by Fiona Faris
“I ken it all tae well, Faither. I am ashamed o’ my actions, but that does nae change how I feel about what she did. I cannae forgive her for that,” Malcolm admitted, crossing his arms defensively as he leaned against the door. He needed the distance from his parents to help balance his emotions. He feared if he got too close he would break down and admit everything he was thinking and feeling as he had when he was but a bairn in trouble. “I suppose Fergus filled ye in on the specifics.”
“Aye, he did. He was concerned about ye and the lass,” Andrew admitted.
“As are we,” Freya joined the conversation, sitting next to her husband looking concerned.
“There is nae need,” Malcolm attempted to reassure them.
“We disagree. We are quite concerned about the both o’ ye with yer drunken outburst and her cryin’ the whole night through,” Freya retorted. “The girl’s only crime is tae have loved her faither so much she would have done anythin’ tae make him proud o’ her. What child would nae have done what she did?”
“Me,” Malcolm replied. “We have already had this discussion, Maither.”
“Aye, and apparently ye were nae listenin’ or we would nae be havin’ it now,” Freya snapped. Andrew laid a calming hand on his wife’s arm and she sat back quietly in her chair.
“Yer maither is right, but I also understand that ye feel betrayed by someone you care for deeply.” Andrew rubbed Freya’s hand in soothing circles as she sat glaring at her son. Malcolm knew she was disappointed in his behavior and she had every right to be. His father’s calm words and demeanor only added to Malcolm’s feelings of guilt.
“Cared for,” Malcolm murmured, correcting his father’s words to the past tense.
“Ye ken as well as I that ye still care for the lass. Denying it does nae make it disappear,” Andrew admonished. “I cannae force ye tae forgive her, but as long as she is under my care, ye will treat her with kindness and respect.”
“Aye, Faither,” Malcolm replied. His father’s voice had switched from that of a father to that of a laird and Malcolm could not, would not refuse an order from his laird no matter his personal feelings on the matter.
“Now go and apologize tae the lass for yer behavior,” Andrew commanded.
“Aye, Faither,” Malcolm answered. “Maither.” He bowed bidding his parents farewell.
Malcolm left the laird’s chamber and went in search of Alana. The last thing he wanted to do was apologize, but his laird had commanded it of him so he would do it. He found her in her room staring out of the windows towards the Cairngorm Mountains. “Missin’ yer home?” he asked from the doorway.
“Nae, I dinnae,” she answered, turning her gaze from the mountains to his face.
“Then why do ye stare at them so?” he asked frowning.
“I stare at them and pray that I will find a way tae keep ye and yer family safe from mine,” Alana answered, watching him warily as if she were afraid he would break out into more insults upon her character.
“I am sorry for my deplorable speech yesterday. I should ne’er have spoken o’ ye and Fergus in such a manner,” Malcolm stated, fearing that if he did not get it out he would say something cruel again. His thoughts had instantly retorted to her words, if ye wished tae protect us than ye should ne’er have come, but he squashed them down and apologized instead.
“I thank ye for yer apology and ask that ye please accept mine. I am truly sorry, Malcolm, for deceivin’ ye as I did. I did nae…” Alana began, but was cut off by Malcolm turning around and walking away without another word. He hates me…
Chapter Fourteen
Alana spent the rest of the day in her room avoiding Malcolm. She could not bear to face his scorn. Her heart physically ached in her chest and she trembled in misery every time she thought of the hatred and distrust she had seen in his eyes. His words echoed through her mind, tormenting her every waking hour. Freya brought her food and visited for a time, but in truth Alana preferred to remain alone. It was exhausting attempting to pretend that she was fine when she was not. When night fell, Alana greeted it with relief as she crawled into bed and conjured dreams of better things.
Sometime later Alana was jarred from sleep by the pounding of a fist upon her door. “Lass! Wake up!” Fergus’s voice called on the other side of the door.
Emerging from beneath her blankets, Alana scurried across the floor to the door. “Fergus?” she inquired when she opened the door.
“’Tis Andrew. He has taken a turn for the worse, lass, and needs yer healin’,” Fergus answered.
Alana grabbed her arisaid from the chair by the door and threw it on over her night dress, then followed Fergus to the laird’s bedchamber. When she walked through the door, she found Freya sobbing as her husband fought for every breath, convulsing and batting at anyone who tried to come near. His color was flushed red and he looked as if he would indeed die at any moment. Alana swiftly moved to Andrew’s bedside and assessed his condition. “Get away from me, Donald Murray! I will nae let ye take her from me,” he gasped, struggling against an invisible enemy.
“Henbane,” Alana whispered. Looking up at Freya’s worried expression, she said it louder. “It’s henbane poisoning.”
“Henbane? Who would poison Andrew?” Freya’s confused voice wobbled in fear.
“She would,” Finlay’s voice declared from the doorway. “She would poison all of us if given the chance.”
“Alana would ne’er do such a thing!” Freya protested.
“Why nae? She had plotted our deaths afore. How is this any different?” Finlay argued, sneering at Alana with disgust.
“I think ye should leave, lad,” Fergus ordered darkly, placing his body between Alana and Finlay.
“She should be the one tae leave,” Finlay argued.
“Leave now,” Fergus growled and Finlay conceded for fear of getting a beating. Turning to Alana, Fergus asked, “What can ye do lass? What do ye need?”
“I need crushed up charcoal. It may have been in his body for tae long, but it is worth a try. I also need mulberry leaves boiled in vinegar,” Alana requested urgently.
“I will get what ye need,” Fergus promised. As he turned to exit the room, Malcolm entered.
“What can I do tae help,” Malcolm asked, immediately taking in the situation before him.
Fergus grabbed him by his collar and hauled him up close, looking straight into his eyes. “Ye dinnae allow Finlay anywhere near the lass. Do ye hear me?”
“Aye,” Malcolm answered in confusion, but did as he was asked.
Fergus left the room at a run for the kitchens and returned as quickly as anyone could have done in such a large castle. “The cook is bringing the boiled mulberry leaves and vinegar. I have the charcoal. Here, lass,” he announced handing her a plate of crushed charcoal.
“Fergus, help me sit him up,” Alana requested as she poured the charcoal into a glass of water.
Fergus stepped forward and attempted to haul Andrew up into a sitting position. Andrew fought with strength they did not know he had remaining. “Malcolm get o’er here and help me, lad!”
Malcolm came around and helped to hold his father still while Alana poured the concoction down Andrew’s throat. Andrew fought moving his head to and fro. Fergus grabbed Andrew by the hair and held it firm. Alana tried again and was able to get some of the charcoal into the laird’s stomach. It did not take long for Andrew to expel the contents of his stomach into the bowl that Alana held under his head. She forced more of the charcoal liquid down his throat which he expelled soon thereafter. When the cook came with the boiled mulberry leaves, Alana forced him to swallow it down as well.
Eventually Andrew stopped fighting and passed out onto his pillows. “Andrew!” Freya cried out for fear that he might be dead.
“He is alive,” Alana reassured her.
Fergus slipped out from behind Andrew and let him relax against the bed. “And thanks tae yer quick thinkin’ lass, he just might stay that way,” he prais
ed, looking down upon her with pride.
“It appears another member of my family owes ye their life,” Freya replied, tears of relief flowing down her cheeks at the news.
“Ye dinnae owe me anythin’. It is I that owe all o’ ye,” Alana answered furtively, glancing at Malcolm who was doing his best to avoid her gaze by watching his father’s chest move up and down with each breath.
“How did ye ken what it was?” Fergus asked genuinely curious.
“I have seen it afore,” Alana admitted. “Someone attempted tae poison my faither with it once upon a time. There was an auld woman that used tae teach me about medicinal herbs and such. She is the one who taught me what tae do.”
“’Tis good that ye did. I’d like tae thank the man who poisoned yer faither,” Fergus only half jested.
Alana smiled. “’Twas a woman.”
“All the better,” Fergus nodded in approval.
“I ne’er thought I would agree with such a statement, but I find I do at this verra moment in time,” Freya replied, gratitude and relief wreathing her features.
Alana stood looking down at the laird in confusion. “Faither said nae tae touch any o’ ye as he wished tae do it himself. I dinnae ken why this has happened. He would nae forgive anyone who went against him and I dinnae ken anyone who would for fear o’ his wrath.”
“I still say you did it.” Finlay had returned and was standing in the doorway once more.
“I thought I told ye tae get out,” Fergus growled.
“He has a right tae be here,” Malcolm answered for his brother.
“Aye, but he does nae have the right to falsely accuse the lass,” Fergus answered.
“Faither is alive,” Malcolm informed Finlay, ignoring Fergus. Finlay nodded his head, but said nothing more.
“Everyone should go and get some sleep. I will stay with Andrew,” Freya stated, her tone of voice stating that she did not like the discord in the room.
“Are ye sure ye dinnae wish me tae stay with ye?” Alana asked, uncertain she should leave him so soon.
“I will wake ye if I need ye again. Ye need yer rest and I will nae be able to sleep for some time. Ye can sit with him in the morning while I rest,” Freya answered.
Alana nodded her head in respect of Freya’s wishes and followed the others out of the room. She could tell that Freya was upset and a room full of people arguing was not going to make her feel any better. “I’ll walk ye tae yer room, lass,” Fergus offered, giving Finlay a warning look.
“I thank ye, Fergus.” Alana accepted his arm and they walked away leaving Malcolm and Finlay standing in the hall.
“What ye did for Andrew was nothin’ short o’ a miracle, lass,” Fergus praised. “Ye did well.”
“I am concerned that my faither has changed his plans or someone within his influence has decided tae take matter in tae their own hands in hopes o’ pleasin’ him and gainin’ favor,” Alana voiced her thoughts aloud. “They will be in for a surprise when he rewards them with a beatin’ instead o’ the desired praise.”
“Aye, I have searched the castle grounds for everyone ye described as yer faither’s spies, but they have all fled the castle. The discovery o’ yer deception was nae secret thanks tae Finlay,” Fergus informed her. “I have been keepin’ a close eye on the laird, but somehow someone slipped somethin’ through.”
“His food or drink would have been the easiest or in the herb teas I have had the cook make for him,” Alana noted. “Are we sure the cook is loyal?”
“Aye, she is loyal. She would give her life for the laird were it asked o’ her,” Fergus confirmed. “I will go down and speak with her and the other lassies that work in the kitchens. Would ye care tae accompany me tae see if ye recognize any o’ them?”
“I think it would be wise,” Alana agreed. “I have nae seen any more o’ my faither’s people about the castle, but that does nae mean that there are not some remainin’ that I did nae ken.”
“Aye, the thought had occurred tae me,” Fergus nodded. “Mayhap if they see ye they will give themselves away by a look or a gesture o’ fear.”
Changing direction from Alana’s room, they descended the stairs to the castle kitchens. The cook was beside herself with the notion that her laird had been poisoned. When Fergus asked if she had noted anything suspicious, she could only fret and wail. “Poison from my kitchens?!” the cook ranted hysterically.
The woman’s face was bright red and her eyes looked as if they were protruding from her face. Alana was beginning to worry for the cook’s health. “Eilidh, did ye taste the laird’s food before serving it?”
“Aye,” the cook answered breathless. She was sweating profusely. “I always taste it tae ensure that it is good.”
Alana looked at Fergus and he immediately grabbed a plate from the table, scooped up some charcoal from the fire, and began smashing it with the end of his dirk. “Eilidh, ye have been poisoned with henbane. Did ye keep any o’ the mulberry leaves ye boiled in vinegar?”
“Aye, ‘tis in the kettle o’er the fire there. I thought it was best tae keep some goin’ in case ye needed more for the laird,” Eilidh answered. “Poisoned, ye say?” A look of shock spread across her face and she began to lose her footing.
“Fergus!” Alana cried out as the cook sagged to the floor. Fergus rushed over with the smashed charcoal and dumped it into a goblet of water. Alana tilted the cook’s head back while he poured it down her throat as quickly as he could. Alana had a pan waiting as the contents of the cook’s stomach spewed forth. Fergus poured more of the disgusting substance into her mouth several times before administering the boiled mulberry leaves in vinegar. When it was over, the cook lay exhausted passed out upon the floor, but breathing.
Turning to the other women standing around the kitchen, Fergus barked, “Did anyone else eat from the laird’s plate?” The women shook their heads to the negative. “Are ye sure? Someone’s life depends on ye bein’ sure.” Again they all shook their heads.
Alana and Fergus sat down on the floor next to the cook and breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank the heavens,” Alana murmured.
“Aye, had ye nae thought tae come with me, it would have been tae late,” Fergus remarked, leaned his head back against the table leg and closed his eyes.
“Ye would have kenned what tae do,” Alana stated.
“Aye, but I would nae have kenned it to be poison that caused her tae act as she did,” Fergus pointed out. “Ye did that.”
Alana smiled at the proud tone of his voice. One would never have known that they had spoken for the first time just two days before. When he had shared his story with her, it was as if they had each found a kindred spirit. She hoped, in time, that Malcolm would forgive her as Andrew had forgiven Fergus. In the meantime, she planned to do everything within her power to make it right and prove herself a trustworthy companion. If Finlay will allow me tae prove myself. He is determined tae convince everyone that I am a true villain at heart.
As if he could read her thoughts, Fergus spoke, “Finlay is determined tae be yer ruin, lass. Ye need tae take care with that one.”
“Aye, ye dinnae think that Malcolm believes him, do ye?” she asked concerned.
“Nae, he may be a bampot at times, but he is nae daft,” Fergus reassured her. “Freya is on yer side and that will make a difference for ye as well.”
“She is a good friend tae be sure,” Alana agreed.
“She could be a good maither tae ye if ye let her,” Fergus advised. “I ken ye lost yers when ye were but a bairn.”
“It was my birth that took her,” Alana admitted sadly. “My faither ne’er forgave me for it.”
“Ye were a bairn. Ye did nae kill her, lass. Many maithers lose their lives in childbirth. It is a tale as auld as time itself. Dinnae blame yerself. Yer faither was wrong tae do so,” Fergus assured her.
“Ye would have made a good faither, Fergus,” Alana noted, not for the first time.
“I thank ye, lass,” Fergus
replied wistfully. “’Twas nae tae be so.”
“’Tis ne’er tae late,” Alana offered him hope. “Ye could wed a young lass who could give ye bairns.”
Fergus chuckled. “I dinnae think so, lass. The time for such things has long passed.”
“Well, I suppose ye already have enough tae take care o’ as it is,” Alana noted, gesturing towards the unconscious cook. “How are we tae get her up off o’ the floor?”
“I have been givin’ that some thought. She is nae a small lass,” Fergus noted thoughtfully. “I cannae lift her as I would ye. I fear we must embarrass her further by askin’ for help from some o’ the other lads.”
