Chapter Eight
Roisin opened her eyes as Grear left their makeshift bed and watched her open a tiny crack in the flap of the tent. Light flooded into the tent and with a sigh Roisin sat up and wrapped her arms around Ecne, who had spent the night snuggled between her and Grear.
Every part of her body hurt, but since she’d never slept on the ground before, with only a blanket and length of linen wrapped around her, it was only to be expected.
She had a good supply of willow bark in her satchel, and she would make a soothing tea for them both as soon as she managed to find the clan’s water supply.
And build a fire to boil the water. She doubted the women would offer her the use of their own fire and besides, she didn’t want to ask them for anything else if she could possibly help it. It had been humiliating enough asking for a few bones for Ecne.
Although that was nothing compared to the aftermath, when Hugh Campbell had insisted she take the food from his plate.
Heat burned through her. She knew she shouldn’t care what he thought of her. Not now when she had discovered he wasn’t the man she’d always imagined he was. But it didn’t matter how often she’d repeated that good advice to herself throughout the night, it didn’t change the truth.
He’d felt sorry for her. And that was why he’d given her the remains of his meal. For a moment, she’d had the alarming urge to tip his offering over his head and stalk proudly away. Except she couldn’t bear to see Ecne go hungry, and Grear certainly didn’t deserve to suffer.
She’d fully intended to share it between Grear and Ecne, but in the end her growling stomach had overruled her pride. Even hours later, she was still irked by her lack of willpower.
Grear reached for something outside, before closing the tent flap. “A pot of water, milady,” she said, placing it on the ground between them. “And there’s a small fire just outside.”
They stared at each other. It was obvious who had built the fire and left the water.
Truly, she couldn’t fathom Hugh Campbell at all.
It was a thoughtful gesture, as was the fact he’d spent the night outside the tent.
Although truth be told she’d been torn between relief by his implicit protection and chagrin that she needed his protection in the first place.
Elspeth’s mocking comment had echoed in her head, and feeling slightly foolish she had, indeed, slept with her knife beside her.
She wasn’t going to fret about it. They needed water, and here it was.
She rummaged in her casket before finding a small bowl and filled it with water for Ecne, and a second bowl so she and Grear could wash.
But as she and her maid freshened themselves, she was reminded that, if not for Hugh’s quick thinking in grabbing the casket that contained her personal items, she’d never be able to clean herself again until she returned to her kin.
It was galling, being grateful to him for something she had always taken for granted. But then, she’d always taken having a full stomach for granted, too, and it was only due to Hugh having shared his meal with her last night that she and Grear weren’t suffering from hunger cramps this morning.
Was relying on Hugh for every drop of water and scrap of food the only way they were going to survive this ordeal?
It was alarming to face the fact she was so utterly dependent on him.
Even back on Eigg, when she’d woven fanciful daydreams of marrying him one day, she had never imagined being beholden to him for her literal existence.
She and her sisters, as the daughters of Sgur Castle with its formidable heritage, were wealthy heiresses who had been taught from an early age they did not need to marry to stave off destitution.
But here, deep in the Highlands, her heritage meant nothing.
She shook her head in an effort to clear her tangled thoughts.
Worrying about something she couldn’t change wouldn’t help their predicament.
And although, alas, there wasn’t anything to eat hidden in the casket, she found the willow bark and various other herbs so they could, at least, have something to drink.
“Heat the water for our tea,” she said to Grear who nodded. “I’ll take Ecne out to stretch his legs.”
She straightened her shawl and picked up her satchel, and Grear insisted on tidying her hair, but within a few moments they left the tent.
As Grear heated the water, Roisin took Ecne towards the back of the plateau, away from the frightening drop to the glen that huddled between the surrounding mountains.
As Ecne sniffed the rocks and the mosses and lichens that covered most of the plateau, her gaze drifted to where the women had emerged from the far side of the plateau and were making their way through the campsite to her.
They weren’t coming to see her, but they clearly wanted to get away from the men who gathered among the tents.
Was Hugh there? She couldn’t see him and apprehension flickered through her.
But there was surely no need for alarm. He was likely simply beyond the rocky outcrop that lay behind the horses and her wagon.
It was too annoying that his absence made her anxious, but the stark truth was, whatever darkness consumed him and had led him to this existence, he was a slender thread to her past, and she clung onto the belief he spoke the truth when he promised he’d find a way to give her safe passage to Creagdoun.
The women stopped a short distance from her, and Roisin kept her gaze fixed on Ecne.
Every fiber of her being wanted to return to Hugh’s tent to escape the women, but Ecne was enjoying himself and so she straightened her spine and gripped her wavering courage before it had the chance to flee into the mountains.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She had the right to stand here. It wasn’t her fault the women had decided to gather scarcely a stone’s throw from her.
“He has no right to forbid us from leaving the camp.” Innis sounded furious, and Roisin cast her an inadvertent glance. “Does he think we are foolish? We know how to forage without being caught by our enemies.”
Hastily, Roisin refocused on Ecne. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she could scarcely block up her ears, could she? And she wasn’t going to return to the tent just because the women were discussing something they obviously didn’t want the men to overhear.
“Darragh is well aware we are not foolish.” There was a hard note in Elspeth’s voice, but Roisin had the strongest impression she was just as angry as the younger woman.
“Something else is troubling him. I’ll speak to him later.
Let him know our medicinal stocks are running perilously low. Do not fret, Innis.”
“Do not fret?” Innis practically spat the words at Elspeth.
“I swear to God, if I—” She cut herself off and glared at Roisin, as if she’d only just become aware of her presence.
“Aye,” she said, even though Roisin hadn’t said anything.
“This is what our life is like on the run, unable to source our most basic needs.”
“’Tis not the lass’s fault.” Elspeth drew in a deep breath. “’Tis rarely women’s fault, after all.”
Innis hiked her bairn more securely against her shoulder. “Yet we are the ones who suffer.”
Roisin knew of the disputes between Clans Campbell and MacGregor, but the truth was it had scarcely touched anyone on the Western Isles.
They backed the Campbells because it was politically astute to do so, but until her sister, Isolde, had been personally affected by the feud, she had scarcely given it further thought.
But Isolde, through her bravery, had survived an attack from a rebel MacGregor and the danger had passed. And once again life on Eigg had returned to its tranquil state.
Roisin had never wondered about the upheaval the MacGregors had endured after being driven from the land of their ancestors. And there was no need to wonder now, since the stark reality was here, in front of her eyes, with these displaced women and their bairns.
There was no doubt in her mind they were continuing the same conversation from the previous evening or that the herbs they so desperately needed were ones that men would never require for their medical uses.
If Freyja was here, she wouldn’t hesitate to share her knowledge or her supplies.
Her sister was a fierce advocate for women having the means to regulate their own fertility in a world ruled by men and their desires.
She wouldn’t care if there was a chance Innis would scorn her or Elspeth deride her for interfering.
Freyja only cared about providing the best medicinal aid she could to anyone in need.
How she wished her sister were here with her now.
Her heart hammered and panic slithered through her chest like a greedy serpent, but she couldn’t remain silent when she had the means to help Innis. Clutching the ends of her shawl for added courage, she faced the women.
“I’ll be glad to share my herbs with ye.”
Innis gave an impatient sigh. “I doubt ye have the ones we need.”
It was a rebuff. Roisin licked her lips, gripped her shawl tighter, and pressed onwards. “I have juniper, rosemary, and sage.”
Silence followed her comment. Certainly, all the herbs had culinary uses. It was also plain that the women understood what she had really just shared with them.
“Do ye now.” Innis’s voice was soft, but there was no hint of the antagonism that had heated her previous words. “And ye’re willing to share with us?”
“Aye. They may help for a while, at least.”
The women glanced at each other, but unlike the other times when they’d conversed, there were no half-hidden smirks or rolling of eyes. It seemed unspoken messages passed between them, and then Elspeth spoke to the little lass, Rhona.
“Fetch some bannocks for the lady and her maid.”
*