Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
T he chieftain's oldest son burst into the kitchen like a summer storm, grabbed a honied cake set aside on the cooling board for the summer feast that was to begin the following day, and ducked the swipe of a hand from Morna for his thievery.
"There's a mon to see ye," he announced, giving Alix a sideways glance with those dark eyes, too handsome for his own good.
That one would be trouble one day, Alix thought, looking up from her grinding stone. She was busy the last days, putting up a supply of her herbal tinctures and salves. With the summer celebration beginning the following day, games the men played, and the mock battles, there were bound to be injuries that needed her attention.
"What man, ye little thief?"
"From the village, aye. Brian the Tanner." He stuffed the cake into his mouth and eyed a second one.
"He asked ye to meet him at the stables."
"Get on with ye!" Morna scolded the boy. "Or I'll take a wooden spoon to yer backside."
Alix brushed off her hands, and untied her apron.
"Now what would the tanner be wanting with ye?" Morna asked.
She didn't bother to explain as she grabbed her shawl and headed for the stables. On her way out of the kitchen, she slipped young Alexander another cake.
"Get out, the both of ye!" Morna scolded.
Brian was inspecting a piece of broken harness with Gabhran when she reached the stables.
"It's easily mended," Brian told him. "I'll have McGinley make a metal ring and then bind it with leather straps and pine tar. It will hold then."
Gabhran nodded. He gave her a curious glance but then went to attend to one of the horses that had come up lame.
Brian waited until he had gone, then pulled a rolled bundle from the leather bag that usually carried his tools and extra pieces of leather when called to the stables at Lechlede.
"I have it here, miss." He pulled a long object wrapped in coarse sack cloth from the leather bag.
"It took some doin', ye ken? The first two I had a go at, I threw away, and had to start over. They weren't right."
He explained that he started with the sleeve of a tunic for a pattern, then cut the leather to match, and laced it.
"It needs to fit snug or tis no use to him, and it needs to protect what's left of his arm."
She did see what he was talking about.
"It has a wood core, made of alder, aye? Tis a strong wood with the hammered metal wrapped over. I had the armorer give a hand with it. The leather straps go over the shoulder and about the chest to keep it in place. I put it on meself to see the fit of it. The fingers were another matter though."
They were also made of metal--four fingers and a thumb! He took hold of one of the fingers and wiggled it. She gasped.
"It's no' the same as a real hand, ye ken," he explained. "But tis possible to lock the grip and hold onto a blade or a shield, like so."
The fingers moved stiffly, but he closed them around the handle of a hay fork, much like the grip of a hand.
"It takes some getting used to and it scairt my little one at first, but tis better than a hook to my way of thinking, and fitted just right it provides the ability to protect oneself, aye?"
She didn't know what to say. It wasn't frightening at all. It was the most incredible thing she'd ever seen. She ran her fingers over the gleaming metal and leather, then the fingers he'd made and attached, not real of course, but they could actually be moved and with practice...
"He'll be grateful to ye," Brian said.
Would he be grateful? Or would it anger him, like so many things since his return? She had no way of knowing.
"How much do I owe ye?"
Brian shook his head. "Not a coin, miss. Ye see, most of my work is for horses and carts, leather for the ladies to make vests and breeches for our kinsmen, aye? This is a thing that gives a man back his life. I'll no expect payment for it. And Master Ruari has only to come to me if the fit is not right and I'll make it so."
Only if he didn't throw it into the fire at the hearth for a foolish notion, she thought to herself.
He had suffered much and there were times late at night when he dozed before the great hearth at the main hall when he came up out of sleep like a crazed man, not himself, but something fierce and terrifying.
The wounds inside him, Gabhran explained, that didna bleed but festered. Of things he had seen and done, the men who had died beside him, things he would carry with him until the day he died.
She nodded, her mouth set.
"Yer a good man. I thank ye, kindly."
He wrapped it in sack cloth and handed it to her.
"It's a fine, thoughtful thing yer doing, miss."
She tucked the bundle under her arm and left the stables.
It was already late morning and several Fraser warriors were in the practice yard, taking advantage of the drier weather to practice. As usual there was much camaraderie among them along with that ever-present competitiveness. An older warrior by the name of Kelton soundly outmaneuvered his younger opponent, spun, then drove low, dumping the young man on his arse.
He immediately lowered his claymore then walked over to the young warrior by the name of Willem.
"Never take yer eye off the man you go against," he told him. "Ye can always see his intent, the next move, in his eyes." For emphasis, he pointed to his own eyes.
"The moment you looked away, I had you. If I were your enemy, you would be dead." He then extended his hand, and pulled the younger warrior to his feet.
"I've been dumped on my arse a good many times. I was fortunate to live long enough to learn it from that old badger." He gestured across the yard to Gabhran.
"Now, again!" And the lesson began again. Not to be caught again with the same mistake, Willem drove hard, maneuvered, swung with his claymore. When he caught only air, he quickly shifted, his gaze constantly fixed on Kelton's wintry gaze.
"Aye, ye've the way of it now, boy."
"Don't call me boy!" Willem replied and drove hard again, much to Kelton's satisfaction, the sounds of battle echoing off the stone walls of the keep.
"What have ye there, lass?" Gabhran asked as she passed him.
She shrugged a shoulder. "Tis a remedy."
She glanced around the yard but didn't see Ruari. She lifted the edge of the sack cloth, the artificial arm gleaming in the midday sun.
"By the saints!" he exclaimed, running a gnarled hand over the sleek metal. "I've heard of such things, saw one once, but this is a fine piece." His gaze narrowed.
"I ken who yer thinkin' of , lass." His expression shifted, his mouth thinning in the thick beard that surrounded it like a holly wreath. He patted her on the shoulder.
"Ye've a good heart and I know yer feelings for him. Take care, for he is not like our chieftain who thinks before he speaks. This one is like the father, quick to anger and holds things inside until it all bursts out of him in a rage. Ye ken, what I'm tellin' ye?"
She nodded. He might be gruff and like an old badger, as Kelton had called him, but he had a soft heart where his kinsmen were concerned. And apparently that included her.
"I've seen a bit of that anger and I thank ye kindly for yer words. " She went up on her toes and kissed his bearded cheek, much to the humor of the men in the practice yard whose laughter and teasing were heard by anyone who wasn't completely gone of hearing.
"I can take care of meself."
"Aye, ye know him well, and I believe you can."
She looked around again, recognizing all of those who practiced and trained. But the one she looked for was not among them.
"He rode out before first light," Gabhran smiled gently.
"To the village?"
"Nay, lass. For the hills." He gestured through the open gates to the distant ridge of the Cairngorms.
"In a fine temper and no sleep, ye ken?"
She did understand. "Aye, there's been little laughter since he returned."
"I have faith in ye."
She flashed him an uncertain look. "I hope yer right."
It was two days before he returned, during evening meal, his hair wild about his head and shoulders, his tunic caked with mud and grime, his expression like a stone mask, except for his eyes. They were like the coming storm.
She saw him from the long table at the edge of the hall where she sat with several of the other women, as he passed by the chieftain's table with barely a nod toward his brother and the Lady Brynna, his gaze softening only slightly as Alexander called a greeting to him with the innocence of children who pay no attention to such things. The rest of the hall was silent as he stalked past to the kitchen.
"He's in a right foul temper," Alix heard a nearby kinsmen comment, and then the careful reply from the man next to him.
"A death wish, aye. Ye can see it in his eyes and who can say tis wrong with the loss of his sword arm?"
At the head table Gabhran leaned close and said something to the chieftain. James Fraser shook his head. Whatever the old warrior said passed only between the two of them. When Alix would have followed him to the kitchen, she felt her grandmother's hand at her arm.
"The water may not be hot," she explained.
"Tis hot enough," Morna replied with more than enough meaning.
He emerged from the hallway to the kitchen some time later, paused only long enough to down a goblet of wine, then left the hall and climbed the stone steps to the tower rooms.
It was late when Alix accompanied the chieftain's sons to the chamber they shared, carrying the youngest, Eleanor, named for another the Lady Brynna had cared for. The girl, worn out by her brothers, had nodded off , her head resting on Alix' shoulder. At four years, she was a handful, constantly teased by her brothers, and she'd learned long ago to give as good as she got with red hair from her grand sire, the old chieftain. But now she was snoring softly in Alix' arms.
She tucked Eleanor into bed in the chamber adjacent to the chieftain's chamber, the child stirring slightly at she pulled the fleece cover over her.
"The bruises are almost gone," Eleanor said in that straight-forward way of children before they become careful with their words, touching her neck where the bruises had been. And then there were some who never learned to be careful with their words.
"Aye," she replied.
"Did Ruari ask ye forgiveness?"
It seemed the entire household knew how she'd come by them.
"In his own way," she replied. It hadn't exactly been an apology, but it would do. For now.
Eleanor yawned. "I don't like him being angry with ye."
"Ye need to punch him in the face next time," she said, nodding off, her cure for her rambunctious brothers.
Alix smiled at the innocence of children, a simple solution, but as Lady Brynna often pointed out, her daughter needed better manners. With that red hair, Alix doubted better manners would win out.
"Go to sleep," she softly told her. Then motioned to Alexander and Connor. "Get to bed, with ye. Ye need yer rest. Tis late and yer father has said yer to go riding with him in the morn."
The much-promised ride was enough to have both boys scrambling for the larger bed they shared.
"Will ye tell us a story, Alix? About the headless horseman of Bodmin moor?"
Saints preserve us, she thought. These two would get her in trouble. Gabhran had told them the bloody tale much to the disapproval of Lady Brynna when she learned of it. The boys had been younger then and had bad dreams for weeks afterward.
Alix had to admit it was also one of her favorite stories--about the warrior who lost his head in battle when a fellow warrior betrayed him, then wandered the land afterward, lopping off the heads of thieves, robbers, and brigands who told lies, stole, and hurt people in his search for the one who had done it.
"Did he ever find the one?" Connor asked when she finished the tale, wide-eyed as he glanced at shadows in all the corners of the chamber as if he expected the headless horseman to come riding out of the darkness at them.
She shook her head. "Tis said that he also looks for little boys who prank their sister, and will take his justice with them."
The boy's eyes widened. Beside him in the great bed, Alexander gave her that half smile, a glimpse of the one Ruari once had. He was of an age where he didn't quite believe the tale, but he wasn't taking any chances.
"Mayhaps our uncle is the headless horseman."
She didn't know whether to laugh or scold him for such a thought. There was no time for either as a loud crash echoed off the stone walls of the tower.
Both boys dove under the fleece cover. She would have liked to do the same for the sound came from the chamber Ruari had taken upon his return to Lechlede.
Loud cursing followed. All three children were awake then. She ran from the chamber and came face-to-face with him. If she had thought him angry before, his expression now was a moon-cast shadow to the ones she'd seen before.
His eyes narrowed, like blue ice on the loch in winter, his entire body rigid with fury. With his hair wild about his head, he looked like some distant Norse ancestor and no less fierce. Fire breathing dragon, came to mind as he stood over her.
He held the artificial arm in his hand, brandishing it at her like a weapon, his expression cold, his words even colder.
"Ye play a cruel prank, Alix! Ye think to unman me completely?" He threw the artificial arm down the steps.
Prank? Un-man him? The words were more cruel than any blade. He was like the headless horseman letting loose his fury on anyone who came close. She wasn't afraid of that sad tale, and she wasn't afraid of him.
"Yer a blithering idiot, Ruari Fraser!" she flung back at him, her heart aching at the same time she wanted to punch him in the face.
"Brian made ye a fine thing, to give ye back what ye lost! "
She stood toe to toe with him, even though it meant she had to look up, refusing to back down from the cold fury in his eyes, her own temper making her words reckless. She jabbed him in the chest with her finger.
"Yer no less a man unless ye chose to be!"
She spun on her heel and left, the chieftain's three children gaping at him from the opening of their chamber.
It seemed the entire household had heard their exchange. Heat spread across her cheeks as she passed Lady Brynna at the curve of the stone steps to the main hall. She refused to apologize and instead headed for the main entrance and the stables.
Brynna found Ruari Fraser at the top of the steps. On her way, she had picked up the artificial arm. He didn't look at it and barely exchanged a look with her.
"She's right," she said gently, turning toward the chamber where her three children scampered back to the beds. She laid a hand at his good arm.
"Yer no less a man. Yer a Fraser. Ye have strength and courage. Just as ye found yer way when ye were a lad, ye must find it now."
Then she went to settle her children once more at their beds.
Gabhran found her at the top of the wall, her shawl gathered about her shoulders like a shield, staring out into the misty darkness.
He said nothing at first, but she felt his disapproval.
"I'll no take it back," she stubbornly said. "He's a horses arse."
"Aye."
"Stubborn!"
"That he is, and a blithering idiot," he pointed out.
It was obvious everyone at hall had heard, no doubt including their chieftain. She was horrified and at the same time fought back the laughter that came next.
"I should probably apologize."
"Probably," he replied, his own smile visible in the light from the torches at the wall. Both knew she would not.
It was near dawn when Ruari left the cottage at the edge of the village, Kaia sleeping at the pallet before the fire where he'd left her, the physical need relieved but another need deep inside that gnawed at him still there, that no amount of drink or the heat of her body could ease.
Alix's words stung.
He was no less of a man. Hadn't he proved that these past hours with Kaia?
Then why did his gut ache, like a hunger that couldn't be fed, that stalked him by day, and rode him into the distant hills, that no amount of sex with Kaia had lessened?
What did Alix want from him? What did James and the others want? Who was he now?
A blithering idiot? He smiled in spite of the fact that the words stung. The girl had spirit.
"Yer no less a man unless ye chose to be!"
What did he chose to be now?