Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I t was the chill emptiness of the bed that woke Alistair first, the lack of Niamh’s presence when his mind and his body clearly remembered falling asleep next to her warmth. That was enough to drag him from his slumber.
Through the windows, he could see that it was deep night, long past the time when everyone should be abed and asleep, save for perhaps a few of the guards, and maids who tended to evening tasks about the castle. But Niamh was nowhere to be seen, not even when he glanced through the door to the front room to see if she was in front of the fire. For a moment, all he could feel was a growing sense of fear and confusion as he bolted up out of the bed and stumbled over to his kilt. She cannae have…
Movement outside his window caught his eye. Alistair blinked, then relaxed as he spotted a familiar slender figure standing on the terrace that overlooked the gardens. He exhaled in a rush of air as the tension left his muscles and took a moment to breathe before he resumed dressing.
He’d feared for a moment that Niamh might have tried to return home, to her father, where she might be safe from feuds and curses. Or that, somehow, Fergus MacTavish had managed to kidnap her right out of her bed. Instead, it appeared that she’d only gone out to the terrace for some fresh air.
Alistair slid on a shirt, then padded over to the terrace door and through it to join her. The wind was bitingly cold, but not unbearable to him, and he could see that Niamh had taken the precaution of wrapping a robe and at least one blanket around herself. “Ye couldnae sleep?”
“Nay. I slept fer a short time, then woke in the dark.” Her voice was quiet and subdued, and Alistair found himself wishing that he might have some way of easing the weight of her thoughts.
“What troubles ye?”
“Many things. I havenae heard from me faither, and Samhain is coming. I had hoped he would at least write… but I’ve seen nay message. I wonder if I angered or upset him too badly fer him tae wish tae share Samhain with me. And I fear that some misfortune must have befallen him, that he hasnae even answered me letter home regarding the wedding, or the tradition we share.”
“Tradition?” Alistair moved closer to her, and she leaned into his shoulder with a sigh.
“Aye. We write letters tae me maither, tae send up in the Samhain fires. We tell her o’ our year, and the joys and worries we share. Every year afore this one, me faither and I have written the letters taegether. But this year…”
“This year ye’re far from home, and ye’ve nae idea if he kens what’s happening in yer life.” She seemed cold, so Alistair wrapped an arm around Niamh’s shoulders. “I wouldnae fret just yet. After all, ye ken how long it took us tae make the journey. ‘Tis true a messenger will move more swiftly, but ‘tis also true there are many things which will delay a man on the road, the weather nae the least o’ them.”
“I ken. But…” Niamh shivered again. “I am used tae having me faither, or me friend Grace, tae speak tae, tae share things with. Or at least exchange letters with. ‘Tis… difficult tae be otherwise.”
Alistair could only imagine. Being a laird was a lonely life much of the time, but he’d always had Ewan and Catriona, at the very least, to share his concerns with. To be alone, even if she was making a place for herself and settling in well as Lady MacDuff, must be difficult for Niamh.
“Ye ken ye can talk tae Catriona. And tae me.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. “I ken ‘tis nae the same, but ye dinnae have tae try and shoulder everything alone.”
He tugged her into his arms and into an embrace, loose enough that she could step away if she wished, firm enough to offer what comfort he could. “Will ye tell me what troubles ye most?”
“I scarcely ken. There’s so much… I cannae think o’ everything, and I feel as if tryin’ would cause me tae start weeping and tae never stop. There’s so much I’ve lost, and so much I fear…”
“’Tis something I can understand.” Alistair spoke the words softly, recalling his unbridled emotions in that abandoned campsite, and the way he’d savagely attacked the captured sellsword. “When I realized that Fergus MacTavish was movin’ against me… against ye… I didnae tak’ it well. Kenning that, and remembering what he did tae the last woman I had a care fer… sometimes I cannae cope so well either.”
Niamh swallowed, but after a moment, she responded. “I didnae want tae be wed, but I dae want tae be a proper wife tae ye and a proper lady tae the clan. But there’s so much I dinnae ken, and… and there are things I cannae…I’m afraid o’ bein a disappointment, or worse.”
“Ye’d never be that, lass. Never that.” Alistair had a a good idea of what she hadn’t said in that regard, but he was willing to let it be. “I promise ye, Niamh, whatever fear ye have, whatever grief or regret ye face… I’ll help ye through it. Ye’ve only tae ask.”
“I ken.” Niamh leaned back against him. But… right now… ‘tis all so entangled… I dinnae even ken what I’d wish tae talk about.” She might have said more, but she was interrupted by a large yawn. She blinked, flustered by the gesture. “I…”
“Ye’re wearied.” Alistair lifted her into his arms, ignoring her yelp of startled protest. “And mayhap, ye’re tired and calmed enough tae sleep.” He himself was beginning to feel the weight of the day, and the lateness of the hour - along with a sneaking suspicion that dawn and the morning meal would come far too early for both of them. “Rest.”
“Only if ye dae as well.” Niamh held his arm. “Ye ken I dinnae like tae be alone.”
“So I dae, lass.” Alistair tucked her into bed, then slid in beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “Rest, Niamh. All yer worries and fears will be easier tae manage in daylight, I promise ye that.”
Ghosts, like the ones that haunted him, were the same way. He doubted he’d sleep easily or well, but if it comforted her, that would be enough for him. He could manage on a few hours of troubled sleep.
“Alistair?” Niamh’s voice was already slurring with sleep, but that didn’t stop him from answering.
“Aye?”
“Ye ken… I ken ye’re worried about me… an’ about Laird MacTavish, but… I’m here fer ye too.”
The words warmed his heart, gentle and sweet. Alistair smiled in the darkness, touched by her offer, even though the more cynical part of his mind whispered there was nothing she could do that would truly be of help to him.
“Thank ye. I’ll be sure tae tell ye when I need ye.” He exhaled, soft and slow, and relaxed into the bedding. “Now, go tae sleep. Rest.”
Niamh didn’t answer, but he felt her relaxing in his arms, and her breathing slowed and settled to a gentle familiar rhythm. Alistair closed his eyes, relaxed and determined to get whatever rest he could.
He was asleep, lulled by the gentle lullaby of Niamh’s calm and peaceful breathing, before a quarter of a candle-mark had passed.
Niamh woke in a pensive mood. Alistair’s words lingered in her mind, as did Sorcha’s, tangled with her own thoughts and feelings, her desires and uncertainties until she could no longer sort them out in her head.
Alistair was as thoughtful as she, and as kind as he had been last night, he made no effort to demand answers from her when he realized her state of mind. The two of them shared a quiet morning meal, then Alistair left to tend to the business of being a laird, and Niamh was left alone with her thoughts.
Carefully, she considered what was troubling her. The lack of a letter from her father was one looming point of distress. However, Alistair had been right that it would take even the swiftest messenger several days to traverse the distance between her father’s castle and Alistair’s. Even in the best of weather, it could not be accomplished in under a seven-day, not unless the messenger was heedless of his horse and himself.
So there was still time before Samhain. The letter might arrive any moment. There was no point in mourning, or stewing in regret, until Samhain night arrived without a letter. And even if that happened, she could send her own letter to the fires. She’d been working on it for several days, writing down her thoughts and feelings in a heartfelt confession to her mother’s spirit.
The other greatest point of distress was her own increasing desire for intimacy with Alistair, coupled with her fear of the consequences. She wanted to be a proper wife to him, and yet, the idea of a child… of the rigors of childbirth… it still made fear churn in her gut.
She recalled what Sorcha had said to her. Speak to Catriona and Moira. Catriona would be the easiest to speak to. She was a healer after all. She’d probably heard many women express similar fears, and there was no telling how many babes she’d helped into the world, including her own.
That was the place to start in finding peace within her own mind. Determined to make the effort before her resolve faltered, Niamh gathered her cloak and shoes, then left her room.
She was fortunate enough to find Catriona alone in the healer’s cottage. Her cousin smiled as she entered. “Niamh. Didnae think I’d see ye until we gathered this afternoon fer work on the Samhain dresses.”
“I… if I’m interrupting yer work…” Niamh paused, feeling suddenly embarrassed as she recalled that Catriona had her own duties and family to see to. As much as she wanted to seek the healer’s counsel, she didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Catriona’s time. The other woman had already sacrificed much of it for her.
“Ye’re nae. But if ye’re concerned, ye can assist me with these while we discuss whatever it is that troubles ye.”
That was something she could do. Niamh’s knowledge of herbs and the like was nowhere as great as Catriona’s, but she had learned the basics of herb lore, and making simples and basic tonics for her father’s clan. She stepped further into the cottage and shed her cloak. “What do ye need?”
“Bundling herbs tae dry them. I use colored ribbons tae identify them more easily.” Catriona pointed her to a pile of colored ribbons. “Help me sort these and bind them tae hang in the rafters.”
Niamh set to work, finding the task soothing in the concentration and focus required. After a few moments, Catriona spoke. “Dae ye wish tae tell me what brings ye tae me, with such a troubled look on yer face this morn?”
“Aye. I…” It was hard to frame the words. She wasn’t sure how to explain without sounding childish or cowardly, at least to her own ears. Finally, she decided a roundabout approach was best. “When ye realized ye were with child… were ye frightened?”
“Nervous, mayhap.” Catriona gave her a sidelong look. “I think every woman is a bundle o’ nerves when she discovers she’s carryin’ a bairn, be it her first or her tenth,” She studied Niamh. “Dae ye think ye are…?”
“Nay. ‘Tis nae the case. ‘Tis only…” Niamh swallowed. “Afore ye kent ye were with child… were ye ever afeared?”
“Och, I was affeared o’ many things. Including the thought that I’d never be able tae bear a child fer me beloved. Why dae ye ask?”
“I was wondering… were ye afraid… o’ the birth?”
“Nae particularly… nae until the first contractions hit, and I kent it was truly time. That was nigh terrifying. But I was in good hands throughout, and I kent that I would be all right. ‘Twas still nae easy, but ‘twas worth it in the end.”
Hearing that Catriona, of all people, had been frightened, however briefly, was enough to help Niamh say the words she’d barely confessed to anyone, save Alistair. “I’m terrified.”
“O’ what?”
“Bearing a child. Bein’ with child and bringin’ one intae the world.” Niamh forced the words out in a rush. “Me maither… she died in childbirth. Mine. And I… ever since I kent that… I’ve been… just the thought…” She stopped, swallowing hard against the familiar sensation of nausea and terror that came with thinking of it.
Catriona set down her herbs and moved to wrap Niamh in an embrace, her expression full of compassion. “Och, lass… have ye been struggling with this since the wedding?”
Niamh nodded, her cheeks flushing. “Aye. Ever since I was a child. I didnae even want tae be wed, because I kent that any man I married would expect me tae bear him children, especially if I married a laird or an heir, as I was expected tae dae. And I couldnae… there are nae many men who’d care how I felt…”
“Alistair’s one o’ the ones who would. Or if he’s nae, tell me, and I’ll be putting herbs in his mead tae make him incapable o’ considering the matter fer the next fortnight.” Catriona’s vehemence brought a reluctant smile to Niamh’s face.
“He’s been kind about it. He kent I was afraid… I had nightmares during our journey.”
“Ye’re afraid enough tae have nightmares?” Catriona’s voice was quiet and gentle. “Bad ones?”
“I’ll wake screaming, often as nae.” Niamh confessed.
“What sort o’ nightmares?” Catriona guided her to sit on one of the cots in the cottage. “Can ye tell me?”
“They’re… nae all the same, but similar. I’m alone, heavy with child, tryin’ tae give birth. There’s… some sort o’ commotion or a storm or something… awful noise and light, drownin’ out any effort I make tae call for help. Then… pain and blood and darkness… ‘tis usually when I wake.”
“Och, nay wonder ye’re terrified. I would be, had I been havin’ such nightmares since I was a wee lass.” Catriona shook her head. “I think I can guess, ‘twas a difficult birth?”
“Aye. Faither never told me all o’ it, but there was a storm, and the healer wasnae there. And nay one else kent,” Niamh’s throat closed on the words, a tear sliding down her face.
Catriona held her as she cried, then washed her face with damp cloth, suffused with some soothing floral blend that made her cheeks and eyes feel less hot and achy. Then the healer gave her a tisane to calm her emotions. Once Niamh had calmed, Catriona removed her apron and held out her hand. “Come with me.”
Niamh stood. “Where are we going?”
“Tae join the others, the elder ladies, in the sewing room. I could tell ye about childbirth in this clan, but I think ye need tae hear more than what I tell ye.” Catriona smiled softly. ‘This clan has a way o’ doin things that I think ye’ll find comforting.”
Since Sorcha had suggested speaking to Moira as well, Niamh was willing enough to join the healer in the trek to the sewing room. Many of the older ladies of the castle were already there, busy working. Moira was among them, and she smiled warmly as Niamh entered. “Me lady Niamh. Welcome! We werenae expecting ye ‘til after the noon meal.”
“I changed me mind.” Niamh tok up her own dress and began to work. It was coming along well, and she was confident she’d be able to finish before Samhain. “I was speaking tae Catriona about something, and she suggested I speak tae ye about it. All o’ ye.” She glanced around, flushing slightly as she realized everyone else was listening, for they all appeared to be focused on their sewing.
“Well, certain sure, ye can ask whatever ye need, me lady. Never fear that.” Moira smiled and reached out to pat her knee in a comforting manner. “What is it that troubles ye?”
“I… me maither died in childbirth. Me birth. There was nay healer, and a storm. But ever since I learned that… I…” her words faltered. “I’ve been terrified that I’d share her fate.”
“’Twill never happen. Nae as long as ye’re among kith and kin here in MacDuff Clan.” Moira shook her head, and a chorus of agreement echoed from the other ladies. “We have a tradition here, tae make sure nae lass is ever in such straits.”
Niamh’s heart leaped. “Ye dae?”
“Aye.” Moira nodded. “Even if Catriona is called tae another place, which I doubt Laird MacDuff would abide if his wife was near her time, ye’d never be alone.”
“I wouldnae?”
“Nae at all. Ye see, we ken that midwives and healers oft have many demands on their time. ‘Tis also well kent that children come intae the world on their own time, and their own pace. Bearin’ can be quick or slow, ye ken. Therefore, ‘tis tradition that when a lass o’ MacDuff or their kin clans nears her time tae bear a child, all the ladies who have born their own bairns gather taegether and prepare tae offer watch and assistance.”
Moira indicated Shannon. “I was there tae aid with her firstborn, and her second, and she aided me with me second and third. And both o’ us were there fer Eileen and Rose’s first.”
Eileen nodded. “And all o’ us were there for Lady Catriona’s bairn, fer all she’s a healer and tried tae give us orders in between every breath.”
Catriona gave a mock scowl as a ripple of teasing laughter filled the air. “Aye… laugh if ye like.” She turned back to Niamh. “’Tis more than just the company. Every woman has seen different aspects o’ childbirth. ‘Tis rare tae encounter a problem that at least one woman among the assembled hasnae seen and found some solution tae.”
“Aye. We’ve seen every difficulty a woman can get intae. And most o’ us have helped with the birthin’ o’ livestock as well, which is even more difficult some days.” Rose said. “A bairn isnae so hard as a colt or a lamb, born breach.”
“An’ never mind twins.” Shannon nodded. “There’s a different matter entirely, but I’ve seen three sets born in me time, an’ the mother survived every time.”
Niamh nodded. “But I’ve heard… if there’s too much bleedin’... I’ve heard, if the woman is small and the bairn is large…”
“Och, can be a difficulty then, but there are herbs tae relax the body fer lettin’ the bairn come intae the world, and others fer stemmin’ the blood, and remedies tae reduce the trouble a lass might have. An’ if the birth’s tae be like that, likely as nae, every woman within a half-mark’s ride has been told, and will be there tae help.”
“Aye.” Moira nodded. “I’ve seen a woman suffer the tearin’. A lass from a village over, I think. But it was stopped well enough, though ‘twas long afore the village healer let her out o’ bed.”
“And…” Rose hesitated, then continued. “I hesitate tae mention it, but I’ve heard the witch o’ the Western Glen has remedies tae aid in a safe birth, if yer truly afeared.”
“Aye. She does, I suspect.” Eileen’s face was solemn and a trifle uneasy, but also thoughtful. “She’s a strange one, an’ tis right tae be wary o’ her, but I’ve never heard she refused an honest plea from those as need it. I ken that Laird MacDuff has some disagreement with her, for her sister was the laird’s previous betrothed, but I dinnae think she’d scorn tae help ye, if ye were in dire need.”
Niamh nodded, remembering Sorcha’s words and kindness during her visit. It seemed a shame that the people were so wary of her, but then perhaps Sorcha preferred it that way.
Moira reached out and touched Niamh’s hand gently. “What I think Lady Catriona wants ye tae ken, me lady, is this: here in MacDuff, ye’ll never be alone.”
Shannon nodded. “’Tis a tragedy, what happened tae yer maither, me lady, and ‘tis true that sometimes birthin’ daesnae end well. But ‘tis much more unlikely it ‘twill happen here. Ye’re one o’ us, and so long as ye remain with our clan, ye’ll hopefully never have tae face such a terrible thing.”
Niamh nodded. “I thank ye. I’ve been so worried.”
“Well, nae one faults ye fer it.” Moira patted her hand again. “But remember this me lady - there’s nae barrier o’ rank or age when it comes tae bringin’ a bairn intae the world. All women are equal then, and we all help each other. And when yer time comes, and ye find yerself in need o’ yer sisters in motherhood, we’ll be with ye, from the day ye ken the babe quickens in yer womb, till the day they come intae the world, and after.”
“Thank ye.” Niamh’s response was soft, choked by the tightness in her throat, but heartfelt nonetheless.
Talk after that turned to other things, such as the feast planned for Samhain night, and the progress of the smoking of the meat, as well as the changing weather and winter preparations. Niamh lost herself in her sewing and listening to the conversation.
They took a break for the noon meal and were on the way back when one of the serving lads approached her. “Beggin’ yer pardon, me lady, but these came fer ye. The messenger said ye should have them as soon as possible.”
Niamh took the two folded sheets of thick paper, her hands trembling slightly as she saw a familiar crest imprinted in the sealing wax. The crest of Clan Cameron.
On the back of one letter was scrawled her name, in her father’s familiar hand. And on the second, in the same hand was written a script she had seen once a year, ever since she was a child.
Tae me beloved Kathleen.
In her hands she held not only her father’s first letter to her since she’d been taken from Cameron Castle, but the letter to her mother, meant for Samhain night.