Chapter 4
Early the next morning, Aftyn stood in the great hall for the monthly gathering where the laird heard complaints and decided issues brought to him by members of the clan.
Important members of the clan, including the war chief, the council, and others the laird invited, always attended, lined up on either side of the approach to the laird’s seat, which he placed at the far end of the great hall from the doorway.
The Keith believed in showing strength, even to his own clan members.
Even before they reached him, some might think twice about airing their complaints.
As the clan’s healer, Aftyn’s mother had been included among the clan’s eminent members, so after her death, Aftyn continued to appear in her place. The laird ignored her.
“Ye dinna have to stay,” Braden reminded her, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard.
“Ye ken why I do,” Aftyn answered him in kind. “As long as ye stand by me, I will remain. Even if ye dinna.”
“And as long as Da refuses to acknowledge ye, I will remain to show the clan that someday, I will.”
They’d started each judgement day the same way for nearly two years. It hurt her heart that Braden risked their father’s displeasure by his show of support for her, but she appreciated it more than she could say.
The morning continued as had many others, with the Keith deciding ownership of three lambs claimed by one crofter and claimed to have been stolen by another.
Several more of a similar nature followed.
He directed the war chief to take aside a crofter complaining about the theft of cattle from his farm at the edge of Keith territory.
If reivers were abroad, at least that tale might have been interesting, but the man now waited quietly behind the war chief for the laird to dismiss them.
Aftyn fought to appear alert, glad she was standing.
Seated, she feared she would have fallen asleep by now.
Then Agatha, who ran the post house, and her husband, the village stable master, walked forward.
Aftyn’s pulse spiked and she became painfully alert. The woman glared at her as she passed. Braden glanced at her and frowned, then turned his gaze back to the laird. They both knew what brought Agatha here. And it was not to sing Aftyn’s praises.
“Laird, ye must find the clan a competent healer.”
“Must I?”
Those two words, softly spoken, gave Aftyn hope. Her father did not take kindly to being told what to do. Agatha had begun her complaint at a disadvantage.
“That one,” Agatha said and gestured in Aftyn’s direction, “let my son die not a fortnight past. I stand before ye, humbled and heartbroken over the loss of my wee bairn.” She sniffed, then she elbowed the man at her side.
“As do I,” her husband added, then cleared his throat.
The Keith frowned at the pair. “Women lose bairns all the time. And their own lives. Why seek remedy for this one?”
“’Twas the only son I’ve been able to bear for my husband,” Agatha said, softly, perhaps realizing the laird was not yet on her side. “His heir. Now he has none. She didna save him. Perhaps she even hastened his death.”
Aftyn gasped and tensed as the Keith’s frown turned in her direction. She did not kill their son. But Agatha’s accusation could turn the village against her.
“We are no’ unsympathetic to yer loss, and we are aware of this apprentice’s shortcomings.”
Apprentice! So that was how he still saw her. Did he also see her shortcomings still existed because of him?
“We will discover whether an experienced healer can be found,” the laird announced, frowning in her direction.
At that promise, Aftyn went cold. An experienced healer cared for Niall upstairs right now.
“What will ye do about her? She’s no’ fit to care for sheep.” Agatha stood straighter and looked more defiantly at Aftyn, now that the laird had expressed agreement with her claims.
Aftyn didn’t know how much more of this slander she could take. Yet she could not leave. If she ran from the hall, she would confirm Agatha’s tale. Thank goodness Braden remained at her side.
“What would ye have me do?”
“She took my son from me. Banish her!” Agatha snarled.
Aftyn paled. Braden took her hand and squeezed it. She glanced aside. His expression took her breath away. His brow furrowed and his lips compressed, he seemed to watch Agatha’s theatrics with real concern.
“And leave the clan with an assistant apprentice of even less skill? How many more of yer clan do ye want to die?”
Agatha’s shoulders dropped, as did her gaze. “I think only of what will be best for the clan.”
“So, ye think only of what is best for the clan? It seems ye seek to replace no’ only the apprentice, but the laird as well.” His fists hit the arms of his chair and he pushed up to rise.
Agatha’s husband chose that moment to bow and then pull his wife away from the laird.
“Nay, laird. My wife still suffers from the loss. Dinna mind what she says.” He pulled her out of the hall.
The laird dropped back into his seat. His gaze locked with Aftyn’s and he jerked his head.
She understood his gesture. Agatha’s accusation against her embarrassed him.
Conversations erupted into a wall of noise. Gazes all around the hall turned to her. Aftyn knew from the heat in her cheeks that her face had reddened.
“I must leave,” she hissed to Braden, who still held her hand.
“Ye must stay,” Braden hissed back. “Hold yer head up. Ye didna kill the bairn. Show them.”
Aftyn forced herself to stand tall. But inside, her chest hurt and her belly filled with ice.
Agatha’s tale was damning enough. She did not want to imagine what the laird would have done to her this day if Niall had also died under her questionable care.
Guilt filled her that she hadn’t been able to do more.
And anger that her father refused to send her somewhere to get the training she needed.
That his clan needed, as Agatha had just reminded him.
If the Lathan healer told Niall what she’d nearly cost him, she would be disgraced.
And if he told the laird? Nay, she would not consider that.
The best she could hope for was to be ostracized by the clan.
More likely, despite what he promised her for saving his only son, the laird would have banished her.
And she knew full well a woman alone did not stand a good chance of survival. How long did she have?
What would the laird do now?
Jamie came awake at the sound of the chamber door opening. Rabbie winced and held up a hand. “Sorry. I hoped not to wake ye, but I need my sword. Neve and I are going riding.”
Jamie glanced at the window. The sun’s angle told him midday had arrived. “Neve? She isna with Niall? Ye were to have replaced Aftyn in his chamber long before now.”
“I havena seen Aftyn, but Neve did. Hours ago. I just looked in on them. Niall is still sleeping.”
“Then I must see to him. Who is with him now?”
Bhaltair entered with a nod to Rabbie. “Fearchar is with him. Ye must have more to eat and drink, and perhaps some fresh air before ye go to Niall.”
Jamie grimaced, flipped the covers aside, and swung his legs off of the bed. Standing, he still felt lightheaded and his heart raced, vestiges of the poison in Niall’s blood. But his leg no longer hurt, though it didn’t quite feel as it should.
He’d fallen into bed fully dressed. He needed everything Bhaltair mentioned, but first, a bath.
“Does the keep’s hospitality include a tub?” He directed the question to Rabbie, who seemed to have made the most inroads with the local lasses.
“Aye,” Rabbie told him with a grin. I’ll have one brought up after ye eat.”
“Now, Rabbie. Bhaltair can bring food to me here. Likely we’ll be summoned before the Keith laird today.”
Rabbie left on the run. Jamie was certain he rushed to do Jamie’s bidding so he could still meet Neve.
“Aye, ye have been summoned,” Bhaltair told him, pulling his attention from Rabbie. “But I told the steward, with the laird’s forbearance for yer long day’s travel and long night with Niall, ye would meet with him later today.”
Jamie nodded. “Good thinking. Thank ye.”
Bhaltair left on his errand.
Jamie moved to the window and leaned against the wall. The view gave out over the bailey to the curtain wall and hills falling away to farm land beyond. This should be a prosperous clan. Why, then, did they lack a competent healer?
Jamie left the question for another day as a knock sounded on the door.
He opened it to be met by four strong lads carrying a large copper tub.
They set it near the hearth and left, but in moments, lasses filed in to fill it with buckets of steaming water.
The last one, bearing a stack of drying cloths and small pot of soap, gave him a saucy wink.
“I’d be pleased to bathe ye, my laird,” she told him.
“Thank ye, nay. I can do for myself.”
“But ye must need someone to wash yer back, at least?”
He gestured toward the door. “I prefer to bathe alone.”
She pursed her lips. “Very well. But if ye need anything at all…” She paused as if to let her implication sink in as she placed the towels on the bed.
Bending forward and showing off her considerable assets, she set the pot by the tub.
Then she gave him a smile and shrugged, making her breasts jiggle beneath her kirtle.
“Ask for Maddie,” she added. “I’ll do anythin’ ye wish. ”