“I did not wish to cause you to be fretful, my love!” Alainn despised the continued deceptiveness.
“Aye, well, you will remain here in this very bed as long as is necessary for Danhoul to do what he might to heal you. You must use your own healing powers and whatever potion you can conjure to make yourself well once more. Use strong and powerful magic if you must, for I’ll not see you sufferin’ any longer.”
Alainn nodded her head obediently and further loathed lying to him when he was obviously fearful for her.
“Tomorrow, Conner and I shall go in search of word of your father. You must stay back and rest. Danhoul will continue to heal you for as long as it takes for sure the two of you will find a way.”
She glanced appreciatively at Killian, smiling in hopes of alleviating his fears, and then threw her thoughts to the other man.
“You must inform Conner it is imperative he speak with the local villagers this very night. Please alert him, it is vital he discovers who might assist me in rooting out this evil within me and where it might be done.”
“Aye, for it is now certain you cannot call on your many powers or use them in any way. Nor can I.” Danhoul responded telepathically as well.
“My previous use of magic has clearly caused his dark abilities to grow stronger for I feel him fighting me, but I also well know he is calling to the demon. He will surely know our location.”
The expression of fear upon the always courageous young man’s face did not escape her, and Alainn’s heart despaired even further.
Chapter Three
Danhoul could nearly feel the painful piercing sensation himself as it ripped through Alainn’s belly and she screamed aloud. He held her shoulders attempting to ease her pain with his magical healing abilities, and simply hoped it wouldn’t cause further harm. The old woman attempted to root out the evil being within Alainn, for he would never again refer to it as a child, not when he’d capably sensed the level of evil it already possessed.
The aged crone, who had claimed to have performed such deeds and used this method hundreds of times, had grown strangely quiet. Since they’d met the woman, she had babbled on nonstop to the point where Danhoul wanted to tell her to close her mouth, for her incessant rambling had nearly driven him mad. Now, he longed to hear her blathering on again. The odd expression on her face, and the fact he believed this unpleasant task should have long since been completed by now, made Danhoul ever fretful.
Alainn screamed out once more and the old woman’s wrinkled face, wore an austere grimace. She wiped her bloody hands on her apron and Danhoul noticed the dark stains upon the garment. She shook her head and glanced at the two of them with uncertainty as she slowly spoke.
“There is verra much bleeding, so much that I canna continue or you may verra well die, but I tell ye plain, I’ve never seen anything like this before, not in all the time I have assisted women in such deeds… never in the seven and forty years that I have been attending to such womanly matters. The child wilna be rooted out for all my attempts! Whether it be a sign from God Almighty that the child is fated to be born… or perhaps by the devil’s own wicked wishes… I canna say.” The woman quickly crossed herself and gathered her primitive tools together.
Danhoul momentarily considered he might attempt the unenviable task himself, but if the woman, by her own admission clearly experienced in such deeds, couldn’t accomplish it, he thought better of it. If magic was also not an option, he strained to come up with another possible course of action.
*
Alainn gritted her teeth and although it perhaps wasn’t advisable, she resorted to using her magic in easing the unbearable pain. She distracted herself from the agony and the hopelessness she was beginning to feel, by bringing to mind the many desperate women through the years who had come to her wishing for her to perform just such a deed upon them, to root an undesired child from their bodies.
Morag the healer, the elderly woman who had raised Alainn and schooled her in herbs and healing, had almost always sent these forlorn women to the “crone in the woods” as she was known, to end their pregnancy. Morag had vast experience in such matters and was wise enough to realize the stark truth, often the child had been created as a product of rape, or incest. But even if the child had not been created by such violent or loathsome means, a woman often had little or no choice in the matter of the bedding for it was expected, even required by law, for a woman to submit to her husband’s desires. The law did not discriminate or waver, no matter that the husband might be cruel and inflict harsh beatings or unspoken injustices toward her within the marriage bed, or even that their husbands might very well be good men, but they already have sometimes a dozen children they could barely manage to feed.
In the beginning as a young girl, Alainn had surely been overly judgmental and had been influenced by the priests and the church. She had naively believed it should be up to God alone to decide what children were born into this world. However, she’d become cynical in that regard for she was still at a tender age when she realized God might be merciful in some instances, but many times that was not so and often women and children suffered the most.
She’d still detested the notion of babes being rooted from a woman’s body, and she debated with Morag on the topic of ending the time with child, for she had seen the many barren women, devastated they would never carry a child, who would gladly have taken another’s offspring to raise as their own. Other mothers had borne babes who were still, or had lost them as newborns and their arms ached to hold and care for a child, anyone’s child. Alainn had oft made such a suggestion and had happily made the agreeable and heart-warming exchange, but only on a few rare occasions. Sadly, mostly of the women in such an unenviable predicament did not care for anyone to know they were with child, for unmarried women would not risk the shame of it, whether it had been a mutual indiscretion or if it had been rape or incest that led to their plight. And married women who did not desire the child could ill afford to have their husband discover their condition and it was usually too difficult to conceal. So, regrettably, not many exchanges could be done.
Alainn had begun to administer potions known to prevent conception, and at times the remedies that successfully expelled the unborn child in the early weeks after conception, but never had she taken a sharp object and placed it within a woman’s body with the intent of harming a child within her. As a young woman, she had also refused to alert the women to the existence of the infamous cottage in the woods, and left that to Morag’s discretion alone. In truth, Alainn preferred not to know anything regarding such happenings.
She recalled the one profound incident in particular that haunted Alainn even to this day. A young woman of five and ten had come to her wanting just such information. She recalled her age specifically for she was only two years older than Alainn had been at the time. To distract herself from the agonizing pain and to give her body even a few moments to recover, she allowed her mind to go back to that day as if it were happening even now as if she was back in the healing chamber at Castle O’Brien.
*
Alainn heard the rapid, urgent knock upon the door that led to the alleyway. Morag had gone to a neighboring village half a day’s walk from here to attend to a friend’s young infant experiencing difficulty breathing. She’d taken her basket of herbs and healing remedies known to resolve respiratory distress. Although Alainn had capably assisted Morag in her healing from the time she’d come to be in her care at the age of only three years, never had she been entirely alone while Morag was further away than the herb garden or the castle. But, Morag had left Alainn entirely in charge this day, and she was filled with pride in Morag’s trust in her. Alainn rushed to the door in eager anticipation of assisting whoever might be in need.
She noticed immediately the harrowed expression upon the young woman’s face. It was Flanna Burke on the other side of the door. She’d been married to the butcher’s son only three months earlier. By the butcher’s wife’s insi
stence, because Alainn possessed a pleasing voice, she had actually sung at the wedding and she recalled thinking Flanna and Ian made a fine couple.
“I must speak with Morag straightaway!” She breathlessly declared as though she had been made to arrive in haste.
“She’s not here at the moment and not expected back till much later this evening.”
The woman had seemed visibly shaken by this.
“I can assist you, sure I have been instructed by Morag, so I’ll see you healed or advised in what might be done to see your condition improved.”
“It is best I speak to Morag; sure she’ll understand my vexation.” The girl had whispered under her breath.
Alainn had wrestled with her pride and disallowed herself from insult at the young woman’s uncertainty in speaking with her. Morag’s reputation was widely known and trusted. Alainn simply used her magical abilities to discover the woman was clearly months into her term and deduced the child had been conceived some time before her wedding. That was something that could bring certain disgrace upon both families if it was learned to be truth.
“If she’s not much late in arriving this evening, I’ll come by to fetch you.”
“No, you mustn’t. Sure that would cause further suspicion.”
“Come by tomorrow, then. I’ll ensure Morag is here by dawn’s first light. I’ll tell her to expect you.”
“No, it must be done this day! Whilst both my parents and his are away at the village markets… it must be done this day.” She whispered once more under her breath.
Alainn knew well enough Flanna wanted to be given the location of the crone in the cottage in the woods. One would think everyone might know that infamous location, but because of the secrecy required, the location needed to change often. It was, after all, against the laws of the land for a woman to take the life of an unborn child and for the woman it often meant being shamed and more often than not, banished from the village. But for the woman found responsible for the actual deed, it meant certain death. Therefore, the location changed regularly and few knew of it. Apparently sometimes it was an actual cottage where the deeds were done, but also Alainn had heard it had been a cave, a stable, and even within a dolmen.
Alainn envisioned the child growing within Flanna’s body and discerned she must be well over halfway perhaps nearly two thirds into her term. Flanna was of a sturdier build. Her ample height, broad shoulders, and larger frame surely aptly concealed the growing child more easily than if she were petite. Together, with her loose frock, Alainn believed the woman had kept it well-hidden, but Alainn wondered that her husband did not notice her ever-changing body.
Then it occurred to Alainn she’d heard the tongues of the village wagging a few months earlier. Flanna’s husband, the butcher’s son, had gone off with his cousin for a time aboard a fishing vessel near the south of Ireland, and by recent accounts he had yet to return.
She remembered at the time thinking it most peculiar, that a young bride groom would be willing to leave his new bride so soon after their nuptials. Alainn was often tempted to use her powers of perception to learn about this and similar matters, but knowing of her magical abilities, Morag had strictly forbidden it ever since Alainn was a child. Morag said unless it would benefit with healing a person, Alainn was not to simply pry into other’s lives due to her constant curiosity. She remembered not so long after she had come to live with Morag, she’d told her through her abilities, the chieftain often entertained many young women in his chambers, that the steward preferred kissing the stable boy to his own wife, and that the sheep herder had been known to do to the sheep what the bull did to the cows.
She remembered even now the scolding she’d gotten. Morag hadn’t seemed entirely prudish regarding all she’d heard, but she’d said Alainn using her abilities to such ends was little better than standing outside someone’s cottage and peering in their window, peeping into their personal matters. After that, Alainn was mostly obedient in such regards, unless a vision came to her with no prompting, and, although she did not speak of it to Morag or to anyone else unless it was beneficial to them and their healing, it did not stop Alainn from curiously speculating.
As Alainn stood staring at the other woman, she was certainly assessing the reason for the woman’s plight. Perhaps upon Flanna and her new husband’s wedding night he had discovered she was not virtuous and, soon after, he had left. She might have even informed him she carried a child. In feeling misled or betrayed, Alainn supposed he had left her to her shame and the gossip that would surely follow. But had the woman freely given herself to another before they were wed or had another man forced himself upon her as was far too often the way of it? In recalling them upon their wedding day, Flanna had appeared happy to be wed. There was much speculation regarding the woman, but regardless of the circumstances leading to it, it was obvious she was in a maudlin and desperate state this day.
It saddened Alainn, and infuriated her that this young woman was made to confront this alone, but how could she in good conscience inform the woman where the cottage in the woods was located when Alainn determined the child within her would be born surely in less than three moons? She had heard rumors of the old crone ending the life of an unborn child even mere days before it was expected. She and Morag had argued the morality of that only days earlier. Morag had claimed though she didn’t agree entirely in such matters being attended to so late in a woman’s term, she’d seen far too many women end their own lives rather than bring certain shame to their family, thus sealing the fate of the unborn child with their own.
Flanna was now nervously twirling her long, light brown hair on her finger, and then wringing her hands as she stared at Alainn in despair.
“Do you know of the cottage in the woods?” she frantically asked.
Alainn stared at the woman’s belly and through her abilities she saw the girl child moving within her, perfectly formed. She even was able to see its small thumb in its mouth.
“I know of a woman who lost her own child only weeks ago. It’s the third time she’s suffered such agony. She would be overjoyed to be given the chance at motherhood. She and her husband have an ample cottage. They would provide a loving home for any child.”
Flanna shook her head furiously. “No one can know. I must go to the cottage in the woods this very day.”
As she envisioned yet again the healthy unborn girl child and dared to think of the child’s fate if she provided the information Flanna so desperately sought, Alainn bit her lip and replied.
“Come back early tomorrow, Morag will assist you,” she’d hastily replied.
Alainn remembered the woman’s brown eyes fill with resignation and she’d simply nodded her head and left without another word.
*
The next morning as Morag and Alainn stood in the herb chamber, the aged old woman had clucked her tongue at Alainn when she’d told her of her encounter with Flanna.
“You should have helped the girl, leanbh cailin. For sure it sounds as though she was desperate.”
Morag had never ever called her by her given name, but always instead she used the Gaelic term for girl child.
“But, Morag, with my abilities I envisioned the wee girl child, she was healthy, and moving, formed in entirety and perfect. She was beautiful Morag and she was alive.”
“You should have helped the girl!” Morag repeated in a firmer, more absolute tone.
Although Alainn had never openly disrespected or contradicted the woman, Morag had always encouraged her to speak her mind, and she had surely come to know Alainn had a definite mind of her own and was often of an opposing opinion. Alainn had never used such a tone before in speaking to Morag.
“And you might have allowed your friend’s newborn to choke on his own phlegm rather than assisting him, for ending a child’s life when it is so soon to be born is no different. In truth, it is murder by my measure.”
“The child has not drawn breath. I do not pretend to like it, do not truly
abide it, but the child has not drawn breath!” Morag had issued the words in a tone that indicated they would no longer be speaking on the topic.
Mere minutes later, Alainn recalled MacKenzie MacArthur, the captain of the guard coming to the back entrance of the healing chamber and requesting to speak with Morag alone. When she’d returned she’d spoken not a word, but she’d grasped Alainn’s hand in her own gnarled claw and pulled her toward the doorway.
She was a frail woman, small of stature and bent with age, but she was still a force to be reckoned with. Although she had never physically harmed Alainn, bar a few swats on the backside when she admittedly deserved it, the old healer was now squeezing Alainn’s wrist and she winced in pain. She had no notion where they were going, but she only knew she would not think to offer resistance.
Chapter Four
Alainn knew before they had actually gotten there, where they were going. It wasn’t a short walk by any measure, but Morag was determined and even in her aged, failing state she did not falter once in the journey. They had finally stopped by a deserted stretch obstructed by the bend in the River Shannon. The towering river bank loomed far above them and, directly below, along the river’s shore was a number of jagged rocks. Morag’s eyes skirted the area and soon fell upon what she’d been looking for. She began to pull Alainn toward the location, and for the first time since they’d set out, Alainn considered resisting the other woman. She did not.
They came upon what was surely a body. It would have been carried all the way down the river and perhaps to the ocean if it had not become lodged within the rocks near the edge. The body had surely been moved closer to shore and covered by Mackenzie MacArthur’s saddle blanket. Alainn saw the light brown hair protruding from under the blanket and knew for certain it was Flanna Burke beneath.
Alainn couldn’t begin to calculate how many bodies she had seen in her short life as a healer. Surely dozens, perhaps a hundred, dead by disease or mishap. She’d seen a good many killed violently and left in a gruesome unnatural state, yet she wanted to turn away as Morag pulled the cover from Flanna. But Morag watched closely with a stern expression on her face and she pulled her closer as she removed the cloth.
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