Chapter 7 #2
“I’ll do it.” Being bed-ridden frustrated Niall, as it would any man.
“I ken ye will. Now, settle yerself. Sleep,” Jamie added and placed a hand on Niall’s forehead, encouraging his body into a healing sleep that would let him remain unaware of any pain that came with what Jamie did to him.
Soon, Jamie saw that he was deeply asleep.
He moved to Niall’s leg and laid his hands on either side of the wound trench, reaching slowly and carefully into the deepest recess of flesh, encouraging tissue growth and blood where he needed it to form.
His own leg ached abominably, shot through with hot stinging that felt like being stabbed with embroidery needles, thousands of them.
He fought to ignore the agony and kept his focus on Niall, whose heart beat faster as Jamie taxed his body’s reserves.
The tingling warmth in Jamie’s hands became a pulling sensation long before new, pink flesh began to form in the bottom of the trench.
Layer upon layer, he helped Niall’s body rebuild the calf. Jamie shook with fatigue by the time he finished and rewrapped the wound.
He rubbed his own leg, trying to ease suddenly stabbing cramps. If he stood to walk off the pain, it would fade away faster, but for the moment, it crippled him. Finally, he forced himself to his feet and limped to the door.
Bhaltair stood outside. “Neve told me ye were with him. What do ye need?”
“Some mead, I think. Then I’ll sleep. Guard him and dinna let anyone remove the wrapping.”
“Sit by the fire afore ye fall down. I’ll be back in moments.”
Jamie nodded, closed the door and did as Bhaltair bid. He rubbed his leg with both hands, resentment flaring up in him again that this talent, as his mother called it, carried such a heavy price for its wielder. And she wondered why he preferred fighting to this.
A few hours’ sleep would improve his outlook, and tomorrow, he’d visit the villager Aftyn had described, treat Niall again, then, if he wasn’t too spent, continue to help her with the journal.
He found himself looking forward to seeing her, wishing she was here. He indulged in imagining her kneeling before him, rubbing his leg. Thinking about where that could lead took his mind off the pain.
The door opened, breaking into his thoughts. Rabbie entered, followed by Fearchar and Bhaltair, with a tray of cups and a jug of mead.
“When will he be ready to travel?” Fearchar asked quietly, as he filled the cups and handed them around.
“I told the laird a sennight, but Niall might be strong enough to go a day sooner. I'll do more with the wound tomorrow, but ’tis nearly healed and must stay covered the rest of the time we are here. No one can see it. Especially not Aftyn and Neve.”
They all nodded, understanding what consternation its rapid healing would cause.
“He must start walking with a cane on the morrow,” Jamie continued after emptying his cup, “so that he begins to regain his strength.”
“What about Aftyn?” Bhaltair crossed his arms, cup in one hand.
“What about her?”
“How much will ye be able to help her before we go? Or will she come with us?”
Jamie tensed and shook his head. The thought of leaving her stung. “She willna leave her home. But her mother left a journal. ’Tis hard to read if ye dinna already ken most of the cures she describes. From the notes I give her, Aftyn will be able to continue learning from it even after we’re gone.”
“Neve, too?” Rabbie asked.
“Neve, too,” Jamie assured him. “We will leave them better off than when we arrived.”
His friends seemed satisfied with that, tossed off the rest of their drinks and filed out, all but Bhaltair.
“Wake me if he seems in any difficulty,” Jamie told him.
“I will. Now go. Ye need rest, too.”
Jamie nodded. “I ken it,” he said as he limped to the door. The pain in his leg was less, but still hobbled him. “We willna be here much longer.”
“Ye ken Niall has his eye on Neve, but so does Rabbie. And she’s not encouraging either of them.”
“We’ll be gone before it becomes a problem between them,” Jamie told him, hoping he was right.
Bhaltair frowned at that, but Jamie didn’t stop to ask why. He went to their shared chamber and fell into the cot, asleep immediately.
The next morning, Neve entered the herbal with Alastair clinging to her skirts and looking around wide-eyed.
He seemed entranced to be in the keep until he spotted Jamie.
Immediately, he tried to run back the way he’d come, but Neve got a grip on his arm and held him in place.
“Wheesht, laddie. Ye’ll come to nay harm here. ”
“But the healer is here.”
“Aye, I am,” Jamie said from his perch at one of the workbenches where he was transcribing from Aftyn’s mother’s journal. He set it aside and knelt before the lad. “Ye came to me yesterday to help yer ma. Do ye remember?”
“Aye.”
“And did I help her?”
“Aye, ye and Aftyn.”
“Exactly.” Though in truth, Aftyn had been the most help to Mhairi. Jamie had been pleased to see her sitting, eating, and with the will to have him dump her abusive husband behind their cottage. “I’ll see that ye are nay harmed.”
“As will I,” Aftyn added, coming up on Jamie’s other side.
“I’ll go fetch ye something to eat,” Neve volunteered. “Would ye like that?’
“Aye,” Alastair replied, vigorously nodding his head. “We’ve never enough to eat.”
Jamie bit back a curse. “We’ll see to that, too, lad,” he promised. Alastair was a growing lad and needed good food in plenty, as did his mother.
“I’ll see what Cook has ready and bring up a tray,” Neve said, directing her gaze and the comment to Aftyn.
“Thank ye,” Aftyn told her. “That will make our wee friend feel welcome, aye, Alastair?” She placed a hand on his thin shoulder.
Alastair looked up at her with adoration. “Aye.” After a pause, he added, “Thank ye.”
Neve gifted him with a smile and left the herbal.
“Ye have fine manners, young Alastair,” Jamie told him, thinking after all the time the lad had been without a name, the more he heard it here, the more confident he might become.
“Thank ye, healer.”
“Come,” Aftyn said, pointing to a high stool. “Let’s sit ye there and have a look at ye. Can ye do that? ’Tis a very high seat.”
“I can do it,” Alastair insisted, and proved it by climbing up and settling himself like a king.
“Good lad,” Jamie told him and under cover of studying his eyes, put his hand on the boy’s neck, out of Aftyn’s sight.
He sensed only minor bruising on his torso such as any young lad might acquire on his own, already healing.
No broken bones, current or past. The lad had apparently been adept at avoiding his tormentor.
Aftyn joined Jamie and held out her hand. “Let me see yer arms, please, Alastair.”
The lad held out both hands, arms extended. She pushed up his sleeves and pursed her lips, then pulled them down again. “Old bruises. Did Rory do that to ye?”
Alastair shrugged and looked aside.
“Ye needna fash,” she told him. “Do they hurt?”
“Nay. They’re nearly gone.”
Jamie caught Aftyn’s gaze and nodded. “That’s good, Alastair. How’s yer tummy?”
“Empty!”
Aftyn laughed and after a moment, both Alastair and Jamie joined her. Jamie’s gaze went to Aftyn as she laughed. Musical and sweet, he would never tire of hearing that sound, or seeing her mirth reflected in her gaze, replacing the sadness that so often filled her.
“We’ll soon fix that,” Jamie said. “Neve will return with plenty to eat. In the meantime, can I see yer feet?”
“They’re right there, at the end of my legs,” Alastair told him with a cheeky grin.
Ach, good. The lad was responding to them both and showing more personality than Jamie had yet seen. Jamie reached down, grabbed both feet, and pulled off his soft boots. “I see. Shall I set them aside for ye or do ye like them where they are?”
“Where they are!” Alastair looked worried, but his reaction gave Jamie the few seconds he needed to pay attention to the lad’s legs and feet. To Jamie's relief, he was unharmed.
Aftyn laughed again, reassuring Alastair, and Jamie released his feet. “I’m with ye, lad. I like them where they are, too.”
“Why do ye have flowers in here?” Alastair asked, then turned his gaze to Jamie. “Are ye courting Aftyn?”
Aftyn choked, but covered her expression behind her hand.
Jamie just shrugged, though his pulse kicked up at the thought. If he was, it was a most unusual courtship, since most of what he’d done for her involved her mother’s journal. He’d yet to kiss her. And though he’d held her in his dreams, in reality he’d barely held her hand.
“They’ll become potions to make ye feel better if ye fall ill,” Aftyn answered when Jamie failed to speak.
He noticed she carefully avoided looking at him, and color was fading from her cheeks. Had the lad’s question embarrassed her, or was something else behind her reaction? Could she be interested in him, too?
“Flowers? Truly?”
Alastair was full of questions today.
“And those plants, and those bunches hanging by the window, too,” Aftyn pointed out.
“What are they?”
“My, ye ask excellent questions, Alastair,” Jamie told him with a grin.
He wanted to say the lad's name as often as he could so the lad would know he mattered as a person.
Then footsteps out in the hall alerted him.
“And here comes Neve, I think. Are ye still hungry?” Like any growing lad, he was probably excited at the prospect of food arriving soon.
“Aye!” Alastair was emphatic on that point, questions forgotten for the moment, as Neve entered with a tray laden with bread and sliced venison, cheese, apples, and honey cakes.
“Cook thinks ye should eat as much of this as ye wish,” Neve announced as she set down the tray on an empty table. “How does that sound?”
Alastair’s eyes widened. “All of that is for me?”
Aftyn looked ready to tear up, her face flushed and her eyes glossy, so Jamie jumped in. “Aye, all of it. But if ye get full before ’tis gone, dinna fash. Ye can take what’s left home to yer ma.” That might prevent the tummy ache Jamie saw in the lad’s future if he tried to empty the tray.
Alastair nodded. “Then I willna eat all of it.”
Behind Alastair and Neve’s back, Aftyn gave Jamie a grateful smile. He savored it, holding her gaze as long as she was willing. She lifted a hand to her heart, then turned her gaze back to Alastair. It took Jamie a moment to break the spell. What had her gesture meant?
Neve was slicing an apple for the lad, but he went immediately for the honey cake. Jamie couldn’t blame him. They smelled buttery, sweet, and delicious. He might have to visit Cook himself once Alastair headed home.
Aftyn went to the lad’s other side and encouraged him to try the meat, then spread a bite of bread thick with butter and folded a thin slice of venison and another of apple on top. Alastair’s eyes lit up after he took a bite, but his mouth was too full to comment.
Aftyn had a gentle touch with the lad, and it was good to see his wariness around adults melt away under her tender care.
Despite their rough beginning, it was now clear to Jamie that Aftyn had potential as a healer.
How she dealt with Niall, with Alastair, and her other patients reminded him of his mother’s compassion for those she helped.
Aftyn could learn the medicines, blades, and stitches, but her empathy came from within.