The Healer

by Allison Butler

  Oh yes, many reasons, Lynelle thought, but she held her tongue. She hated deceiving these people, mostly because of their warm welcome and innate kindness. She was only here for a short while and so desperately wanted to be treated as a normal person.

  ‘Kindness is a gift one can easily bestow on another,’ Mary said. ‘Everyone deserves to know such a gift. Even you, Lynelle,’ she finished softly.

  Something clattered to the floor nearby, saving Lynelle from responding. She might have given herself away if the girl named Keita hadn’t dropped the broom she’d been carrying. She seemed to be struggling to keep hold of the pail of water and rags she still held.

  Mary introduced them, informing Lynelle that Keita had volunteered to assist her in the room below. The young red-haired woman kept her gaze averted. Lynelle had guessed right. Keita wanted something. Why else would the woman be inclined to spend time in her company, cleaning?

  After sharing out Keita’s load, they descended the stairs and passed along the dark passage to the healing room. Musty smells and cobwebs greeted them, and once again all the chamber’s secrets were slowly revealed as Mary lit the three torches mounted in iron-brackets high on the walls. With a smile, Mary left Lynelle and Keita to clean.

  They worked in silence for a little while, clearing half the workbench and shelves, wiping them clean and replacing each item. Pent-up curiosity floated in the air alongside the dust moats, but Lynelle wasn’t certain how to initiate conversation.

  Her mind buzzed with thoughts of William and the probing questions she feared him asking. She’d have to ensure she asked no further favours of him. His handsome face appeared in her mind’s eye. The memory of his hand reaching for her sent a frightening tingle up her spine. She could still feel the imprint of his fingers on her waist, when he’d lunged forward to steady her.

  She scrubbed harder with her cloth, trying desperately to erase his image from her mind. But her imagination took flight and she could almost feel his fingers brushing against her cheek. She wanted him to touch her again, but not because she’d lost her footing.

  The realization terrified her.

  ‘You’re a healer.’

  Lynelle stilled, staring at her hands clutching a dirty cloth. Her breaths came shallow and fast and her heart pounded in her chest.

  ‘Are you a healer?’

  Releasing the rag, Lynelle turned to face Keita. The young woman stared back, a look of uncertainty on her pretty face. Lynelle welcomed the intrusion and Keita’s pale, soft features soon overshadowed the image of the harsh, tanned face constantly stealing into her mind. She slowed her breaths and licked her dry lips. ‘Yes. I am a healer.’

  Keita’s shoulders appeared to relax and her furrowed brow smoothed.

  ‘Do you live here, in the castle?’ Lynelle asked, keen to further their acquaintance.

  ‘Nae. I have a cottage in Closeburn village.’

  Lynelle threw questions at Keita, knowing it was safer to talk to the pretty young woman than allow her thoughts to wander on their own. Keita answered swiftly and willingly as they continued their labours, and Lynelle discovered a certain joy in speaking with a woman close to her own age.

  She soon learned Keita was sixteen, two years younger than Lynelle. Her father was dead and she shared a cottage with her mother and Carney, her three-year-old brother. She worked in the castle’s kitchens each day until the noon meal was served then spent her two free hours in the afternoon checking on her ill mother and young brother before returning to the keep to help with the evening meal.

  With no healer in the vicinity, the sores on her mother’s legs, caused by bites from some sort of vermin and irritated by her mother’s constant scratching, had worsened. The pain had become so severe that her mother barely managed to walk, a dire problem due to Carney’s three-year-old antics and a tendency to get into mischief.

  ‘I will look at the sores on your mother’s legs if she’ll allow it.’ Lynelle held her breath awaiting Keita’s response.

  ‘Would you?’ A hopeful expression lit Keita’s face.

  Relieved, Lynelle nodded, though she didn’t know how she’d manage to leave the castle. But she’d find a way.

  They resumed cleaning and a companionable silence fell about them as they worked. Lynelle’s thoughts were now awhirl with schemes to escape the confines of the fortress.

  She dismissed the idea of asking for William’s permission the instant it popped into her head. She feared the cost of the request too much.

  A plan began to form. It wasn’t perfect, but she was prepared to take a chance. Turning to Keita she said, ‘I will go with you to the cottage when you have delivered the noon meal.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Return here when your chores are done,’ Lynelle said, finding it difficult to contain her nervous excitement. ‘Do you have a cloak?’ At Keita’s vigorous nod she said, ‘Be sure to bring it with you.’

  Keita nodded again, although this time, a smile shaped her lips and her amber eyes brightened.

  Lynelle went on. ‘Do you know the boatman?’

  ‘Aye. His name is Ian.’ Colour suffused Keita’s cheeks as she spoke the young boatman’s name.

  Good, Lynelle thought with a small inward smile.

  ‘Can you describe the sores on your mother’s legs, so I know which salves and herbs to bring?’

  Just as Keita finished telling of the yellow pus that sometimes oozed from the sores, Mary entered.

  Lynelle watched the older woman measure the progress of their work.

  ‘There is still much to be done,’ Lynelle said. ‘I would like to return and continue after the noon meal.’ She did her best to sound calm, hoping not to arouse Mary’s suspicion.

  ‘I too am happy to finish what we have started,’ Keita said.

  Mary’s speculative gaze settled on each of them. ‘I will speak to the laird, but I see no reason for him to deny your request.’

  Trepidation rippled through Lynelle. Agreeing to her request granted William the right to ask her a question. There was little she could do to avoid it, if she wanted to help Keita’s mother. Shrugging off her disquiet, she decided she would face the problem when it arose.

  ‘Come then.’ Mary motioned them toward the door. ‘You must be hungry after all your toiling.’

  They climbed the stairs and with a private glance, Keita headed for the kitchens as Lynelle followed Mary to her assigned chamber above. She flicked a cautious look at the door opposite her room, fearing the laird somehow knew of her plan and would storm out to stop her. Again, thankfully, the door remained closed.

  Lynelle barely touched the food on her tray, her belly too full of anxious knots. She emptied the contents of her sack, repacking it with only the necessary herbs for treating Keita’s mother, including a generous amount of Iona’s ointment scraped onto a fresh piece of linen.

  After wrapping the sack in her cloak, she bundled it beneath one arm and paced the length of the chamber.

  When Mary returned, she eyed the cloak tucked tightly under Lynelle’s arm.

  ‘The air is cooler in the healing chamber,’ Lynelle quickly explained.

  ‘Aye,’ Mary agreed. ‘The sun hasn’t shown its bonny face today. Too many clouds, though there’s nae a whiff of rain in the air.’

  She hoped Mary’s assessment of the weather held true.

  ‘William has granted your wish and says he will speak with you later.’

  Lynelle nodded, sure that he would. She ignored the clenching of her stomach. She’d deal with the laird and his questions when she had to.

  At this moment, she was too busy preparing to steal out of his castle.

  Chapter 13

  KEITA entered the healing room soon after Lynelle, and Mary left to collect the trays from the chambers above. Once Lynelle and Keita were sure the older woman wouldn’t return, they donned their cloaks and crept up the stairs. They paused at the top to make certain the clansmen in the hall were too distracted by the meal in progre
ss to notice them.

  ‘Malcolm has just returned from delivering the guards their meal,’ Keita whispered. ‘He will now join Mary in the hall to eat.’

  Lynelle remained hidden as Keita slipped into the alcove – the only means of entering or leaving the fortress – and waited for the signal to move. Keita beckoned with a wave of her hand and Lynelle lifted the hood to cover her head. With a show of calm she was far from feeling, she walked out of the shadows and joined Keita in the recessed entrance.

  Pressing a hand to her chest, Lynelle tried to quell her racing heart. Impossible. They still had a way to go before they were free.

  They each gave a nod of readiness and then Keita donned her hood. The outer door made of metal bars swung noiselessly inward. They stepped out into the courtyard and Keita carefully closed it behind them. Walking quickly, they crossed the grounds to the massive timber gates and passed through the one propped open.

  ‘Two guards remain at all times, but they will be busy stuffing their faces with food,’ Keita whispered.

  A sense of mischief flowed through Lynelle. She tamped down her growing excitement and kept pace with her accomplice as they hurried down to the pier. They still needed to cross the loch to the other side.

  When they reached the structure that offered the boatman shelter from the elements, Lynelle stepped to the side out of sight and Keita ducked her head inside the opening. Voices sounded but the words were too muffled to hear what was being said. She pulled her cloak tighter about her and swallowed.

  Keita straightened and moved away from the doorway. Lynelle’s heart raced. This was the moment their plan either succeeded or failed. It all depended on Ian’s reaction to her presence.

  ‘How is your mother?’ Ian asked as he stepped out into view.

  ‘Not well, I fear. ‘Tis the reason I go early,’ Keita said quietly. ‘Her legs pain her terribly.’

  Lynelle noted Keita’s flushed cheeks and how Ian’s eyes were fixed solely on Keita’s pretty face.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear -’ Ian’s gaze swept to Lynelle.

  She stiffened and looked directly into his surprised brown eyes, hoping to appear relaxed and unconcerned.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I am escorting Keita home. Her mother is unwell and Keita has asked me to see her.’ She swallowed. ‘I am a healer.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘Please, Ian,’ Keita said, and she laid her hand on his upper arm. ‘Mother needs help and I fear if she’s not treated soon, she will die. We promise to be back before anyone knows we have gone.’

  Ian stared at Keita, and Lynelle was certain she saw his features softening. He threw a glance toward the castle and turned to face Lynelle again.

  ‘I’ll have your word that you will return and with haste.’

  This was the second time someone had offered their trust in place of her giving her word.

  Her word.

  Something she’d thought useless until a few days ago. A heady feeling of importance filled her. ‘I promise to return as quickly as possible.’

  Ian stared at her and she prayed he realised she spoke the truth. With a curt nod he turned and strode to the boat and untied the rope from its mooring. Lynelle and Keita shared a triumphant glance before they climbed into the boat and were rowed to the far side of Castle Loch.

  They reached the pier on the other side and clambered out. With parting words of thanks to Ian, Lynelle and Keita began the half-mile trek to Closeburn village.

  Keeping a brisk pace, Lynelle asked about the death of William and Edan’s sister. In a solemn tone, Keita described the harrowing days leading up to Rhona’s passing. Everyone had mourned her loss, for she was so young and vibrant and kind to all.

  Then only two days later, more shocking news had swept through the castle and village on disbelieving tongues. Ilisa Kirkpatrick, the highly respected and much loved lady of Closeburn, had succumbed to the same dreaded ague.

  A heaviness settled in Lynelle’s chest as Keita recounted the terrible events of the year past. Merciful heavens. Poor young Edan had lost his sister and then his mother. He must have been devastated. How had their deaths affected William?

  She pushed such questions and others concerning Jinny’s banishment aside for another time as they arrived at Keita’s cottage, nestled on the outskirts of the village.

  The disarray inside the cottage did not detract from the cosy atmosphere that enveloped Lynelle as Keita ushered her to her mother’s side. After being introduced to Elspeth, and Keita’s brother Carney, Lynelle was soon bathing the festering sores and applying a salve to heal them.

  She then left an assortment of herbs with instructions on how to continue treating the ulcers. With a chorus of thanks and a kiss on her cheek from Carney that made her blush, Lynelle headed back to the castle alone. She could find her own way back, knowing Keita was needed by her mother.

  Wood smoke, carried from the cottages on a gentle breeze, scented the air as she followed the well-worn path through the clearing. Her gaze drifted to the small rolling hills to the south and the trees, filled with twittering birds, bordering the open spaces to the north.

  Surrounded by the beautiful landscape, a quiet sense of peace flowed through her. Not another soul was in sight, but Lynelle didn’t feel lonely. Though the sun hadn’t shown its face, a brightness warmed her, shining from within. It was the same special feeling that seeped through her each time she helped the sick or the injured.

  Tipping her face to the pewter-coloured sky, her serenity faded as a pair of eyes, matching the hue of the heavens, took shape in her mind.

  Saint Jude, save me. William was so beautiful to look upon. He unsettled her, excited her. Made her want to do things that had never entered her head before. She longed to touch him, trace his lips with her fingers and test the strength of his arms and chest with the palms of her hands.

  She wanted him to touch her.

  But more than anything, she wanted to ease his suffering.

  Keita’s story gave her a better understanding of why William lacked faith in healers. She still didn’t know precisely what had happened to cause Jinny’s banishment, but she sensed there was more to the tale. Edan’s earlier mention of swans and curses only added to the mystery.

  She rounded a slight bend in the dirt path and wondered how to begin soothing William’s pain. He suffered an ache of the heart rather than a physical hurt. No herbs or potions would aid him. But could she truly help him?

  The path straightened and Lynelle peered across the meadow. The fortress stood proud and formidable in the centre of the island, looking as magnificent as she’d imagined, but the swarm of people dotting the grassy embankment near the outer curtain wall doused the warmth inside her.

  Her steps faltered and her heart tripped in her chest. A cold wave of alarm rushed from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

  One figure stood at the very edge of the water, alone. She did not need to be gifted with the sight to know who it was. Even at this distance, she felt the rippling waves of anger wafting from his powerful form.

  Saints above. She’d wanted him to touch her and she’d wanted to ease his suffering.

  Who would ease hers once he was done with her?

  ***

  Jaw clenched, William stared at the lone figure approaching the opposite bank, surprised she returned alone. Surprised she came back at all. ‘Now, Ian,’ he said to the red-faced boatman. Ian started rowing across the loch to meet the woman and deliver her to William.

  Mary’s distress at finding the healer and Keita gone had resulted in a full-scale search of the keep. He’d ordered the distraught older woman to remain with Edan while he joined the hunt. After finding neither woman inside the castle, the inhabitants had moved outside to search the inner bailey. Still nothing. Then Ian had told him all.

  Men, women, children, even the hounds now milled about on the grass between Castle Loch and Closeburn’s defensive wall. They were waiting to s
ee what he would do to the woman responsible for turning his home upside down. They whispered among themselves, keeping their distance from him, but their gazes burned a hole in his back.

  He hadn’t yet chosen what form of punishment to use. Several choices came to mind. Throwing her in the dungeon and starving her was one. Tying her to the whipping post and stripping the flesh off her back was another. But when images of using his bare hands to punish her turned to thoughts of using his mouth and then his body, he’d decided to wait until his mind cleared and his blood stopped racing. He only knew he couldn’t lay hands on her yet. Not until his fury ebbed.

  She was almost at the pier on the other side. If he’d known she would cause this much strife, he’d have thought twice about bringing her here. He peered up at the sombre grey sky, trying to ease the tension in his neck. At least it wasn’t raining.

  Multiple gasps sounded from the throng behind him and a cry rent the air. ‘Naeeee!’

  Straightening, he looked ahead and watched the Englishwoman toss aside the sack she carried, heft her skirts in one hand and begin running toward the west side of the castle.

  What in God’s name was she doing? Trying to escape? Now?

  His feet began to move before he willed them, following her along the inner bank. His gaze fixed on her. But she stared in the direction she ran in, never once glancing at him or anything else. Her free arm pumped beside her, a sense of urgency showing in her frantic movements.

  Suddenly, she plunged into the gloomy waters of Castle Loch. Shock jolted through William, swiftly followed by awareness as he finally saw what he and all the others had not. He raced forward and jumped, the chilly depths closing over his head, stealing his breath. William searched the dark, murky water by feel, fighting the pull of the loch on his fully clad form, struggling to reach the surface at the same time.

  Something brushed against his elbow. He turned and latched onto fabric, dragging the tiny weight to his chest. His head finally broke free of the cold water and he drew a much-needed breath. He swam to the bank and passed the small bundle into the arms of a sobbing woman.