Chapter 7
Aiden stared at Ana Bisset.
“I did not kill him,” she repeated quietly.
“Is it true he had no food or drink other than the tisane you provided?”
She frowned. “So said the kitchen gillies.”
“Then how was he poisoned, if not by you?” Aiden asked, his doubt weighing heavily on his words. All he knew of the redheaded healer he had learned from Niall. Perhaps his brother’s infatuation had misguided him
“If I knew that, I might have been able to raise a reasonable defense,” she said.
She stooped to gather her scattered pots, replacing them in her leather satchel.
“I was only called to tend him the next morning, after he took to his bed. What occurred between the hour I gave him the tisane and the moment I arrived at his bedside, I cannot attest to.”
Aiden frowned. “Is it possible you poisoned him in error? Mixed the wrong ingredients for his tea?”
“Nay,” she said. “Willow bark tea is a simple tisane. And its odor is very unique.”
His gaze pinned hers. “Then I must insist that any further healing you do within the camp, and all medicinal preparations you make, be done under the eye of Master Tam. He’s not the herbalist you are, but he knows a great deal about plants nonetheless.”
Ana straightened, her shoulders stiff with pride. “As you wish.” Then she slung her satchel over her shoulders and pressed her way through the crowd.
Aiden watched her go, less than thrilled at how the morning had progressed. “Back to your posts,” he barked at his men. He hadn’t even broken the fast yet, and half the camp was already in a furious uproar. He grabbed a piece of bread from a basket near the hearth.
Lord. The bleakness on Isabail’s face when she spied Ana bending over de Lourdes had cut him deep.
She had looked so utterly betrayed. And he could easily understand why.
It was a simple leap of thought to tie Ana Bisset and her brother’s murder back to him.
But damn it, he’d had nothing to do with John Grant’s death.
He’d best be prepared. It would take every ounce of charm he possessed to make up the ground he’d lost. If it were even possible.
* * *
Daniel’s wounds were worse than Isabail originally thought.
She carefully cut away his lèine, pulling bits of cloth from his torn flesh.
She cleaned each gash with water, removing all of the blood and dirt that she could.
The wounds on his back and shoulder were the shallowest and the most difficult to dress, so she did those first. She tied the last of the bandages about his chest and sat back.
“Good thing the badgers were still half-asleep,” she told him.
He smiled at her—a weak attempt at the same charming smile he had frequently bestowed upon her brother. “I’m not much of a woodsman, I fear.”
“Then it must be quite the tale,” MacCurran said from the doorway, “how you came to find us.”
Daniel’s smile fell away. He glanced at MacCurran and then back at Isabail. “I cannot take any credit for my success. It was Gorm who led me here.”
“Gorm?” Isabail instinctively glanced at the door. Then wished she hadn’t—MacCurran’s eyes met hers. She looked away. “Where is he now? I did not see him in the close.”
“He fell, my lady,” Daniel said, his eyes dark. “Defending me from the badgers.”
MacCurran strode to the mattress. “Who is this Gorm?”
“My brother’s deerhound,” Isabail explained, her heart heavy. Gorm’s unwavering affection and sweet disposition had given her great solace after her brother’s death. During the two months she was in deep mourning, his was often the only face she saw. “A great, loyal beast.”
“So the hound led you to us?” MacCurran asked Daniel.
“Aye.” The manservant grimaced. “He and I were part of Lady Isabail’s caravan. I sent him off in search of a rabbit when you attacked, fearing he would fall victim to a blade. But afterward, he tracked you through the mountains, even through the snow. He had a good nose.”
“Not for badgers, it would seem.”
Daniel winced. “‘Twas I who stirred the badgers. I lost my footing and fell into a hole. Right onto the sleeping creatures, as it turns out. I’m certain I’d not have survived had Gorm not come to my rescue.”
Tears welled up in Isabail’s eyes. How silly was that? Crying over a dog, but not over the wounds done to Daniel. “He was a fine hound.”
MacCurran studied Daniel for a long moment, then spun on his heel and left without another word.
“Has he harmed you, Isabail?” Daniel asked worriedly.
She shook her head. “We’ve been treated quite fairly.”
“What was his purpose in taking you?”
Isabail no longer believed MacCurran’s story about the man in black. In truth, she did not know what to think. “I don’t know,” she said honestly.
“We must find a way to get free,” Daniel said, sitting up. “Every moment you remain here, the risk that he will harm you increases.”
“Lie still.” Isabail pushed him gently back on the mattress. “Let us see you healed and then we can make plans to leave.” She gave him a curious look. “Where were you when they found you?”
“We’d been following a burn. Gorm and I had just left a section of marshland, where the reeds are dried crisp by the winter chill but still standing tall, when we stumbled upon the badger sett.”
“There’s a burn not far from here. Think you we could escape that same way?”
Daniel nodded. “If we can leave the camp undetected.”
Isabail sighed. That was the difficult part. She couldn’t visit the garderobe without someone in her shadow. And that someone was likely to be the MacCurran.
To make a run for it, they’d need a diversion of some sort.
* * *
“Ana is very upset,” Niall said, as they wended through the trees.
Aiden peered into the shadows left and right, but spotted no sign of a disturbed badger sett. “The tale of John Grant’s murder, as told by his sister, is quite damning.”
“As is the tale of John Grant finding the king’s necklace hidden in your chamber.”
Aiden tossed his brother a dagger of a glare. “You know the truth about that.”
“Do I?”
Aiden stopped short. “Do you doubt my veracity?”
“Nay,” Niall said firmly. “Because I trust my gut, and my gut says you’d never participate in such a miserable crime.”
It was easy enough to follow Niall’s argument. “And your gut tells you Ana is innocent, as well.”
“Aye.”
Aiden grunted and continued through the woods.
“I’m the chief. I’ve not the luxury of following my gut.
I must protect the clan.” He ducked under an arching elderberry branch.
“If your Ana is the woman you believe her to be, in time she’ll earn the right to perform her craft without a watchful eye. ”
His brother did not look particularly happy about Aiden’s judgment, but he accepted it with a sharp nod.
They made their way between the trees in silence for a while, their attention on the sights and sounds of the woodland.
A black grouse crossed their path some thirty paces ahead, pecking at the ground, and Aiden paused rather than frighten it into flight. Always better to pass unnoticed.
Only moments after they resumed their trek, the distinctive scent of blood drifted to them downwind.
Niall pointed left and Aiden nodded, allowing his brother to take the lead.
They circled a hazelnut thicket and traversed a small dip in the land.
On the far side, where the earth mounded higher, the snow was pink.
A large, scruffy gray shape lay under a low-hanging pine bough.
To the left, thrashed snow and broken bits of twig pointed to the entrance to the badger den.
It would seem de Lourdes’s story was true.
They gave the sleeping badgers a wide berth and carefully made their way to the body of the deerhound.
A hero deserved a place in the ground, rather than to provide a meal for scavengers.
Aiden lifted the fir branch to look at the dog.
It lay on its side, its long graceful legs extended.
The animal’s rough coat was matted with blood in several spots, thicker about the poor creature’s neck.
Badgers were one of the most vicious opponents in the woodland.
“It yet lives,” Niall said, pointing to the dog’s chest. Slow, shallow breaths lifted and lowered in a barely perceptible pattern.
Badly injured as it was, the kind thing to do would be to bring a swift end to its labors. Aiden reluctantly drew his dirk.
Niall stayed his hand. “Nay. Bring the creature to Ana. She can prove her healing skills to you without risking the clan.”
“‘Tis barely alive. It might not survive the journey back to camp.”
His brother shrugged. “If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. But it’s surely worth a try. Deerhounds are spectacular beasts, capable of downing a buck. A shame to let it die if it can be saved.”
“Agreed.“
Aiden scooped the dog into his arms with a mild grunt. Heavy as a bloody woman. The dog whimpered at the movement, then lay still. Deep-chested, with a long tapered snout, it was a surprisingly beautiful creature.
“Lead on, then,” he urged his brother. “Let’s see what your wee healer can do.”
* * *
Isabail next tended the bites and scratches on Daniel’s arms and hip.
Twelve of them, two quite deep—one on his biceps and another on his hip.
Most of his injuries had ceased to bleed, but it was clear the deeper ones would need more than a strip of linen.
Her healing skills were rudimentary at best. Under any other circumstances, she would have happily stepped aside in favor of the healer.
Her lips tightened. But she’d trusted Ana Bisset once before, and the outcome had been dire. Daniel deserved better.
“Will I lose the arm?” Daniel asked, peering at the wound with a tragic expression.
“Not if I can help it,” Isabail said.
“Yarrow would stanch the bleeding and cleanse the wounds.”
Isabail nodded. “Muirne, fetch me some dried yarrow from the stores in the caves.”
As the maid scurried off, Daniel eyed Isabail. “There are caves nearby?”