The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

  “Someone is hurt!” Tisa said. “Who is it? Who is here?”

  Malcolm kept her shielded behind him, the blade in his hand, despite her attempt to get by. She weaved her head back and forth to peer around him into the darkness. When he got closer to the sound, she gasped at the sight of the huddled body, moaning in pain.

  “Caireann!” Tisa shouted and dropped beside the girl.

  Malcolm came up from behind, the dagger replaced by a lighted lamp. He held it high enough that she could now see the blood on Caireann’s ankle, her torn gown, and the tapestry that lay on top of her.

  ““Dearest, what has happened?”

  Malcolm kneeled beside her, wiping the tears off her freckled face. “Caireann, where is the pain?”

  “Malcolm.” Her voice was a whisper. “I ken ye’d come.”

  He picked her up into his arms, cradling her against his bosom. His gentle touch seemed impossible for a man of his great size. Tisa’s chest tightened. He cared for her. When had that transpired?

  The heavy material fell open and the source of the blood on her leg became apparent.

  “She’s been raped,” Tisa said.

  Malcolm’s face turned white, his eyes wide. He pressed Caireann’s head against him. “My sweet, what can I do?”

  Caireann shook her head.

  “I will get some water heated,” Tisa said.

  Tisa busied herself with feeding the fire that appeared to have been dowsed with water. A dangerous thing to do with the biting cold temperatures and it took some work to bring back the flame.

  “Sorry I am that I was not here sooner,” Malcolm said, the second time in as many hours.

  “My sweet Malcolm, it was a man in a rage. He would have killed ye,” Caireann said.

  “He would not! But it would be his blood spilled this night instead of yers.”

  She moaned. “There is pain. I think he ripped me apart.”

  Tisa came with a cloth. She glanced up at Malcolm. “I need to see her wounds.”

  He held Caireann tight against him, closing his eyes and turning his face away.

  With great care, Tisa inspected the injured area. The man had been brutal, leaving small rips that continued to bleed but there did not appear to be anything torn within. Tisa held the cloth to the cuts. Caireann hissed in pain.

  Tisa covered her friend then told Malcolm, “She’s covered.”

  He tried to hide the great turmoil she read on his face.

  “Who was it?” Malcolm’s tone was strained.

  Caireann shook her head. “I dunna ken. I was turned away from the door. He came in and shoved me. I fell onto the table. He threw my skirts up over my head—” She clasped her hand tight to her mouth. Tears coursed down her cheeks.

  Malcolm kept her close, whispering soothing sounds and rocking her like a child.

  Tisa went to her herbs, adding them to the water she’d heated. “She needs to drink this.”

  Caireann sipped at the liquid. It would help her to rest. Tisa saw no bruises on her face or arms.

  “Did he say anything? Would ye recognize his voice?”

  “Nae. He was quick. He said nothing.”

  Tisa and Malcolm exchanged glances.

  “There are many soldiers here. It could have been any one of them,” she said.

  “Too many for me to even ken who belongs and who does not.”

  “Mayhap ye should rest on the bed?”

  “Nae,” Caireann’s eyes opened, Malcolm’s leine grasped between her white knuckles. “Please let me stay here. Safe.”

  “Happy I am to have ye near me and I will keep ye safe.”

  She nodded. Her eyes drifted shut. It wasn’t long before Caireann was asleep.

  Sean had not been convinced by Tisa’s assurances that all was well. All was far from well here.

  Thomasina hugged his arm to her. “Methinks we should talk.” She glanced at the longhouse. “But not here.”

  Sean pecked her cheek. “Since we are sleeping as guests here beneath Aodh’s nose, we should find a place to ourselves.”

  He led her a short distance, following the path that sloped up along the winter grass. It grew quite tall. Ducking down, he pulled her onto his lap. “We have made our escape. Have yer way with me.”

  Thomasina laughed, slapping at his shoulder. “I am serious, Sean.”

  Sensing her tension, he sobered. “Is there aught amiss, mo mhíle stór?”

  “That man with the dark-haired woman. Leofrid? I recognized him and that woman.”

  Sean frowned. “Ye saw them afore today? Where could ye have seen them?”

  “At the inn we stayed at. Where the massacre of the Normans took place.” Her eyes rounded. “While I waited for ye to go to the room ye had rented. Do ye remember?”

  He nodded. “Ye waited outside then snuck up the stairs and they were none the wiser.”

  “When I was watching that redhead rubbing her body all against ye, the innkeeper snuck up the stairs.”

  “I dunna remember her doing that.”

  “Well, I do and I hate to disappoint ye but ‘twas just a ruse for the innkeeper to get upstairs afore ye. He came down leading that man!”

  “Leofrid?”

  “The very same, Sean.” Thomasina glanced off into the distance as if rummaging through her memories. “They spoke of him returning—Leofrid—later that night and that the innkeeper needed to keep to the plan.”

  Sean’s gut tightened. “Are ye certain ‘tis the same man?”

  “He came out the same door I watched ye from, passing right before my eyes! My heart jumping in my chest. I was afeared he would see me. And not only that Leofrid, but the same woman! She came down after him. When I saw her at the table, she was familiar but I could not remember from where. Then I smelled that flowery scent and remembered.”

  Sean blew a breath. Leofrid was the Godwin. If Leofrid crossed from Eire to England with such ease, the man may indeed have the ability to plan an attack against the Normans.

  “Oh, aye, Sean! Leofrid and the innkeeper—they spoke of keeping the irons hot and then Leofrid said something about giving the usurpers what they deserved.”

  Sean had been arrested for the murder of those Normans. The lord who’d lost his son spoke of them being branded like animals. That only meant one thing. The overthrowing of King William that Ivan had spoken of had begun. It was Leofrid that had massacred the Norman soldiers. Sean needed to get word to Peter.

  Hugging his wife to him, he said, “Ye’ve a good memory, lass, but it means we’ve not much time to get word to Peter and John. Do ye believe Niall will help us get word to them?”

  “An adventure? He’d never say nae.”

  With the impending snow, no one would be coming or going soon but that included Leofrid Godwin. Once the snow ceased, Sean needed to find someone who could travel alone through the drifts, knew their way to MacNaughton land, and was willing to get a message to Calum Rua. He had an idea of who that could be and he may need to apply quite a bit of pressure to make Breandan leave this welcoming place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ~

  OVER THE NEXT FEW days, Caireann was well cared for by Malcolm. He anticipated her needs before she spoke them. There did not seem to be any lasting injuries from the attack. Not on the outside, but mayhap on the inside. Malcolm’s gentleness with her warmed Tisa’s heart. She wanted the best for her friend. Tisa watched the blossoming romance from her seat near the fire as she worked on her needlework. The drifting snow made it difficult to travel to the longhouse which suited her just fine. Darragh was kept busy with his father and she was left on her own.

  Malcolm came to sit beside her.

  “Does she sleep?” Tisa asked.

  “Aye. I worry for her sleeping so much.”

  “I’ve found nothing wrong with her body. Her spirit? Ye do much to help her with that. Ye are a very kind man.”

  She tied the threads on the final bird in her scene. The last of the hangings
was done. A great sense of accomplishment filled her. She shook out the material.

  “‘Tis beautiful. Ye have a great skill,” Malcolm said before taking it from her to reattach it to the beam.

  Tisa paused to look around her home. The little house seemed more cheerful. “I am pleased to be able to improve my circumstances. So much is beyond my ability to change.”

  He stood beside her as if looking at the hangings with her but she sensed a tension in him.

  “Is there aught amiss? Ye seem troubled.”

  Turning toward him, she noticed the gray at his temples for the first time. His eyes fixed on her and her stomach clenched.

  “Is it the children?”

  “It is not.” He swallowed. “Caireann...she may be with child.”

  Tisa turned toward the curtain that blocked the view of her sleeping friend. “She canna ken that yet.”

  “Nae, but it could be.”

  His frown deepened. Something else was amiss.

  She nodded and waited.

  Malcolm straightened to his full height, looked past her and announced, “I wish to take her to wife.”

  Tisa’s jaw dropped. Her chest filled. “Oh, Malcolm, I think ‘twould be wonderful.”

  She threw her arms about his massive shoulders and hugged him.

  He patted her back awkwardly. “I dunna ken what she will say.”

  Withdrawing, she searched his expression. “I believe she would be honored to be yer wife.”

  “I wish I had asked afore now but I wanted her to become more comfortable with me.”

  Malcolm had been thinking of marrying her dear friend? How could Tisa have not been aware of that?

  “‘Tis not too late.” She placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

  “But now she will believe I ask only because of what has occurred.”

  His point was valid.

  “I would have asked earlier but for consideration of her gentle nature. I wanted her to learn my ways and mayhap see me as more than just a very large man.” He faced Tisa, the frown gone. “I have loved her from the first.”

  Tisa put her hand to her chest where her breath fluttered like a butterfly. “Methinks ye should say just that to her.”

  He looked at her askance. “Mistress! Surely those are not the words she would want to hear. I could speak of her comeliness, of her gentle ways, or her—”

  “Speak to her from yer heart. ‘Tis all she needs to hear from ye.”

  “But ye are....not vexed at me?”

  “Nae! I am well pleased. Methinks ye will make a lovely couple.”

  Malcolm’s shoulders rounded and he let loose a great sigh. “My thanks. I have worried over this.”

  “Dunna fash yerself. Surely ‘twas meant to be.”

  She collected the stray threads and moved about the area straightening this and that. Malcolm sat with his eyes fixed on the blue birds, an intense look as if rehearsing what his exact words to Caireann should be.

  Tisa smiled to herself. “I need to see about retrieving Darragh’s things.”

  He nodded his head without turning to her.

  The air outside smelled of spring despite the snowdrifts and ice-covered lochs. Soon the snow would be but a memory. Long forgotten. Mayhap she was being wistful. The thought of her friend marrying stirred those memories of her own dreams not easily set aside.

  The sky was a perfect blue without a cloud. At the next house, Tisa retrieved the items she had left for washing. Darragh’s fastidiousness was a bit tiresome when it was too cold to wash. That his neighbor helped him out before Tisa’s arrival made it that much easier. She knocked on the closed door.

  “Hello?” she called, pushing open the door. “Hello? ‘Tis Tisa.”

  No answer.

  The clothing sat beside the banked fire, no doubt left for her. They may have decided to travel the icy path to the longhouse. She shook out the trews. No mending was required as yet but the knees were showing wear. The leine was tight across Darragh’s chest. It was probably meant for someone smaller but it wasn’t Breandan’s. He had brought his old pair of cuarans for mending and she took those as well.

  A thud at the door made her jump. When she opened it, she found a wooden object on the ground. A mavis called from the forest. Glancing about, there was no one this far down the path and she went around to the side of the house. She had not seen the outcasts since her encounter with Gerrit. Admittedly, it had left her shaken but she was concerned for Aednat and worried about how she was healing. Adding a twisted hand to the struggles she had with walking could make her situation so much worse. Mayhap something was wrong. The call came again but further away.

  Her hands grew slick. It could also be nothing. She came back around to the door and picked up the wooden object. It may have been there and she hadn’t noticed it. Turning, she crossed to her own home. Malcolm now sat leaning against the wall, not moving even when she closed the door. Looking more closely, his eyes were closed. He was fast asleep. No doubt exhausted. He had been up for many nights now seeing to Caireann.

  Tisa dropped her armload onto the table and settled herself on the bench.

  Malcolm had been right about not being able to change the fate of the outcasts. When she’d mentioned them to Darragh, he sounded much like his father. The strong ones must stay close. The weaker must be cast out. She dared not ask him about his own mother. Did he even know she was living with them? No, there would be no help for them even when Darragh became chieftain. The fact that she would not be getting with child any time soon—Not ever!—made the inevitability of the passing of leadership doubtful as well. The six months was coming to an end. The only good thing was that Aodh had not mentioned it.

  If Aednat developed a fever, she would surely die from her encounter with the damn horse. What a tragedy. What a great loss for the outcasts. The little girl was very bright. Her ability to learn how to heal would certainly improve their lot. Tisa dropped down beside Malcolm. He needed to check out the call and be sure Aednat was well.

  His breathing was heavy. He puffed his lips with each exhale. Between seeing to Caireann and still performing his many duties for Aodh, the man was worn out. Tisa was hard pressed to wake the sleeping giant. She returned to stand next to the table.

  Darragh only wore the trews on the bitterest of days. The added warmth on his legs was frowned upon by his father. Naturally. She shook them out. What had Thomasina mentioned? She wasn’t even noticed when dressed as a man? The pulling up of this and the tying off of that? Tisa eased off her slippers and slid one leg in, then the other. They did feel strange, difficult for her legs to move.

  Tucking the balled up gown under her chin, she secured the tie at the waist. They were a bit tight in the seat but it could work. If no one knew she was a woman, no one would notice her. The chances of seeing anyone in the forest were not good. They were not the only ones keeping to their houses and if any were to venture out today, it would certainly be to see others within the village and not to go traipsing off into the woods.

  Going into Darragh’s room, Tisa doffed her gown and donned the leine. Her breasts were, unfortunately, quite prominent. She perused the small area around her. The fine cloth she’d recently discovered at the bottom of Darragh’s chest would be perfect. She’d planned to surprise him by making a longer leine in the hope of placating his father and still keeping him warm. She could still do that but right now she had other uses for the material. She wound it tight around her chest. Much better. With her hair braided and tucked inside at the neck, Tisa discovered Breandan’s shoes fit well enough. She wrapped her fur tight around her, pulling it over her head, and went off for the woods. She’d be back before she was ever missed.

  Sean had not been approached by either Leofrid Godwin or Aodh Meic Lochlainn regarding King William. He was unsure what part, if any, Aodh Meic Lochlainn played in the Godwin’s bigger scheme to overthrow the Normans. Although the two spent much time meeting, no one discussed any plans and they certainly s
hared nothing with Sean.

  It had turned out to be a simple thing to convince Breandan to travel to MacNaughton land with Sean’s missive. Apparently, Breandan missed his mother and his sister had been with child.

  “For Calum Rua’s eyes only and Breandan, he will give ye something after he reads this message. Accept it as my thanks and bring it to yer sister. I will pray daily for a safe delivery and a healthy nephew for ye. Godspeed.”

  That the lad had not returned yet only meant he’d wanted to stay with his sister and mother. If he ever chose to return, it would be his own choice just as it had been to come here.

  Sean was more than ready to quit this place. He needed to get away and the melting snow now made it possible. These men acted more like the Norsemen he’d always heard stories about. No woman was well treated. Getting Thomasina away from them was a good enough reason for him to want to leave. If he could get Tisa away, he’d be even more relieved.

  “I dunna see that ‘tis necessary. Ye are the messenger. Bring the message to her father that all is well here,” Aodh blustered.

  Sean cleared his throat. “Mayhap he has worsened during my time away. Bringing her to him will be no hardship, I assure ye.”

  Aodh shook his head, his son meekly sat at his side. Sean couldn’t be sure he was even listening.

  “What say ye, Darragh? Will it not do yer wife good to have her see her father?”

  The man shrugged. “If she wishes, she may go.”

  Aodh scoffed. “Nae. She needs to remain here. She may be carrying yer child even now.”

  Sean searched the older man’s face but found only sincerity. How could he not realize his son preferred the company of males? No child would come from their union. Yet another reason for Sean to try and get her away from the place.

  “I will take great care of her. My wife will be with her.”

  “As I said, we shall ask Tisa what she would prefer,” Darragh said.

  “She would prefer to be home as all women do with their fathers coddling them rather than seeing to the needs of their husbands. Mark my words, Darragh, she will not return on her own if ye allow her to leave.”