her eyes. Her skin felt hot, burning with fever. I had never seen anyone with such a fever and I did not know what to do. I searched my mind for anything that I might have been told, but found nothing.
What now? My own hunger and faintness were increasing. And thirst. I had had nothing to drink for some hours now. The thirst was worse than the hunger. My tongue clung to the roof of my mouth, tasting of metal.
I had need of that purse, needed my money.
My
money? Well, even though it was not mine, I needed it now.
My plan had been to go to the village for food and drink before I was held up by this girl, and it was not yet too late. I must retrieve my purse and then go. It did not seem right to touch a young girlâs body as she lay helpless, but I had no choice. Quickly, and turning my face away, I slid my hand under her shoulder and round her back, until I found what I was looking for. I pulled the purse out and put it in my own pocket. I noticed, as I did this, that there was no other pistol.
Her lips were moving now as she started to mutter, though at first I could not make out the words. I put my head closer to her mouth, pushed the hair away from her face. Still she muttered.
âWhat is it? What are you saying?â I asked, my voice sounding suddenly loud in the darkness.
She mumbled again and I realized she was asking for water.
âI have none,â I replied. âI have nothing. Try to sleep and I shall find food and water. In the morning light.â Would I? Should I not simply disappear and put myself as far as possible from this place? What did I owe her? Did I not have my own troubles? Even if I could help her, which I doubted, why should I? Why risk my own life for a stranger, and a criminal at that?
She was still muttering, trying to move. I put my hand to her shoulder to keep her still. She seemed to be pointing. I looked around the room. She was pointing to the black doorway into the next chamber. At that moment, the moon disappeared behind a cloud and suddenly we were in deeper darkness. Now, the only sounds were our breathing, rustlings from the rafters, and the soft whirring of the wind before it rains.
I must wait. Still she mumbled and pointed. âHush,â I said. âWait a little.â
âWater.â Her voice sounded slurred, as though her lips or tongue were swollen. âMy bag.â
As I tried to quieten her, the moon at last returned and I could see the darkened doorway once more. With my heart thumping faster now, I walked towards it. Inside was dark as pitch. I entered, straining my ears in the silence, my arms in front of me, ready for what I might find. My feet stumbled on an object. I crouched down. It was soft â a cloak, and the bag. Beneath them lay something hard â the matching pistol. I picked them all up and went back to the girl.
Inside the bag I found a bottle, corked. I pulled the cork out and sniffed. It had a slightly musty smell of old water, but not excessively old. I was about to put it to my lips, but, despite my terrible thirst, I could not do so. I held it to the girlâs mouth and carefully trickled some between her lips. Most of it was wasted as it trickled out again.
âYou,â she said, licking at her lips. âYou drink.â
I did as she told me, surprised that she had the grace to think of me. Feeling somewhat guilty, as though I should be helping her and not the other way round, I took only what I needed. I poured some more between her lips.
I knew not the proper way to behave towards her. She was a criminal; she had tried to kill me; she was no lady; yet, despite everything, I had been born a gentleman and she was weaker than I. But these were strange times and I must do what needed to be done. Whatever that seemed to be, I must try to do the right thing.
There was bread in her bag, too, a part loaf, dried at the edges but edible. I broke some and offered it to her but she closed her mouth and shook her