Lion Heart (Hearts of the Highlands Book 4)

by Paula Quinn

  “Nothing,” Richard told him. “‘Tis happening too quickly. But I will do my best to find what we need to destroy this unseen enemy.”

  Elias nodded and raised his cup with the others to Richard Bennett and all his endeavors. They all prayed silently for protection.

  “London is a port city,” Martin Miller said. “Will the king not stop trade until this pestilence is gone?”

  Osbert gave the miller a cynical look. “There is too much coin to be had in trade. Even if he does stop it, there are merchants here who would take bribes. If the pestilence is coming to England, nothing will stop it.”

  “Thankfully, we are a small village in comparison to the other towns and cities,” Osbert told them. “We must not allow anyone in from the south, east, or west.” He eyed Elias and Simon. “You say you came from the north?”

  “From the Highlands, “ Simon informed. “We have been nowhere east, west, or south of here.”

  “Very well,” Osbert announced. “I will take you at your word because Father Benedict assures me you are a man of God. But no one else is to enter the village. If someone has a family anywhere below us, near any of the cities, they may not enter. Our neighbor may leave and go with them, but they shall not return. The messengers are due here tonight, so I suggest if any of you have letters you wish to send, begin writing them now. After tonight there will be no contact.”

  Elias heard a small, slight sound and turned to find Lily sniffling. He longed to get up and go to her, but he stayed where he was.

  “We must find a remedy for this, Richard,” she told her husband on a shaky voice.

  Aye, Elias agreed. Richard Bennett seemed like an intelligent man. Hell, he was an apothecary! If anyone could find a remedy, it was he. “Richard,” he said, turning to him. “How long d’ye think ‘twould take the Black Death to get here?”

  The apothecary shook his head. “Who can say? We will hear of it if it hits London, then it could be a matter of days. It depends on many, many things.”

  Elias wouldn’t back down from it. “Whatever ye need from me or Simon, simply give the word and we are yers.”

  He looked to Simon sitting across the table. His friend nodded in agreement. Elias knew he would or he wouldn’t have volunteered him. If this thing hits London, he will no doubt demand that they leave and return home to Invergarry where Elias would be safe behind the walls of the MacPherson stronghold.

  But Simon would never leave him. He had faced death rather than leave Elias’ side plenty of times before. This would be no different. It wasn’t that the brother was fearless, though more times than not Elias believed he was. Simon simply would not leave him in any situation he deemed dangerous. It seemed the annoying habit began when Elias was two and Simon, recently rescued from his torturous English master by Elias’ father, had been asked to keep an eye on Elias for a few moments. Elias had found him at his side often after that, either when fighting a lad who was bigger than he or on a battlefield.

  Elias smiled at him and then turned back to Richard.

  “All right then, lad,” the apothecary said and patted Elias on the back. “I will put you both to work when we get back home and await our supper.”

  “There is nothing more to be discussed here,” said Osbert, pushing his high-backed chair away from the table. “If I hear another word, you can rest assured that I will let you all know.”

  They bid one another good eve and left the reeve’s large manor house. Elias turned back when he saw that Lily wasn’t with them. He found her sharing a few last words with Osbert’s wife.

  When he turned forward once again, he found Simon watching him, and with him, Richard the apothecary.

  Elias didn’t know what to do. He wanted to hang his head. He liked Richard. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be here. He would help the apothecary move everything, anywhere he wanted it and back again, and then Elias would go home.

  “Martin,” Lily called out, catching up with the men. “Did you drink the tea Joan made for you yet?”

  “Aye, Lily,” Martin told her. “’Twas foul, indeed.”

  She waited a moment, then asked, “How do your bones feel?”

  He blinked then twirled his ankle and bent both knees. He smiled and nodded. “Better. They pained me when I left to come here and I forgot all about them until now. My bones feel better.”

  Elias couldn’t help but watch her when her husband asked her what she gave him and her wide smile when he nodded and told her she was correct. “You told him to drink it with—”

  “—vinegar and water, aye.”

  “Aye,” the apothecary smiled proudly at her. She beamed in response.

  “Stop smiling, Eli,” Simon said quietly beside him. “We spoke about this on the way to the inn. Have you forgotten already? She is married, little brother. She is bound to someone else whether you like it or not. You will not tease or tempt her to betrayal. That is not the man you are. Aye?”

  “She is enchantin’,” Elias whispered, his gaze fastened to her while she offered Martin a handful of dried mint leaves for his next dose of tea.

  “Do not put the mint in the tea, Martin. Put some in your mouth and chew it after drinking the tea.”

  “Eli.” Simon elbowed him in the ribs. “We shouldn’t stay. If you want to help a village, let us go to the next one.”

  Elias swallowed his heart. Would the Black Death come here? Was there still time to go? Mayhap they could outrun this thing and make it back to Invergarry before the pestilence. Mayhap he could take Lily and Richard Bennett home with him. “I need to help them first, and then we will go home, old friend.”

  “You want to save her,” Simon said in an accusatory tone.

  “I will save her if the Black Death comes here. I will—”

  He wasn’t prepared for Simon, older than Elias by eighteen years, to grasp him by the collar of his léine beneath his plaid and drag him away from the others. “You will what? What will you do against a sickness that is killing everyone?”

  Elias stared into his friend’s dark green eyes. “I will pray.”

  Simon nodded. He said nothing as he let go of Elias’ plaid and stepped back.

  The next three hours went by swiftly with Elias and Simon carrying heavy sacks and potted plants, chopping wood for the hearth and carrying it to the Bennetts’ house with the red roof.

  During his first stop there, Elias commented on the delicious aroma of Lily’s cooking, and then remembered Simon’s words and said nothing else while they worked.

  Supper was vegetable stew made with turnips, onions, carrots, radishes, and an array of herbs, including sage, rosemary, thyme, and cumin to add to the delicious flavor. There was fresh baked bread, sweet butter and Lily’s very own homemade ale. Talk at the table was light, with Elias and Lily looking at everything but each other.

  When supper was over, Richard put him and Simon back to work. This time, crushing leaves and boiling roots. Elias watched how Richard measured out everything precisely on his scales. He drained the liquid and dredged it for any bits, then added other mixtures of things like vinegar and honey or oils. But they had no idea if it would work against the Black Death.

  Lily was present, working with them, trying to find a cure for something they knew nothing about.

  When the futility of what they were doing hit them, they went to bed, exhausted and achy.

  Elias slept well for one hour and then awoke to men screaming in agony all around him. Some men were screaming from things he’d done to them, slicing off their heads or their arms, or cutting through their bodies and then looking into their soulless eyes. Some men were his comrades, crying out for help or for God, clutching their fatal wounds.

  Elias told himself it was a nightmare and that it was not happening now. But it felt like it was. It sounded like it was, and smelled like it was. He wanted to get away from it and clutched his head between his bent knees.

  His heart was beating furiously, booming in his ears l
ike a war drum. He had to move. He walked back and forth, crossing the boundary line into Scotland. He wanted to go home.

  Someone was speaking to him in a soothing voice.

  He reached home and found his family all dead, hanging from the rafters of the MacPherson stronghold. No!

  “Elias.” Her soft voice tugged at him. ”Elias, come and sit.”

  He wanted to go with her wherever she was going. But no. His kin—

  “There now. All is well. All is well.”

  He let her lead him and stepped up onto something soft…the bed

  “Poor man,” she cooed close by. “Whatever have you been through?”

  Wars. He wanted to tell her.

  Somewhere in the back of his thoughts, he heard Simon’s voice, but hers took precedence. “I will go make you some chamomile tea. You stay here with Richard and Brother Simon.”

  ”Dinna go!” He clasped her wrist when she rose to leave.

  “I will see to the tea,” said Richard the apothecary.

  Elias didn’t want tea. He wanted her. He closed his eyes and went to a place where he could have her. His dreams.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Elias rose with the roosters and the aroma of warm bread with butter and apple mead. Simon was already up, likely to get the best portions of food.

  Elias dressed quickly in his hose and a léine, dyed as blue as his eyes and belted around his waist. He pulled on his boots and a dark blue quilted doublet that flared at the hips. He tossed a thoughtful glance at his thick belt. Since Lily requested that his sheathed claymore and other various weapons remain in the kitchen with his plaid, there wasn’t any need for the belt. He headed down the stairway, feeling light.

  He walked through the cozy sitting room and looked into the kitchen.

  Sitting at the table were Lily and Simon, laughing softly.

  Simon looked up and motioned for him to grab a stool from the sitting room and join them.

  How kind of him, Elias ground his jaw and plucked a stool up in his hand. He didn’t want to feel envious of his best friend, but he did. He wanted what Simon had right now—just this innocent time with her, laughing, forgetting the world outside and the plague most likely on its way. Best portions, indeed.

  “Good morn, Elias,” Lily greeted him with a smile. “Would you like some mead while I prepare your meal?”

  She rose from her chair as Elias set down his stool. He nodded and swallowed, looking at her. She wore a white chemise beneath a violet, long-sleeved kirtle. Her pale tresses were plaited behind her head, but many wispy strands fell free around her face.

  “Good morn, Eli,” Simon said after a sip from his cup. “Sleep well?”

  “Despite ye kickin’ me half the night,” Elias told him with a murderous look. “Aye, I did.”

  “I know.” His friend grinned at him, stretching the small scar under his bottom lip. “And after crying out and walking the floors only once!”

  Elias’ foul mood was shattered and replaced with mortification. He had night terrors last eve? He paled as memories returned, memories of blood and hellish odors, and a beautiful angel calling for him to come away and follow her. It had been Lily. Her voice, her touch, stealing him away from the horror, and bringing him into a different kind of radiant light.

  She had seen him trembling. Afraid. “Lass, I…” Hell. He didn’t know what to say. He was lost. He had been a commander in King David’s army and now he trembled and tried to hide in the night. “I am not…forgive me fer…”

  Her sapphire eyes grew rounder with compassionate for him. “What are you asking me to forgive, sir? That you witnessed things God never intended a man to see and it scarred you? It affected you because you are human just like the rest of us.” She smiled and made him ache to say more to her. “There is nothing to forgive, I assure you, Elias.”

  Her voice sounded as it had last night; calm, sincere, and patient in her light, musical tone. He couldn’t help but smile. “I slept quite well after yer soothin’ ministrations.”

  “I made you tea you did not even drink!” she told him happily.

  It was being here. With her. She cared about people in the world. She was genuine. Being with her felt right. Better than anything else that he could remember since going off to fight. She made him want to stay here. Should he tell Simon later and take whatever penance came?

  “Well,” she said bringing him his mead. “I am happy you finally slept well.”

  “Better than all the rest of us, ‘twould seem,” Simon laughed then explained when Elias gave him a questioning look. “You are the last one up.”

  Elias hadn’t overslept in years.

  “Richard was the first one up. He left for the shop.”

  Elias turned to have a look out the window. He would eat quickly. “Forgive me at least fer sleepin’ late.”

  “No.” She turned only enough to grace him with her profile. It seemed she was unable or unwilling to look him straight in the eyes. “I’m happy you slept well. I want nothing more than to see you…” She stopped, shook her head and corrected herself. “…folks well. You do not like your mead?”

  Oh, how he wanted to smile at her yet again. “’Tis apple, aye?”

  She turned around fully to toss him a pleasantly surprised look at him. “Aye, how did you know? You recognize the fragrance?”

  He nodded then drank from his cup. “’Tis perfect, Lily.”

  He could feel Simon’s eyes on him, his own muscles trembling beneath his léine, his heart pounding like an alarm in his chest.

  “I grew bored of honey and lemon,” she told him merrily while she prepared his bowl—and he tried to take his eyes off her. “I also use mint.”

  “I would be curious to taste mint,” he chuckled. Hell, he chuckled. He hadn’t done the like in years.

  “Tomorrow then,” she promised.

  Was he staying until tomorrow?

  She set before him a bowl of poached eggs and wilted, season greens. She also pushed forward another larger bowl of bread, along with cups of butter and honey.

  He ate, and the food alone made him never want to leave Sevenoaks again. He didn’t ask for any more eggs, as she had done enough for them, but helped himself to the remainder of the bread after she insisted he finish it.

  He and Simon helped her clean up, though she fretted about them doing so. Simon explained that they’d learned to clean up after themselves in the army. If they didn’t do it, no one would.

  When the house was to her liking, they left together.

  They saw two of Lily’s female neighbors. They wore wimples covering their hair, ears, and necks, along with dyed kirtles. They soon hurried over.

  “Good day, Lily.” The ladies said in unison. One was Estrid, the owner of The Pheasant Inn. “I was just telling Agnes about your guests.”

  The shift of her eyes caught sight of Simon’s scars, and though this was now the third time she had seen him and Elias, she was still taken back by the marks. Most people were. Most grimaced straight at him the way Estrid did now. Elias was used to seeing it. He never stopped hating it.

  Agnes, the one with brown eyes and who was a bit plumper, introduced herself to Elias and then blushed three different shades of red when he looked her way and she stumbled over her feet.

  He caught her before she hit the ground. “Let me help ye. Where are ye off to? I will help ye get there.”

  “Where are you off to?” she countered with a smile and a dimple in her pudgy cheek.

  “The apothecary shop,” Elias replied, smiling back.

  “Well, so am I!” Agnes feigned a gasp, which caused Estrid to roll her eyes heavenward.

  Lily covered her mouth with her hand and smiled at Elias as he pulled Agnes’ arm gently through his.

  “Why, thank you,” Agnes giggled. “But, I must tell you, finding out that you are a Scot is a bit alarming. Though we have been assured that you and your companion are nothing like the Savage Scot, Bertram Chisholm.�
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  “That is because no one is like me.”

  Lily spun around and went pale upon seeing a large brute of a man standing at the entrance of the shop with Richard’s neck secured within the circle of his arm.

  “I was just askin’ yer husband how he was enjoyin’ my whore.”

  Elias handed Agnes off to Simon and moved toward Lily.

  “I was never your whore,” Lily said, keeping her steady glare on Bertram. “One day, when I kill you, I will prove it to everyone.”

  Elias wanted to smile at her and the determined tilt of her chin. He hadn’t expected to see such fire in her. He found it as alluring as her compassion. But he wasn’t here to admire her.

  This was Bertram. No one had to tell him. Elias wanted to kill him but he had to free Richard first.

  “Lily, I see yer tongue is still sharper than a blade of grass. I should have cut it oot of yer mouth when I first snatched ye from yer father.”

  “God help us!” Agnes cried out.

  “Ah, Agnes,” Bertram sneered at her. “I see ye’re still enjoyin’ yer food.”

  “Ah, Estrid, ye sour faced crow,” Bertram continued, his gaze slipping to her. “’Tis nice to see that I still make ye shiver in yer wrinkled skin. Where is Clare? Now that one I wouldna mind leavin’ with.” He laughed and then stopped when he noticed Elias.

  “Who is this, Lily?” Bertram antagonized, glaring at him. “Yer lover?”

  “These two brought the Savage back here!” Estrid accused.

  “He just asked Lily who we are, Woman,” Simon said sourly. “Why would we bring him here if—”

  “Priest!” Bertram bellowed. “Keep yer mouth shut!”

  Simon turned to him slowly and said through tight lips, “’Tis Brother.”

  “Good,” Bertram sneered. “Then God willna be so angry with me for killing such an ugly, lowly—”

  “Ye arrogant windbag,” Elias growled, boiling in his boots. “Let the old man go and prove ye have the balls to come against me, Elias MacPherson.”

  “Lion Heart,” Simon said for all to hear.

  Bertram burst into laughter and let Richard go, pushing him away.

  “Well, Lion Heart,” Bertram snarled. “I have come for what is mine.”