BATTLE IN THE ER

Robert sat on a tree stump, the oxygen mask on his face, as the woman who’d attended to him stepped briefly away. She'd told him to wait, to just sit there and breathe deeply, that they would be taking him shortly to the hospital in Coffs. He had no intention of going to any hospital anywhere. His airways and lungs still hurt like crazy and he couldn't seem to get his mind to concentrate for very long, but one thing he knew...he was not going in any ambulance.

Sucking in a last few lungsful of the oxygen, he pulled off the mask and quietly disappeared around the back of the mill, making for the nearest section of woods. Damn, but he was wobbly! He rather made his way from tree to tree, hanging on to them, to low-hanging branches for support. After about half a mile of this, he was exhausted, his vision blurring. He was going somewhere. Where was that? He shook his head, trying to clear it, only succeeding in making himself go into a paroxysm of dry heaves that tied his stomach in knots and sent him, gasping and wheezing, to his knees.

He stayed there several moments, trying to gather enough strength to stand, trying to remember just where it was he'd been and where he was going. Blind instinct drew him on toward home. He fell over and over now, his ability to keep to his feet failing him. Finally he stumbled out of the woods into the front yard of Rose Cottage, not even really knowing where he was. Again he went to his knees, leaning forward, his hands on the ground, his head hanging low.

Julie came out her front door to water the potted pale pink geraniums and saw him just as he fell. Quickly setting the watering can on a bench, she ran to him, kneeling beside him, her hand on his back. "Robert? What's happened? Are you hurt?"

His arms folded suddenly and he fell forward, his left shoulder hitting the ground, and rolled over onto his back, gasping like a landed fish. He smelled of smoke and soot and there was black smeared on his face and hands. "Robert?" He was frightening her now with his efforts to breathe.

"Have you been in a fire?" she asked. "Robert...a fire?"

Had he been in a fire? He wasn't sure. The Saracens had come, burning tents in the night. He'd pulled a man out. Was it the crossbowman from Wessex? "Man," he gasped. "Inside. Had to get man out. Had to...."

"You got a man out of a fire? Is that it, Robert?"

"Man," he nodded. "Yes, fire."

"You need medical attention, Robert. You do!"

He shook his head 'no'.

"I could take you into the Glen. They may have something there that could help."

"N...no!" he whispered. "No Glen."

"But...Robert!"

"No!" He shook his head adamantly, making his nausea worse.

"What about Coffs, then? Will you let me take you into Coffs? You can't just lie here on my lawn, for Pete's sake, Robert!"

"I...I..." The dry heaves took him again and he doubled up.

"That does it, Mister!" Julie said firmly, running into her house to get her purse and keys.
She pulled the car up as close as she could to where he lay, driving heedlessly across her lawn, crushing several foxgloves. Opening the passenger door, she managed to get him to push himself enough to haul him up onto the seat. He didn't seem quite sure what she was doing and so she had him before he could even protest. He leaned his temple against the side window and she roared off toward Coffs.

Speed limits be damned, she drove as fast as she could and still keep control of the car.
"Wh...where?" he asked once.

"You just breathe, Robert. Let me worry about where."

He kept his eyes closed most of the way, his hands lying limply at his sides, his head wobbling back and forth against the window as she took the curves. Pulling up at the emergency entrance, she got out and dashed up to a policeman standing by the glass doors. "I've got a man in the car who's having trouble breathing. He was in some sort of fire. Get me some help!!"

She ran back and opened Robert's door. He nearly fell out onto the pavement. Julie held him in his seat with her arms until a gurney burst through the ER doors and was pushed hurriedly toward them by a couple of attendants. People were grabbing at him. He didn't like it and swung an arm, striking one of the men across his chin with the back of his hand. Where was his bow? He fumbled, but couldn't seem to find it. The Saracens grabbed him, forcing him onto his back. He was so tired, too tired to fight. They had him this time. He lay quietly a moment while they wheeled him into the ER. They paused briefly in an entrance area and one of the men reached into Robert's pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Here, you'd better keep this with you, Ma'am. The hospital prefers a relative hold onto personal items if at all possible."

"But...," she started to protest, "I'm not...."

A woman seated at a desk behind an open sliding glass window, spoke up. "Ma'am, we're going to need his insurance information. Can you step over here a moment, please?"

"But...," she protested again.

"Patient's name?"

"R...Robert," she stammered, then realized she had no idea what his last name was. Good Lord, how could she have never found that out? "Just...just a moment. I'll give you his insurance card." With shaking fingers she opened his wallet. The card was right on top. She stared at it blankly. Robert Loxley it said. "Loxley? How could...?"

"What was that, Ma'am? I couldn't quite hear what you said."

"Loxley," she repeated, clearing her throat. "Robert Loxley."

"May I please see his card, Mrs. Loxley?"

"But...I...," she stopped. There was a sign on the wall behind the woman's desk stating that only relatives of patients could be with them in the ER. "H...here," she said, handing the card to the woman.

"Address?"

"Um, I, um...." She looked in his wallet, finding his driver's license. Robert Loxley. It said the same thing as his insurance card. Of course it would say the same thing!
Robert had been wheeled behind the first curtained off area to the left. Suddenly a loud bellow roared its way out of it and one of the attendants came stumbling backwards through the blue curtain, almost falling before he managed to right himself.

"Robert?" She stepped quickly around the corner, peering into the cubicle. Robert was on his feet, glaring furiously at the remaining man, his body tensed, slightly crouched. The man who'd been pushed through the curtain headed back in, accompanied by a burly male nurse.

Good God, how many Saracens were there? They just kept coming! His head was pounding and the nausea was rising again up his throat. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision, trying to make some sense of what was going on.

"Listen, Mister," the male nurse was saying. "We've got to get you on oxygen for your own good. Do you understand me? You need oxygen." In one hand he had a syringe with a sedative the doctor had quickly ordered.

Robert had his left arm up as though he were holding a shield. The Saracens were trying to back him into a corner. He swayed on his feet, knowing he couldn't hold out much longer, and his left hip hit a metal table, toppling it over, sending instruments clattering to the floor. Two of the men made a grab for Robert, but he twisted his torso, and one fell against the wall, the other into the side of the gurney and then to his knees.

A deep male voice spoke up from just behind Julie. "What is going on here?" It was Maximus, who had come to the hospital, bringing Joimus with him.

"Richard?" Robert gasped as Maximus stepped around Julie to get a better view.

"Damn it!" the man on his knees gritted, grabbing Robert's legs. Robert overbalanced and fell, not exactly what the man had intended.

Oh, God, the king was here! Robert saw the arrow heading for Richard and as he fell, forced his body forward, twisting desperately so that the barbed end embedded itself in his side and not in his king's. He fell hard, still fighting, not certain Richard was all right. The male nurse was practically atop Robert now and Robert grappled with him, trying to keep his blade from his throat.

Maximus took in the scene, recognizing it for the battle it was. "HOLD!" he shouted, coming further into the room. Every movement stopped. He looked down at Robert, who was still gripping the nurse's arms. "It is done," he said. "The day is won."

Robert released his grip, propping himself on one elbow, staring up at Maximus in wonder. "You are safe, my liege?" he panted. "Unharmed?"

"I am unharmed," Maximus replied. "Rest now, soldier."

The nurse took advantage of Robert's preoccupation and quickly injected the sedative. Robert still had an arm extended toward Maximus and kept it there a moment, his eyes locked intently with those of the man he perceived to be his king. Then he began to blink and the focus went out of his gaze. Julie hissed in a sharp breath as she watched him. His arm dropped limply and Robert lay back on the floor, his eyes closing. The three hospital personnel all let out a collective sigh of relief then moved to get Robert hefted up on the gurney again.

"Careful there!" Maximus said sharply as one man let Robert's head brush against the gurney frame. They plopped him atop the mattress and before they had even straightened his limbs, the nurse clamped on an oxygen mask.

Julie's eyes were wide, unbelieving, at what she'd just witnessed. When the man with the commanding manner and voice stepped back into the main waiting area, she followed. "How...how...did you know what to do, what would stop him?"

Maximus smiled. "Experience." He looked from the closed-again curtain to the woman. "Who is he?"

"He just saved someone from a fire," she said, not giving his name.

It was Maximus' turn to widen his eyes. "Alistair," he murmured. He turned, looking for his wife. "Joimus," he began, "we have found the man who...."

But Joimus was staring at the woman beside Maximus. Could it be? She'd read all seven, seen the jacket photos many times. "Miss St. John?" she asked. "Julianna St. John?"