Highland Blood (The Celtic Blood Series Book 2)

by Melanie Karsak

  “No, I won’t. I am learned in such craft, Ute. I know how to handle medicines and sick people.” Epona had taught me well. Now, at last, I had a chance to use my skills. While Gillacoemgain had asked me not to leave the castle, there was no way he expected me to sit at home for months on end. Surely, he would understand. I hoped.

  I finished packing my boxes and then headed outside where a small guard, and the farmer, waited.

  “We’ll escort you, Lady Gruoch,” one of the soldiers said. He was an older man, one of the more regular guards I saw roaming about the castle.

  “Thank you, though I hardly expect trouble during an impromptu trip. But thank you, all the same.”

  “The Mormaer would have our skin if anything happened to you. He might have it anyway knowing we let you out of the castle,” the man replied.

  “Your name, sir?”

  “Standish.”

  “Well, you can just tell the Mormaer there was no stopping me. That would be the truth,” I said, winking at him. I then turned to James, the farmer who’d spoken up. “May I ride with you?”

  Bemused, he smiled. “Of course, My Lady.”

  After I settled into the bench alongside the farmer, we headed out. Thora, who’d been playing with one of the stable boys, caught sight of me. Leaving the stick she’d been chasing behind, she ran to catch up.

  “Almost missed an adventure,” I told her.

  She barked at me.

  I looked back at the boy in the yard. I’d seen the lad a few times now. He was the one who’d lured Thora away at the wedding. I’d need to make an effort to seek out this child who’d won Thora’s heart. I waved to him.

  Grinning, the child waved back then ran off.

  “You said you were waiting to have a case heard?” I asked James as we rode.

  “I’m rather glad it’s your ear I have on the matter, Lady Gruoch,” he told me then. “My problem is one of matrimony. I want to wed the daughter of my neighbor, but he won’t give her up without more of a bride price than I can afford to give. She’s not his only child. He’s got five daughters. I could win any other bride for a better price, but my heart won’t have it. I love the girl.”

  “Then I shall speak to this man in exchange for your time today.”

  James laughed. “Old Douglas, what’s he going to say to the King’s niece?”

  “Let’s hope he says yes.”

  At that, James laughed.

  We rode from Cawdor Castle a short distance toward the little village of Nairn on the Moray Firth. The sky was bright blue colored, stray clouds drifting overhead. The weather was warm. We rode for a while when the farmer guided his cart toward a small farmhouse. The little white building, the roof made of thatch, sat in a lush green field.

  “There are three children here who have the fever, assuming they are still alive,” James said, directing his cart toward the house.

  A woman stepped outside the little cottage, wiping her hands on her long skirts. We stopped just before the door. She eyed the Moray men suspiciously.

  “Afternoon, Flora,” James said as he pulled the wagon to a stop. He got out then turned and offered me his hand.

  “And what’s this all about? Are those…are those the Mormaer’s men?”

  “They are,” James answered, “and this is the Lady of Moray.”

  “You’ve brought the Lady of Moray to my house?” the woman said, and I could tell by the expression on her face that she hadn’t really meant to say it out loud. “My Lady,” she said, curtseying to me.

  “Please,” I replied, reaching out to take her by the elbow. “James says your children have taken ill with fever. I thought I could help.”

  “You, My Lady?”

  “I have some skill with herbcraft,” I replied.

  “Please come in,” she told me and led me inside the little house.

  I turned to the solders. “I’ll call if I need you.”

  They shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

  Within, the place was overwarm and smelled of the animals who shared the home. The air felt sticky. From the back of the house, I heard a small cough. I followed the woman who led me to the back where three children lay on pallets. Each looked deathly pale. The smallest, a little girl, coughed miserably. At once I knew she had an infection in her chest.

  “May I?” I asked, kneeling down beside the little girl.

  Flora nodded.

  “Well, now, little lass,” I said, sitting beside the girl. She had hair the color of straw and wide blue eyes. Her brothers looked wide-eyed at me from their bed nearby. “Sounds like you swallowed a frog. Have you? Did your brothers slip a frog into your broth?” I asked her.

  Despite themselves, all three children giggled.

  “It hurts when I swallow,” the little girl said.

  “Me too,” one of her brothers added.

  I set my hand on her forehead. She was hot with fever. “Let me see inside that throat,” I told her.

  The girl opened her mouth wide. Inside, I saw red sores inside her mouth trailing down to her throat.

  “May I?” I asked, pulling her blankets aside. “I want to see your feet.”

  She nodded.

  As I expected, I saw her feet were covered with blisters, as were her hands.

  “Hmm,” I noised, nodding thoughtfully then shifted to look at the boys. “Now, the two of you,” I told them, finding them in the same condition as their sister.

  “Tell me, do you children mind your mother well?” I asked them.

  They all nodded.

  “If I give her something for you to drink, even though it tastes like sour stump water, will you drink it?”

  They grimaced but nodded.

  I turned to Flora. “Air the place out and change their bedding. Then I want you to give them each a draft,” I said, opening the box I’d brought with me. I mixed several herbs, including lemon balm, peppermint, and other helpful ingredients, then handed it to her. “Brew the herbs into a draft and give it to them, each from their own cup, twice a day,” I said. I then handed her an oil mixture. “This is for their hands and feet. Be sure you wash your hands with hot water between using it on each child. Send word to Cawdor if you see no improvement in two days.”

  “To Cawdor?” the little girl asked.

  “This is the Lady of Moray,” her mother informed her.

  “Are you really?” the girl asked, her eyes going wide.

  I nodded. “I heard the three of you were not feeling well. I came to see you.”

  The children smiled excitedly. “Really?” the little girl asked.

  I smiled at her. “Now promise me you’ll drink the draft? No complaints?”

  “We’ll do it, My Lady.”

  I smiled. “Very well,” I said, then rose to go.

  “Thank…thank you, Lady Gruoch,” Flora told me.

  I nodded to her then headed back outside. With a smile, James helped me back into the wagon.

  “James MacNess, by the Great Mother, thank you for bringing our lady here,” Flora told him.

  My escort smiled. “She insisted.”

  I waved to Flora, and we set off once more. I was careful to clean my hands as Epona instructed me as we rode. The last thing I wanted was to spread an illness that seemed to have a mind of its own.

  We rode then into the little village of Nairn. Since most people lived on nearby farms, Nairn was not much more than a marketplace and a few scattered houses. Many people, however, were gathered near the center well when we arrived. Gillacoemgain’s soldiers, I noted, were met with suspicion.

  I gazed out at the Moray Firth, the expansive body of water nearby. A sweet wind whipped off the dark blue water. The air felt warm and fresh. After a bit, James had collected many parents and elders. I went at once to meet with them, listening to them describe the same symptoms Flora’s children were afflicted with. And once more, I dispensed the same medicines and advice. I could see in their eyes, that the people of Moray were both surpris
ed and grateful. And finally, I felt like I was doing the Lady’s work.

  I was packing up my boxes when a woman in the crowd approached me.

  “You’re Boite’s daughter,” she said.

  I smiled at the old woman. She was bent, white haired, and far advanced in age. She reminded me of Andraste. “Yes, Mother,” I told her.

  The old woman eyed me curiously. “You’re with child,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Looks like my knot magic worked.”

  “Knot magic?” I looked at her closely. She had an air of magic about her.

  “In your wedding gown. It was me who sewed it for you. The magic is in the stitches,” she said, but then added, “but of course you know about such things.”

  “I do. And, yes, I am with child.”

  The woman leaned against the center well and nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve seen you in the cauldron,” she told me then.

  “Have you?”

  “You, but not you. I’ve seen the raven.”

  I stilled. I cast a glance at James and the soldiers. Busy with the villagers, they had not heard. “And what was the raven doing?”

  “What the raven does so well. Let it loose,” she said, “when the time comes.” She gazed at my belly. “Twins.”

  I nodded, wondering how much more she knew.

  She laughed. “Be well, daughter of Boite. Moray is your home now. You are welcome amongst her people,” she said then wandered off.

  It was then that James gently took my arm. “My Lady of Moray, there is a gentleman here I’d like you to meet. An acquaintance of mine had come to market in search of a new horse. Perhaps you’d like to meet Douglas?”

  I grinned. “Lead the way.”

  As I walked through the busy market, the people of Moray smiled and stopped to thank me. My heart filled with joy.

  James then led me to a horse fair. Six horses were up for bid.

  “Which is he?” I whispered to James.

  “Black hair. Long beard.”

  I motioned to Standish who joined me.

  “Do you carry any coin?”

  At first he looked surprised then he laughed. “Have your eye on something, Lady Gruoch?”

  “In a way.”

  “I do.”

  “May I borrow it?”

  Standish handed me his coin pouch. I went amongst the horses and inspected them all, settling on the best colt offered that day. There was no doubt Douglas had also noticed the horse, but he was angling for something cheap.

  “You there,” I said, calling to Douglas. “What do you think of this colt?”

  Douglas, who’d been lost in thought, turned and looked at me. I realized then he was noticing me for the first time. The farmer next to him leaned into his ear and whispered something. I saw his eyes go wide.

  “My Lady,” he said awkwardly. “Finest beast amongst the bunch,” he said then smiled, pleased I’d asked his opinion.

  The horse trader eyed me skeptically, but catching sight of James, the expression on his face told me he suspected the ruse.

  “I’ll take him,” I told the horse trader then turned to Douglas. “A bride token for a friend. He wishes to wed his neighbor’s daughter. Do you think the horse is enough?”

  Douglas stroked his beard. “Depends. How many daughters does the man have?”

  I could see he still had not caught on to my game. The horse trader handed the colt’s lead to me.

  “Five,” I replied.

  “Oh yes, that and a few sheep or goats would do.”

  “A fair trade, you think?” I asked Douglas.

  He nodded.

  I motioned to James. “Master Douglas has agreed to the deal. Here you are, sir,” I said, handing the lead Douglas. “I’ll have the sheep sent from Cawdor this afternoon. When can James expect your daughter?”

  Douglas looked from James to me then to the colt and back to me again. He laughed out loud. “The Lady of Moray has outwitted me, lads,” he called to his friends who laughed good-naturedly. “Come for dinner tonight, lad,” he told James. “We’ll settle the matter then and you can tell me how you got the Mormaer’s wife to bargain on your behalf.”

  “Thank you, Douglas,” James said then bowed to me.

  “I’ll ride back with my men,” I told him. “Why don’t you head home and get your house ready for your bride.”

  James laughed. “Our first daughter will be named Gruoch, I promise you, Lady.”

  “Oh, please don’t. Name her Emer for my mother.”

  James bowed.

  I turned to Standish. “I’m ready. Mind if I ride with you?”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “I’m ready when you are.”

  With that, I mounted behind Standish then left the small village of Nairn, pleased that I had done the Lady’s work.

  Chapter 14

  The fever that swept through Moray took some work to defeat, but I worked tirelessly to stamp it out. I’d planted herb gardens in the small garden in the unused part of the castle near the chapel. As I suspected, the ground there was good. I could feel the otherworld close to me there, despite the presence of the chapel. As I worked, I felt eyes on me. When the herbs grew faster and larger than they should have, further proving my assumptions, I brewed medicines which I distributed to the people who came seeking my help. Word had spread through the countryside that the Lady of Moray was gifted in herbcraft. Soon, I found all manner of people at my door seeking help. It pleased me to busy myself helping the people of Moray as my little ones grew inside me.

  I was hard at work one late summer morning, on my hands and knees amongst the basil and spearmint, when I heard boot steps along the stone walkway leading to the small garden. No doubt, it was time for lunch. Already the little babes inside me were fluttering about hungrily.

  “Just a few more minutes,” I said. “I’m half-bathed in soil,” I added with a laugh, clapping the rich dirt off my hands. When I did so, I picked up the sharp scents of the herbs.

  “Corbie?”

  I turned to find Gillacoemgain standing there. He looked dirty and road-weary, his shoulders drooping from tire. He was staring at me, a confused look on his face.

  Moving slowly, the burden of my belly already bothering me, I rose.

  I’d been wearing a pair of Gillacoemgain’s old breeches under my dress so I could kneel down on the soil. I wiped off the dirt then dropped the skirt of my lavender colored gown, suddenly aware of how sweaty and messy I was.

  Gillacoemgain’s eyes drifted to my stomach. Word, I realized then, had not yet reached the Mormaer’s ears of my pregnancy.

  “You’re…” he whispered, looking closely at me. “Corbie?”

  I smiled. I had told the lie to myself so many times, so many nights, that the children were his that when the moment came to tell him, I almost believed it. “I’m pregnant.”

  Gillacoemgain crossed the space between us quickly. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his face into my neck. “Sweet wife. The north is quiet. My wife is with child. There is nothing more in this world a man could want.”

  He kissed me then, strongly and passionately, and I felt the love pour from him.

  A moment later, he sighed heavily, and I felt his mood shift. “Artos,” he said, nearly growling the name. “He met me at the gate to tell me you’ve spent the whole summer roaming the countryside and had been using the part of the castle I’d closed. He never said a word…just whipped me into a fury while he complained bitterly. I came here to…”

  “To?”

  “With anger in my heart,” Gillacoemgain admitted.

  “No one told me. Artos, in particular, though he knew I was working here. He has been a problem these many months. I didn’t think it wise to let him speak on your behalf. I’ve taken over the public hearings. I didn’t want him to speak in our name.”

  Gillacoemgain nodded. “So he complained, and rumored you were doing a poor job at it,” he said then half-smiled at me, “which I doubted. Artos was part of my
father’s court. I kept him on in good faith.”

  “He does not treat the people of Moray fairly. His decisions and actions further promote the false…reputation you have.”

  Gillacoemgain frowned. “He’ll be gone by nightfall.”

  I looked around the garden. “It’s such a lovely space. I planted herbs here, medicines. There has been a sickness in Moray. The herbs…I used them to make tonics,” I said then peered closely at Gillacoemgain. A pained look twisted his tired features. “Why did you close this side of the castle? They did tell me your brother once resided here.”

  Gillacoemgain gently wiped dirt off my cheek. “That chamber,” he said, pointing to a room above the garden, “is where my sister was murdered.”

  “Murdered?” I gasped, looking up. “How?”

  Gillacoemgain took my hand and led me to a bench nearby. He looked up at the window, and I could see the deep sorrow in his face. Something bad had happened, something he would rather not remember. But he was tired, and when we are in such a state, the stuff inside us that steels us to sorrow weakens.

  “The story that everyone knows is that my sister fell in her chamber, hit her head, and died. But I…I know the truth of the matter. Findelach was my elder brother, and all our lives he was cruel to both my sister and me. He was a rough child, and my father boasted that one day he would be a great warrior. He was. But he was also a cruel man. When he went to Inverness to be with his wife and child, I thought my sister, Crearwy, and I had escaped him. I kept her here with me, kept her safe until a husband could be found for her. I long suspected my brother had…mistreated our sister, but she would never say so. But it was there, in that chamber, when I saw the truth for myself. My poor, sweet sister. He had…he used her as a brother should not use his sister…and beat her besides. I found her half dead. Findelach escaped, and my sister died in my arms. For that reason, I followed my brother to the ends of Moray and snuffed out his life. You must swear to me, Corbie, not to tell the truth of this. Swear it. But I wanted you to know. You might carry the child of a man who killed his own brother, but I did it for a good reason.”

  I stared up at the closed casement. Was the world full of cruel men? Did we walk amongst vicious people who hid behind false smiles? Behind closed doors, how many women suffered at the hands of men who were supposed to care for them? My heart broke for Crearwy, the sister-in-law I would never know, and for my husband who’d borne the secret. “I swear to keep your secret like it was my own,” I said, lacing my fingers between his. “I’ll move the garden,” I told him.