Instead, she pushed Juliette to the ground and dumped the dried reed baskets filled with shellfish at her feet. Then she mimicked someone opening oyster shells. Juliette had no idea how one went about opening oysters whose shells were clamped tighter than her father’s purse.
Juliette looked at Ness and shrugged, whispering, “I don’t know how.”
Cursing Juliette in a theatrical show of flaying arms and spat words, Ness mimicked her hopelessness. Ness acted out a little play too, pretending to be coy and thoroughly useless. Worse, Ness also acted as a simpleton. The three men lazing around the fire laughed. Juliette studied the mud-crusted, smelly man with rotting teeth. Was he Ness’s husband? Mayhap all three were, and that accounted for her short temper.
Ness took her knife and then slipped it into an oyster shell, placing the tip of the blade near the joint in the two shells, and cutting till the oyster opened. She then sauntered toward the man with the orange hair and offered him the open shell with the fresh oyster inside. He slurped it down. His hair was lank and laden with grease. He clearly didn’t like water either.
Ness thrust her hunting knife into Juliette’s hand. Then she mimicked someone getting her throat cut. Obviously, that someone was Juliette. Her meaning was clear enough: Obey, or you die. Who needed language?
Juliette took the knife. She tried to pry the tip into the oyster just as Ness had shown her, but the oyster shell was razor-sharp. She cut her fingers and dropped the oyster with a yelp. Ness and the men laughed.
This time, Juliette placed the oyster shell in her skirt. That helped her hold on to the sharp shellfish. After many attempts and lots of minor cuts and even more spilt blood, she had the oyster open. Her mouth watered.
Ness looked at her hands, and pulled a face. She shoved a pail filled with sea water at Juliette and indicated that she wash her hands. Clearly Ness did not want Juliette’s blood on her food.
It took a while, but finally the oysters were all open and quick as silver fish, they were all eaten by the noxious Ness and the murdering Irishmen. Ness then scooped out a handful of oats from an old sack and dropped the oats into the boiling cauldron. Then Ness waved her arm about like she was trying to catch a wasp. Juliette realised she must be getting good at interpreting signals because she understood.
Juliette added all the remaining shell fish into the pot: muscles, cockles, limpets, and winkles. It didn’t take long for the muscles and cockles to open or for the snail-like flesh to pop out of the top of the winkles. Under attack from more hand signalling, Juliette added the sea lettuce. Finally, Ness produced something that looked like parsley. Juliette threw that in also.
Once Ness judged the broth done, Juliette scooped out the spare shells and spooned bowls full of broth for each of the men and for Ness too. Only then, would Ness allow her to spoon a little broth into a bowl for herself and for Kenneth. Ness shook her head when she spoke of Angus. But Juliette was adamant. She said she would not eat unless Angus was offered a sip.
Ness shrugged like she didn’t care one way or the other and if Juliette starved, it would please her. But one of the men grumbled something and gestured for Juliette to go ahead and put some broth into a bowl for Angus. Ness’s lips pinched together, and Juliette wondered if she would be made to pay for her insolence later.
Chapter 12
Juliette carried the earthenware bowls of pottage to the back of the cave. The salty aroma of seafood was strong, but not strong enough to disguise the odour of suffering lurking within.
Kenneth’s wrists and ankles were still bound together, but he was able to rise and shuffle toward her to accept his bowl of broth.
“How is Angus?” she asked, dreading the answer because it was obvious from the man’s demeanour and movements he was no better.
“He’s about the same,” Kenneth said, upending the bowl into his mouth, letting the contents slide down his throat. Although it was dank in the cave and bitterly cold too, there was still a hopeful sparkle in Kenneth’s eyes.
“How are you faring, Kenneth? Did they hurt you too? Your wrists and ankles must be painful from those tight binds?”
He swallowed the last of his soup and breathed out a sigh of contentment. “Better now. Thank you, Lass. Ye mustn’t think of me. I’m a big Highlander. You are a wee lassie, high born at that. It’s nay right for you to concern yourself with the likes of me.”
“How about we care for each other. And together, both of us will look out for Angus because he can’t look after himself.”
“Aye,” Kenneth said, shuffling toward the gravely ill Angus who now lay curled up like a babe. He lay on the hard stone floor.
“I’m going to get him something warmer and softer to lie on,” she said. “If he’s going to get better, he’ll need to get off that draughty floor. That stone is freezing.”
“Angus doesn’t know much right now.”
Juliette sat beside the ailing man and gently lifted his head upon her lap. “I’ve got something warm here for you, Angus. Pottage. It’s good.” His eyes remained shut, but his jerky and jumping movements continued.
For all of their sakes, they had to stay hopeful. She dipped her finger in the pottage and smeared a line of soup over Angus’s lips. “Why don’t you try a mouthful, sweetheart? It’s ever so good.” Angus didn’t even lick his lips.
She sighed. “Kenneth, where do you suppose Tam is?” All things considered, it was a silly question. But a question that went around and around in her head, and she was tired of asking herself that very thing.
“If he’s alive, he’ll find us. I can promise you that.”
She hadn’t even considered the possibility of Tam being dead. It shocked her to hear Kenneth suggest it.
“Can he swim, do you suppose?”
Kenneth shuffled about, trying to stretch his muscles. “I’ve no idea, Lass. But does it matter? I can no swim, and here I am. You’re here too, and I’ll wager you cannot swim either.”
“Emm. I get your point, but I think he’d have the best chance of surviving the sea, better odds than us because he grew up around boats. I think he’d know how to swim. I bet he does. Tam seems to know how to do everything.”
Angus twitched violently again. Juliette clutched both his hands and squeezed tight. If she held him really close, then mayhap he’d feel secure, cared for, and less alone.
Angus’s eyelids fluttered then opened.
“Angus, how are you feeling?” Her eyes misted with sheer delight. “If you eat something, you will get better quickly.”
But Angus only mumbled and barely made sense. He called out to Mary and said something about hand-fasting. Juliette stroked his arms and wiped the sweat from his face.
“Mary is his sweetheart,” Kenneth explained. “He’ll marry her if he gets home.”
“Come on, sweetheart, just one mouthful of soup? Eat for Mary’s sake.” Juliette dribbled a little soup into his mouth, but he spat it out again.
Kenneth moved toward them. “Here, Lass, I’ll take over and see what I can do. You finish your pottage. It’s verra good.”
Gingerly, she lifted Angus’s head from her knee and made way for Kenneth. She’d been salivating at the thought of eating all day long, but it just didn’t feel right to eat before she tried to feed Angus. The sick needed food more than the healthy did.
With his head rested on Kenneth, Angus moaned and then spoke again, his words barely loud enough to hear. “Blood, bleeding. Tam.”
Juliette turned sharply. “What was that, Angus? What did you say?”
Kenneth was leaning over Angus, whispering into his ear. “Hush now, Angus, save your strength.”
“No, but . . .”
“What is he saying?” Juliette asked. “He said something about Tam. I heard it. He said Tam, clear as the lifting of the morning mist.”
But he wasn’t talking nonsense. And she wouldn’t leave him to sleep the whole night on that hard stone floor either, not when there was a wilderness of bracken outside.
“I’m going to gather some bedding. Surely, they can’t deny us that. They plan to ransom us for coin, so it’s in their best interests we stay alive and well.”
Coming out of the cave, she strode toward Ness. The woman was warming her hands and feet by the campfire.
“We cannot sleep on that hard stone floor,” Juliette said. “We will die from the cold. We need bedding, and there is plenty of it out there,” she added, pointing. Out of temper, she’d spoken in English, but clearly none of the outlaws understood. So, she said it all again in French.
Ness shook her head as if she still didn’t understand, but Juliette was not convinced. She bolted up to one of their bedrolls and pointed to the back of the cave. Ness yelled at her in Gaelic. Juliette went up to a bush, snatched some greenery, and pointed again to the inside of the cave.
Ness and the men exchanged words. Ness sounded angry, as she oft did. But the men were calm and more sensible. Although Juliette didn’t catch one word of what was being said, their tones and gestures were clear enough. Ness and the men were in total disagreement.
She waited. Then she heard a word, a Gaelic word, and recognised it from her time with Tam. It was one of the few Gaelic words he’d taught her. One of the men said, fuascailte, which meant ransom. Just as she’d guessed, the men wanted their captives to live. Sick prisoners secured a far smaller ransom. It was even worse to kill someone with a title. Titled people oft had money, and money paid for retaliation. Castle constables might be sent far afield to hunt down bandits.
If Juliette and Kenneth were alive and in good condition, the bandits could expect a decent enough ransom payment. But if the pair died, the outlaws might have to spend the rest of their days running. At last, a subdued Ness pushed her toward the bracken. The big ginger-haired man got up and pulled down a branch with a questioning expression.
“Yes, please,” she responded.
Using his hunting knife, he cut the branch and gave it to her. Juliette took the lead. She pointed to another soft cane and then another, till her arms bulged. The orange-haired man began to walk away, but she cried out after him and pointed to more. She held up three fingers, pointed to herself, and said, “Some for Angus and Kenneth too.”
Ness’s partner started slashing branches at will, clearly keen to get back to his fire. He chose any branches within reach, no longer concerned if they were brambles or needle furs or prickly thistles. Juliette piled them all into a heap until she had a bonfire of greenery to distribute.
The man stomped back to his hearth, leaving her to carry the lot. She glanced at Ness, hoping she might help, but Ness simply shook her head in grim satisfaction. After five trips back and forth, Juliette had the greenery at the mouth of the cave.
Kenneth, still bound by his feet and wrists, was never allowed out of the cave proper. But this time they let him shuffle to the cave’s entrance, so he could help carry the greenery back. They divided the branches into three piles and fashioned a nest of bedding for each of them. Kenneth was able to lift Angus carefully onto his mattress. Juliette covered his shaking body with one of the large branches, reasoning that it was better than naught.
With the outlaws back at the fire, laughing and jeering, Juliette deemed it safe to lift her skirt. She untied the thin leather bind that fastened the St. Christopher medallion to her waist. She kissed the silver necklace and then tied it around Angus’s neck. “There you go, Angus. You need the luck more than me now. God and St. Christopher will watch over you. You are in safe hands.”
Kenneth smiled his appreciation. “Aye, you’re a braw lassie. Tis no wonder that Tam cannae keep his eyes from you. You know, I believe that God has already taken care of Angus and me. It was He that delivered you to our cave. And if that’s not a divine blessing, I don’t know what is.”
“Thank you, Kenneth.” Juliette wiped her watery eyes. Today had been one of the worst days of her life, and yet, amid those darkest hours, she’d found one of the sweetest moments of all.
Chapter 13
Juliette awoke and felt as sore as a castle of heads after Hogmanay. She was cold. Her neck and cheeks stung and itched like blazes too. Studying the welts on her hands, she realised that she was covered in bites. Wretched mosquitoes. She sat up. Her fingers were puffy and swollen. She needed to find something to sooth those bites. She’d heard that sage leaves chewed into a paste aided healing. Then it occurred to her, mayhap that was why one of the outlaws had coated his face in mud. Mud kept the mosquitoes away, or at least stopped the itch and swelling.
Kenneth was pacing back and forth, oblivious to everything other than his mounting frustration.
“How’s Angus?”
“He’s as white as an oyster and twice as cold.”
Juliette summoned her aching limbs and stood on shaky legs. She placed her hand over Angus’s forehead, and as she feared, he was no better. If anything, he felt more cold and clammy than last eventide.
If she was at home right now, what would her father’s barber surgeon do for Angus? For certes he’d inspect his urine. But Juliette had no idea what she’d be looking for, nor how to harness any from Angus. She remembered the time she’d burst into her father’s chamber whilst he lay ailing under his pelts. The barber surgeon was with him. He was holding a container of her father’s urine up to the light for inspection. Then the surgeon did the oddest thing: he tasted the urine.
That was out of the question. No urine tasting would happen this morn. Her father’s surgeon rambled on, too, about things that seemed like madness to her. He talked of the need to get the answer from the stars in the sky. He said that all the elements in our world: earth, water, fire, and wind were responsible for what ailed her father. And he spoke of phlegm. And then the surgeon did what he always did—a bit of bloodletting.
She would not poke holes in Angus and flow his blood. Besides, it looked as if Angus had already lost more than enough and that he was in dire need of every drop he had left.
Ness blustered her way into the cave and yelled. She grabbed Juliette’s arm and prattled in her angry way whilst dragging her outside.
Kenneth hurriedly translated her Gaelic. “She has a job for you. Something to do with that wooden pail. I think she’s sending you off to find more food. Those outlaws of hers take some feeding.”
Juliette tried to pull back, but Ness slapped her cheek and yanked her some more. Ness might be short, but she didn’t let her diminutive size stand in her way. The woman was also quick to anger.
“Ask her where I’m going. Are we going to the shore again to get more shellfish?” She looked down at her raw hands. The cuts from the oyster shells were healing, but the mosquitoes had made a mess of her fine white skin.
“She said something about the tide being out, and she said the Gaelic word for river. I don’t think you’re going to the beach. She’s got something else in mind.”
Juliette tried to ask for a drink. “Eau?” The French word for water.
Ness slipped the rope over her waist and knotted it. Juliette’s skin was chafed there, from yester ‘noon, but she decided not to complain. Ness was not likely to care, and complaining didn’t seem right, considering the state Angus was in. Ness dragged her toward the stream. The wind bit at her skin, and the sting of the cold was sharper than a horse fly bite.
They arrived at a spot where the fresh-water stream ran into the ocean. Ness was talking, but Juliette ignored her, instead falling to her knees and drinking deeply. Ness came over and kicked her in her side. The kick meant Get up and start walking.
> Juliette stood, and Ness tugged on her rope, making Juliette stumble. She tried to keep up. They soon arrived at a swollen bit of river. Someone had blocked the normal flow of the river. They’d made a catchment pool: a freshwater rock pool.
Ness dumped her wicker basket, fished out the knife, and waved it in Juliette’s direction. Better do as I say or else. Ness then flung a woven basket at her feet and gestured at the pool. She mimicked scooping out bucketsful of water.
“What?”
Ness rolled her eyes and cussed in Gaelic. She threw the bucket into the rock pool and, using a lone French word, said, “Dans.” In.
Juliette stared back and asked in French, “You want me to have a wash, is that it? You want me to wash in the cold water?”
Ness burst out laughing. “No, dumb girl.”
It took Juliette a moment to realise Ness had spoken those three words in English. So, Ness understood more than she let on. She’d best be careful.
Juliette raised her hands. “What then?”
“Dans,” she said again, pointing to the fresh-water pool.
Juliette sighed. She removed her boots and, lifting her skirts, stepped in. The water came up to her knees and was utterly freezing. Ness saw the misery on her face and that made her laugh from her belly.
She mimicked someone filling a bucket then tipping the water out onto the grassy bank. Okay, for some reason she wanted Juliette to empty the blasted fresh water pool.
Juliette worked at it till she could no longer feel her hands. Her feet stung from the cold. At least the icy water was soothing her mosquito bites and mayhap relieving the swelling. Her cut hands would also probably benefit. She would do what Ness wanted, but she would not be leaving without a full bucket of fresh water for Kenneth, and mayhap even Angus, to enjoy.
Thistles and Thieves: Highlander Romance (Troublesome Sister Series Book 2) Page 10
