by Lynsay Sands
“Aye,” Rory agreed. “But I think the worst was when we were younger. One o’ our brothers carefully cut out the stem o’ a pear, hollowed it out and filled it with beetles, then put the stem back and waited to see what would happen.”
“What happened?” Elysande asked, her eyes wide.
“Saidh started to eat the pear, got a mouth full o’ beetles and started choking.” He grimaced at the memory. “That was probably the nastiest. We only figured out how ’twas done because the stem popped out when she dropped it.” He shook his head at the memory. “We ne’er found out who the culprit was, and no one confessed.”
“Aye,” Alick said grimly. “No doubt whoe’er did it was afraid o’ the retribution should they be discovered. We were all upset by it. Anyone o’ us could have picked that pear, and Saidh near choked to death. She was only ten.”
“Dear heavens,” Elysande breathed, and then shook her head. “I always wished I had brothers and sisters, but now think I must have been lucky not to. Who knew children could be so cruel?”
“Ye were an only child, then?” Rory asked solemnly, and when she nodded, he admitted, “I’d assumed as much, but did no’ ask fer fear o’ bringing up a painful memory.”
“Mother was with child several times ere I was born,” she said quietly. “And several more after. But I was the only one to survive more than a few days past birth. ’Twas a source of terrible sadness for her. She had always wanted several children.”
“Which is why you were her treasure,” Rory murmured.
“Aye.” She smiled faintly. “She used to call me that all the time.”
Rory nodded with understanding and opened his mouth as if to comment, but then paused and glanced around with surprise when he bumped into Conn, who had stopped.
“We’re here,” the warrior said, gesturing to the shop he’d stopped in front of. “The pinner should have what ye need, or be able to make one.”
“Oh. Right.” Rory smiled wryly, and then ushered Elysande inside. “Ye men wait here, we’ll no’ be a minute, and then we’ll find somewhere for our nooning meal.”
Elysande glanced around the shop with interest as Rory explained what they wanted to the shopkeeper. She’d never been in a pinner’s shop before and was surprised at the array of goods available. There were pins for headdresses and clothing in wood, iron, bronze, silver and even gold. She’d never seen this kind of selection from the traveling merchants. It was really quite wondrous to her. Despite the selection, however, he didn’t have exactly what they were looking for. Plain pins were popular because they were less expensive and he claimed he’d sold his last one just before they’d arrived. But he was planning to make more that afternoon if they’d like to return later in the day.
Once Rory described what was needed, Elysande gave the man a coin to be sure he didn’t sell it to someone else before they returned and they thanked him and went out to rejoin the men.
They left there to find an inn willing to feed them and filled up on sausages and lese fryes, a sweet cheese tart that was quite good. With time to kill, they dawdled over their meal, and then visited several more shops they came across. They stopped at a glover’s where Conn and Rory purchased new leather gloves to keep warm on the ride, a girdler’s where Elysande purchased a belt to replace the rope Mildrede had used to secure the plaid around her waist, a souter’s where Simon had a hole in the bottom of one of his boots repaired and then a potter’s with beautiful bowls and pots.
Even with all their stops, the brooch wasn’t quite ready when they got back to the pinner’s shop, and they had to wait a bit while it was polished. By the time Rory had approved it and she’d paid, it was getting late. They returned to the alehouse to find Mildrede had their dinner ready for them.
This meal was much different than the night before. Tonight they were served fresh bread for trenchers and a hearty stew with mutton in it. Albert and Mildrede even joined them, Mildrede blushing and pleased while her husband flushed with pride at the many loud compliments the men all gave her on the meal.
Afterward, they sat over their ales and talked of this and that. Elysande was enjoying the company and talk at first, but as the night wore on and the numbness in her back began to fade, she began to stiffen in her seat. She finally had to excuse herself and leave the table. Tom and Simon immediately started to rise, but she waved them back to their seats. Murmuring that she was just going to fetch something, she slid out of the room and headed for the stables.
What she needed to fetch was her liniment, and only to put more on. She did not need witnesses for that.
Climbing up the ladder to the loft wasn’t the trial it would have been the night before after riding all day, but it was bad enough that she would have been grateful for Rory’s carrying her up again. Her legs and arms were trembling and there was sweat on her forehead by the time she stumbled into the loft. Elysande retrieved her liniment. Not wanting to go to the effort of removing and redonning the plaid, she only removed her breeches, yanked up the back of her skirts and quickly applied the salve to her legs and bottom. She then pulled the breeches back on, and removed the pin to let the top of the plaid fall away, before working herself out of the top of the gown and tunic. Leaving them to hang down at her waist, Elysande proceeded to apply some liniment to as much of her back as she could reach. Which wasn’t much, she was realizing when she heard the stable door open.
A squeak of alarm slipping from her lips, Elysande scrambled to pull her gown up to cover herself, but paused when Mildrede called out, “M’lady?”
“Aye?” she responded with relief.
“I thought mayhap you could use some help putting on more liniment ere sleeping?”
“Oh.” Elysande sighed the word, and then said, “Aye, if you do not mind?”
“Nay. ’Tis why I came out,” Mildrede said, her voice growing closer as she mounted the ladder. “It did not occur to me at first, else I would have come with you when you excused yourself. But then I got thinking on how you had gone quiet as the evening progressed and realized the liniment must be wearing off.”
“And you were right,” Elysande said with a smile as she watched the older woman pull herself up into the loft. “I already did my legs and bottom, but was struggling with my back when I heard the stable door open,” she admitted.
“’Twill be quick work, then,” Mildrede said lightly as she approached. “Lay yourself down.”
Elysande lay down on the fur, letting the top of her tunic and gown drop as she did. “Thank you, Mildrede.”
“My pleasure,” Mildrede murmured as she collected the ceramic pot from where Elysande had set it. Pausing, she examined it and then picked up the lid that went with it. “This is interesting. Where did you get it, m’lady?”
“’Twas Rory’s idea,” she said, turning her head to glance at the small pot with a faint smile. “We came across a potter’s while waiting for my pin to be ready. He was making cups and Rory asked him to make one without the handle and with a lid. He offered to pay him extra did he have it done by end of day and he did. The lid comes off easily though, so ’twill have to be wrapped with cloth or something while we travel.”
“’Tis very clever,” Mildrede said as she knelt on the fur next to her.
“Aye,” Elysande agreed, and then fell silent for the few minutes it took Mildrede to smooth the liniment over her back.
“There you are,” Mildrede said, putting the lid back on the pot as she straightened.
“Thank you.” Elysande sat up and quickly redonned her tunic and pulled the top of her gown back into place. Once finished with the task, she stood and met Mildrede’s gaze as she added, “For everything.”
“You’re welcome, m’lady,” she said quietly as she handed over the pot. “I heard the men mention the snow was melting as quick as it fell and you’d most like leave tomorrow.”
“Aye.” Elysande had heard them say that as well.
“I know you need to if you’re going to warn the
king in time, but I’ll still be sorry to see ye go. I enjoyed sitting and chatting with ye today and tonight,” Mildrede said gruffly, looking embarrassed at the admission.
“Even though it meant putting up with a bunch of Scots at your table?” Elysande teased.
“Aye.” She smiled crookedly and then grudgingly admitted, “They’re not a bad group of lads for Scots. They all look after you real fine and watch you with concern. Especially that Rory. He rarely takes his eyes off ye. I know he’ll keep ye safe like he promised.”
“Aye. I think he will do his best,” Elysande agreed, and meant it. Though she wasn’t at all certain he could succeed at the task. There was nothing more dangerous than a desperate man, and de Buci was as desperate as a man could be.
“I’ll say good sleep, then, and let ye be. I have some baking to do tonight ere I find my bed, but I’ll be sure to get up early. Don’t you leave without saying farewell to me first.”
“I will not,” Elysande assured her as they walked to the ladder.
“Good night, then,” the woman said before hurrying down to the stable floor.
Elysande watched until she’d bustled out of the stable, and then packed the bowl of liniment away in one of her bags. She considered going back into the alehouse to sit with the men, but then decided that if they were leaving on the morrow, she should probably get as much sleep as she could. While the liniment did a lot to ease her pains, it was still going to be a long day in the saddle.
She was just trying to decide if she should wrap herself in the tartan she wore as the men did, or leave it be and use the cloak as a cover, when she heard the stable door open again. Deciding to use the cloak as a cover so she wouldn’t have to struggle with the pleats in the morning, Elysande grabbed it from where she’d left it lying across a bale of hay and pulled it around herself, then quickly dropped to lie on the fur on her good side. She then closed her eyes. It just seemed easier to feign sleep and let the men settle rather than face the embarrassment of sleeping as they were. After a lifetime of sleeping alone in her own bed, she still found it a bit discomfiting to be sleeping surrounded by so many men. It didn’t help that she kept waking up plastered to Rory’s chest like she had a right to be there. The fact that it happened in her sleep, and that she couldn’t be held fully responsible, didn’t make it any less embarrassing for her when she woke up there. Elysande was just glad nobody had commented on it when they were awake. Tom and Simon had merely lifted her up off the man both times to save her back, and then gone about their business without comment or even a look to shame her.
“I ken ye canno’ be asleep, lass. Mildrede just left.”
Recognizing Rory’s voice, Elysande opened her eyes, and then pulled her head back slightly with surprise when he dropped to lie down next to her, but facing her rather than with his back to her as usual.
“How is yer back?” he asked, pillowing his head on his arm so he could look at her in the faint light cast by the torches below.
“Much better now. Mildrede helped me put on more liniment,” she admitted.
“Aye. I suspected it was paining ye after the sup,” he admitted, and when she raised her eyebrows in question, he explained, “Ye’d gone unnatural quiet and pale ere ye excused yerself.”
“Oh.” She grimaced. “’Tis good for hours after the salve is put on, but then the benefits fade. I should have thought to reapply it ere the sup.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, and then they fell silent, and stared at each other for a moment. Just when Elysande was starting to feel uncomfortable and considering rolling away from him, he said, “The swelling is gone on yer face and the bruising is more red than black now, with a bit o’ green around the edges. ’Tis healing.”
“Is it?” she asked with interest. She had no mirror here to check her face, and couldn’t see her back. She had managed to get a glimpse of her bottom and the backs of her legs by twisting about, but just enough of a glimpse to see that it seemed a little better. Her muscles were still sore from the beating she’d taken and had protested at the movement.
“Aye. Another few days and the worst o’ it should be done,” he assured her.
“’Twill be at least another week or more before ’tis gone completely though,” she said wryly.
Her words made him smile. “Ye do have healing knowledge. Yer men mentioned ye were skilled at it,” he told her.
“And you doubted it?” she asked, for his comment had sounded surprised.
“Nay. No’ exactly,” he said slowly, and then smiled wryly as he admitted, “I am just used to being the healer in most situations.”
“Ah. Mother did mention that you had earned quite a reputation for it,” she admitted.
Rory arched an eyebrow at that. “And how did she ken that?”
“Her sister,” Elysande said at once. “Aunt Bearnas wrote Mother often. In fact, that is how she knew you were at Monmouth. She said your sister—Saidh?” she queried, and when he nodded, she continued. “Saidh mentioned in a letter to my cousin Cam’s wife, Jo, that you were heading to Monmouth to tend the baron in exchange for a small fortune. And Jo told my aunt.”
“Who told yer mother in a letter,” Rory finished for her, and grinned. “I had no idea my goings-on were o’ such interest.”
Elysande shrugged awkwardly where she lay. “Your sister is proud of you. Aunt Bearnas often sent tidbits of news about your family in her letters.”
“Such as?” he queried with interest.
“Oh, let me think,” she murmured, searching her mind, and then smiled. “The first mention of your family was when she wrote to tell us that Cam had finally taken a wife. She told us all about his bride, Jo, and then a rather gripping tale of how one of the lasses she’d invited to the castle to meet him tried to kill his new bride, Jo, but that all had ended well and Jo had become good friends with many of the other girls, including one Saidh Buchanan, when they helped save her life.”
When he nodded, she continued. “The next mention was when Jo gave birth to their first child. Your sister and some of the other friends she’d made apparently attended the birth.”
“Aye,” Rory agreed. “’Tis how our Saidh ended up marrying Greer MacDonnell. She was traveling with one o’ the other lasses and their brother on leaving Sinclair. The company she rode with stopped at MacDonnell on the return journey. Our cousin Fenella was married to the laird there. But he had died, and Saidh stayed to comfort Fenella and ended up marrying Greer, who had arrived to take o’er as laird. Fenella and her husband had no children, so Greer was the next in line,” he explained.
Elysande nodded, and tried to recall the next mention her aunt had made of the Buchanans. There had been a lot of them over the years. “I think the next time your family was mentioned was something to do with one of your brothers and the lass who saved Jo in the first letter. Murine?” she asked, unsure she was getting the name right.
“Aye. Murine. She is married to me brother Dougall now. He and some o’ me other brothers rescued her from her brother, who wanted to use her for his own gain. Dougall married her, but her brother caused trouble later and tried to steal her back. Cam brought his army to join ours and a couple others who showed up to help resolve the situation.”
Elysande nodded. Aunt Bearnas had mentioned that in her letter. She’d revealed a lot about the Buchanans in her letters, so much that Elysande had almost felt like she knew them despite never having met them. Perhaps that was why she’d felt so comfortable with Rory so quickly, she thought. “The next mention was when another one of the ladies from the group who had befriended Jo had married another of your brothers. I think she said ’twas Edith? And that you had gone there to try to heal her from something?”
Rory’s mouth tightened. “Aye. Saidh was most concerned about her. She’d received a letter from Edith mentioning she was feeling unwell, but weeks had passed since then and Saidh hadn’t heard from her again, despite having written to her several times to ask how she was faring. Saidh was growi
ng worried to the point that she had determined to travel to her home to check on her fer herself, which was giving Greer fits because Saidh was heavy with child. The only way we could convince her no’ to go was if I went to check in her place. Niels, Geordie and Alick accompanied me.”
“Was she well?” Elysande asked with curiosity. Her aunt hadn’t mentioned any of this in her letter.
“Nay. She was being poisoned and would have died had we no’ been there,” Rory said grimly.
“Oh,” Elysande murmured, eyes wide.
“She recovered once we discovered what was going on, and Niels ended up marrying the lass.”
Elysande nodded, and then said, “The next mention was when your oldest brother got married. Aulay?”
“Aye. Aulay married Jetta.”
When that was all he said, she decided their courtship must have followed more traditional lines, and went on. “And then she wrote to tell us that Conran had been kidnapped and, of all things, married the lady who had kidnapped him?” Elysande finished the sentence as a question, because she still had trouble believing that one.
“His kidnapping was purely by accident,” Rory assured her. “Evina meant to kidnap me, but mistook Conran fer me and took him instead.”
“What?” she squawked, shocked at the thought that Rory might have been kidnapped if not for a mistake. “Why the devil would your brother marry a woman who had kidnapped him? Aunt Bearnas never explained that so we thought she must have been mistaken.”
“Oh, aye, he was kidnapped,” Rory assured her. “Naked, unconscious and tied o’er the back o’ a horse. But Evina only did it because she was desperate. Her father was ailing, ye see. She originally came to Buchanan to ask me to tend him, but something went wrong, and rather than ask she ended up kidnapping Conran. The wrong brother. Fortunately, Conran had assisted me more than a few times dealing with the sick and was able to cure the man who then ended up becoming his father-in-law.”