Prescribed for Love

by Mallory Moutinho

  “Hello? Oh good! Ye are back. I was wondering how long it would be until ye returned,” greeted the witch.

  “Wait…what? How did you know I was coming back here?” asked a confused Catriona.

  “Well, I couldnae be sure, but I had hoped. My name is Elspeth by the way,” rattled the old woman.

  “Were you involved in my kidnapping?” asked Cat. She decided to dive right into the heart of the matter since the woman had obviously been expecting her.

  “Kidnapping? Nay, nothing as terrible as that occurred,” assured Elspeth.

  This statement baffled Cat. “What do you mean? I was brought here against my will. How is that not kidnapping?”

  “I have most of the answers to yer questions, and I will gladly tell ye, but first let me get ye some soup. Ye look half starved,” replied the old woman. Cat must have been more tired and hungry than she thought, because she could not gather enough energy to resist as the old woman sat her down at a table and placed a bowl of soup in front of her. Seeing Cat warily eye the bowl the woman said, “Eat child, it is nae poisoned.” She further demonstrated her point by taking a spoonful. Elspeth continued, “I have plenty of answers, but I doubt ye will want to hear them. I must insist that ye let me fully explain before ye begin badgering me with questions. Ye ken?” At Catriona’s nod, the woman commenced her explanation, “The best way to begin might be to tell ye my family history. For generations, my family has lived in this hut with the purpose of protecting the people of Scotland. While there are often skirmishes between the clans, we never take sides—we simply lend aid where we can. We have all had one skill or another that has caused the people to consider us witches. I dinnae necessarily agree with the description, but it is accurate enough.” Cat was having trouble keeping up with the old woman’s whirlwind explanation. “One of my ancestors was extremely adept at spells providing protection or aid. One such spell was placed on her favorite book of herbs. This particular spell is actually quite fascinating—whenever an individual is in great need, they can simply ask the book for help. If the need is determined great enough, the spell will provide a solution…even if what is necessary is hundreds of years away,” finished the witch with a knowing glance.

  Cat stared at the woman waiting for her to continue. But, she realized the woman thought this explanation was enough. “So, you’re trying to tell me I’ve travelled back in time?” scoffed Cat.

  “Assuming ye come from a year after 1412, then aye. Now, ye promised ye wouldnae interrupt, let me finish.”

  “But I didn’t interrupt, you…”

  “A few days ago I found ye unconscious on top of the book,” continued the witch, not letting Cat finish her protest, “But, since I didnae wish to wake ye, I let ye be while I went about my business. I was verra upset to find ye gone when I returned. I wanted to discover what wish ye made that brought ye here so I could be of help.” The finality in this last sentence indicated that this time, Elspeth was actually done with her tale.

  “Look, I don’t know what kind of joke you’re trying to pull here, but there is no way I’ve travelled back to Scotland in the year 1412. If I had, everyone here would be speaking Gaelic. Yet, I’ve had no trouble understanding their speech, even though I only speak English,” retorted Cat. She did not care if her argument was poor—it made perfect sense to her.

  “Really? Now this is fascinating!” replied the witch while clapping her hands in excitement, “The spell provides for whatever is needed, so it must have taught ye Gaelic.”

  “But I’m not speaking Gaelic!” fumed Cat.

  “Aye…ye are,” smiled Elspeth in reply. Cat was ready to argue further with the woman, but stopped. Now that it had been pointed out, she realized she was not speaking in English. Holy crap, I’m not even thinking in English! Only if she really concentrated could she form a sentence in English. An even greater panic seized Cat as she realized the woman’s words must be true—she was stuck in 1412 and speaking a language previously unknown to her. She wanted to deny it, but she could not. Reflecting on the events that had taken place since waking is this hut a few days ago, Cat realized she had not seen any modern conveniences. She could not recall a single light switch, paved road, or even a plane’s vapor trail.

  Cat remained frozen for nearly ten minutes with shock. Finally willing to accept the impossible she asked, “Will I ever be able to go home?”

  “Well, that depends. For what did ye ask that brought ye here?” queried Elspeth.

  “I didn’t ask for anything,” replied Cat.

  “Ye must have asked for something.”

  “No, I never uttered a single syllable to the book before I arrived here.”

  “Hmm, that does make things more difficult. The only thing I can say with certainty then is that ye were brought here to fulfill a need,” reasoned the witch.

  “That’s it!” exclaimed Cat, “As soon as I arrived here, some guy named Mac wanted me to go to his castle to help heal his sister. I think he thought I was you. I must have been brought back to help Ailsa.”

  “Tis a good theory, but the man never came here to use the book. He couldnae have been the one to ask a favor of the book,” explained Elspeth.

  “Good point,” murmured Cat, but then her eyes brightened, “Although, maybe he actually asked sometime in his future (my past) and the book sent me back far enough in time to when I could help her!”

  The old woman contemplated Cat’s words, “It is a sound theory, but yer reasoning is making my head spin. Were ye able to heal the girl?” asked the witch.

  Cat’s face fell, “No! I knew what was wrong, but that stubborn man would not take my advice. In fact, he locked me in a room and threatened to burn me as a witch!”

  “Ach, always with the witch burnings! I cannae tell ye how many I have had to avoid in my years,” said the woman as an aside. “But, hopefully giving him the knowledge was enough. Ye can try asking the book to send ye home. If ye are still here after speaking yer request, then we will know ye havenae yet fulfilled yer purpose,” suggested the witch.

  “That’s a good idea, but there’s only one problem,” replied Cat, “The book is still in the castle.”

  “Well then lassie, ye have gotten yerself into a fine mess,” laughed Elspeth. “We will have to devise a way to get ye back to the castle safely so ye may retrieve the book. In the meantime, ye are welcome to stay here.”

  ***

  “Come in,” called Ailsa. One of the maids, Lainie, entered with breakfast. She had been helping Ailsa with her secret over the past two weeks.

  “Here ye go Miss Ailsa, eggs and meat, and nae a single piece of bread, just as ye requested,” said the maid as she set down the tray with a solid thud and a meaningful glance.

  “I ken that look Lainie, what is on yer mind?” While Ailsa may have been the laird’s sister, this had not stopped her from forming a great friendship with the maid. She and Lainie were of the same age and had played together often as children. As Ailsa had become more and more ill, Lainie had been one of the few to offer frequent companionship rather than sympathy.

  “Ye should tell him,” scolded Lainie.

  “I will,” assured Ailsa.

  “Ye should tell him today,” corrected the maid, with greater emphasis.

  “I want to be sure I will stay well,” reasoned Ailsa, “Alasdair has been so devastated each time a healer failed to help me.”

  “But ye are better! Ye have even put on weight,” said Lainie. She added in a whisper, “And Branan is his target today.”

  “Oh dear,” muttered Ailsa. Even though Alasdair felt Catriona had fled the castle because she could not provide a cure, Ailsa did not believe that had been the woman’s motivation. Rather, she believed Catriona had simply fled out of fear. Ailsa might have done the same if she thought the alternative was being burnt to death for giving simple advice.

  In fact, Catriona had been so confidant her dietary instructions would help, Ailsa had decided to heed the healer’s advic
e. But, she had only wanted to try if she could do so secretly—avoiding the risk of upsetting her brother if the attempt failed. Ailsa had wanted to be entirely certain she was well before claiming success.

  Unfortunately, this desire for secrecy had forced Ailsa to ban Alasdair from her room. Every time he had come to her he had come bearing gifts—mostly consisting of the items Catriona had strictly forbid. In desperation, Ailsa had told her brother she did not want to see him. What she had not anticipated was his reaction to his banishment.

  Thinking she was disgusted with him for failing her, Alasdair grew angry at himself and began to release his frustrations by training in the lists with his men. He had begun by putting them all through rigorous exercises. However, in the last few days, he had singled out one man on which to hone his skills. Rather than a simple exercise, Alasdair’s opponent for the day found himself in what was very nearly a fight for his life. Lainie wanted Ailsa to confront Alasdair before he did much harm to Branan—his current target. Ailsa felt obligated to do as the maid wished. After all, what kind of friend would she be in she let her brother possibly kill her friend’s love-interest?

  “Ye are right, it is time I confronted the big oaf. Quickly, help me get dressed so I can put a stop to this madness!” Ailsa knew she was now well enough Alasdair would not try to force her back onto her previous diet. Lainie helped her dressed in record time. Hopefully Branan is still in one piece.

  ***

  Alasdair was currently releasing his frustrations through swordplay with Branan. While the young man was not the best with a claymore, he was the youngest, and had the most stamina. Alasdair wanted to participate in a long brawl so he would be too tired to think of his current demons. He could not believe he had wasted his time looking for the witch, only to have her flee! Instead of enjoying his sister’s company for however much more time God granted, he had been dismissed for failing her. Why should that witch have been able to do what every other healer had failed to do?

  Angry at his own stupidity, Alasdair raised his sword to deliver a heavy blow to Branan’s weaker side. But just before the blade landed, he realized the boy’s attention was elsewhere. Alasdair twisted his weapon just in time, only striking Branan with the flat of the blade. As the young guard fell to the ground he yelled, “Why did ye let down yer guard? I almost killed ye!”

  “Maybe he sees a ghost,” replied a soft voice behind him. Turning at the sound, Alasdair was dumbfounded to see his sister standing before him, healthier than he had seen her in months, if not years. He simply could not believe his eyes. “Close yer mouth brother. Ye wouldnae want any bugs to fly in would ye?” teased Ailsa.

  Finding his voice Alasdair asked, “How did this happen? Are ye truly well?” Alasdair had been trying to come to grips with his sister’s failing health for so long he had trouble believing his fears could finally be dismissed.

  “I followed Catriona’s advice,” was Ailsa’s simple reply.

  “Who?” he asked in a puzzled manner. Alasdair was still trying to comprehend the miracle before him.

  “Catriona—the woman ye went to retrieve about a fortnight ago,” she said on an impatient sigh.

  “The witch?”

  “She is nae a witch, just a healer,” she replied curtly, “And she has done me a great favor. And now, I want ye to provide me with a great favor as well. I want ye to bring her back here so I can properly thank her and show her the hospitality ye failed to give on her first visit.”

  While Alasdair would do anything for his sister, he did not see how this endeavor could be successful. “I doubt she will want to come back.”

  “Ye are probably correct. But, ye will just have to humor me and convince her ye dinnae mean to kill her,” was Ailsa’s rejoinder.

  “And if she refuses?” prodded Alasdair.

  “I dinnae care what ye need to do to convince her to come back, but convince her ye will,” insisted his sister. “I willnae accept any excuses, and I dinnae care if you consider this an unwanted burden. Tis only right that we make amends for our treatment of her. Letting her believe we would burn her—what were ye thinking?”

  A short while later Alasdair smiled to himself as he finished his preparations before seeking the witch. Nay, Catriona. He needed to stop thinking of the woman as ‘the witch.’ Even though the journey could prove tedious, Alasdair could not help his good mood; he had never thought to see such a miraculous recovery.

  While he did not see a need to bring Catriona back to Duart Castle, he would do as his sister bade him. Alasdair was so glad to see her well, if she had bid him fly, he would have flapped his arms like an arse in an attempt to please her. However, Ailsa was wrong about one matter—retrieving Catriona would not be an entirely unwanted burden.

  During his days in the lists, his mind had often wandered back to her attractive figure, but at the time this had only enraged him more. It had felt like a betrayal to be attracted to a woman when his sister lay in the castle dying. Yet now that his sister was well, he could think of many ways he would like to thank the woman. Although, I doubt Ailsa would approve any of them. I dinnae think that was the type of hospitality she had been suggesting.

  Just as Alasdair was about to leave, he heard footsteps behind him, quickly succeeded by a cough. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Cailen and Branan behind him.

  “Pardon Laird, but I intend on coming with ye,” said Cailen.

  “As do I,” added Branan.

  Cailen continued, “We feel terrible for threatening the poor lassie.”

  “We want to go with ye to apologize. We all owe her greatly,” conceded Branan.

  Alasdair studied the two men and then nodded, “Verra well.” He had his doubts this trip would even be successful. But, he reasoned, three friendly faces might have a better chance for success than one.

  ***

  In the days Catriona had stayed with Elspeth, she had spent time learning various skills from the witch. Seeing the amount of effort needed for even the most mundane of tasks had made her appreciate her own century even more. Unsure how she might once again gain entrance into the castle, Catriona had taken in as much information as she could. After all, one never knew when a truly authentic disguise might be needed. But, she had yet to come up with an idea she felt might actually succeed. Cat was actually beginning to fear she might become stuck in this century permanently. Each day she grew more desperate to find a solution.

  Cat missed her real life dearly, but foremost on her mind was concern for her brother. She hated to think of Keith six hundred years in the future, now completely alone. As hard as their parent’s deaths had been, they had still had each other to turn to for emotional support. Hoping a change of scenery might inspire her, Cat decided to go for a walk among the nearby forest.

  However, this endeavor soon proved to be futile when no new ideas presented themselves. She sighed and leaned against the nearest tree in exasperation. Looking up into its leaves, a wave of nostalgia came over her.

  After their parent’s demise, Keith had been incredibly distraught. To combat his emotional turmoil, he had adopted the habit of climbing high into the trees in their aunt’s backyard to cry in privacy. When Cat discovered his ritual, she began to join him in the branches to share their grief. At first, the topiary had been a solemn place in which to mourn, but soon became a place of solace. Now, acutely aware of Keith’s absence, Catriona decided to climb the limbs above her. She desired to replace her current sorrow with the peace she was once able to find among the leaves.

  Glad she had insisted on trews and a linen shirt, rather than a dress, Cat began her ascent. While she had not climbed in years, the exercise was still second nature to her. The only time she had any trouble was when her short stature prevented her from reaching the next branch above her. Deciding her current elevation was satisfactory; Cat straddled the offshoot and once again began to try to formulate a plan.

  Further considering the idea of a disguise, she thought she might be able to ga
in entrance as a simple peasant. If Ailsa was still sick, Cat could claim she was a healer and hopefully gain access to the inside of the keep. With any luck, she would find a moment to search for the spell book. If Ailsa was well, Cat could reveal her identity and demand the book be returned to her.

  Even though the plan was weak, Cat felt this was as least a place to start. She would run the idea by Elspeth later. However, right now she wanted to spend a little more time relaxing in the tree; it really had lifted her spirits. But, her respite was to be short-lived, for the branches began to dig into her flesh and cut off circulation. Ugh, I can’t feel my ass. I must be getting old—this never happened when I was a kid! Cat shifted her legs in order to adjust her seat but was unable to find a comfortable position. Defeated, she intended to jump down and return to Elspeth’s home.

  ***

  Alasdair and his men would soon be nearing the hut of the witch. While they now knew it was not actually Catriona’s residence, they had determined it would be the best place to start their search. With any luck, she would have returned to the location. If not, they at least hoped they might learn something of her whereabouts from the actual witch. Alasdair sincerely hoped no harm had come to woman. After all, it had been his poor treatment which had inspired Catriona to flee alone. He knew how dangerous travelling unaccompanied could be.

  An unusual rustling came from some nearby trees—throwing Alasdair’s body into sudden alert. The noise only sounded like one person, but he was concerned it might be a Cameron spying on them, or possibly waiting for an opportunity to attack. Ensuring both Cailen and Branan had also heard, Alasdair signaled directions to dismount and surround the origin of the clamor. The three readied their weapons as they drew closer.

  When Alasdair was but a few feet away, a young lad suddenly jumped out of the tree. Reflexively, Alasdair lowered himself into a fighting stance. Cailen and Branan also adopted similar postures. If the boy intended to attack or escape, the endeavor would prove unsuccessful.