Chapter Unknown #2
Dumhnull had yet to smile at her, and though he didn’t now she thought perhaps there was a softening to his stern mouth.
His lips parted as if he meant to speak, then shut on an exhalation.
Finally he raised his dark brows and said, “No, miss, I suppose he cannot.” There was a curious note of forbearance in his voice, but before she could question it, he inclined his head for her to follow him.
She trudged after him, keeping her head down.
The brim of her floppy hat bobbed with each step.
It had long ceased protecting her from the deluge.
Her hair was thoroughly soaked beneath the hat, plastered to her head and streaming in rivulets down the sides of her face and neck.
She shivered convulsively, eagerly anticipating dry clothes and a warm fire.
They crossed the bridge and passed several cottages before he stopped near one. Fresh thatching repelled the rain so it flowed down to shower on the ground. Bags of sand pressed up against the base of the dark stones, preventing the rain from seeping underneath.
He nodded at it. “The blacksmith and his wife live there. They’ll feed you and give you a place to sleep.”
“My thanks, friend.” Rose reached for the reins, but when her fingers closed over the leather, he didn’t release them.
She stood rather close to him. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes.
Blue, brilliant as a sapphire and just as startling.
She stared for a long moment, and he stared back.
His gaze moved over her face in a manner overbold for a mere groom.
Rose felt a moment of panic, her sisters’ warnings echoing through her mind.
He knew she was alone and unprotected. She held his gaze without wavering and tugged on the reins.
He released them and averted his eyes to scan the sky. “You really should be on your way in the morn, if the rain clears.”
“I thank you for your warnings, but I cannot.” She gave him a speculative look from beneath her lashes. “Would you be willing to help me, Dumhnull?”
“How?”
“Sneak me in?”
He appeared scandalized at the suggestion. “Nay— you’d not want to do that, miss. Have you not heard the tales? He’s a wizard, he’s evil.”
“Idle gossip spread by ignorant rustics. I pay it no heed.”
He glanced around cautiously, then leaned in closer.
She resisted the urge to step back. An uncomfortable fluttering had begun in her belly.
He was so very large, and she was very much alone.
Though he’d shown her nothing but kindness, his proximity unnerved her.
But if he had any inappropriate intentions, it did not behoove her to show fear.
She knew from experience that to men with mischief in mind, fear was oft an aphrodisiac, whereas courage nearly always discouraged them.
“The villagers have tried to capture him several times. He doesn’t dare leave the castle.”
Rose’s mouth opened on an exhalation as she gazed up at her new friend. “But I mean him no harm. I—I know about that, about persecution. Not myself,” she hastened to add when he drew back from her warily. “I— well, someone I knew.”
He shook his head firmly. “Your sympathy is wasted, lass. Go home.”
She gazed helplessly at him, but he just backed away. “Ask the blacksmith. He knows. He’ll tell you true. But do not mention that anyone from the castle sent you. They hate us all.”
She frowned at the cozy cottage, beckoning to her as she shivered in the rain. When she turned back, Dumhnull was gone.
* * *
She was welcomed by the blacksmith and his wife. The blacksmith was an enormous redhead named Tadhg, and he was beside himself with excitement when he learned Rose was a healer.
“Ack—my tooth, it aches and throbs. I cannot sleep, I cannot think of aught anymore but the tooth. It’s my whole life.” He sat, his brawny frame slumped in his chair, his thick-fingered hand cupping his copper-bearded cheek, looking thoroughly pathetic.
His short, stout wife placed a bowl of a thin broth and a chunk of dark bread before Rose, then stopped behind her husband, putting her hands on his shoulder.
Her dark hair was caught back in a severe bun and her round face was dour, but she gazed at her husband with affection, kneading his shoulders.
“He moans so terribly at night, I cannot sleep at all, either. Is there aught you can do for him?”
“Do you not have a barber?” Rose asked, gratefully sipping the stew. The goodwife had loaned her a homespun shift that was too large but clean and warm. She sat huddled on the bench under a thick wool plaid while her clothes dried before the fire.
Tadhg shook his head. “Plague got him.”
He gazed at Rose with such pained hope, his big hand rubbing his copper-bearded cheek.
She smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure there’s something I can do. But tell me, why do you not go to your chief? I’ve heard he is a great healer.”
Tadhg’s face darkened. His wife turned away abruptly, returning to the hearth.
“He is not a healer. He is a sorcerer. He doesn’t heal people, he gives them to the devil. I’d not let him touch me if he begged.”
His wife turned from the cauldron she stirred, her cheeks ruddy with affronted passion and her eyes dark slits in her doughy face. “Not that my lord would beg. Not him. He’d let us all die afore he’d soil his hands with any real healing, mind you.”
Taken aback by their fervor, Rose said, “But the stories I’ve heard—”
“Och, there’s stories all right,” the older woman said.
Rose’s shoulders slumped. “They’re not true then.”
“Oh, it’s all true.” Tadhg nodded sagely. “I’ve seen him do it myself.”
He leaned back in his chair, the pain in his face easing at the prospect of a story.
“It was about a year ago. Allister, my apprentice, was out cutting wood. His wee wife came by to bring him some dinner. He didn’t know she was there, so he was startled.
The ax slipped, and he cut her in the leg.
He brought her here. We bound it up, but it festered and she fell into a fever.
We knew the end was near. Allister had sent word to Lord Strathwick, but our chief never came.
Allister was sore grieving there at the end, and went up to the castle himself, carrying on about how if the chief didn’t save his Betty he’d have the MacKay’s heart. ”
Rose leaned across her stew, listening with breathless interest. “Did that work?”
“Aye, it did. He came down, though you could tell just by looking at him he’d rather be any place else.
He had a look at Betty’s leg, then told her not to fear.
” Tadhg extended his thick, rough hands in front of him, his expression reverent.
“He lay his hands on her leg. It took but a minute. When he lifted his hands, Betty’s leg was as smooth as if the accident never happened.
She was awake, too, blinking at us like an owl, asking what happened. ”
Rose sat back on the bench. “So that’s it? He touched her leg and the wound disappeared? Did he say anything afterward?”
Tadhg dropped his hands to his knees. “Nay, he never stays after a healing. His brother comes with him, and they leave immediately. Never around long enough for a thank-ee sir.”
Rose frowned, confused. “Why do you feel so ill about him? It sounds as if he could heal your tooth better than I could. I have no such magic.”
Tadhg’s bearded face distorted into a sneer of hatred. “Nay, I’ll not let him mark me for the devil.”
“What about Betty? He healed her. That is a miracle and you saw it. “
“No miracle—the devil’s work. He made her into a witch.”
“Really?” Rose said, skeptical. “How do you know? What did she do?”
“She told old Gannon that if the weather turned, his chickens would die. Sure enough, when it got cold last winter, two chickens did die. Allister also said that sometimes he saw her staring at his arm, or his foot, and the next day, he’d have cramps in the limb she’d been staring at.
‘She be giving you the evil eye,’ I said to him.
So he turned her out, and several others drove her into the woods.
But did she leave? No, she’s with him now.
A married woman, living in sin with the chief. ”
Rose raised her brows but didn’t respond. Married or not, they’d exiled poor Betty. Rose couldn’t blame her for going to her chief for succor. It was a terrible pass they’d come to if a wife could no longer look at her husband without being suspected of witchcraft.
Rose bedded down before the fire with several chickens, a pig, and a large goose.
She found she could not sleep, in spite of the comfortable bed and full belly.
She was besieged by thoughts of Lord Strathwick and Dumhnull and all Tadhg had said.
She remembered Isobel’s vision and was more convinced than ever that if she could only speak to the MacKay chief face-to-face she could convince him to aid her.
He was not without mercy or kindness, otherwise he’d have left Betty to her fate—both times.
When Tadhg’s peaceful snores joined the general snuffling, scratching, and rooting of the animals, Rose slid out from beneath the warmth of her blanket. The rain had stopped. She’d brought a clean shift and gown and had kept them dry by wrapping them in oiled canvas.
She dressed quietly before the fire, putting her boy’s boots on and carrying her finer slippers.
She left coins on the blacksmith’s table, gathered her things, and left the cottage.
Moireach was stabled behind the cottage with the blacksmith’s mule and goats.
Rose decided to leave her there for now.
She was determined to find a way in to Strathwick and it would be easier without a horse in tow.