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‘Bit his tongue clean off, did he?’ Cook raised one brow at Wren as she went on. ‘And he told you that, eh? The boy’s a nine day wonder!’ She called for one of the servers still in the common room to run down to the cellar and fetch a fist sized piece of ice from the lead lined box. He was to bring it to the stable quick as lightning she instructed him.
‘Now you come with me, Miss Wren, to the kitchen. We’ll just get my box with salves and herb powders and such.’ The girl and the Tindo kept well on her heels as she scurried into the kitchen. She let the Elf carry the wooden chest while to Wren she handed a cup and several clean linen napkins from the table linen shelves.
Now wounds to the tongue do bleed freely, so Cook was not surprised to see Tim’s shirt front covered in blood. She looked toward Wren, hoping the girl was not the fainting sort. She seemed steady enough, but Cook asked her to fetch some cool clean water from the pump while she inspected Tim’s bruises, lumps, and wounds.
‘The nose isn’t broken – that’s good.’ She gently prodded at it, all the while talking to him. ‘Probably have a black eye to go with it.’ She took his right hand and made him pinch the bridge of his nose firmly to slow the trickle.
‘Now that’s a good lad,’ she went on, tipping his chin up and looking at the cut on his chin. ‘Won’t that be a handsome bruise,’ she said, dabbing it gently with a cloth dipped into the bucket Wren had run in with. ‘Not too deep, but you might have a scar from it.’ She smiled at him, thinking how in later years young women would find such a scar most intriguing.
She took the ice the server had brought in and bundled it in two of the napkins. ‘You hold this to your cheek and eye with your other hand, Tim. And open your mouth please and let me see that tongue.’
‘Ah hah . . .’ and ‘hmmm . . .’ she said, making him hold it up so she could see the underside. ‘Wren, give me a mug of cool water and Tindo that twist of blue colored paper in the chest – there on the right side. Can you give it to me?’
Cook poured a few sprinkles of the powder into the mug. His nose by then had stopped bleeding. She placed the mug in his right hand and bade Tim take a swig, swish it around his mouth and spit it into one of the empty buckets near him. It was slightly astringent and though it would keep the deep bite from becoming infected she knew it might be hard for him to keep it in his mouth for long while it took effect. ‘Count to fifty, Tim,’ she instructed him, ‘so the remedy can take hold.’
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