Epilogue
The man woke up on a pallet in a squalid cottage, so weak that he was unable to lift his head from the flat pillow he lay on. Wiping the drool from his mouth, he rolled onto his side, searing pain from the wound in his leg shooting through him, a moan erupting from deep in his insides.
What the hell had happened? Bits and pieces of the last few days gathered in his mind until he recalled almost everything.
A woman came into the chamber and said, “So you’ve decided to live, aye?”
“Shut up and bring me an ale.”
“I have water, and that’s all you’ll get.” The woman he married long ago, before he left her, gave him a dark look before turning away, her wide hips hitting the door on her way out.
How had he ended up back here? He hated the old witch and hadn’t been around for years.
Pushing himself to a sitting position, he groaned again at the pain from the wound.
He looked at the bandage saturated with green pus.
Disgusted, he ripped it off and tossed it into the corner of the chamber.
The wound looked raw still, but most of it had healed, only a small section still oozing.
The door opened again, and his wife entered with a goblet of water. While he preferred to toss it against the wall, his mouth was so dry that he desperately needed fluid, so he took the proffered beverage. “How long have I been here?”
“A sennight. You came in feverish, so I called a healer. She’s been here three times putting ointment on your wound.” She glanced down at his leg. “It does look better. You’re lucky to be alive.”
He brushed his brown hair back from his face.
“Have you no sense to appreciate what I did for you? I could have left you out there to die.”
She probably would have done him a favor then, but instead, he said, “My thanks to you. What have you to eat? Any bread or meat pies?”
“Some bread. If you don’t toss the water up, I’ll bring the bread.”
“Just get the bread,” he bellowed, sick of the way the bitch always did what she wanted instead of what he told her to do. “For once, just do what I say.”
She gave him a wry smile and said, “Fine. I’ll get your bread. Then you’re to get your arse out of my cottage.”
A knock sounded on the door, and a man’s voice rang out. “Is he here?”
His wife stepped into the main chamber and said, “He is. He’ll be leaving soon. Take him this hunk of bread, then get him out of here.”
The man chuckled. “He won’t shut his mouth, will he?”
Sholto said, “Bring me the bread, then get me out of here. We have work to do.”
The visitor entered Sholto’s chamber. “Whew, does it smell in here. You need a bath.”
“I’ll take one later. I have things to do.”
“What exactly?” he asked, handing Sholto the bread after taking a bite.
“I have a wee lass to kill.”
“Which one? You have enough enemies out there.”
“I’m going to put my blade in the heart of the one who did this to me.” He chewed on the bread and forced himself to a standing position, swaying a bit, but managing to take a few steps. “I just need my breeches, and I’ll get dressed.”
“I don’t think you’ll be swinging your blade yet, old man.”
“Mayhap not yet. But I’ll get her soon enough. I’ll not stop until she’s dead, and I’ll have my way with her first.”
“I’d wager you’ll have to wait a day or two with that thing on your leg.”
Sholto snorted, then grinned. “You make a good point, but I’ll still find her.”
“Where are you going? Who is she?”
“We’re going to Iona to the nunnery. She’s the one with all those braids, making her look like a Norseman.”
“You’re sure she’s there?”
“If she’s not, I’ll find her. I’ll not stop until she’s dead.”
THE END