The Eternal Shadow

Chapter 14

XIV

For a heartbeat, all was still.

Then chaos ensued.

As Francesca realised that Guy was falling, panic gripped her and her chest tightened painfully. Her mouth dropped open in a silent scream and no sooner had he hit the ground than she rushed to him and dropped to her knees beside him.

He'd toppled like a tree, his arms had not moved to cushion the blow and so his head had taken the brunt of the fall. Francesca would never forget the sight as long as she lived.

She heard somebody scream but could only vaguely register it, indeed, there was much that went on around her but she registered only muffled voices drowned out by white noise, her senses overwhelmed, left with no choice but to filter out all that was not the man on the ground.

Her eyes took him in and the sight left her terrified. He was face down but she could see that his head was bleeding profusely. Before she knew what she was doing, she shuffled forward on her knees, and watched her hand reaching out to touch him as if it didn't belong to her body. She shook his shoulder to rouse him and tried to call his name but no sound came out or if it did, she didn't hear it.

In those first unreal moments, her senses were either blaring in or dropping out, as if someone was twisting hard on the volume control of her ears or the sound level of her voice. Her ability to take in what was going on around her was at some moments impaired, only to return at others surreally sharp.

She registered particular things straight away like Vaisey yelling at his lieutenant to get up, his voice angry as if the younger man was just messing about and should "quit showing himself up" as he put it. Then other things she recalled much later or not at all, like her response to this comment which was 'a death glare I would never have thought you capable of' as Lydia later told her.

She remembered thinking that Guy must be uncomfortable lying on the floor like that and then how stupid that thought was for he was out cold but she didn't remember shuffling forward to gently cradle his head upon her knees. She remembered turning his head and gently wiping blood off his face but she didn't remember imploring the party of horrified bystanders to fetch a healer.

Of the conversation going on around her she only caught snippets; somebody asking "Is he dead?" or commenting, "Christ, his nose is going to be a right mess..." somebody wondering, "has he had too much to drink?" or joking, "I never had him down as the swooning type..." Francesca felt herself getting angry but forced herself to concentrate on Guy, gently cradling his head in her hands, bending low to speak to him hoping that he would hear her and come to.

Prince John was aghast.

Not because of Gisborne, he couldn't care less about him but because of the girl. It had all been going so well and now look at her: on her knees tending to his rival, it just wouldn't do.

He would have to get him out of there, after all, there was no fun and merriment to be had with an unconscious man bleeding all over the floor was there? He called the guards over; they could carry him out, the girl would probably protest but no matter, he would console her.

Francesca was patiently waiting for a healer to arrive when a group of guards roughly pulled Guy away from her; his head slid off her lap and hit the ground again causing her to cry out angrily at their treatment of him before they began clumsily carting him off.

She rushed to his side, intent on staying with him only to feel a hand forcefully gripping her wrist and dragging her away.

It was her father. He was seething. "Just where do you think you're going?" He hissed, shoving his face in hers and tightening his grip on wrist so much that it hurt.