by Fiona Faris
“We must continue to apply the cool cloths to whatever exposed skin we can find. Once I get him cleaned up, we’ll apply the poultice all over. I have his aunt working on that. For now, as soon as they bring in the water, that is what I’ll have you do.” Alice nodded in understanding.
She saw then how much Aithe’s family truly cared for him. They were greatly worried, but they jumped straight into action to care for him. Alice knew it wasn’t a lack of care on either of their ends that made them fall apart; it was somewhat likely that Aithe simply wasn’t ready to take over the clan. As much as his father might have wanted him to, he needed to return to his family on his own terms.
As soon as the staff members brought in the buckets, Alice got to work applying the linens with cool water to whatever areas of his body she could. Aithe slept through the whole process or remained unconscious; which, she wasn’t sure. Finally, when the bath was ready, the men carried him out. Amelia told Alice to wait in the room and be prepared to apply the poultice as soon as he was brought back. She did as she was told, happy to be able to help in whatever way possible.
Alice waited for his aunt, Ella to return. She worried for Aithe but felt a great burden lift from her shoulders knowing he was going to be okay. And as soon as he was well, she would tell him how she really felt, and they could create a new life for themselves and finally live free of her uncle and Aithe’s troubled memories of the mines.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aithe stirred from his restless sleep. The air around him looked clouded, and his vision was foggy with black speckles and a haze of darkness. He heard a noise at the cabin door, but he couldn’t do anything. He worried it was Alice’s uncle. Perhaps he had done all he could to save her. Even if the earl killed him there, Alice had escaped. There was nothing for him to do except to accept his bitter end.
The doorknob twisted, and a stream of light burst in as it opened. Aithe closed his eyes, wincing away from the bright light. His lips cracked as his mouth formed a scowl. How long had it been since he had any water? He could not remember. He didn’t even know if he drank or ate all that Alice left him.
“He’s over here,” a familiar voice called outside from the doorway. The figure moved towards Aithe who wanted to fight them off, but he did not have the strength. But as the figure moved closer, he recognized the voice. It was the same comforting deep bellowing voice of his childhood. It was his father.
“Da?” Aithe barely managed to get the word out. At the realization that his father was there, Aithe felt tears well in his eyes. He thought he would die alone in that cabin. But Alice had found Cadney in time, Alice had found his father.
“Aye, son, tis yer Da. I’m here fer ye, lad. Yer mother is here, she has some medicine fer ye, some tonics tae drink.” Aithe’s mother came in through the doorway, holding the satchel she carried all her supplies in. She rushed to his side and placed her hand on his forehead.
“Aw, my son, Aithe. You poor thing. I am going to get you right again. Thank god for that wife of yours. She found us and we came right away. Here drink this,” Aithe’s mother pushed him onto his back, and poured a small vial of bitter liquid between his lips. Aithe recalled the taste, a nasty herb that worked wonders. He was grateful for the taste at that moment.
“Thank ye, Ma.” She took his hand between hers.
“Alrigh’, son. We are goin’ tae carry ye down tae the creek. Yer ma says ye need tae get cool right away. It won’t be pleasant, but it’ll help.” Aithe didn’t have the energy to respond. His father threw him over his shoulder and walked with his mother out the front door and listened for the sound of the creek.
“The lassie said it was tae the west of the croft, but I havenae clue if she meant facing it or away,” his Da said. His mother listened intently and pointed Gavin towards the west. They moved together towards the waters. Even in the cool air, Aithe’s body began rejecting the temperature. He knew the cold creek would be painful. He lifted his head to argue, to beg to be taken home. But even that was exhausting. Before he knew it, his father had reached the creek, and Aithe’s eyes shut again. He was unconscious.
Aithe’s father set him as gently as possible into the creek. The cold water hit his body, and Aithe let out a wail.
“No, no!” he cried out in a delirious state. He knew he needed his body to cool off, but the fever within him cried out, begged to stay inside him as he tried to clamber out of the water, but his father held him down.
“Lad, ye need tae cool off. Dinnae try tae walk off from me. Ye’ll fall and break yer neck.” He held him tight by the arms, forcing him to stay in the cool water.
“No, let me go!” Aithe wailed. The sun was high in the sky, and he felt his vision fading. He struggled to see anything. Bright spots decorated his view until his eyes landed on his mother. She had a stern look on her face, but tears fell from her eyes.
“Son, you must stay in there for a few moments; let the water heal you. Breathe, Aithe.” Aithe tried to calm his heart and his mind, but he could not bear it.
“Alice! Alice, where are ye!” He cried out for her. He needed her, wanted to know that she was okay. His head felt clouded. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.
Aithe’s mother turned to Gavin. “He must really love the lass to be calling out in a fever like this.” She bent near the water, where her husband held her son and put her hand against his cheek.
“Aithe, listen to me, Alice is alright. She is resting. She wanted to be here, but the poor lassie needed a meal. You will see her as soon as we get you home. But she is safe. We will keep her from her uncle.”
Upon hearing these words, Aithe broke down. Tears flowed freely from his face. He let out deep sobs at the thought that she was finally safe. He had fulfilled his promise to her brother. Though nothing made sense at the moment, he held on to the words his mother said and reminded himself, as if chanting, she is safe. She is safe. She is safe.
The cold water brought some of Aithe’s senses back to him, and within a few moments, he no longer felt as delirious, though he still felt trapped in a half-dream state.
His mother turned to his father, “I think he is alright to take home. This will have cooled him for a bit of time until we can get him back. He seems to be more alert and awake now.” She turned to Aithe. “Love, I need you to take a few big drinks of the water. You need it.” Aithe did as he was told and tried to drink from the creek he was sitting in. The water felt cold to his lips and refreshing. After that, his mother reached over and brought another small vial to his lips. Aithe drank it, recognizing a new flavor from the glass.
“Da, take me home, please.” Aithe said as his eyes drifted shut again.
“Aye, son, that I will dae.” He pulled him up from the water, but at that point, Aithe had drifted back to unconsciousness, unaware of just how ill he was.
* * *
Aithe felt himself being carried up a set of stairs. He tried to look around, but his head felt heavy with fever, sleep, and need. He vaguely heard voices moving around him. Then, after the stairs, he was gently set down on a bed. As he laid there, he pried open an eye and looked around. The walls around him were stone, and from what he could see, he was at home again with his family. He thought he heard his mother’s voice, whispering about a cold bath and herbs for healing, but he couldn’t be sure.
Everything he heard around him came muffled. It was as if he had cloths clogging his ears, and what little bit he could see and hear, he was unable to process and make into coherent thoughts. Aithe tried to stay awake, but the longer he lay there, the more he seemed to drift into sleep.
After what seemed like minutes, or hours, he couldn’t be sure, he was carried again down a long stone hall. He hated this feeling, the sense of being trapped in his own body without any strength. He wished he could walk himself down the hall, save everyone the effort of carrying him, but he knew he couldn’t. He was incredibly ill, more so than he had initially thought.
Down the hall, he was carried
into the bathing room. Only today, instead of being greeted with steam and warm air, he felt a chill.
“You are not going to like this, my love.” Aithe’s mother whispered in his ear. Aithe cringed, knowing what was about to happen.
They began removing his clothes layer by layer. The cold air ran over his skin, and he was already in pain. The fever in his body caused every cold sensation to feel as though it were burning his skin. Once undressed, they quickly set him in the waters and Aithe tried to climb out almost instantly.
“Get me outtae here!” he cried, trying to climb from the tub. His father had to hold him down by the shoulders.
“Tis alrigh’, son. Yer alrigh’. Ye gottae stay put.” Two of the male staff came and helped hold Aithe down, but he still violently shook and swung, trying to get out. His mother quickly poured cold water over his head and tried to sing an old lullaby to him. Aithe struggled to stay conscious but managed to calm down.
As the cool water calmed his fever, Aithe began to feel the delirium settle. His hearing cleared, and he was more aware than before.
When his mother deemed him cool enough, they quickly clothed him in light layers, dressing him only in what was necessary and then carried him back down the hall towards the room. Aithe drifted in and out of consciousness.
At one moment, he began to dream. He saw his Alice reaching for him, tears on her face as she touched his cheek. He wanted to tell her not to worry, that he was alive and well, that she had saved him, but he said nothing. His voice was lost in the dream, and she couldn’t hear him.
He tried to call out for her, but the only sound that escaped was a low growl and a mumble. But Alice smiled.
“You’ll be alright, Aithe. I know it. You must be,” she whispered, brushing his wet hair from his face. Aithe smiled and let himself believe it and feel it.
* * *
Two days later…
Aithe tried to blink away the dryness in his eyes and cough out the itch in his throat. He opened his mouth to ask for water and couldn’t recognize the scratching sound he emitted. He opened his mouth again, and a hand brushed back the hair from his eyes.
“Shhhh, now, Aithe, don’t try and speak.” His vision was cloudy, yet for the first time, in years, he felt safe. Alice, where was Alice?
“Alice…” he groaned.
“I sent the lass to get some rest. She hasn’t left your side since your Da, meself, and yer brother went to fetch ye. She was in a horrible state. I was afraid the same fever that took you was going to overcome her.” She was safe. That was all that mattered. Alice was safe. Aithe put his head back against the soft feather pillow and allowed sleep to take him.
* * *
Whereas his sleep was dreamless before, now he had wild dreams and nightmares. Flashes of their journey to Cadney. Brief snippets of all they faced and the fears he felt as he tried to save them from the wrath of her uncle.
One night, in particular, Aithe dreamed of Christopher. He was at Aithe’s bedside, whispering words that Aithe could barely understand until he stood and leaned in close to his ear.
“Aithe, you have done right by me. You were never guilty for my death, but now you have freed me from my earthly ties. You have saved my sister.” Aithe, let out a few tears. They slid down his cheeks even as his eyes remained shut. To know Christoper would be happy with his choice, and all he did made him feel strong and loyal.
The night after the dream about Christopher, he saw Alice in a chair by his side. She reached for his hand and cradled it between hers. Though Aithe’s eyes fluttered, they did not open fully, but he could hear her, feel her presence. She whispered to him as she gently stroked his skin.
“I have much I need to say to you, Aithe, all about what I feel for you. But I need you to be well. Please be well, Aithe. Return to me, my love.” He had never heard Alice refer to him as her love, but the words sent a warmth through his body. Not a feverish warmth but something healing and cleansing. He wanted to see her say the word, watch her lips form “my love” over and over again, but he could not rouse himself. As much as he wanted to will his body to stand, to rush to her, to show everyone he was healthy, he could not. He knew then, he had pushed himself for too many years, and what he needed was to give in to the rest and healing his body craved. Only then would he be well and healed.
Thus, he let himself linger in sleep for as long as he needed it, though his body craved food. He did have his mother, however, coming in and out, feeding him tonics and elixirs, along with freshwater and broth. He let the flavor linger on his tongue as best as he could. He couldn’t believe how long he had let her think him dead. And yet here she was, caring for him without regard for his choices. But Aithe would emerge from this a new man. He had made many choices in that croft alone, as he waited for death to greet him.
* * *
This time, when Aithe opened his eyes, the room was dark. His vision had cleared thankfully. He reached up and placed a weary hand on his forehead. It seemed his fever had broken. He knew enough from his time at war to know that once the fever broke, the danger had passed. His stomach growled. He was hungry, another good sign.
He looked around the room. There was a light glow of a fire in the hearth, and a large hulking figure in a chair against the wall. Aithe smiled to himself. He would know that figure anywhere. It was his Da.
“Da,” he said, glad to hear his own voice and no longer the scratchy growl from the morning. “Da,” he said again, trying it out.
His father stirred from his sleep. “Aithe, lad, are ye awake?”
“Aye, Da.” His father stood and moved the chair over to the bedside. He pulled a bowl and pitcher from some unseen table, and Aithe could smell the broth as his father poured it out, before moving the warm bowl to his lips.
“Take some of this, lad, ye’ll need yer strength tae explain where ye’ve been these last six years tae yer Ma.”
Aithe smiled. His father had always been able to make light of the direst situations. It was a skill he had passed down to Aithe.
“Aye,” he replied. “She’ll most likely be wantin’ tae ken how I left a wee lad and came back with a wife.”
“For starters,” His father said. “But she’ll be wanting much more than that. I’ve noticed ye’ve a few more marks and scars on ye then when I saw ye last. Care tae talk about it?”
Aithe dropped his gaze and wiped imaginary dirt from the plaid that covered his body up to the waist. He had seen more than his fair share of battle, and while he knew of all the men in the world, his father would understand more than most, he didn’t think he was quite ready to talk about it.
“Doesn’t th’ fact that I claim Alice as me wife count for enough?” he asked. He didn’t want to tell his mother how his marriage came to be. Or that it was a marriage of convenience only. A promise to a friend in battle long dead. He certainly didn’t want to talk about how he had come to rely on the lass and wasn’t quite sure he could leave her as promised when he took her from her uncle’s home just across the border from England.
“Aye, fer me it does, lad. I ken we raised ye well, and ye would not marry a lass ye didn’t care for. But for yer Ma, well, she’s goin’ tae be wantin’ th’ whole story.” His father gave him a pat on the shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, but Aithe took it as commiseration. They both knew his mother was a force to be reckoned with, and when she got her teeth in something, she would not easily let go. He had been gone six long years, and that would require an explanation. The Jacobite uprising, for the most part, had fizzled out long ago, and while the movement was still going strong, it was mostly underground. He would have to account for his time in England, his time with Alice, and everything that led up to their return to Cadney.
Aithe looked at his father, noticing all humor had left his eyes.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” he replied.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Aithe sat up in his bed. He was sitting with Alice for a short while, talking casual
ly. They were both struggling to fill the empty spaces in the conversation. Given that they had only been around each other during times of high stress, they were still trying to find things in common to talk about. Aithe found he was much more nervous than at any point on the journey with Alice. He felt foolish, saying one thing, trying to be funny, only to see her barely chuckle. He didn’t understand what it was that was making him so nervous.
“Your mother invited me to the town square. I think I might join her soon, I have a few things I’d like to get… some new clothes as well.” Alice said after a short moment of silence.
“I think tis a good idea, lassie. Get tae know Cadney. Discover how beautiful it is.” Aithe added, a little disappointed he couldn’t go with her. He and his father were set to meet later that afternoon. Gavin planned to help Aithe walk down to the loch for some fresh air. Though Aithe felt much better, he was still frail after having very little food for so many weeks and then suffering the terrible bout of illness. He was glad Alice was building a connection with his family as well.
