Chapter 4
As they walked back into the camp, Amanda was not quite sure what would happen next. Would she be tied up again? Made to sleep bound to a tree for yet another night? She looked down at her wrists, still raw and bleeding. She was carrying the dandelions, but needed hot water for the poultice.
“I need hot water,” she told Hamish. “I cannot soften these flowers without it. I also need a knife to chop them up.”
Hamish tutted irritably, then reminded himself that Amanda was to be their healer—for as long as she would be there at least—so why not let her prove her skill by using her medicine on herself? At least that way, she could not do any harm to anyone else.
“You will not have a knife,” he said flatly, then he strode across to Fiona.
Of course not, Amanda thought angrily. Did you really expect him to give you a weapon, Amanda?
He went to speak to Fiona, who had been standing with her back to him talking to one of the other women.
He tapped her shoulder and she turned around, her face brightening with a wide smile.
However, when she saw Amanda, it was replaced with a sullen scowl.
He was speaking to her on Amanda’s behalf, she realised.
“Give the Sassenach some hot water to let her make some medicine for herself,” he ordered.
“And she needs those flowers to be sliced up, but do that yourself and keep the knife away from her. I want to see how good a healer she is. And feed her. Don’t ever lose sight of her.
If she makes a run for it and escapes, I will consider it your fault. ”
“This nonsense again? It isnae fair,” Fiona cried indignantly. “Why should I have tae look after her? There are plenty o’ others here that could dae it.”
“And most of them are men.” Hamish’s deep voice was grim. “It needs a woman to take care of another woman, and you are the best one to do that. Now be quiet and do as you are told!”
He turned on his heel and marched over to speak to Amanda, leaving Fiona to stare after him angrily.
“Fiona will help you,” he said. He looked down at her wrists. “I will not bind you again, but you will be watched every minute, and if you try to run away you will be very sorry. Do you understand?”
Of course, I do, you idiot! she thought angrily.
She nodded stiffly in reply. Amanda had no idea quite what kind of punishment he had in mind for her if she tried to escape, but judging by the fierce scowl on his face, she knew it would be severe.
Fiona came over to her, bearing a dish of hot water and a knife to chop up the leaves. As instructed, she did this part herself with very bad grace, muttering under her breath as she worked, and then gave the flowers to Amanda.
As Amanda mixed the poultice, Fiona watched carefully, monitoring her every move. At least the Sassenach could be of some use!
When the poultice was ready, Amanda smeared the mixture on her wrists, feeling immediate relief as the soothing paste calmed down the stinging pain. She sighed, closing her eyes, and when she opened them a moment later it was to find Fiona holding out a bowl of porridge.
“Eat,” she commanded, pointing to a stool for Amanda to sit on.
Presently, Hamish came striding back to them, his sword strapped to his hip, looking very threatening, and so full of rampant masculinity that Amanda’s heart began to race.
He speared Fiona with a glance that was full of meaning, as if some secret message were being passed between the two of them.
Amanda wondered what was going on between them, since she looked furious.
“Where are you going?” Amanda asked, but before she received an answer, Fiona spoke up.
“He is goin’ tae look after his people. No’ that a Sassenach would understand that,” she replied scathingly. “He goes out every day tae see what he can dae for them. That bastard in the castle doesnae care a bit about them, but the real Laird does.”
“I expect you to behave properly when I am not here,” Hamish said sternly, pointing at Amanda. “If you try to run away, the guards will not be merciful!”
“What do you do for them?” Amanda asked curiously.
“Whatever they need,” he replied, but a telling expression of distress flitted across his face before it was quickly hidden.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, and Amanda’s eyes drifted down to his full, well-shaped lips, imagining what it would be like if he kissed her.
A moment later, however, he broke the spell as he turned to mount his horse and ride away. She shook herself out of her fantasy and saw that Fiona was looking at her up and down, her lip curled in derision.
Amanda was seething with rage inside but was determined not to give Fiona the satisfaction of seeing it. Slowly, she ate her food and then stood up and began to walk around, looking at the people in the camp.
The soldiers mostly ignored her, and Amanda had the distinct feeling that the novelty of having a Sassenach in the camp had worn off all too quickly.
These were men hardened by a cruel Laird after all, no wonder they didn’t care too much about her nor her origins.
Many of them were resting, having been out on patrol, and some were sharpening weapons, carrying buckets of water back from the burn and sawing logs for firewood.
Everyone looked clean, healthy and well-rested, despite having to spend their lives in tents. Amanda thought that there were many people in the world who would love to live like this.
Indeed, she was one of them because it looked infinitely more pleasant than the life she had been living with her wastrel of a father.
He had sold her because he did not want the responsibility of looking after her and had no money for a dowry so that he could marry her off.
Now that he had some gold, he would likely not be happy until he had gambled it all away. How she hated him!
Amanda would have happily settled in a place like this if it were not for Hamish McNeill, who, despite his attractiveness, was one of the coldest people she had ever met.
All looked to be well in the camp, until her eye fell on a young man who was sitting on a boulder cleaning weapons. His face was flushed and he had to constantly pause in his labours to wipe sweat from his forehead. Amanda knew at once what was wrong with him.
“He has a fever,” she told Fiona, who was following her like a dog.
Fiona glanced at the young man. “Pfft!” she scoffed, flapping her hand at him.
“There is naethin’ wrong wi’ him. He’s just actin’ the goat.
There is a silly lassie that he wants tae marry that willnae have anythin’ tae dae wi’ him, an’ he wants tae look like a hero for her. He’s an eejit. Dinnae bother wi’ him.”
Amanda looked at the young man doubtfully. She knew she was right, but she could not argue with Fiona, who was effectively in charge of her. She stayed silent and continued to wander around the camp, looking for some way to be useful, since she was now a little bored.
Again, she thought of her sisters, and imagined that Claire would fit in here with no trouble at all. She could just see her sister with a sword having a battle with Hamish McNeill, and visualised her giving the big bully a stab in the chest that toppled him to the floor, never to rise again.
Once more, she chastised herself. Was she not the gentle sister, the one who never raised her voice or hand to anyone?
The one who comforted others in distress?
Where had this savage side of her nature come from?
She had never before harboured such aggressive thoughts, and it quite disgusted her; she did not wish to end up like Hamish McNeill or vile, mean-spirited Fiona.
Even now, she could feel the woman’s eyes on her as if she had a target on her back.
Amanda did not want to feel such hatred for anyone; it was quite foreign to her nature.
She shook her head, as if by doing so she could rid herself of it, then resumed her walk around the encampment.
She knew she was being observed, discussed and judged, and wished she had the courage to go and challenge some of the watchers.
She could certainly thrash them in a verbal argument, but she was outnumbered, and there were too many sharp weapons around her.
Her eyes kept returning to the young man with the fever, and her conscience nagged her, because she knew that she could and should use her skill and knowledge to help him, but she was simply not in a position to do so.
It hurt her heart to be so helpless.
Just then, she saw a tent that was bigger than the others, and it piqued her curiosity.
She went inside to see half-a-dozen women seated around a rough wooden table, each with a mortar and pestle full of dried herbs in front of them.
They had been chattering amongst themselves, but their conversation stopped at once as soon as they saw Amanda.
Obviously they had heard about the Sassenach.
She smiled at them all, but received only a few nods and doubtful glances in return. The hostility in the room was palpable, but Amanda was determined not to let it worry her.
Just then, Fiona barged into the tent, her face set in a deep frown of annoyance. “Will ye stop bein’ a nuisance an’ get out o’ the way?” she said irritably. “Naebody wants ye here! What does a Sassenach know that they dinnae anyway?”
Amanda was about to turn and walk out, then she noticed that one of the women had her pestle at a strange angle inside the mortar bowl, and was battling to do her part properly.
“Can I help you with that?” she asked politely.
The woman sat back and allowed her to show her how to improve her technique, and when Amanda had finished, she smiled and thanked her timidly.
“My pleasure,” Amanda replied, then she noticed that one of the others was struggling to control a crying baby while continuing to grind her herbs.
“Let me help you,” she said.
Perhaps if she made herself useful, she thought, she could befriend some of these women. If she succeeded in making them trust her, it might be easier for her to escape.
She flicked a quick glance at Fiona, whose face had turned a fiery red with rage, and smiled inwardly. Amanda had succeeded in getting under her skin, which delighted her.
The young woman looked doubtful for a moment, then nodded and stood up, relinquishing her chair to Amanda. The baby, who was perhaps six months old, calmed down at once as he was put to his mother’s breast.
Amanda suddenly felt a little jealous as she thought of baby Barbara, Rose’s daughter, and her sister Claire, who was expecting a baby in a few months. Would she ever be a mother? Would she grow a child in her womb, feed them with her milk, watch them grow? Love them with all her heart?
Or would she be trapped here for months or even years, unable to escape, unable to find anyone to love and father a child?
Amanda shook her head and forced herself back to the task at hand. The next herb she began to grind was lavender, and when she inhaled its sweet fragrance, she felt more at peace than she had since the beginning of the nightmare in which she found herself.
By and by, the conversation among the women started up again, but it was mostly in Gaelic, and the little bit of English she heard was spoken with such a strong Highland accent that Amanda could barely understand it anyway.
She saw the women glancing at her from time to time while conversing, and realised that they were talking about her. Still, from what Rose and Claire had told her, this was something she knew she would have to become accustomed to.
“Pity she’s a Sassenach,” one of them said. “She knows what she’s daein.”
“Aye, but ye cannae trust them,” another replied. “Ye always have tae watch your back.”
Amanda had just opened her mouth to defend herself when suddenly she heard a piercing cry from outside—a howl that spoke of incredible pain. Without thinking twice, Amanda jumped to her feet, spilling the bowl of herbs on the floor, and dashed out of the tent.
There, she saw a heart-rending sight. She was just in time to watch as the young man she had seen cleaning the weapons earlier collapsed onto the muddy ground.
Still screaming, he lay on his back on the ground, his limbs thrashing for a few seconds before he stilled completely, and Amanda’s heart skipped a beat as she thought for one terrible moment that he was dead.
However, when she reached his side and put her hand to the pulse on his throat, she felt a strong, steady heartbeat, and she breathed a mighty sigh of relief. She looked up to see a crowd around her, all looking down at him with faces full of curiosity and concern.
Amanda turned back to him and saw that his face was red, but since he was now almost unconscious she was able to examine him properly. She peeled his clothing back to feel for any wounds that could be causing an infection, and found a deep cut on his upper arm that was oozing yellow pus.
That was the moment that she saw Fiona parting the crowd and frowning down at the figure on the floor. Amanda suddenly felt a wave of rage sweep over her.
“I told you he had a fever!” Amanda yelled. “You said he was playacting. Are you happy now?”
The men around her turned on Fiona to hear her answer. Fiona’s face was a mask of fury and humiliation. “Ye had better make sure he is well before Hamish comes back, healer!” she yelled, wagging a warning finger at Amanda. “Or he will make ye very sorry ye were ever pulled fae that carriage!”