“Here we are, Brother Gilbert,” Thierry said as he ushered the moody monk into the Lord of the Castle’s chambers. He shut the door behind them. “Er, what do you need? Can I get you anything? Perhaps a rag? Do you use rags?”
“I have my own supplies,” the monk muttered. “Leave me.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Your cousin ordered I not leave you alone in your delicate and fragile state.”
Gilbert glared at Thierry. The knight was unfazed. He had seen worse on the battlefield. He laughed good naturedly.
“I’m sorry Brother Gilbert, but I fear Lord Eustace more than I fear you.”
“Do you know what I did?” Brother Gilbert crossed his arms and stared at the floor. “To be sent here?”
“Lord Eustace mentioned it,” Thierry said. “My point still stands. I shall give you the dignity of turning around, however.”
“Thanks be to God,” Brother Gilbert muttered.
Thierry turned around. He could hear the monk rummaging around in the chest behind him. While Thierry knew what the monk had done in his fit of madness, Thierry was fairly confident that the monk was no longer in such a state. If he was, then he was good at hiding it. Madness wasn’t something easily hidden. If you could hide it, well, that was something else entirely.
“I hear menstruation hurts,” Thierry said casually, “Perhaps I can help? Maybe I can heat up a cloth for you?”
“...That would be nice.”
“Excellent! I shall start making a fire.” The knight knelt down by the fireplace and began to throw some logs in. “Should you lay down? We don’t want you losing too much blood.”
“That’s not how this works.” Brother Gilbert scowled.
Thierry looked up just to see the monk quickly drop his robes. “It’s not?”
“No.”
“...How does it work then?” Thierry asked almost shamelessly.
“Ask your wife.”
“I don’t have a wife.”
Brother Gilbert’s scowl deepened. “Is something wrong with you? You’re handsome enough.”
“You find me handsome?” Thierry grinned cheekily.
The monk growled. “Turn back around. I have yet to sort myself.”
“Right, sorry.” Thierry went back to making the fire. “...So you are sure you won’t bleed to death?”
“I am positive. I am far past that point.”
“Excellent. Perhaps I can have one of the maids make you a tonic?”
“...That would be nice.”
“I shall arrange for that.” Thierry finished making the fire and set some stones by the blazing flames. In a bit he would wrap cloth around them and give the warmed cloth to Brother Gilbert to lay on his belly. Until then, he sat facing the fire until Brother Gilbert gave him permission to turn around.
When he did, Thierry tried to help him sit on the bed. The monk slapped his hands away and muttered, “I can do it myself. I’m bleeding, not an invalid.”
“Right. My apologies.” Thierry stepped back, not entirely sure how he could get the tonic. He was under strict instruction from Lord Eustace not to leave Gilbert alone under any circumstances. Even when the monk used the garderobe he was to be there, if just turned around in the doorway. Thierry did not particularly care for that part of his duties. (Nor did the monk.) The knight understood why it must be done. Luckily for Thierry, soon enough someone knocked on the door.
“Come in!” Thierry called out.
To Thierry’s mortification, the door opened to reveal Lady Eleanor, Lord Eustace’s young wife. She wasn’t Thierry’s type but he could not deny she was pretty.
“I should hope that I am allowed to enter my own chambers,” she said as she strolled in. “I’ve come to check on you, Gilbert.”
“I’m fine,” the monk murmured. “I thank you, my lady.”
Lady Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Why are you two in my chamber in the middle of the day?”
“I-er–Brother Gilbert–” Thierry stammered for words. He knew how bad this looked. He did not want to say what the monk had been doing but also wanted to avoid any accusations of the most horrible vice. The vice he dare not even speak its name. Luckily, he did not have to.
“I am bleeding, my lady.”
“Can a maid send up a tonic, please?” Thierry asked, “For his pain?”
Lady Eleanor nodded. “I shall arrange for it.” She turned towards the door before stopping and turning her head back. “Do you have enough rags?”
“...Yes, my lady.”
“Good.” She left the chambers.
“God’s teeth,” Thierry murmured.
Lady Eleanor stepped back into the room. “What was that?”
“N-nothing my lady!” Thierry exclaimed. “I had something stuck in my teeth.”
“You do. Fix your mouth before I tell my husband.” Lady Eleanor left. Thierry’s finger immediately flew to his mouth. He did indeed have a piece of rosemary in his tooth.
“Why didn’t you tell me I had something in my teeth?” Thierry asked.
“I did not notice.”
Thierry frowned. He had started to gather that the monk noticed very little except for things affecting him. The knight took a deep breath. It would do no good to be annoyed at the monk. It was his own fault for speaking aloud before he was completely sure Lady Eleanor had left. With a poker, Thierry extracted the rocks from the fire and placed a few cloths on them. Once they were warm, he handed them to Brother Gilbert. The monk laid down, slid the cloths under his habit onto his abdomen and sighed.
“Feeling better?” Thierry asked.
“Yes.” The monk scowled as Thierry loomed over him. Thierry knelt down.
“So what is menstruation like?”
“Pardon?”
“I could never ask a lady!”
Brother Gilbert’s scowl lessened. “It hurts and I’m bleeding from my genitals. How do you think it is?”
“Deeply unpleasant?”
“That’s correct.”
“Perhaps, when it’s over we can go out of the castle?” Thierry suggested. “I had planned a night to the tavern or perhaps a horse ride through Dartmoor, but it seems that may not be the best idea now.”
“Demons roam Dartmoor.”
“We wouldn’t go at night,” Thierry said. “We’d stay near Nottess.”
Brother Gilbert laid his hands on his midsection. “I am not going to Dartmoor.”
Thierry swallowed and glanced at the monk’s hands. “I will find someplace else for us to visit.”
“That would be for the best.”