Chapter Fourteen #2
“If I have the need or desire to learn, I’ll hold ye to that.” Teagan glanced west where the sun kissed the horizon. “Will ye make it back before dark?”
With the reins tight in her hands, she walked the palfrey to the path. “I dinna believe so. But if I ride fast enough, night will have just fallen by the time I reach Drumoak’s gate. I’ll be fine.”
The lines of Teagan’s face tightened slightly as if she didn’t quite agree with that proclamation, then her thin smile returned.
“Be safe and fare thee well, then, voyager. It seems ye are good at it.”
Ailith bowed her head in respect to her fellow traveler through time and kicked her heels into Bonnie Bride’s sides. The horse shifted between her thighs into a comfortable canter. Without looking behind her, Ailith lifted her hand in a goodbye wave at Teagan.
The trees in the shady grove made the day seem darker when the sound of horses echoed in the distance. Ailith’s heart raced. Was it William? Was he back already and decided to come for her?
The sound grew closer, just around the bend, and Ailith slowed. That wasn’t one set of hoofbeats, but several, all racing in her direction.
Her heart slammed in her chest as a chill coursed over her spine. Not William. And that meant possible danger. She whipped her head from side to side, blinking through the misty rain as she glanced through the trees. Maybe she could hide . . .
But it was too late. A trio of riders emerged around the curve in the path, close to the main path leading toward Stonehaven. The typically comforting weight of her knife against her thigh felt far too small. What might she do with a small knife against a gang of men?
At first, she thought they were the Keiths coming for their revenge. Then the leading rider was close enough for her to recognize him.
Eoghan?
What was he doing here?
Her heart surged in panic again. Oh no! Has something happened to William?
Bonnie Bride pranced under her saddle. The horse certainly didn’t care for these new riders. And the palfrey’s agitation brought a further measure of trepidation in Ailith.
What did Eoghan want?
His face, once so open and kind when he attended as a visitor at her wedding, was severe and closed off, his amber eyes mere slits against his skin in the low sunlight.
It wasn’t fear or concern that drove him to her. It was anger.
“Eoghan,” she said, deciding to start on the offense.
The weight of her knife pressed into her thigh, and her right hand rested on her skirts above it. With one flick of her wrist, she could have her skirts up her leg and the knife in her hand if she needed it.
“I thought I’d find ye here,” he answered, his voice as terse as the rest of him. Two riders joined him – one at his left side and the other closer to her. That was the man she kept her gaze on. He was close enough to strike if he moved on her.
“Why are ye looking for me? Is William well?”
No matter how angry Eoghan looked, William was her greater concern. Was William okay?
His shoulders tensed, and in reflex, Ailith mimicked his move, gripping her skirts to grasp her sgian-dubh.
“Nay, lass. He’s no’ well. No’ since he’s married ye.”
Her hand froze on her leg. Since he married me? That didn’t make sense! Had Betris and Mairi been whispering in his ear?
“Eoghan, I dinna know what ye have heard, but William has been fine since we were wed. Ye just saw him yourself yesterday –”
“’Tis no’ what I mean. I mean his safety, both physically and spiritually, pagan.”
His emphasis on the final word was tinged with disgust.
Pagan? What? Why was he calling her that in such a sour tone?
Many pagans still lived in the Highlands.
From what she could recall, pagans were nearly as populous in the eastern Highlands as Christians in the early Middle Ages, especially with the influx of the Norse and Danes.
What issue did he have with pagans, and why call her one, when he hadn’t seemed bothered by either before?
He spat to his side. “A pagan witch such as ye will do naught but cause William’s downfall, and he’s too good a friend, too good a man, for that to happen.”
There it is. A pagan witch. Her hand slowly worked her skirt, raising it in preparation. This again? More accusations?
It had taken Ailith longer than she had presumed to be accused of witchcraft.
That had been her primary concern when she’d first arrived.
A charge of witchcraft now served what end?
The MacDougals or Gordons would pay the fine or fight for her innocence.
And the Grants were MacDougal allies, so their chieftain would not let the allegation stand.
This accusation did nothing but cause strife between the clans. Why would Eoghan do this?
Yet something about these men told her there was more to this encounter than a mere accusation and fine. She slid her hand under her skirt, reaching for the handle of her knife.
The man next to her must have noticed her movements because he grabbed her elbow and yanked her backward. She gripped the horse with her knees just tight enough so as not to be jerked to the ground.
“Eoghan!” she shouted. “What are ye doing?”
“Your actions as of late have caused the death of many in Alba, including our own Grants. ‘Tis something uncouth with ye, Ailith. Ye are no’ what a woman should be. I spoke to our abbot. He, too, fears that ye are a danger to the Highlanders, in deed and in spirit. Only a pagan witch can be as dangerous as ye have been. And I’ll not let ye lead William down this path. No’ while I can do something about it.”
Her shock at his words left her momentarily confused, and that was enough time for the man by her side to get a better grip on her arm and drag her off her horse. Her feet crashed against the ground. Bonnie Bride whinnied at their intrusion.
“Get your hands off me!” Ailith shouted as she twisted in his grip.
If she could get her arm up, she could swivel away, but how did she do that when her opponent was twisting her arm from atop a horse? This was not something covered in any of her martial arts classes or with William!
“Eoghan! Ye dinna know what ye are talking about! Just wait for William, and he can tell ye everything.”
“Everything ye have charmed him to say? Everyone can see how ye have bewitched him! Nay, this is a Christian land, and ye are doing more to destroy it than any king that might claim the throne. One woman. One fecking lass. Nay, we’ll deal with ye before ye can sink your claws into William and have him risk himself for your ruinous ways.
” He turned to his men. “Get her. We must bring her to the Grant village. Abbot Graham awaits us there.”
The man holding her arm jerked her again, and Ailith was forced to leap onto his horse lest her arm be yanked from its socket.
As she tried to settle on the rear of the horse and decide what her next course of action would be, Eoghan rode up and tied her wrists with rope, then secured the rope to the saddle.
She cursed herself for not grabbing her knife when she had the chance.
“Why are ye doing this, Eoghan? Why can ye no’ wait for William, or at least let me defend myself?”
“I’ll no’ let me or my men fall for your poisoned words.
William will see the truth of it, if he hasn’t already.
He’ll no’ come for ye, that I can promise, not once I tell him of all ye have done.
He will no’ stand for ye once he knows ye are a pagan witch who charmed him into defending ye.
Even your sister-by-law sees ye for what ye are.
Ye have brought the Highlands to the brink of destruction, and everyone sees ye for what ye have done.
Nay, dinna expect any of them to give ye aid. They have all turned from ye.”
Ailith’s chest felt hollow and aching as Eoghan finished tightening her bindings. What if he was right? The MacDougals and Gordons could not afford to lose their alliances with the Grants, not in the precarious state of Scotland.
Eoghan had mentioned the word charmed, and even William himself had said he was ensorceled with her. Did others believe the same? What of Seocan or Muire or Sine – did they believe these scathing lies? What if William believed them as well and was turning from her? Hardening his heart?
Nay.
She tried to swallow the panic rising in her throat.
For the first time since she had arrived eleven hundred years in the past, Ailith wondered if she was truly alone, that William and the rest of her family had turned their backs to her.
She couldn’t bring herself to believe that. William would not betray her in such a way.
A hiccough caught in her chest.
Would he?
Teagan waited until Ailith rode beyond the tree line before heading inside her small house. The tiny house seemed much larger and more lonely now that Ailith was gone. The bright red lass brought a personality and light to Teagan’s home that she had not thought possible.
Loneliness didn’t plague Teagan often, but as of late, it had.
It was as though Ailith’s recent entry into her life made her realize how much of a hermit she had been.
She had done it to protect herself, aye – look what happened when she overstepped with the Keiths!
– but now, all it did was make her seem more peculiar to those in Mowtie and Stonehaven.
Many of the villagers were kind. Perhaps she should have tried to be a bit more sociable.
Their poultice-making items littered the top of her table, including her pestle, some uisge-beatha – the next best thing to an antiseptic that she had found in 900 CE – a few leaves, other herbs, and a pot to keep their new poultice in.
They had put it on both Ailith’s cuts and one of Teagan’s.
Even if it didn’t do much, it was cool and soothing to the wounds, so it might have a palliative, if placebo, effect.
She had set her wares on a shelf and pushed in the stool where Ailith had been sitting when she noticed the satchel on the floor.
Oh no! Ailith left it behind!