Becca St.John (12 page)

“
Shhh, shhh
now, Deian, you mustn’t rile him. He’s sorely wounded.”

“He’s awake,” Deian grumbled, but he calmed with the woman’s hands on his shoulders. Which made no sense. Deian didn’t like to be touched. Or he hadn’t.

“I heard you, lad,” Padraig rasped. “I’ll find her.” Which he would do, if it killed him, but he doubted he’d find her anywhere near. He’d not find her quickly.

The lass released Deian, tidied Padraig’s blanket. “You’d best rest first.”

“If not Lady Reah, who?

“I’m connected to The Reah,” she snapped.

So she wasn’t pleased to be married to the old man.

“No, you’re not,” Deian argued. “The Reah said he’d not marry you if all the witches of hell tormented him.”

Her blush glowed, even in the low light.

“Quiet yourself, lad,” Padraig warned.

The lass lifted her chin. “I’d not have him if Jesus himself begged, but—” she instructed Deian, “—my father was The Reah before Angus, which makes me Lady Alissa of The Reah by birth.”

She must have put something in that awful draught. He wanted to understand, even as unconsciousness beckoned. “The Reah died?”

“Aye.” Her head dipped in honor of the man gone. “My father’s horse stumbled, threw him. He never recovered.”

“Angus Reah is chief?” he wondered, even as he fell back into fitful dreams.

vvvvvv

Once again, she was leaving. All these good-byes burdened a woman.

Seonaid looked at the priest, the healers, still wrapped in their cocoons of blankets. Dawn edged the day, and Eriboll was now in sight, just below them. It had been hidden by the night when they stopped.

Eriboll offered a welcome rest after a troubling journey. The one healer, Angelica, did not fare well. The friar, well-traveled though he may have been, his cloak of office proved a sad defense for two young lasses. Wicked men held little respect for God’s chosen.

The lasses knew nothing of the world when they set out. Raised as healers, in a society of woman intent on studying and learning, their minds agile but their hearts too soft to see danger, much less thwart it.

Seonaid wanted to help them, to be their protector. Irony of all ironies, as she traveled to them, they were traveling to the highlands, expecting safety there.
Hah!
They’d find hospitality enough, but highlanders were as rugged as their land and held no refuge for soft-hearted gals.

They had come from St. Michael’s Mount. They had come from the exact place Seonaid wanted to go, to be of service.

The healers were no longer there.

Where was she to go now?

She looked back one more time, looked over to Eriboll before jumping up onto Peregrine’s back. Time to let wheres and whys rise to the surface, which they would as they always did with life.

“You’re going to leave us?”

Of course, if anyone woke it would be Angelica, the fearful one.

“You claimed you wanted to protect healers.” Panicked accusation raised her voice. The other two stirred.

“Eriboll is right there, below you, in sight. You’ll be safe and protected there. You don’t need me anymore.”

“And after that?”

Her cry was shrill enough to bring Eriboll’s guard to them. Seonaid couldn’t risk that. She dismounted, even as she itched to ride out. Guards didn’t just walk the walls. They were outside, watching for encroachment from the land.

Jasmine—calm, sensible Jasmine—reached Angelica first. “Ease yourself, be calm,” she soothed, wrapping an arm around the lass’s shoulder, smoothing her hair. “We’ve done so well, you’ve come so far. We will manage.”

“She’s to stay with us,” Angelica murmured.

“He,” Seonaid snapped. She’d introduced herself as Sean and would keep to her disguise.

The friar studied her, shot a glance to Jasmine, and turned away.

“You’re no Sean,” Jasmine stated.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” the friar chimed in, “and you shouldna’ lie about it even if you have to go.” He looked at Angelica. “She does have to go, Jasmine.” The friar reaped a sharp look, but that didn’t stop him. “We’ve talked of this. Once we were in sight of Eriboll, she—or he, or whoever this person is—would be gone.”

Mulish as a child, Angelica shook her head. “You don’t understand.” She fisted her belly, turned to Jasmine. “In here, I feel it. She must stay with us.”

“Oh.” Jasmine’s startled gaze met the friar’s. “You mean in the way young Veri used to know? Without explanation?”

Angelica nodded.

“Well,” Jasmine rose, brushing out her coarse spun tunic. “I’ll not stifle Angelica, if that’s what she believes.”

“It’s her fear speaking,” Seonaid countered. “You’ve no hold on me. I’ve seen you safe this far. The rest is for you to sort out.”

“Aye, we’ve no hold,” Jasmine argued, “and no doubt you’ve a story that’s sending you away from this land, that makes you want others to think you’re a man, but there’s a reason beyond our knowing that you need to stay with us.”

“I can’t stay in the highlands.”

“You say you wanted to help the healers. Was that about leaving the highlands or do you truly want to help us?”

“I have helped. You’re here, in the highlands, and this is Eriboll. You’ll be safe enough here. Ask for Padraig, Padraig MacKay. He’ll be wounded, and will need you.”

If he’s still alive, pray God he’s still alive.

She’d been two days searching for the friar and the healers, and another day to get this close to the town. Fever, loss of blood, infection could have taken him by now. “Tell him Sean sent you. He’ll see you safely to anywhere you want to go.”

She led Peregrine away, toward her tomorrows.

“The young boy is yours, is he not?”

Seonaid turned, pleased to see Jasmine step back from her glare. “Whose business would that be?”

“You could come with us, as another healer, and see the boy. See that he is well placed in this town.”

Temptation tugged, no less fierce for the risk.
How many times could she say good-bye…?

“I must leave,” she argued with herself, as much as them.

“And not know what’s become of the lad or this Padraig, who’s been injured?”

Cruel, that’s what they were.
What difference did it make to have her questions answered now, when there would be a thousand more to replace them in the future?

She had to leave.

She couldn’t leave.

“Would you go into the town and come out here in a day or so, give me word?” she asked the healers.

A last appeal.

“You’ve said there’d be guards riding the land. They’ll find you out here, faster than any will if you are within the walls of the town. No one will bother you there.”

“He can’t know I’m there,” she pleaded, knowing Deian would give her away, without meaning to.

“No, he’ll not know you’re there,” Jasmine promised. “Not dressed as a peasant woman.”

No more arguments. They had won, though Seonaid knew she’d not put up much of a fight. So she road through the gates of a highland town, dressed as a woman in a homespun kirtle, her raggedly cropped hair hidden under a farm woman’s coif. The perfect disguise.

CHAPTER 13  ~  A NEW MOTHER

Icy rain dripped from his hood, onto his face. Deian held tight to Lady Reah’s cold hand as they trudged through the muddy streets. He wanted to see the prisoners, locked up in the dungeon, deep in the bowels of the keep.

Lady Alissa refused.

“It’s dirty and smells down there. Why would you want to see the worst of mankind?”

He’d looked at his feet, shook his head, not wanting to disappoint.

“Shall we go see the healers?” she asked, all cheery. “They’ve arrived in Eriboll. I want them to look at your friend Padraig. I’ve done all I can, but he needs more.”

Healers didn’t really interest him, but he liked being with Lady Reah. She made him feel special, fed him sweet treats, tickled him, and played games. Even more, she would hold him in her lap and sing to him. Her voice was soft and warm, and it calmed fears so he could sleep. He missed his mama, but Lady Alissa soothed that ache.

That’s why he agreed to go with her, because he didn’t know where his mama was, and Padraig slept most of the time, with a wound that was starting to stink.

He didn’t like pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Scared he would say something he wasn’t supposed to say, he tried not to say anything. Eriboll was a hard place to be.

And then she asked him: “These healers have been out there wandering for days. Do you think they may have seen your mother?”

His mama? She’d help them find their way. That’s what she would do.

But he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t say that his mother was near, because he was supposed to have lost his mother. At least, that’s what he thought they wanted him to say.

He didn’t know. So he stared at her rather than say anything. He had to protect his mama.

Lady Alissa smiled, patted his head, and they set off again. “It would make sense,” she told him. “How else would they find us here? Who else could have sent them?”

Aye, she was right!
How would the healers find their way here without his mother? A flurry of need exploded inside of him. He tried to rush ahead, but she held his hand, firm. So he hopped with each step, tugged her faster in anticipation.

“Och, stop that lad.” Lady Alissa brushed at her mud-splattered cloak.

“I’m sorry.”

“Aye,” she sighed, “I believe you are, but try to walk.”

They wove their way through the winding streets, avoided main pathways as too busy, too many horses. And she was slow because her feet were strapped to pieces of wood that looked like miniature tables. Raised to keep her feet from touching the grime, but demanding more care in case she toppled.

Finally, they turned a corner, could see the main gates. Angus, the new Reah, stood there, great bulk with wiry red hair and a face that told of many battles. He didn’t frighten Deian, who was used to Padraig and the Laird MacKay.

Lady Reah wasn’t frightened, either. So unafraid, she made to walk right past him without greeting. The Reah stepped in their path, even bigger beside her smallness.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?”

As if he wasn’t there, or hadn’t said anything, she crouched down to Deian, brushed the hair from his forehead, without dislodging his hood. “Told you we were better off not going through the main streets. Never know what sort of man you’ll meet.”

“Alissa.”

“Lady Alissa,” she corrected.

The Reah smiled like he was happy he made her grumpy. They’d stand there all day once they started their game of insults.

Deian tried to stop them. “Can’t we just go to the healers?” he asked. Neither paid him any heed.

“Is that what you want? To see the witches?” The Reah asked.

“Healers,” she snapped at him.

Deian squirmed, wanting to stop the fight before it started, or it would be ages before they went anywhere.

“Can we go?” Deian asked again.

“Aye,” The Reah replied, “and I will go with ya’.”

“There’s no need,” Lady Alissa argued.

“Oh, aye, never know what sort of varmint lingers beyond these walls.”

She narrowed her eyes, angry-like. “Fine.” Tipped up her nose.

Good thing the rain stopped, or she’d have water running down her neck.

They set off, all three of them.

“How’s your patient?” The Reah asked.

“Getting better, but not fast enough.” She wasn’t nice and easy with him, the way she was with Deian. With The Reah, she talked with her jaws together, hissing like a snake.

It didn’t stop the man from talking to her. “It smells in my chamber. Is it putrid?”

“No, but I’m worried it might go there.”

The Reah nodded. “I’ve just been speaking with the healers. They’re preparing to go to the keep.”

Lady Reah pulled back so fast, she jerked Deian’s arm. “And you waited to tell me I’m wasting my time?”

He just smiled, that big smile.

Deian tugged at her hand. “I want to go.”

The adults looked at him blankly. He tugged again. The Reah studied him. “Didn’t you say there were three of them?”

“Aye, two women and a priest.”

“There are three women. The priest is a friar, he’s gone to the chapel.”

“No,” Deian shook his head. “Only two healers, two women. I put them on the horses.”

“Well,” The Reah said, “There are three of them now.” And he winked at Lady Alissa before leaving them to go back to the keep, waving with his back turned. “I’ll go prepare Padraig. Let him know they’ll be descending on him soon enough.”

Deian grabbed her hand in both of his and pulled her toward the cottages outside the walls of the town. “C’mon,” he pleaded.

Lady Alissa watched the The Reah saunter away. Deian tugged even harder, until she turned to face him.

“Come on,” he demanded, even though she wouldn’t even look at him.

“No need.” She tugged back. “They’re coming already.”

“But I want to see them,” Deian stomped his foot.

“No, look,” she took his chin, turned his face, “they’re here, now.”

Two women in rough woven cloaks walked toward them. Deian released Lady Alissa, to charge the Healers, circle them. He looked from side to side. Behind them, in front of them, but the only other person on the path was an old crone of a woman, bent over, buried deep in her cloak, hood shadowing her head. “There are only two of you.”

“Two should be enough,” one offered.

“The Reah said there were three.”

One of them crouched down to speak at eye level. “One of our own, an apprentice, who didn’t get caught when we did. We found her in our wanderings.”

“And my mama? Did you see my mama?” Even as he blurted the question, he knew it was wrong. He wasn’t to let anyone know his mother was near, but he was that desperate it spilled out.

Not that it mattered. No one noticed him any longer. The one who had scrunched down to talk to him rose, saying, “I don’t know who his mama is,” and turned to Lady Alissa, to talk about Padraig.