Becca St.John

by Seonaid

  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.

  They weren’t going to help him and he knew, deep inside, if he didn’t find his mother soon, he might not find her at all.

  Padraig couldn’t still be asleep. He’d slept for days.

  Ignoring the adults who ignored him, Deian turned on his heels and ran for the keep, bumping into the old woman who had walked ahead, apologizing with a short bow before setting off again.

  He raced across the bridge, through the gate, up the stairway into the keep, determined despite his aching legs. He burst into the room to find Padraig awake, barely. Slumped against the wall of the fire nook, his head bent so low his chin rested on his chest. The Reah was there too, sprawled in a great wooden chair.

  “Ah, so here’s the lad now,” Angus Reah barked.

  Padraig raised his head. “So he is,” and motioned for Deian to come closer. “So, Eban…” he bit out the name, as if Deian might forget who he was supposed to be. “I hear you’ve been beyond the gates.”

  Deian moved closer, wary. He’d not done anything wrong. “Lady Alissa wanted to see the healers.”

  “You seemed most anxious to see them yourself,” The Reah said. “Thought you might explode when I said there were three of them.”

  Padraig narrowed his eyes, looked at the other man, but Deian didn’t care. He’d not done anything wrong. Lady Alissa had taken him. She could do that, couldn’t she?

  Not that it helped.

  He lowered his head, as tears threatened. Not that he would cry, but he wanted his mama to be there and she wasn’t. Just another healer. “No, sir, no, it wasna’ that. I just didna’ want to stand while you and Lady Reah fought.”

  “Hoa!” The big man laughed. Even Padraig, sick as he was, smiled.

  “Is that the way of it?” Padraig asked.

  Angus’ smile belied his grumble. “Her mouth’s more vicious than my dirk.”

  “I know a woman like that.” Padraig winked at Deian.


  Angus looked from one to the other, his eyes dark, keen on finding something. Deian stepped back.

  Padraig slumped against the wall. “Not that I’ll live to spar with her again.”

  “You may stink, but you’re not goin’ to die,” The Reah told him. “Didna’ just tell ya’ the Healers are coming to you?”

  “All three?” Padraig questioned.

  “No, just the two.”

  Deian hadn’t realized The Reah had a dirk in his hand, until he started cleaning his fingernails. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask. What ever happened to Seonaid MacKay? The lass who dressed like a man.”

  “What of her?” Padraig questioned.

  “Heard you were sweet on her. Thought you might be with her and—” he gestured toward Deian, “—her boy.”

  “What makes you think he’s Seonaid’s lad?”

  “So you don’t deny being sweet on her.”

  “Don’t be daft,” Padraig barked. “And what are you to Lady Alissa?”

  The Reah sat up straight, pointed the dirk at Padraig, as he made his point. “You’re to leave her alone. She’s in my care, under my roof, God save me, and it’s my responsibility to ensure her safety.”

  “Aye. I see,” Padraig returned, not at all frightened to have a dirk pointed at him.

  “You’ll not take advantage of her. You’re lucky she’s caring for you at all,” The Reah pushed.

  “And sweet as can be, she is,” Padraig said, straight-faced.

  The Reah growled. “Don’t let that fool ya’. She can turn as quick as an asp.”

  “No doubt. But you know me better than to warn me off, you big oaf.”

  “She’s under my care.” The Reah sat back, returning to the nail cleaning.

  “She’s past an age to marry.”

  The Reah snorted. “No one will have her. Leastways, not after they’ve spent half a day in her presence.”

  “How long have you known her?” Padraig asked.

  “Long enough.”

  “Grew up together, did ya’?”

  “Aye, though she’s a fair bit younger. Not that it’s any of your concern.”

  “Of course not,” Padraig responded, as the door opened and three women walked in, though not the one Deian watched for.

  vvvvvv

  The rain abated long enough for Seonaid to see Deian, face upturned, looking to the woman who held his hand. He didn’t like to hold hands.

  Or he hadn’t. Seemed as though he did now. And the woman looked to him, neither impatient nor bored. Adoring, him her, and her him.

  Seonaid stumbled, hunched over, hidden within her cloak. She remained bowed, not wanting him to notice her, hurt when he didn’t. Still, she kept moving, so no one would suspect she was with the healers.

  Her son ran to them, passed her in his urgency.

  Was Padraig so ill?

  Cowl pulled well over her head, shadowing, she risked a glance behind her, to see the healers and this woman who stood, her hand on Deian’s shoulder, touching him, comforting.

  Her cloak, fine velvet, no sign of wear, fingers laden with jeweled rings, gems studded the brooch that fixed her cape closed. A lady, the sort to have resources enough to foster a boy. If she would. If the man in her life needed a page, a foster son.

  The lady bent low, spoke to Deian. He nodded, broke off, bumping into Seonaid as he ran toward the keep. Bending at the waist in contrition, a little gentleman, never looking up into her face. Never sensing his own mother standing there. She willed him to notice, even as she hid behind the shadow of her hood. And he was off again, racing to Padraig.

  Padraig. Was he alive, dead, sick with fever?

  She failed to notice the healers pass or the lady with them, didn’t hear their conversation. She backtracked, found an alley, slipped in, needing the brick for support. Everything moved too fast. She thought she was prepared to let go of Deian, so he could have a better future. And to let go of Padraig, so he could find a woman for his own.

  Now, seeing the possibilities near broke her.

  And they’d spoken of Padraig. This woman with Deian, the fine lady was Padraig’s nursemaid. She’d heard that much. A proper lady caring for a fit and virile man.

  If this woman wasn’t married…no.

  She must stop. Padraig was not hers to covet. She’d let him go. Had no right to fret about a women he might find attractive.

  But she did mind, did fret. She wanted his adoration, she wanted his love.

  Wants and wishes…if they were horses, beggars would ride.

  Oh, Lord, she needed sustenance for a soul torn to shreds. There were two people she loved most in the world and she must let them both go. And where was she to head? They’d found a place for comfort. A place for Padraig to heal. A new home for Deian.

  What about her? Where was she to go?

  The Healers were no more. They’d all been sent asunder.

  Lost, so lost, Seonaid stepped out of the alley, blindly looking about, as if answers stood in the rain-drenched village. An old couple made their way past, more slowly than the others. A young man jostled them in his haste. The woman’s basket tipped, spilling a cloth-wrapped loaf. Seonaid lunged forward, caught the still-warm, heavy bread.

  “Oh, dearie, thank you. That’s for the priest. He’s a guest with him, you know.”

  “The traveling friar?” Of course, that had been decided. Father Kenneth would stay in the vicarage.

  “Aye.”

  A simple response answering all of Seonaid’s questions. “Where’s the kirk?” she asked, impatience prodding her to move quicker than the couple could.

  “Once you cross the bridge and go through the gate, you can’t miss it,” The old man answered. “The keep and the kirk are both grand enough and high enough you can’t miss them.”

  They looked to her, eyes smiling, and she stuffed her impatience down. “Do you need help getting there?”

  Together they plodded through streets made slimy with rain. The elders carrying food to the priest and his guest. Seonaid determined to do something she’d not done in years.

  It was time for confession.

  vvvvvv

  The Healers pushed and prodded and poured herbs into his wound, and then thought to speak, when his wits were past comprehending.

  “What?” he hissed past the pain.

  “Don’t fret now,” one of the healers said, stacking masticated herbs on his wound before she wrapped it with cloth. “We can speak of it later.”

  “Drink this,” the other healer ordered, putting a cup to his lips, but he turned away, certain it would make him sleep. He didn’t want to sleep.

  “She’s with you?” he rasped, beyond the effort of full words. Lady Alissa distracted Deian over by the window, as he refused to leave. Padraig didn’t want either of them to hear this conversation.

  The smaller healer nodded. “The woman who helped free us?”

  “Aye.” He nodded.

  “We were lost. She found us, got us this far. Angelica insisted she stay with us, here, for one last look at the lad.”

  He shifted his gaze to the other healer, the one he recognized as the frightened one. The one who had screamed.

  The one responsible for his wound. “Angelica?” he asked her.

  She looked to the other before she nodded.

  “I’m in your debt.”

  Again, she looked to the other healer, who raised her brows and nodded toward the draught in her hand.

  “Oh, yes.” He guessed her fear had her forgetting her task. “If I’m in your debt, then drink,” she admonished.

  Not yet. “Give a man a moment, I’m hurtin’, need to catch my breath.”

  What he really needed was to catch his thoughts. “Don’t tell anyone she traveled with me and the lad. Especially not the lad. Not yet.”

  Angelica shook her head. The other healer frowned, considered, before she agreed as well.

  Padraig explained about Deian. “If he knows she’s here, and
she leaves, it will break his heart all over.”

  “Aye,” the other woman agreed, as she focused on his wound. “She’s seen him and all, though he doesn’t know it.”

  He gripped her hand, hard, so she couldn’t move though she tried.

  “Jasmine!” Angelica gasped, stepping away.

  Padraig ignored her, focused on the one he held, this Jasmine. “If she’s already seen the lad, she will try to leave. You must stop her. Make certain she doesna’ leave.”

  Unlike Angelica, Jasmine was not intimidated, merely patted his hand. “She’ll not depart until she’s spoken with us. She’ll want to know how you fair.”

  Angelica watched, cautious, as if, even in this state, he could hurt her. Nothing he could do about her fear, not now, not with the blood racing through his veins. Seonaid was here, had seen Deian, didn’t make herself known to him.

  Because she would leave again. Soon.

  He tugged Jasmine down, to whisper to her alone. She listened, nodded, left his side to speak to the guard who stood by the door.

  He collapsed back onto the pallet, turned his gaze to Angelica. “I helped to free you, you know.” He gentled his tone, though he resented the need. He’d proven himself to her, risked his life, Seonaid’s life, for her. “Don’t look like I’ll hurt you,” he grumbled. As if he could, in this state. “I’ll drink your brew now, just promise you’ll keep the woman here.”

  Wary, but determined, Angelica brought the cup back to his lips. Jasmine had returned, stayed her hand.

  “You say you’re in our debt.”

  He nodded, his eyes closing from the pain.

  “When you’re mended, will you take us to a safe place? Where they won’t try to burn us, or ruin us, or lock us away for helping them?”

  “You want my protection?” he whispered.

  They hesitated long enough, he opened his eyes to see why. Pathetic he was, with this souring wound, did they think he’d die?

  But they’d been conferring in soft whispers between themselves, looking over their shoulders at the others in the room. Finally, Jasmine leaned over him. “The woman said you’d guard us. Take us wherever we want.”

  He arched his head back. Oh, aye, he’d guard them, but just where was it they wanted to go? It didn’t matter, not now, not without Seonaid, whom he didn’t trust to stay long enough for him to be up and about.