Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Malvina Duff pulled her hood forward to keep her face shadowed, although the villagers she passed seemed to recognize her anyway.
She heard a few grumbles about her husband, but Beiste would whip bloody anyone who defied him, and they all knew it.
Her reason for coming to the village was to solve another, lingering problem that had grown much, much worse over the last week.
With every step she suffered the burning between her legs, the source of which had crawled up her back to her shoulders, and threatened to show itself to all.
She’d tried every balm, salve and tincture possessed by their cook and maids, but none of them had eased her pain or healed the second eruption of weeping sores.
The only female she knew here was the big strapping wench who delivered cheese to the compound, and her guards had pointed out which hovel belonged to her. She knocked on the sagging door, and as soon as it opened bustled inside past Eilish.
“My lady.” The big woman took a step back. “Do you come to buy new cheese? I’ve naught ready but some soft white–”
“I need help. You village wenches ken how to manage the grandgore, aye?” When Eilish just stared at her she nearly slapped the slut. “A brigand set upon me in the forest some time ago. He ravished me cruelly, and now I’ve the sickness. The pox it causes, ’tis driving me mad with pain.”
The part about the brigand wasn’t true, of course; she’d bedded so many men of late she had no notion of who had caused the sores that now covered her quim and back. She watched as the big woman went and slammed shut her window shutters before coming back to her.
“My lady, never speak so openly of such.” Eilish folded her big arms. “Nor shall any female in the village offer you aid. If the men learned of your sickness, they’d demand you and your husband leave the highlands. Mayhap you should seek out a druid. They ken much our healers dinnae.”
The widow obviously believed she was testing her, Malvina thought.
“Think again, and carefully now. You must know a remedy to help me.” When Eilish said nothing she added, “Shall I tell my husband that you’ve been selling goods secretly to avoid paying the king’s share? You may end your worthless life serving as a slave to a cruel master.”
“Do what you must, then. I’ve no cure for grandgore to give you, for ’tisnae one.” She made a rude gesture toward the door. “Please, go on your way now.”
“You’ve heard stories of how vicious Beiste Duff can prove, aye?
” She let her fears flood through her so that real tears streamed down her cheeks.
“He hasnae touched me for three moons now, and shall soon demand his rights. When he spies the sores on my back and quim, he shall strangle me and toss my body to the swine.”
Eilish gave her an uneasy look. “What of your kin? Cannae you rely on them for protection?”
“My kin.” Malvina almost spat in her face. “My sire gave me to Beiste to keep from being hung for strangling my màthair after she drank up all his whiskey. How shall he treat a daughter with grandgore, I wonder? If I’m fortunate, shall he fack me in the arse? Again?”
The other woman went pale. “Forgive me, my lady. I didnae ken.”
“None do.” She wished she hadn’t spoken the truth, but it seemed to be swaying the foolish wench. “Please, you must ken someone who may save my life.”
“’Tis one who may possess a cure.” The widow took hold of her hands. “Follow the trail from the village west into the ridges. Look for a cottage covered in gray moss and ivy. ’Tis the home of Heremon the herbalist.”
“Why should I permit some grubby hermit touch me?” Malvina almost shrieked.
“He shallnae, but he possesses much knowledge of herbs and such. If you speak truth to him of what you’ve suffered, I’m sure he’ll give you aid.” Eilish went to the door and opened it. “Please leave now, my lady, and tell no one what I’ve said.”
Stalking out of the cottage, Malvina halted when she saw several of her husband’s men tormenting two girls at the village well.
One of them might have been the diseased bastart who tainted her; since coming here she’d bedded almost all of them.
Darting around to the garden in the back, she stayed out of sight behind the trees while making her way to the trail that led up into the ridges.
She had only a few hours until Beiste would return from this visit to Dunfermline, and if he discovered her gone from the compound he’d send out his friends with their tracking hounds to find her.
That prospect made her lift her skirts so she could trot along the dirt path, which seemed to stretch on forever as it climbed.
By the time she spotted the hovel that Eilish had described Malvina had nearly lost her breath entirely, and had to stop and gasp the thin, cold air as her heart beat frantically beneath her breast.
Will he give me a cure? She had never bothered to learn anything about herbs from her mother, whose concoctions had been in great demand before she’d grown too fond of spirits. Why didnae that worthless hoor teach me anything?
Trudging up to the cottage, Malvina wrinkled her nose at the pungent stink coming from the open windows. Perhaps just breathing the foul air here would end her, a prospect that made her utter a laugh.
’Twould serve better to die here and now than at Beiste’s hands.
The bald, silver-bearded auldjin who came out looked as if he’d been tarring and feathering himself.
His bizarre appearance made her want to run all the way back to the compound without stopping, but she couldn’t return home without a cure for her rotten luck.
As he drew near, however, her tension oddly eased.
“The widow Eilish sent me to you, Heremon,” she said, abandoning any pretense of haughtiness and attempting instead to appear humble. “I’ve need of some special herbs to heal a rash of ravishment, and shall pay you well.”
His rheumy gaze drifted down the front of her body. “You’ve grandgore, then?”
The snide sound of his voice made her stiffen. “A brigand set upon me in the forest–” Before she could finish he started to go back inside. “Wait. Aye, I do. Give me the cure, please, I beg you.”
He stood and held open the door, and Malvina forced herself to go inside the dark, smelly cottage. Yet as soon as she did the stink vanished, and she found herself standing in a cozy little home with a crackling hearth and a carved wooden table set for two.
“Sit down, my lady,” the old herbalist said, now appearing bathed and dressed in clean garments. His eyes twinkled at her as he added, “We’ll share a brew and speak on your illness first.”
He used some sort of magic to make his cottage and his person seem more or less repulsive, she thought, shuddering over the fact that she didn’t know which was the real man.
If she demanded to know the reason for his ruse, he would likely toss her out, so she perched on one of the benches and watched him pour a fragrant, steaming brew into two mugs.
It smelled like a mint tea with spice added, making her nose wrinkle again. “Shall your lady wife join us?”
“I’m unwed, my lady.” He set one of the brews in front of her. “Drink, and ’twill calm you.”
Nothing did that, but she made herself take a sip to appease him.
The brew tasted of mint and some delicious peppery herbs, an odd combination that made her tension melt away.
She didn’t trust the auldjin, of course, but at least he was treating her as a guest. Most men only saw her as her husband’s toy or a hoor to fack in the shadows.
“My only cure for grandgore shall render you barren, my lady,” Heremon said. “It shall also cause you to fall sick for threeday. You must be certain you desire such before you take it, for you cannae change your mind after. Your husband need never ken.”
For a long moment she was tempted to tell him to keep the medicine and take her chances with Beiste.
Yet the prospect of never again worrying about pregnancy appealed to her.
Considering the brute who had married her need never know that she was the cause, it might even be amusing to ask him to give her a bairn, if only to watch him fail time and again.
“I neednae bairns, and wish but to live. Give it to me,” Malvina told him.
The herbalist nodded and got up to walk across the room to a large cabinet with many drawers.
From it he took several packets, and he did not take care with removing them.
Indeed, for a few minutes he slung about his stores with greatly impatient hands.
Emptying several ingredients into a wooden mortar, he ground them together with a stone pestle, murmuring under his breath as he did.
He then emptied the resulting sparkling mixture into a leather pouch and tied it tightly with a string.
“’Tis best to take them in water at dawn.
Drink all down, and an hour after the pox marks shall vanish.
” He handed her the pouch. “You shall suffer some belly ache for threeday after, which you may blame on your moon time. ’Twill also keep your husband at bay until the sores vanish on the fourth day. ”
For the first time Malvina wondered just who had infected her. Could her husband be the culprit? “What if the sores come back again?”
“Never shall they. Nor shall you give them to your husband.” He looked into her eyes. “You may even go on bedding pox-riddled men. They cannae sicken you with their disease again.”
Her hands shook as she brought out her purse. “How much do you wish for the cure, then?”
Heremon shook his head. “I dinnae desire gold, my lady. ’Tis my duty to aid the afflicted like you.”
Malvina thought him a fool, but at least this way she could put back the coin she’d stolen from her husband’s cache. “Very well. My thanks for your aid, auldjin.”
His thin beard bristled as he gave her an odd, toothy smile. “May the Gods watch over you, my lady.”