Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
I t was mid morning when the call went out from the wall and Gabhran crossed the yard to the gate. One of the guards called out, and Gabhran nodded and gave the signal for the gates to be opened.
Older men and those who had been left to protect the keep, along with women and children, gathered with the hope that someone brought word of their kinsmen. Alix turned back to the hall when Eben McGinley came running through the gates. She had reached the kitchen when he entered the hall and found her.
"Aye, Alix," he called out. "Doona be runnin' away. I must speak with ye."
Eben had been scarce since the encounter at the summer celebration. But now he was most persistent.
"Good day, mistress Morna," he greeted her grandmother, his face flushed, and out of breath.
"How is yer father?" she asked, setting a half dozen more loaves to bake in the stone oven. Another dozen loaves cooled on the side board.
"That is wot I've come for," he picked an apple from the basketful she had gathered earlier at the orchard.
She hollowed out each apple with a sharp blade, set them in rows on a cast iron baking pan, and then filled each one with oidhreag, berries one of the girls had gathered the day before. When baked they made a sweet jelly that favored the baked apples.
She picked up the baking pan and carried it to the side board near the hearth. She had no patience, or time for him.
"He's bad off," Eben said. "I've come to ask yer help."
"Bad off?" Alix asked. "ls it his joints again? I can send a salve for the pain."
"No, not the ache in his knees. He's burned bad. It happened just this morning, and now the skin is peeling away."
"Why didna ye say so, ye clot?"
She pulled off her apron and grabbed one of the baskets that she usually carried on visits to the village. She grabbed two jars and a cloth bag of leaves that she kept in the kitchen where burns happened almost daily. Then she grabbed her shawl.
"The apples... " She said on a sudden thought.
"I'll see to them," Morna assured her. "Off with ye, and doona forget to have one of the men accompany ye."
"And I've brewed a tea for Lady Brynna." Meadowsweet steeped in a clay ewer at the long table, Alix added. "She had some discomfort this morning and was up before first light."
"I'll take the tea to her," Morna replied. "Now, be on your way, and mind ye, take one of the guards."
Cam went with them, walking a distance behind as they left the keep and Eben fell into step beside her.
"I missed ye when ye came last to the village," he began conversationally. "I've missed ye a lot, Alix, There has been much to keep you at the hall?"
She nodded, wondering at his game of small talk when Eben McGinley had never been one for much conversation.
"There is always much to do now that Maisel keeps to her cottage. It is too difficult for her to come to the tower each day."
He was silent as they walked down the hill. Alix was grateful for the silence and studied the late summer shoots that sprang up along the foot path.
"I've thought a lot about the summer feast," he began again. "And I know I shouldna have treated ye so."
"Tis best forgotten," she replied.
He came around in front of her and stopped. She was forced to stop or walk right over him.
"That is the way of it, Alix. I canna forget it. I know yer angry wi' me and I would like it to be the way it was before between us."
Before? Between them? There was no before, unless he spoke of the years before when they were both children.
"I ask that ye forgive me."
He was a likeable sort and she had never been one to hold grudges.
"I forgive you, now get out of the way." She pushed past him.
He caught up with her. "There was more I wanted to say." He looked back over his shoulder at their companion.
"Ye see, the way of it is that I have feelings for ye, and it grieves me that ye were displeased with me."
She stopped. "What is it ye mean to say, Eben?"
He took her hand. "I mean to say that I would like verra much to speak to the Chieftain about us being wed, ye see?"
She pulled her hand from his. "I need to see to your father."
They had reached the village. The smithy's shop with the cottage in back was just at the edge of the village. Eben's father was nowhere to be seen and she walked through the open shop with the fire pit and forge to the cottage in back.
"Wait up!" Eben called out but she had no time for conversation. Already her thoughts had returned to the tower. She wanted to return as quickly as possible.
She pressed down the iron latch and pushed open the door that separated the smithy from the cottage, and called out as she stepped inside.
Eben's father was laid out on a cot. The leather apron he usually wore was pushed aside, his brecs burned away from thigh to knee at his leg. A young woman knelt beside him applying wet cloths to his leg. Alix recognized her as the daughter of one of the villagers.
"Eben," young Peggie called out not turning around to greet them. "Ye take forever. I was worrit for ye." Then she looked up and her face flooded with color.
"Oh." Peggie glanced from her to Eben, who had come up beside her.
So this was how much he had missed her, Alix thought, laughter in her throat. She had no doubt that Peggie wasn't there to keep company with his father. And she was still dressed in her shift, her hair loose about her shoulders.
It seemed there was good reason to speak with the chieftain, and it had nothing to do with her.
"Good morn, Peggie," she greeted the girl who was of an age as herself. "What have ye done for the burns? Water and lye soap?" She shook her head. "'That will likely finish off what the fire started."
At the cot Eben's father grimaced painfully. "Go away, with ye," he told Peggie.
Alix set down the basket with the salve and herbs she'd brought with her. She knelt beside the cot. He was in a great deal of pain, the burn deep and down the length of his thigh. She pushed away the wash basin.
"The trick is to cover the wound so that the air doesna get to it. Washing is fine, but not the lye soap. It will only cause it to fester more. The body needs a chance to heal."
She motioned to Eben who stood like a tree that had taken root at the door opening, a painful expression at his face, and she smiled in spite of the poor man's misery. If she worked quickly and they did as she said, he might not be maimed for the rest of his life.
"Peggie," she told the girl. "Get fresh water and set the simmer pot, add these," she handed her the pouch of berries.
"As soon as it begins to boil, set it back and let it cool. It will make a tea that will take away the pain for a while." Then she looked over at Eben.
Voices were heard from the smithy shop, but he still looked at her with helpless misery. It was obvious he had not counted on her encounter with Peggie.
"Ye have work waiting and it will be some time before yer da can return to the forge," she told him.
"Best see to the customers while I take care of him."
"Aye," he said, throwing a glare at poor Peggie.
"I didna mean no harm," Peggie said as she set the simmer pot on the hearth when he had gone.
Alix smiled. "No harm." Then she turned her attention to Eben's father.
She cut away what was left of his brecs, then asked for water to make a poultice. She blended crushed Hart's tongue with mallowroot in the shallow bowl she always carried in the basket. The Mallow root would draw out poison and impurities, while the Hart's tongue mixed with raw honey would heal the burned flesh.
She gently applied the mixture at the burn in a poultice, then wrapped his leg with a length of linen cloth.
"Ye must stay off the leg for the next few days. It needs time to heal," she told him. Even now with the salve she'd made, the pain in the lines at his face had begun to ease.
"Drink the tea when the pain comes on ye, as much as ye like. Tis no harm. But no mead or wine, unless ye want a fearful reaction."
"Ah, miss, ye are a cruel girl. I've been wanting the drink."
"The drink will slow the healing. But if ye want to go about with a shriveled leg, I can no help ye."
He chuckled. "Ye must pay no mind to the girl," he angled a look over at Peggie where she dutifully brewed the tea.
"The lad has always had his sight set on ye, ye know well enough."
"I pay no mind," she assured him. "I'll come back to see to yer leg tomorrow," then repeated, "Stay off it, or it will seep and take longer to heal. Eben can see to the forge."
"Aye," he said wearily, laying back at the pallet.
"It will do the lad good."
She gathered her jars and pouches and set them back into the basket. Peggie smiled hesitantly as she brought a mug of the tea she'd had her brew. She stayed a while longer to make certain he was comfortable, nodding his thanks for the tea, then eventually nodding off. She gathered her shawl to leave and turned to leave.
Smoke billowed from the forge, coals glowing bright red as Eben worked the bellows made from a sheep's gut as she left the cottage and walked through the smith shop. His face was flushed, his forehead beaded with sweat as the fire heated a broken hub from a cart wheel.
"Wait!" he called out. He caught up with her on the cart path that led back to the keep, frowning as Cam came up behind them.
"I would speak with ye, alone!" he whispered. "I didn't want you to think wrong... Peggie was here just to see to Pa."
There to see to his pa? In her shift? It was all she could do not to burst out laughing.
"I didn't think wrong," she assured him, smothering back the smile that threatened.
" It was only the once, I swear it." He stood in the middle of the path, leather apron flapping about his knees, hair falling into his eyes.
"Ye know how I feel about ye, Alix! Peggie doesna mean anything to me."
Poor girl, she thought to herself as she turned up the hill. How many of the same excuses would he lay at Peggie's feet?
A few paces away, Cam called out to her. He pointed up the hill where young Dougal came running toward them.
"Morna sent me," he told her, bending over to catch his breath. "Tis the mistress. Yer grandmother says her time is near and yer to come back straight away.
She nodded and handed her basket to Cam, then hitched up the hem of her tunic. She had no time for conversation as she set off at a full run with Dougal and Cam following to catch up with her.
"Alix?" Eben called out. "Dinna be angry with me!"
"I'm glad for ye." She assured him. "You'll be happy with Peggie."
And pity the poor girl, but she could not be responsible for the choices others made. It was theirs to bear, even if it was Eben McGinley.
She was out of breath as they reached the keep, the gates left open for their return. She had a pain in her side as she called out for Morna, and one of the women in the kitchen informed her that she was with Lady Brynna.
"Set water to boil and bring clean linens," Alix told her as she climbed the stairs to the tower chambers. The door to the laird's chamber was open, voices from within as she reached it.
"Tis no cause for yer frown," Brynna told her youngest son. "Tis a natural thing."
"Like the cattle when the calves come?"
"Yes," Brynna replied with a smile, then looked up as Alix entered the chamber.
"Out of the mouths of babes," she said with a sigh, then suddenly took a sharp breath.
"It began just after first light."
"Aye,"Alix nodded.
Lady Brynna was a few days past her time and everyone, including the chieftain and been worried.
"This one take it's time."
"The tea helped for a bit," Brynna said with a smile as the pain passed. "But then it came back stronger." She gave Alix a worried look. "Tis not like the others."
"Might be a girl," Alix replied and that brought a smile to Brynna's face where she sat with rolled fleece at her back.
"I am told they are often contrary."
They shared a laugh, for it was true of the little girl who sat at her momma's feet--contrary and spirited with red hair.
Alix looked over at Morna. "Lettie will bring more water and linens."
"I'll see what is keeping the woman," her grandmother replied, then gathered up the children.
"Come along, yer mother is tired and it will be a while afore the new babe comes." She glanced back as the children left the chamber.
"Aye, Alexander," she called to the young boy. "Gabhran was looking for ye, and young miss, ye must help me with the berry tarts at the kitchen, aye. There might be one for ye, if ye behave yerself."
"I don't want to go!" Brynna's daughter tried to cut around her and escape back to the chamber.
"Ye go with Mistress Morna," Brynna told her with a calm smile that belied the uneasiness she felt.
"And soon ye will have a sister or brother to fuss over."
"Brother?" the girl's expression flattened. "I already have two."
"Come along!" Morna said sharply. "Or they will get all the tarts, and ye'll have none."
Brynna settled back in the high-backed chair as the door closed after them. The smile faded then as another pain came on her and she sat forward gripping the arms of the chair.
The sun slipped lower in the sky as the hours passed.
Alix wiped Brynna's face with a cool cloth, then coaxed her to sip some of the tea that would ease the pain for a while. It was taking too long, and her mistress was growing tired with each passing hour.
She had checked her earlier, the babe cross-wise under her ribs, and Alix began to worry for them both. She had helped birth young Alexander with old Maisel's help, and then the little miss on her own, with several babies in between among the villagers and at the outlying crofts.
She learned it was the first ones that usually took the longest, with next ones often popping into the world with little more than a firm push. One woman in the village had given birth and then hours later gone to market, the bairn swaddled in a sling across the front of her.
Now, as the hours passed and exhaustion set it, Brynna sought her bed. Her expression told of her fear and she took Alix's hand.
"If you can save the child, you must."
Alix held her hand in both of hers. She was speaking of a choice that might need to be made. She shook her head.
"Ye both will be fine and braw when the chieftain returns."
Brynna shook her head. "Something is wrong. I can feel it... I felt it before."
Alix knew she spoke of the bairn she had lost when she was wed to Hugh Fraser, the chieftain's brother who was kilt.
She had been a child and remembered little of it, but knew theirs had been an arranged marriage, and from what her grandmother had shared with her later, Hugh Fraser had been a cold and brutal husband. Lady Brynna had suffered much in their brief marriage and lost a child because of it.
"At the hands of the father, may he burn in hell," Morna spat out. "Beat her in a fit of rage so that she likely would have died. And I feared she would, after the loss of the child. Left for the abbey then, until Hugh Fraser was kilt in an attack, and the new chieftain brought her back to Lechlede."
That second marriage with James Fraser had also been an arranged alliance to protect the clan. But James Fraser was a different man than his older brother.
"Praise the saints," Morna said of that second marriage. " Not of the same cloth, ye ken. He is a quiet man, gentle and caring when it comes to his lady and the children. But fierce when it comes to protecting them. It's because he never had a family of his own, ye ken."
And she had seen it in the years since, growing up at Lechlede, seeing the care the chieftain took with Lady Brynna, the way her expression softened whenever he entered the hall, the laughter they shared at some mischief the children got into that was stark contrast to his manner with their kinsmen--stern but fair, willing to listen, willing to sacrifice to protect what he valued most. And now he and Ruari were gone to confront this new danger, and the chieftain had no way of knowing the distress Lady Brynna felt, or that she might lose the bairn.
At evening meal, Morna brought soup and fresh bread but Brynna refused both with a weak smile.
Alix checked her again, the feel of the babe under her hands. Lady Brynna had often spoken how active this one was, rolling and turning itself over and over inside her. Now, the babe had still not turned itself about with its head down as it should. Her mistress watched her with large soft eyes.
"What is it?"
"The babe has not turned."
Brynna nodded, her eyes closing. "It has not moved in a while."
There was fear in her voice and a sound Alix had never heard before, that of an ache of pain that cut through her and closed around her heart.
"I cannot lose another child," Brynna whispered. "I cannot."
Alix was hesitant to suggest it, but saw no other way. It had been hours since the pains began, and still the child would not come.
"There might be away... "She held her mistress' hand. "I've heard of it being done before. I might be able to turn the babe. But I fear, tis painful."
"Ye've done it before?"
Alix shook her head. She would not lie to her.
"No, but I know that it can be done. Master Donal spoke of it. His prize sheep had the same difficulty."
"Sheep?" Brynna exclaimed, then dissolved in weak laughter that gave way to tears.
Alix was very near tears herself, but she forced them back, refusing to give into them when Lady Brynna and the bairn needed her.
"I dinna think it's so very different, ye ken," she explained. "There's only one way out and if the bairn doesna know the way of it, then we must help it."
Brynna nodded and smiled bravely.
"Do it."
"Ye must help me. I canna do it alone. Ye must relax as much as ye can between the pains so that I can move the babe around."
She waited until the next pain came. Her mistress was weak and she might have only one chance at this. When the pain had passed, she spread her hands across her mistress' belly and then slowly began to move the babe.
She felt a protrusion of what appeared to be an elbow that shifted beneath her fingers, then the roundness of the head as she gently massaged and maneuvered the child. If there was pain, her mistress did not cry out, but instead focused on relaxing her muscles.
She stopped when the next pain came, then began again, imagining the child, arms, legs, the head moving down under her gentle but firm hands, the roundness of the small backside moving into place. Another pain rolled through her mistress and she cried out. There was a sudden flux of fluid and her head went back at the momentary relief. Alix ran to the top of the steps and called for Morna and two of the other women.
Together they helped Brynna from the bed. The two women steadied her on her feet, weakened as she was. Two more waves of pain and the babe's head suddenly appeared. Alix gently cleared the babe's mouth so that it could breath.
"Once more," she told Brynna, and with one final push, the babe slipped into Alix's waiting hands.
The babe shuddered, squirmed, and then let out a fierce cry. A cap of red hair covered his head.
"Thank you," Brynna said from her bed where her newborn son lay beside her. "I have you to thank for him. If you hadn't... done what you did."
Alix smiled as she came away from the fire at the hearth. They both knew that the bairn could well have died inside her, and she with it.
"Master Donal's prize sheep." Brynna said with a smile. "Not so very different."
"Except for the red hair," Alix said, thinking of another.
"It is strong in Fraser blood," Brynna lovingly smoothed her son's hair, then reached out a hand.
"I owe you a debt that can never be repaid," she told her. "If there is ever anything... "
"This is my reward," Alix told her, stroking the bairn's hand, tiny fingers closing around hers in a strong grip.
The door of the chamber cracked open and three young faces appeared at the opening
"Come children," Brynna told them with a tired smile. "Come meet your brother."
"Brother?" little Eleanor exclaimed coming to a sudden halt. She made a face and looked up at Morna who stood over them at the doorway.
"A brother," she made a sound that could only be described as disgust, all interest now gone.
"It was supposed to be a sister." Her face crumpled with a frown. "I want another berry tart."
She turned and ducked past Morna, red hair flying on her way to the kitchens below in search of a berry tart--far better than another brother.