9
An Uneasy Truce
Moira faltered at the look on Rab's face, his brown eyes narrowed to slits, mouth a grim hissing line, his hair flying every which way from his run up the stairs. Behind Belle, wee Rumple arched his back and hissed at the housekeeper, tail fluffed up. "Milaird, I was just pointin' out that ye canna trust a Fraser, even one that is married tae ye . . ."
"Quiet, lass! And ye'll speak when spoken to!" Rab snapped, and Belle thought if he'd had a tail like a cat he'd be lashing it back and forth. He toed the door shut. "Fraser or no, she is my wife and the lady o' the keep, yer mistress! Ye would do well to remember that." He gestured to the table. "Now . . .let us sit down and discuss this like ration human beings, no' crazed maniacs." He held out his arm to Belle, who took it and allowed him to escort her over to the sitting room table.
Belle stared at him. "How did ye ken I needed ye up here?" she whispered.
"Physicians intuition," he smirked. "Nay, it was because o' the wee lass Lily. She told me ye might need assistance wi' Moira . . .and why." His countenance darkened again and stormclouds brewed in his eyes. He helped Belle to a chair and propped her foot upon a hassock before sitting down himself, across from his housekeeper, and folding his hands on the tabletop. "Moira, is it true that ye deliberately flouted Lady Belle's authority and did no' surrender to her yer keys?"
Caught between a rock and a hard place, the housekeeper stammered, "Och, well, ye see, milaird Rab, I thought it best if I kept the keys till her ladyship were able to be up and about, given the state o' her leg and all. An' ye ken yer papa likes things run just the way yer lady mother—may she rest in peace—did when she were alive. I meant no disrespect."
Rab raised an eyebrow. "Did ye no'? 'Tis true that my mama ran things tae her liking, an' when she departed the earth, my papa never felt like changing them because we had no lady o' the keep. However, that is no longer the case. My wife is the new mistress an' the old must give way tae the new, as is proper. I was also informed that ye dinna even discuss this wi' Belle, but took it upon yerself to keep the keys an' when one o' the young maids called ye on it, ye whipped her tae keep her from talkin'!" His eyes flashed. "Ye hae been housekeeper here since before I was born, Moira and ye ken well that no servant at Carlyle is ever whipped for such a reason!"
Moira paled. "That were no' the reason I took a switch to that wee fiend Lily! She were insolent tae me, who is her superior!"
"Dinna lie!" Belle cried. "We both ken that ye were angry that Lily spoke up for me . . .and questioned why ye hadna done yer duty and given me yer keys. And ye kent she was right to do so, and so ye sought an excuse to wallop her." She turned to Rab. "Rab, did ye see the marks on her legs?"
"Aye," he said grimly. "And I dinna ken why, Moira, ye thought a mere insolent remark was deserving of a thrashing better suited to a lass caught stealing or lying about her work bein' done or shaming herself wi' a lad? Unless Belle is right and ye beat her because she was stickin' up for her mistress?"
Moira swallowed, for Rab's glare was one that made her tremble from the heat of it. "I . . .I may hae lost my temper, ye see, because I dinna ken why she ought tae defend a Fraser over one o' her own clan. 'Tis the Frasers who cost me my Kenneth an' a chance at a happy marriage an' I dinna forget it!" Her eyes flashed.
Rab drew a deep breath. "Moira, I am gonna tell ye something I told both my papa and Belle's also when I came to sign my marriage contract. Wrongs hae been done on both sides of our families. By both parties, ye ken? All o' us are equally guilty in no' letting the feud die, and perpetrating it to the next generation by reminding our children o' the wrongs done and making everything seem like 'twas the other one's fault."
"But it is! They killed my betrothed!" she cried hotly.
"Aye, and how many did we kill o' them?" Rab snapped back. "Belle could tell ye I'm sure that there were those of her house bereft o' a sweetheart or two! Isn't that so?"
Belle nodded. "My cousin's betrothed was killed . . .and many others."
"But it was your kin who started it all!" Moira began.
"Enough!" Rab snarled, his eyes bright and shimmering like liquid flame. "Do ye n' ken it doesna matter anymore who stared the whole thing! What matters, dearie, is that we end it." He punctuated his words by smacking his hand down on the table, making Moira jump. "Belle and I were married for a reason—no' just because Queen Mary said so, but to keep the peace between our clans and keep us from killing each other. God's foot, but no wonder the Sassenachs are having such an easy time picking us off—we're destroying ourselves with these damned blood feuds! Can ye no' see that? I do, woman! And if we dinna end it, here and now, soon there will be nothing left, 'twill all be dust on the wind, and our names forgotten! Is that what ye want?"
"Och, nay . . ."
"Then stop with this dissension in my house!" he growled. "I hae enough to contend with outside without coming home to find my wife and her housekeeper at each other's throats. What's done is done. Let it die. Because if ye do not, then ye can find yerself another post, dearie, and mayhap another clan as well, do I cast ye out for a vitriolic troublemaking shrew who canna bridle her tongue!"
Moira went the color of old cheese at that threat, for she could see, as could Belle, that Rab was not bluffing. He might be mild mannered and a physician, but for all of that, he made no idle threats, and he was laird when Malcolm was absent. And he would brook no disobedience to the royal writ he himself had been forced to uphold.
"Och, now, Rabbie, ye wouldna banish me! Why, I was yer mama's dearest friend an' hae been here since ye were a wee bairn squallin' at the light o' day! I saw ye take yer first steps and hold yer first quill—" she babbled, terrified she had overstepped permanently.
The sudden fire died in his eyes, and Rab said, more gently, "Aye, I ken that, Moira. But ye knew yer place when my mama was lady here. Seems like ye forgot it after being de facto mistress for so long." He spread his hands. "Look ye. I wouldna like to banish ye—but I will if ye force my hand. Belle is my wife, no' more a Fraser—"
"Of course I am!" Belle interrupted, an automatic response.
Rab bent her a rather stern look of disagreement. "—for when she married me, she became a Carlyle," he reiterated. "She is my clan now, as are ye, Moira MacNamara, and by our Lord and our queen who is God's anointed, I shall have no one break this fragile peace we hae achieved. Ye canna change what's past. Let it go, and start anew. In medicine, sometimes ye must cut away rotted flesh in order that new may grow and heal. 'Tis so here. D'ye ken?"
"Aye, milaird," the housekeeper said, inclining her head respectfully.
Belle laid a hand over her husband's and spoke. "Moira, I do ken where ye come from, and I am verra sorry that ye lost yer beloved. But 'tis like Rab said, we all hae lost someone in this feud. Shall we then never let it end, and all the old grievances be brought up again and again? Should we then hold the descendants of those who did ye wrong responsible for deeds they never committed? How is that fair? It isna, and I strive above all to be fair to everyone. I know ye feel that I am an intruder here, and no' suited to replace the old Lady Carlyle, but ye havena even given me a chance. I hae no' even been here three days and ye hae already judged me an' found me wanting. I realize I dinna ken this keep yet like ye do, and I miss my home. This castle is strange to me, but it is my home now and I must bide here. I would like if ye could help me adjust to it and the people here, and we could work together to run this place like it aught. However . . . all things willna be just as they were before. There are things we did in my home I would like to do here, and one o' those things involves the punishment o' servants. As lady, tis my job to say who gets punished and how. Not ye. And I dinna hold wi' beating someone to teach them respect, anymore than I do wi' beating an animal. Ye teach respect wi' patience and kindness, no' fear and anger. And by example. 'Twas how my parents taught me."
Moira frowned. "They dinna switch ye?"
Belle shook her head. "My papa dinna believe in using unnecessary force on anyone, beast or man. He never struck a servant, nor allowed his children to do so, and on the verra rare occasions when he skelped my brother or one o' his daughters, he used only his hand, an' nothing more. He said that a skelping should sting sharply for a time only as a reminder, and what should sting longer was his disapproval an' disappointment. And that guilt an' shame were harsher masters than ever a strap could be and remorse a harder taskmaster to encourage one to do better than his hand."
Rab listened and found himself nodding in agreement. Marcus Fraser's methods, unlike many a Highlander's use of strap and fist to command obedience, appealed to him mightily, for he also was of a mind that brute force compelled obedience only for a time, and fear might make a man oey, but it would never make him love you, and when push came to shove, a man was loyal and fought for hardest for those he loved, not those he feared. Fear might win you a battle, and men might follow you because of it, but for a laird they loved, men would follow you into the gates of hell, and feel privileged to die in your name.
Malcolm had once commanded respect that way, by being canny like a fox and not by fear. His men had followed him, trusting him to be smarter, more cunning, and aware than their enemies. It was only after Ceri died that Malcolm began resorting more to fear instead of persuasion, and Rab had seen a marked decline in his clansmen's willingness to trust their laird.
That was one thing he had pointed out to his papa when he had accompanied the laird to the retreat, saying that he thought the drink brought out the worst of Malcolm's irascible side, and that was not such a good thing in a clan leader. Cool head, warm heart, shall call loyalty forth, he reminded Malcolm of the quote he had often spoken to both him and Jamie. And Malcolm had admitted, albeit reluctantly, that Rab was right. He had lost his way. But perhaps with Father Bryce's help, he could find it again.
Rab just prayed the Lord would prevent poor Father Bryce from going insane. Because heaven only knew Malcolm in a temper would test the patience of Jesus and all the angels.
"Yer papa was right, Belle. Perfect love casteth out fear. Not brute strength." He narrowed his eyes at Moira. "I dinna ever want to hear o' ye thrashing a servant again or fomenting rebellion against me or my lady wife, or else I shall exile ye like I would any clansmen who breaks his oath to me and hae ye driven from this keep never to set foot on Carlyle lands again."
Moira shook her head. "Nay, that shall no' be necessary, milaird. I am an auld woman, ye ken, and not so wise as I used to be. But this is my home, an' I made a pledge long ago to yer mother that I would take care o' her sons should anything happen to her, an' I hae tried to keep that promise, laddie, hae I no'?"
Rab clasped the hand of his mother's tiring woman and said, "Aye, so ye have, dearie. Remember, vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord, and do ye extend that same promise to Belle now."
Moira extended her hand to Belle, and Belle took it in a warrior's clasp. "I pledge to ye, Lady Carlyle, that I shall be yer faithful and obedient servant, an' give ye my word to protect ye and yours, as long as I may, by Saint Brigid and Saint Andrew."
"So mote it be," Belle said. "And I in turn pledge ye to be a fair and just mistress, holding no grudge or strife, and to treat ye as my family, with all honor and caring, and such protection that is mine to give. By our Lord and his saints, I so vow." She repeated what her mother had always sworn to the new house servants.
Rab looked pleased that the quarrel had been mended, and said, "Now that's done, why don't ye show Belle around the keep, Moira?" He had an ulterior motive for that. He knew that the other servants had no doubt heard the fight between them and would be wary and nervous, unless they saw the two getting along. "And while ye two are doing that, I'll tend to Lily down in my infirmary." He had already sent the girl there after getting a glimpse of her legs.
"That would be a good idea, Rab," Belle agreed, knowing also how important it was for her image for the servants to see the lady of the keep in accord and in charge.
She went to rise and Rab handed her the crutches resting beside the table. "Now, ye take it easy an' dinna go traipsing up and down like crazy, ye hear me?" he mock-scolded. "If ye hae a relapse, I promise I'll tie ye to the bed!"
Belle blushed at the implication, and Moira sniggered and clucked at him, "Och, Dr. Rab, ye are incorrigible!" just as she had when he was a lad around Neal's age.
"Aye, and ye like me that way," he giggled, then said, "Mind ye make sure milady is careful, Moira. Or else ye also will be in trouble wi' me."
"Ye hae my word an' ye ken I dinna go back on it," the housekeeper reminded him, for though she still harbored resentment towards the Frasers, Rab's reminder that Belle was now a Carlyle by marriage and his threats to exile her made her realize how stupidly she had been behaving, and since she truly did love her mistress' sons and wanted to continue to serve the family she would do as Rab had urged and keep the peace between her and the new Lady Carlyle.
"Well do I ken that," Rab replied evenly. "I shall see ye later then, at the noon meal."
He made his way downstairs to the infirmary, where Lily awaited him.
As she watched her husband retreat, it was only then Belle recalled the other pressing problem she had that she needed to discuss with him—this other woman he had met while in school in Edinburgh.
She bit her lip. It seemed that would have to wait. She turned to Moira and said, with a somewhat wary expression. "Where shall we start first? How about ye show me the larder and storerooms?"
"Aye, milady." Moira curtsied and this time there was no subterfuge in her manner.
She held the door for Belle to proceed her with her crutches.
Page~*~*~*~Break
The small crofter's hut that Rab had accompanied Malcolm to was high up near the mountains of their clan's property, a lonely little outpost on a hill surrounded by emerald meadows dotted with heather and a swift flowing stream. The shepherds put the sheep out to pasture up here in good weather, and they often came to drink there. Father Bryce had spent the better part of three days along with his altar boys cleaning the place and making it fit for Malcolm and he to stay in. There was about two weeks worth of firewood and peat stocked, after that they would have to cut some, which the priest reckoned was good exercise for his laird to do, and would keep the man's mind off drink, there was oatmeal, flour, dried cranberries, a slab of bacon, another of venison, and several kinds of vegetables, and a barrel of fresh water from the stream, another of apple cider, a barrel of perry, and tea of different kinds, with instructions from Rab on how to measure it and steep it.
Rab was still waiting for the packet of kaffee beans from his mentor, and had given Bryce chamomile, mint, and another kind of tea that relaxed you to start with, in addition to regular Highland tea. Bryce had honey and brown sugar in a cone, and also there would be a boy from the keep to come every two days with fresh eggs, milk, and butter, which could be kept cool in stone crocks put into the stream.
The croft had been swept, dusted, and scrubbed, and there were two pallets made up with thick mattresses of sweet smelling alfalfa heather and two goosedown pillows as well as woven colorful blankets from the keep. Bryce had several beeswax candles, his Bible, and parchment and ink and quills so he could occupy himself writing sermons and also write down what occurred with Malcolm, like a daily journal. He also had several balls of yarn and knitting needles in a basket, for knitting was another way the two men could pass the time. In the Highlands, men as well as women could spin and knit. There were also fishing poles, lines, and hooks. Rab had also supplied a mini medical kit, just in case one of them happened to get injured and they couldn't reach him in time.
Bryce worried that might be the case when Malcolm really started feeling the effects of no longer drinking. He prayed that the laird wouldn't get impossible to handle, requiring him to tie him, though he had a coil of stout rope in the pantry if necessary.
He was already seated at the table composing his sermon for the next morning's mass when he heard a knock on the door.
"Come in!" he called out
Malcolm entered, saying, "Well, Father, I hae arrived." He bore a large pack over his shoulder which contained his clothes and a few other necessary items, like his razor and comb, and in his other hand bore a wooden case. He wore a dirk at his belt. "I brought my chess set, I figgered we might play of an evening by the fire."
"Aye an ye'll be findin' me a much better player than before. Tis good that ye've made this commitment, Malcolm. It will no' be easy but with the good Lord's guidance we'll whip this demon and send it screaming to Lucifer, ye ken?"
The laird gave him a wistful smile. "I shall pray that it be so." He set the chess set on the table, and went to put his pack on the floor beside one of the box like pallets.
A young servant entered holding Malcolm's hunting bow and arrows and also a case with a small harp. called a clarsach. Both Malcolm and Archie could play it. "Milaird, where do ye want this?"
"Over here, lad," Malcolm took the clarsach and put it on the table also, and told the boy to put the bow and quiver on the wall on the hooks designed for it. "'Tis just in case we see a rabbit or twa or for protection."
Then he bid the boy take his horse back to the stables and dismissed him.
"Ahh the clarsach! It's been a verra long time since I'd played...and might forget how!" Archie joked. He also remembered hearing Ceri playing it during a family gathering with him and her husband singing the songs of the Highlands along to the music.
"I havena played much lately, but they had a verra good bard at the Frasers while we were there, and it reminded me of how I used to play wi' Ceri in the hall some nights and sh, Jamie, and Rabbie would sing like a chorus of angels."
His wife had a beautiful voice, pure and true, and her sons had inherited that. Even Neal could carry a tune, though he was shy.
"Aye but twill be good to play again. The music will soothe the mind and the soul." Archie smiled wistfully. "Mayhap ye'll play again in the halls again, Malcolm. Ceri would want ye to."
"I . . .havena been able to since she is gone. I fear the music died when she did. But . . mayhap ye are right." His hands stroked the case of the small rosewood clarsach, with its sweet tone. "She gave me this, ye ken. 'Twas her morning gift to me." He undid the case and pulled the clarsach free to show Bryce the small mark on the underside of the harp, his initials and hers burned into the wood alongside the Carlyle crest.
"Aye I ken. She was a wee bit nervous when she came to me for confession before yer handfasting about what to gie ye for a morning gift...until she mentioned ye liked to play."
"I used to play for her when I came courtin' her. I sing all the auld love songs to her while we sat on the hills in the heather, or by the low stone wall of her garden, while her ladies sat some distance away and listened."
"Aye and d'ye remember the day she was cross with you when that McClaren lassie wanted you to play for her?" Archie asked with a grin.
Malcolm nodded. "She was like a wee wildcat, all hissin' and spittin' and lucky I didna get clawed to ribbons!"
"Saints preserve us, but I had to give her quite the penance for boxing the lass's ears!"
Malcolm chuckled. "Aye, and I was lucky she didna hit me into the bargain!" He brushed his fingers across the harp and the strings sounded a mellow tone. "Ah, my bonnie lassie still plays well. The strings I hae sent from Edinburgh are still good. Do ye remember when Jamie was a wee lad and got hold of Moira's shears and cut my Rosie's strings?" He called the clarsach Rosie, naming his instrument as any good bard.
"Aye and the puir laddie hid hisself under the pew in the church and wouldna come out, even I couldn't pull him out. A strong one, your Jamie."
"Aye, he was that, and a wee fiend at times." Malcolm shook his head. "I near wore my hand out on his backside, he was so stubborn. Ceri used to say he came by it honestly though, considering who his papa was."
The priest nodded in agreement. He gestured to the basket of yarn. "Ye havena forgotten all yer gifts, have ye?"
"Nay, Archie," Malcolm smiled when he saw the yarn. He called Bryce by his Christian name when they were alone. "I can still clicket and make stockings or scarves or even a cap if need be. And I can spin also."
He fished a small doll, a cornhusk doll with a knitted blue jacket and kilt out of his sporran and held it up. "I remember when Jamie made this for me. Look Papa, 'tis a soldier for ye' he said, only the stick sword broke one day." He had found the little toy one day after his son's death and had taken to carrying it in his sporran for comfort.
"I ken he was all o' seven then."
"Aye. The clever laddie once asked me if he could make one of the Lord and asked me what the Lord looked like. I couldna gie him a good answer."
Malcolm chuckled. "Aye, that's sounds like Jamie. He had a habit o' asking things that were impossible to answer. Once he asked Ceri why God made angels with wings an' no' people? And if he asked nicely, would God give him wings too?"
The priest chuckled. "He asked me why I dinna have a wife of my own."
That had been an odd conversation he recalled. He'd tried to explain the Lord's ways to the young lad but Jamie, curious child that he was, simply didn't comprehend it.
"Och, and he had a habit o' asking impertinent questions! Once he asked me why lads had willies and if lasses had gotten their broken by riding too hard. In front o' my guest, Bishop Gillespie! Good thing the bishop had a sense o' humor. Then again, he was only four."
Archie laughed. "Aye and Bishop Gillespie gave me quite the lecture over the morals of the children in my congregation.
"I can imagine. I wanted to sink inta the floor!"
"All yer lads have a bit of mischief in them, aye? Even Rabbie."
"Och, aye, I remember one time Jamie was devilin' Rabbie somethin fierce, an' Ceri had already given him a smack and sent him to contemplate his sins in the corner, but he wouldna stop, so Rabbie decided to get even wi' him, and when we had tea, he took the sugar bowl and put sand in it and passed it to Jamie. The lad dinna look and next thing ye know had sand tea!"
"And the lad spit it out...on me!"
"Do ye remember the skating incident in the chapel, Archie? When Rabbie and Jamie were supposed ta help ye polish the pews and instead they tied the polishing clothes on their shoes and dipped 'em in polish and skated all over the floor wi' them? And Rabbie almost knocked over St. Andrew and Jamie almost knocked himself silly skatin' around the altar?"
"Aye and twas a wee bit hard t' keep my temper ye ken if those boys woulda hurt themselves."
"I ken. I thought Ceri was gonna take a switch to them first . . .but I think makin' them serve as yer altar boys for a month taught them more than a skepling woulda."
"Aye. I made those boys scrub those pews until they could see their faces in 'em, mind the sheep, milk the cattle and gather the eggs from the hens...though one o' them had a nasty temper herself."
"Was that the one that nearly pecked Jamie's eye out and Rabbie chased around the yard wi' an axe?" The boys had been eight and eleven that year.
"Aye...they had a name for her but I cannae recall it at the moment...Auld age!"
"Neither can I, but wi' those two it was probably something verra funny!" Malcolm said nostalgically. "Jamie could never refuse a dare. He got himself into more hot water because o' that . . .why I remember he nearly kilt himself tryin' to ride that crazy stallion Gideon Mor . . .on a dare from the MacLeod chieftain's son Drew. I near had a heart seizure when I found out!"
"Those Macleods are a troublesome lot," Archie mumbled.
"Aye, but my laddie kent better," Malcolm sighed. "'Twas one o' his worst faults. That was one o' the few times I took my razor strop to him, I was that angry. And afterwards Rabbie snuck into Jamie's room an' darned if he didn't doctor his brother wi' Ceri's marigold salve! He was a physician even then."
"We all have our callings, Malcolm. Rabbie's is to medicine, mine to the Lord and mayhap ye will find yes here."
*yers
Malcolm looked doubtful. "Once I would hae said my calling was to lead my clan, but I fear I canna see my way clear to do that." He rubbed his eyes. His hands were trembling slightly.
"Ye must resist the temptation, Malcolm. The whiskey willna gie ye that clarity. Only by trusting in Him, in me and in yerself can ye go back t'the man ye once were."
From his readings, Archie recalled that tremors were a common sign among those trying to distance themselves from the drink as their bodies attempted to break their spirits by giving them discomfort until they surrendered to the temptation.
"Sometimes, auld friend, I think the man I once was died wi' Ceri an' Jamie. I dinna even ken wee Neal like I should." Malcolm groaned. "I need a drink. I'm parched." He licked his lips. Having gone longer than usual without the taste of alcohol, several hours since dawn when he'd awoken, he felt a sudden raging thirst.
"Then ye'll have some of my tea."
Malcolm scowled like a truculent child. "Bloody tea!" he groused.
"Aye or water but none o that rotgut!"
The priest eyed him pointedly. "Tis a different tea Rabbie brought to calm that demon that's chasin' ye."
"And do ye think tea can drive awa' demons, Archie? I kent that was holy water," Malcolm taunted. He felt as if he had remained in the sun too long and was dehydrating. Sweat sprang out on his brow. "Hae ye bannocks or cheese? My gut's wailin' it's got a hole in it. I havena eaten since early dawn."
"Aye, in the pantry. I'll fetch some."
Malcolm clenched his hands together, because they shook as if he were an old man with palsy. Afraid he might damage Rosie, he pushed the clarsach and case to the other end of the table.
"Lord Almighty, help me . . ." he prayed through clenched teeth.
In the pantry, Archie made the sign of the cross, closed his eyes and folded his hands in prayer. "Father, give me the strength to guide your lost sheep back to the flock of righteousness."
Malcolm was a stubborn man but Archibald Bryce could also be one when he put his mind to it. He was concerned for all the people in his congregation even when they strayed from the path and he felt it was his duty to guide them back, no matter how difficult the journey would be.
He made up a plate for his guest and returned to the table. Sweat beaded on Malcolm's brow.
"Have ye been praying to our Heavenly Father Malcolm?"
"Aye . . .but I fear I am possessed. I canna stop shaking," the other man whimpered, frightened by the sensations he was experiencing. "Play for me, Archie. Make me forget."
He grabbed a bannock and almost dropped it, then took a bite and began to chew determinedly. As soon as he had finished that he took a piece of cheese and ate it too, feeling starved.
The priest picked up the clarsach, smiling faintly. "I hope I dinna offend yer ears if I sound terrible," he said and began to play and sing.
Malcolm closed his eyes and let the music carry him away, while devouring his cheese and bannocks. He hoped that the tea Rab had given him actually worked, because now he felt as though tiny ants were marching to and fro down his back.
"Sing with me lad," Archie pleaded softly.
Malcolm swallowed sharply, then managed to sing the first few lines of the old ballad about a bonnie lass walking in the heather to meet her true love on May morn. His voice was rusty, but after a few moments it had warmed up and he could sing in a clear tenor. It helped a wee bit, not a lot, but some.
Page~*~*~*~Break
The infirmary
Carlyle keep:
"Now ye just lie down here on the bed while I fetch what I need," Rab ordered quietly to Lily, whom he found standing up near his exam table looking uncomfortable, her hands twisting her apron about.
"Och, Dr. Rab, I really dinna need ye to fuss o'er me. 'Tis but a thrashin' an' I'll heal," Lily said, worried that she was taking up time away from Rab's other patients. She also couldn't fathom why the laird's son, physician or no, would be concerned with the state of a mere chambermaid. Physicians were for gentry, and common folk made do with herb women and midwives.
"Nay, lass, lay ye down," Rab turned and pointed firmly towards the bed. "Why should ye be in pain if I can help ye?"
He went to fetch his special salve of marigold and honey, which was good for soothing wounds and healing them. It was a salve his mother had always used whenever her sons had fallen and scraped themselves as lads and Rab recalled using it several times both for himself and his scapegrace lovable brother Jamie.
Rab took the earthenware jar labeled with his neat handwriting on parchment glued to the side of the pot and shut his cabinet, carefully locking it with the silver key he kept in a chain about his neck. His spare one was inside his wardrobe in a pouch. He never left his cabinet unlocked, having learned the folly of that several years ago when as a brand new physician he had done so rushing off to attend an emergency and one of the servant's little lass' just toddling had gotten into it and broken half his remedies, spilled a bunch more and swallowed a tincture that almost killed her.
Lily lay obediently on her stomach on one of his beds, and watched as he approached with the jar, a basin of water, and a clean cloth. "Ye dinna hae to go to any trouble—"
"Wheesht, lass!" Rab muttered. "Healing sick people is what I am called t'do, it isna trouble. Now, I'm gonna lift yer dress up enough so I can see yer legs, wash them with water and then put my salve on them," he informed her matter-of-factly. "Dinna fash yerself, lass, I will no' do anything improper to ye." He placed the objects on the bed and she stiffened as he picked up her skirt. "Relax, dearie. 'Twill be just a moment. Once I hae salved ye I want ye to rest here for a half-an-hour."
"A half-hour! Och, but I hae duties . . ." she protested.
"Duties which can wait an' doctor's orders which supersede any other authority here," Rab countered firmly. "Dinna worry about Moira either, she'll no' be beating ye again. From now on, any punishment to be meted out shall be done by Lady Belle or myself."
Lily felt a sudden glow of astonishment at the new arrangement of things, and she didn't even flinch when Rab began to gently sponge down the welts on her legs. She was a wee bit embarrassed at first but reminded herself that this was a doctor, and the tanist would hae no interest in a girl not even starting her courses yet.
Rab applied the salve deftly, using the tips of his fingers in a delicate glide to put the maximum amount of salve on the welts while putting the least amount of pressure on the injuries as possible. He heard his patient's indrawn breath as he touched several sensitive spots and murmured soothingly, "Almost done, dearie. Ye're a braw wee lassie." He grimaced reflexively while he applied the ointment, recalling another time he had done this—only back then he was a child and had done so to Jamie after one of their papa's rare thrashings with his strap for riding a half-insane stallion on a dare and almost getting kicked to death. But he didn't recall Jamie looking half as bad as poor Lily. Clearly Moira had a heavier hand than Malcolm.
Finishing, he capped the jar and wiped his hands on the rag after washing them in the basin with a bit of soap. "There now, Lily. Rest a wee bit, dearie. I'll send a gillie to call ye when lunch is served."
"Thank ye, Dr. Rab," the child murmured as he gently fixed her skirt and put a light sheet over her.
He ruffled her hair. "Sleep, lass."
Then he left the infirmary after putting the jar back in the cabinet and locking it, leaving the beeswax candelabra burning.
The pain in her legs lessening, Lily turned her face into the pillow and closed her eyes, smiling softly and thinking Rab the kindest healer she had ever known and the handsomest.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Belle was coming down the passage from the hot and steamy laundry room with Moira and reviewing the schedule for the next week with her when they heard a commotion coming from the bailey. It sounded very much like the Mongolian hordes or some kind of demon spirits had descended to wreak havoc on the keep.
She exchanged glances with the housekeeper. "What on God's green earth is that ruckus?"
"I dinna ken, milady," Moira said, raising an eyebrow. "Shall we go and find out?"
They hurried as quickly as Belle's ankle would allow up the passage.
There was a medium-sized crowd of onlookers standing just before the doors to the hall, watching an oddly entertaining drama unfold before them.
Apparently a large very ill tempered gander had gotten out of its pen and happened to come upon a toddler by the name of Jemmy eating a piece of bread and honey in the bailey, having wandered away briefly from the watchful eyes of his mama, who happened to be an undercook named Alanna.
The gander, spotting the bread in the child's hands, had commenced stalking the boy and trying to rip the bread from him and eat it, and when the child set up a howl, the gander hissed and tried to bite the running boy, who ran about the courtyard shedding tears and breadcrumbs like raindrops.
Alanna had raced out to see what was the matter and tried to drive the gander off by flapping her apron at it and yelling in Gaelic, but the gander turned and nipped her on the ankle, making her yelp.
Neal had been coming up from a day of hunting some peahens and grouse, carrying four fat birds on a leather line over his shoulder, his bow unstrung, when he saw the gander attacking both Alanna and Jemmy. Never one to ignore a damsel or a bairn in distress, he ran at the gander, yelling, "Awa' wi' ye, ye devil spawn!" and swinging his bow stave. "Before I make roast goose outta ye!"
The gander honked at this new threat and fluttered away, then turned and lowered its head like a snake, hissing at Neal, its beady eyes glittering.
Neal lunged, the gander lunged.
The boy batted the goose with his stave, but the gander, full of vinegar, darted in and bit the boy hard on the back of the leg.
"Oww! Ye bloody auld beast!" Neal yelped, backing away.
The hissing gander followed, and when Neal went to rub his calf gingerly, flew and attacked him again, this time biting him on the other calf, ankle, and backside.
Neal whirled, trying to beat the cantankerous bird to death, but the gander was too quick.
Alanna had snatched up Jemmy, who was sobbing, his hands sticky with snot and bread and she hooted encouragement to Neal. "Beat the wicked besom o'er the head, aye, Master Neal?"
Belle and Moira had just pushed their way past the gathering onlookers, just in time to see the gander contemplating another rush at the panting Neal.
When suddenly a brown-striped tabby and a smaller gold and white kitten with crumpled ears sauntered into the bailey.
Raine suddenly crouched down the ground, her tail twitching, gold eyes widening as she saw the feast of plump poultry before her. Rumple also saw, and growled, his green eyes narrowing.
Before the kitten could rush the goose, Raine made a soft half-mew and Rumple crouched beside her.
The cats stalked the goose, even as the gander stalked Neal, who gasped when he saw the two felines.
The gander, intent upon taking another chomp out of the annoying boy in front of him, didn't notice its peril at first. The cats were also downwind and even if they hadn't been, birds have no sense of smell.
As if by some unspoken signal, Raine flicked her ear at Rumple, who dated suddenly to the left, around a barrel, and as Neal backed slowly away, bow stave before him, the kitten growled and darted out in front of the gander, hissing.
The gander drew up with a soft honk, because though small, it recognized Rumple as belonging to that species that preyed upon his kind, and it was no fool.
Honk? Hooonk!
It half-spread its wings in alarm, as Rumple pounced at it.
The gander turned to run, and screeched in horror as it saw an even bigger cat advancing on it.
Hoonk! Onk! Onk! Oook!
Raine leaped, and landed half on the big fowl's back, clawing and biting.
The gander screamed and began running and hopping for all it was worth, with both cats attacking it.
People began clapping, cheering, and laughing to see the nasty bird put so neatly in its place by the two cats.
"Oh dearie me!" Moira chuckled. "If those two cheeties have their way, we'll be having roast goose for dinner."
Belle frowned, then said, "I suppose the nasty thing asked for it, attacking a bairn and Neal like that."
"Aye, 'tis possessed!" added another woman.
"Lucifer's spawn sure enough!"
"Get 'im, kitties!" whooped a little boy.
"Aye, I wanna goose pie!" cried Alanna. In her arms, Jemmy crowed and clapped his sticky hands.
"Now there's some warrior cats, aye?" Neal smirked, then went to bring his birds into the kitchen for Missus Mike to pluck.
Belle lingered to see whether the cats did catch the gander, but the gander, now that it was threatened with its own demise, suddenly flew down the road and back towards the pen, flying into it a moment later after squawking as Raine lunged at its backside and came away with a mouthful of feathers.
The two cats might have climbed over the wire pen but Winter saw them and bounded forward, tail wagging.
Raine, ever mindful of her dignity hissed and fled, but Rumple happily joined his collie friend in a game of chase about the barnyard, afterwards to lie sleepily in the sun, grooming his fur while Winter dozed beside him.
As the group broke up, Rab came from his infirmary and spotted Belle amid the throng of people. "What's going on now, dearie?" he asked his wife.
Belle told him, and Rab just shook his head, amused. "That wicked fiend is lucky he didna end up dinner tonight. Is anyone hurt? The wee laddie? Neal?"
"I dinna think Jemmy, that's the lad's name, was bitten. Ye'd best ask Neal yerself though."
Rab escorted her into the hall and to the dais, as the servants were beginning to bring in the midday meal. He saw Neal making his way over to the dais, and waved to him. "Neal, are ye hurt?"
The boy shrugged. "Dinna fash yerself, Rab. I'll be all right. Had worse from Papa." He rubbed his hand along his backside before sitting down.
His brother eyed him. "Neal, if yer hurting, dearie, ye can come see me in my office."
"Rab, m' fine, honest," his brother insisted.
"Ye'd say that if yer arm were cut off and ye were bleeding to death," the physician remarked somewhat sarcastically.
Neal rolled his eyes. "Quit bein' a mother hen, Rabbie."
"Imp!" his brother said exasperatedly, already making plans to catch his sibling unaware after the meal and haul him into his infirmary to make sure there really wasn't anything he need to worry over.
The meal was served, cuts of venison basted with red wine and parsley, cock-a-leekie soup, fresh bread, green beans and cranberries in a piquant sauce, mashed neeps, breem in a cream sauce, truffles, and for a sweet gooseberry tarts and shortbread sandwiches with blackberry jam and honey. Mead, wine, and perry was served, with Rab making certain Neal's wine was watered and he had only one glass and then drank perry and plain cider for the rest of the meal.
"How are ye and Moira getting along?" Rab queried as he ate.
"Better," Belle said, hoping to get her husband alone so she could question him about Zelena. "She showed me the storage rooms and we visited the laundry before the . . .goose incident."
Neal made a face. "Bloody spawn of Lucifer!"
"Neal! Watch yer tongue!" Rab rebuked. "You're no' in the tiltyard to use such language around a lady. Must I fetch a bar o' soap?"
Neal went red in embarrassment. "Nay, Rab. Forgive me, Belle. But that gander makes me want to go pluck a goose for supper."
"I ken ye would," Belle smiled at him.
The midday meal was almost done and people were relaxing with cups of mead and cider and nibbling fruit and sweets when a panting shepherd raced into the hall, his cap askew, to draw up beside the dias. "Milord Rab, 'tis a pack o' wolves attacking the sheep up in the east pasture! Me an' my lad Geordie drove 'em off but they kilt three ewes."
"Damn!" Rab swore. "I shall gather a party and we'll have ourselves a wolf hunt, Andrew," he promised, then looked around for the marshall and some of the huntfolk.
Wolves were always a danger when one raised sheep, or worse, feral dog packs, so Rab was not quite shocked, only wishing that the bloody wolves had waited until Malcolm were back to strike, because Rab was none too keen on hunting, but as acting laird, it was his duty to lead the hunt for the marauders.
"I'll go wi' ye!" Neal said eagerly.
"Have ye ever hunted wolves before, wee brother?"
"Once Papa took me, when I was verra small, but I wasna big enough to hunt. I am now though."
"Aye," Rab agreed. He turned to his wife. "Hopefully I'll be back before nightfall, Belle."
She clasped his hand. "Be careful, Rab." Her indigo eyes were bright with concern. She wanted to protest his going, he was a physician, what did he know about hunting wolves? But she held her tongue, not wishing to shame him in front of his men, and knowing that as tanist in Malcolm's place, he must lead the hunting party.
"Always, dearie," he promised, giving her a quick kiss on the mouth, then he beckoned to Neal and they strode off in search of the head huntsman.
A/N: Hope you all liked! Thanks to CJ for helping me with the scene betwee Malcolm and Archie.