! This great lump is crushing the life out of me!” he grumped, clearly only uncomfortable.
“Yes, dear. Just one moment…” she found a pulse, and removed her apron so she could press it against the wound. Her hands slipped under the less injured side of the dark haired man and carefully rolled him off her husband.
A groan came from both the men, pain from the young man, and disgust from the older, “How dare he get blood all over our floor. We’re never going to get that out. Doesn’t he know how hard it is to get blood out of wood?”
“Perhaps, dear. Help me get him to the table.”
“I’m not going to let him get blood all over our table too!”
“Albert. Either move the man or get me my health bag.” She ordered in a no-nonsense voice.
It was his turn to reply, “Yes, dear…” as he flopped to his stomach, then knees and finally struggled to his feet. He returned a short time later with a bulging forest green hand bag.
“It looks like a sword hole. Hand me your spirits. I need to clean the wound.”
“But Lilly…”
“Now, Albert. This man is going to get infected and die, and it will be your fault if you don’t.”
He heaved another sigh, “Yes, dear.” And retrieved his secret stash of alcohol, wishing she hadn’t been so smart to discover it.
The small woman worked quickly and efficiently, cleaning and dressing the wound, and sewing it shut. Her small, sturdy, hands moved without hesitation, wrapping a bandage around the man’s torso.
“Get ready to move him while I make a bed by the fire.”
“But that’s my place to sit!”
“You can relinquish it for a few days, love. He needs it more right now.”
“You don’t even know who he is! What if he wakes up in the middle of the night and kills us both?”
“With a wound like that, he’s not going to be getting up in the middle of any night for a few days.”
“Lilly…”
“Albert, I am firmly set in this. He obviously came here for a reason. Perhaps he was lead here for a purpose.”
The old man looked into his wife’s eyes, “Alright. I will give him a week. If he has not proven himself to be useful, or has shown himself to be dangerous, he will no longer be welcome here.”
“Agreed. So long as he is able to walk. Please move him inside –gently- and close the door. I will make him a bed.”
Before long, the dark haired young man slept next to the cheery fire, the sullen Albert eying him from his displaced location, his chair now a few feet farther from the comfortable warmth.
Lilly bustled around in the kitchen, as she had been before the man came to their door. To make up for bullying her husband, she cooked his favorite dish; liver and onions.
After dinner was consumed and Albert’s mood improved, Lilly checked on the young man. He would get through the night. She would have more work to do for the next few days. But to save a life was worth it.
She covered the young man in several layers of thin blankets before she put out the candles and went to bed.
……………
As the days went by, the young man showed rapid improvement. By the morning of the third day he opened his eyes for the first time.
Lilly was carefully pouring warm soup down his throat, so he could be nourished, when his eyes opened and startled her. He gasped, then started coughing, his head curled up reflexively. He alternated coughing and groaning in pain.
“Calm yourself.” Lilly soothed, “You’ve been through quite a bit recently.” She wiped his mouth with a damp cloth she had on hand. Her grandmotherly face clearly had a calming effect on the man. He relaxed, letting his head rest back on the pillow.
“Wh…” another wave of coughs prevented him from getting any more out.
“You are in my home on my farm. I am Lilly. I don’t know how you got here. And I don’t know what happened before you came to our door.” She answered all the questions that he possibly could ask with a ‘wh’, “And you are still badly hurt.”
He nodded slowly, and closed his eyes.
………………..
A full day passed before he opened his eyes again. This time Lilly was on the other side of the room, sweeping the front entry way with a wooden broom, twigs for bristles. It took her a few moments to notice, but when she did she went to his side, “How do you feel?”
“Like I was stabbed.” He said honestly.
“Well, I’m pretty sure you were.” She confirmed with a smile, “It wasn’t a poisoned blade, or at least not a fast acting poison. Do you feel any burning?”
“It hurts. A lot. But it doesn’t feel like it’s burning.”
“Good. What is your name?”
“My name?” he opened his mouth to answer when she nodded, and left it hanging for a moment, confusion and fear expressed on his face, “I can’t remember.”
“Hmm… That bruise on the back of your head must be worse than I thought…” she gave him a searching look, “Do you remember anything that happened before you woke up here?”
He shook his head and winced, “Just pain. And fear.”
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