by Barbara Bard
Greer should have known what her reaction would be. Myra laughed, and clapped her hands. “Well done. I’ll help look after him.”
Turning, she continued on up the stairs, Greer and Gavin lugging Jared up the stairs. Greer didn’t like how pale Jared’s face was, or how badly he sagged against them, his face lowered. Jared appeared to be only semi-conscious, and Greer guessed that it was due to blood loss. For the first time, he feared that his best friend might die.
Myra stood at the open door to Jared’s room, waiting. Dragging him inside, Greer and Gavin lay him gently on his bed, folding his arms over his chest. Myra seized hold of Greer’s dagger, and started cutting away Jared’s lienes to expose the wound. “I won’t remove that wrap,” she said, baring his leg from above the wound all the way down to his boots. Those she unlaced and pulled off his feet. “Did you send someone to fetch Sondra?” she asked, glancing up.
“Aye. She be here soon.”
Freshly reminded of his love for her, her ability to take charge, Greer watched her pour water into a basin. Taking it and a cloth to Jared’s side, she sat on the edge of the bed and began to bathe his face. His eyes opened, and then a faint grin creased his mouth.
“Myra, lass,” he muttered, his voice thick. “Might ye spare me a drink o’ water?”
“I will.”
Feeling useless, Greer stood by as Myra poured water into a cup, and helped him to drink it. She then eyed Greer and Gavin. “Don’t just stand there,” she ordered. “Go fetch him warm broth. And get Fiona, we’ll need her too, I am thinking.”
With a glance at Gavin, who shrugged, Greer turned and left the chamber, his cousin at his shoulder. Kerr arrived in the doorway at that moment, his brows hiked.
“We’ve been commanded,” Greer stated, then walked past his father.
He didn’t need to find Fiona, she had already heard the commotion, received the news of the successful raid and of Jared’s injury. “He be in his quarters?” his mother asked, rushing past him and on up the stairs. “Did you send for Sondra?”
Greer sighed. “Aye and aye.”
“Dinnae be mouthy wi’ me, lad,” Fiona snapped. “I brought ye intae this world, and I can take ye out as well.”
Following her, he found Gavin right behind him with a pot of broth and pewter cups, looking absurd carrying the tray while still garbed in his tunic, sword, dagger, lienes and boots, his quiver of arrows still on his back. “Ye make a beautiful maid, ye dae.”
“Ye think I be stupid enough tae nae dae as she says?” Gavin asked, his eyes wide. “If ye think that, ye be the bigger fool.”
“What? Ye behave as though she be the Queen o’ Scotland.”
“Myra be far more dangerous.”
Arriving once more in Jared’s room, he found both Myra and Fiona hovering over Jared, talking in low tones. Kerr stood at the other side of the bed from the women, watching without speaking. Gavin set the tray beside them, and hastily backed away. Turning, Myra smiled at him in thanks, and promptly made Gavin, a seasoned warrior, blush and sheepishly smile. Greer grinned to himself.
Myra poured broth into a cup, and held that to Jared’s mouth, saying, “You need to drink this, Jared. It’ll help you keep your strength up.”
Jared, like everyone else in the castle, obeyed her, and drank it all. Resting his head back against the pillow, he shut his eyes.
Sondra arrived in the room, her satchel over her shoulder, the warrior who guided her offered Greer and Kerr a quick salute, then quietly closed the door behind her. “What hae we this time?” she asked, pushing between Myra and Fiona. “Another arrow? Ah. In his leg.”
She pulled vials from her satchel and set them on the table beside the tray and her actions brought back the memories of his own wound. Taking a chair nearby, Greer sat down to watch as Sondra made Myra and Fiona her servants in caring for Jared’s wound.
“Keep the water fresh while I unwrap his leg,” Sondra said, untying Greer’s knot.
It came away crusted with dried blood, but at least no more seeped or gushed out, Greer observed. Jared groaned as she cleaned it, his hands clenched into fists. Myra stroked her hand over his brow, talking to him in a soothing voice. “You’re going to be fine, Jared, my friend. Just fine. You’ll get through this.”
Jared nodded weakly. “Thank ye fer yer kindness.”
“Kindness?” Myra scoffed. “I’m doing this so you can help keep Greer over there in line.”
Jared chuckled while Greer snickered, while Kerr sighed, his eyes flicking between the three of them. “Nae much wrong wi’ this lad,” he commented dryly.
As she had with him, Sondra poured the yellowish powder she said would help prevent infection into Jared’s wound, then, with Myra’s help, stitched him up. “He hae broth already, eh?” Sondra asked, then nodded with approval. “I wi’ gie him herbs tae help his pain if ye wi’ pour him a cup o’ mead.”
Fiona did so, and within moments after drinking it down, Jared fell asleep. Sondra rested her hand on his brow, and clicked her tongue. “He be getting a fever. I best stay and watch o’er him.”
“I will stay with you,” Myra told her. “There’s no more sleep in me this night.”
Turning, Fiona eyed Greer and Gavin with surprise, as though not realizing they were still in attendance. “Goan wi’ ye,” she said, making a shooing gesture with her hands. “Kerr, ye as well. You lads leave him tae us now.”
Greer opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again when he caught Fiona’s fierce eye. “Come on, Gavin,” he replied, rising. “No use fer us males save fer breedin’.”
Myra laughed while Fiona scowled, her hands on her hips. Her finger pointed toward the door. “Out. Now.”
Kerr fell in with them as Greer led the way through the doorway and out into the corridor. Greer turned to speak, then Fiona slammed it shut in his face. He sighed. “I dinnae think I can sleep.” He glanced at Gavin and Kerr. “Drink wi’ me?”
Kerr nodded. “Lead the way, lad.”
Thus they sat in the great hall, drinking ale and mead while Greer and Gavin told Kerr about the raid on the Primshire estates earlier, and the speculated number of cattle and horses they stole. Kerr stroked his chin thoughtfully as he listened.
“Now we hae six days tae hide them, prevent Primshire from finding them. I heard rumors, just rumors now, that Primshire hae purchased fine bloodstock from Ireland. ‘Tis said he planned tae breed the best horses in England.”
Greer and Gavin exchanged a glance. “Surely he dinnae keep such fine animals in a field?” Greer asked, incredulous. “Could we hae just robbed him of his best stock?”
Kerr shrugged with a grin. “I be itching tae ride out and see these horses fer meself come dawn.”
“Wi’ ye ken if ye see them?” Gavin asked, his tone incredulous.
“I may,” Kerr replied, drinking from his ale. “I hae a good eye fer horseflesh.”
***
Though he had gone all night without sleep, an hour after dawn, Greer peeked in on Jared and found not just him sleeping, but the women caring for him slept as well. Myra slumped in a chair, her chin on her chest. Fiona slumbered on a thick rug on the floor while Sondra snored from another chair. Softly closing the door behind him, Greer trotted down the stairs, eager to see in the daylight just what they had stolen from Primshire.
Kerr and Gavin waited for him in the bailey, grooms already leading saddled horses from the barns. A grey mule with a bulging pack on its back also waited, its skinny tail lashing its rump. “We wi’ take supplies tae the men watching the stock,” Kerr told him, swinging into his saddle. “As long as we be going.”
An hour of steady riding brought them to the northwest pastures, the clansmen who helped on the raid patrolling the region on horseback as the cattle and horses grazed on the lush grass. Kerr called two of them in, waving his arms, and gestured toward the mule. Greer dismounted to tie it to a tree, then mounted again and trotted to catch up with his father and cousin as they rode a
mid the grazing cows.
“Take a look, lads,” Kerr said with satisfaction, pointing toward an impressive black stallion, who eyed them with disillusion and returned to his grazing. “All mares and that lad. Fine beasties they be.”
“And many aboot tae drop foals,” Gavin went on, gesturing toward the mares’ swollen bellies. He laughed uproariously, slapping his knee. “Did we just gain a prize, or nae?”
“We did indeed,” Kerr said, grinning from ear to ear. I just wish I could see Primshire’s face when told the news.”
“Da,” Greer said, unable to take his eyes from the stallion. “I wish tae ride him. Ye hae any objections?”
“Nay, lad. Ye took him, he be yers.”
“May I have a foal from one of these mares, Uncle?” Gavin asked, his voice eager.
Kerr shrugged. “Why nae? Maybe Myra would like a foal as well. She be keen oan horses. She should hae one o’ her own.”
“Ye nae be angry wi’ her any longer, Da?” Greer asked, both curious and trying to come to terms with his own feelings.
“What is done is done, lad. I am over my anger now, and I see nae reason tae keep punishing her. Dae ye?”
“I expect nae.”
“Yer maw be harping at me fer days aboot how Myra bring honor tae the clan, her courage be an example fer the others. I expect she be right. Fiona usually be.”
“Aye, Da.”
They spent another hour tallying the cattle’s herd numbers, Kerr chuckling contentedly over the captured bulls and the obviously pregnant cows, many with young calves sucking at teats. “Ach, lads, ye brought new wealth and honor tae yer clan, ye did. Forty five head o’ cattle, twenty five o’ horses, top quality o’ both. Ye did me proud, ye did.”
Gavin’s grin grew sly. “Maybe we find more tae steal, eh? There be more herds grazing oan Primshire lands.”
Kerr shook his head. “He be on his guard now, lad,” he replied, leading the way out of the guarded valley. “We bide our time, same as we always dae. When he lowers it again, then we strike.”
“We hae tae make sure he cannae get them back,” Greer warned them. “Primshire wi’ be on a rampage now.”
“Aye, that he wi’, lad,” Kerr replied, waving at the guards unloading the patient mule. “But he hae tae cross the castle tae find them. We be watching fer him, and waiting. When he dae, we pounce. Today, and every day and night, I want warriors patrolling fer five miles east and west o’ the castle. He wi’ try tae sneak past us. Keep horses saddled in the barns, and set signal fires tae be lit if we there be trouble. Primshire wi’ nae take those beasties from us.”
After sleeping for a few hours upon their return from the castle, Greer performed his share of patrolling the region, watching for Primshire’s men-at-arms to descend upon them. He had checked on Jared, and found him feverish and pale, his flesh shiny and sweatless. Alarmed, he glanced first to Myra and then to Sondra. “Wi’ he be all right?”
Sondra shrugged, frowning. “He be hit wi’ the fever, his wound be swelling, hot. I wi’ keep dosing him with herbs tae fight infection, be he be in God’s hands now.”
He exchanged a long glance with Myra. She nodded. “I will stay with him.”
“Wi’ ye send word tae me?”
“I’ll let you know myself.”
Sitting on his horse atop a hill in his designated patrol zone, Greer fretted over Jared’s condition.
“He wi’ be all right,” he muttered, watching for any signs of Primshire or his men riding north to reclaim their stolen stock. “He be a tough bugger.”
The afternoon wore on as he continued his watch, seeing nothing amiss in the MacEilish lands. A pair of hawks soared high over his head, and he observed a few rabbits frisking in the heather, chasing one another through the bushes. He breathed in the heady odor of wildflowers, wishing Myra would ride out to inform him Jared’s fever had broken.
Nearly an hour later, he saw her cantering across the moors toward him, her black hair tossed about her shoulders by the wind. His heart beat faster, both with the thrill of seeing her again, and with fear that she brought him ill news. The black mare carried her up the steep hill, the smile on her beautiful face drove the fear from his soul.
“His fever broke,” Myra said, reining the mare in beside him. “Sondra will stay another day to be sure, but then she’ll head back to her village.”
Greer bowed his head in relief. “That be excellent news,” he said. “I be worried about him.”
“So was I. He’s awake and eating now.”
Greer finally gazed into her sky blue eyes. “Thank ye.”
“He’s my friend, too.”
“Nae just fer caring fer him. Fer being yerself.”
Myra stared out over the moors. “Does this mean you’re not angry with me any more?”
“Nay, I nae be angry,” he admitted, also looking over the rolling hills below. “But I hae tae come tae terms wi’ me feelins as well.”
Silent for a time, Myra finally asked. “That means you don’t love me?”
Spinning around to her, Greer replied quickly, “Nay, I dae love ye, Myra, wi’ all my heart, my soul. I just hae to learn tae let ye fly free. Jared once said I changed ye intae a falcon. If that be true, then I should find me way tae fly wi’ ye.”
A small, shy smile crossed Myra’s face as she looked at him. “I don’t know how to tell you to do that, as I’m not exactly sure what you mean. But I suppose I can give you time and space to find out.”
What Greer might have replied didn’t arrive in his mouth, as his attention sharpened on movement a few miles away toward the south. He stared intently, Myra’s eyes following the direction of his.
“Primshire?” she asked.
“Aye. I be guessin’ aboot a dozen riders.”
Dismounting, Greer yanked the arrow tipped with oiled cloth from his quiver, and lit it with his flint and steel. Nocking it to his bow, he sent the signal flying into the sky, leaving a trail of black smoke in its wake.
“Ye should ride back tae the castle, Myra,” he said, remounting his horse.
“Don’t be ridiculous. They aren’t coming here for a fight.”
“Perhaps nae. But one may erupt.”
The advancing Primshire riders carried a white flag of non hostile intentions, but Greer had known of many instances where violence still broke out despite its presence. Glancing across the moors, he saw his own clansmen, recognizing Kerr on his flashy piebald, galloping hard toward them and their hill. He quickly counted at least a score and ten warriors, all bristling with weapons, and hoped they would be enough to keep the Sassenach from seeking a battle.
Reining his horse to head down the hill to meet Kerr and the clansmen, Myra at his side, Greer trotted down its flank. Meeting Kerr and the warriors at its foot, Greer gestured south. “A dozen wi’ a white flag.”
Kerr nodded briefly. “Come tae demand their stock back rather than sneak in.”
“They still may try tae outflank us,” Greer said, “return in the dark.”
“We be ready fer it if they dae.”
Kerr ordered the warriors to spread out into a horseshoe shape to the north, west and east, and nock arrows to their bows in readiness. Standing his horse beside his father, with Myra at his back, Greer waited for the Primshire delegation to arrive. They did, trotting forward under the waving white banner. Greer had only seen the Earl of Primshire in the dark, but doubted the tall man in the lead was the vicious Earl himself.
“That nae be Primshire,” he said to Myra, half turning in his saddle. “Who it be?”
“That’s his seneschal, Lord Avery.”
He exchanged a quick glance with Kerr. “He be unable tae come himself,” Greer commented with a grin. “Interestin’.”
The Primshire men halted without entering the horseshoe. “I have come to demand the return of my lord’s stock,” the man in the lead said.
“Who might ye be?” Kerr demanded.
“Lord Avery, the Earl of Primshire
’s seneschal and ambassador is this.”
“I dinnae bandy words wi’ servants,” Kerr replied. “Where be Primshire himself?”
Avery glanced at the MacEilish warriors. “He is currently indisposed, and ordered me to come here, and demand you surrender his stolen horses and cattle to me.”
“Indisposed?” Kerr chuckled. “Is that what the Sassenach call a slice tae the belly by a wench’s dagger?”
Avery’s face darkened with anger, his scowl deepening. “My lord was viciously attacked by marauding Scotsmen.”