by Aileen Adams
“What is it?”
Maccay frowned, turning it in his hand. “It’s a ring. Intricate work,” he commented.
The ring was well-crafted and felt like silver, an intricate pattern tapped into the side of the band. A small, roughly heart-shaped deep red stone fit into the bezel. The ring was small, so small that he couldn’t even fit it past the first knuckle of his little finger.
He showed it to Hugh. “Think its hers?”
Hugh shrugged. “Either that or it belongs to someone she knew. An obvious keepsake.” He frowned again. “You think she was running away?”
“Hard to say,” he said, lifting the dress from the dirt.
A long, sleeveless gown, it was obviously intended to be worn over a kirtle. It was made of plain, undyed woolen cloth. The type of clothing that the village women wore. Serviceable, durable, and practical.
“I don’t think she was kidnapped,” he remarked, holding up the dress. “This is not the clothing of a wealthy woman, nor that of a wealthy family.”
Hugh explored the area around the makeshift camp. “Look over here,” he said, stopping near a large shrub.
Maccay stuffed the dress back into the leather satchel and strode toward Hugh to see what he pointed out.
A rabbit carcass lay nearby, near a sharp-edged stone that looked like it had been chipped away to service as some type of knife. Now he was truly impressed.
“She was obviously able to create some type of rudimentary trap. I’m sure we’d find it if we looked around a bit.” Hugh nodded. “She was definitely out here longer than a couple of days.”
Maccay nodded. “Let’s look around a little more, see if we can find signs of anyone else out here.”
Hugh moved off.
They both searched in ever-growing circles around the makeshift campsite.
He didn’t see any signs of other people out here other than the footprints made by the young woman.
Hugh didn’t either.
He did find a makeshift and very rudimentary deadfall rabbit trap. It was still set, a piece of old, smelly cheese stuck to the tip of the bait stick.
Very impressed indeed. The rudimentary campsite, the traps, the ability to skin and gut a rabbit; he was ever more curious to know more about their mysterious Alis. Uppermost in his mind was her true identity and what she had been doing out here.
He returned to the campsite and reached for the leather satchel.
Hugh emerged from the trees a few moments later, shaking his head.
Maccay told him about the trap he had found a short distance away, but other than that, nothing.
Nothing to identify her.
Nothing to tell them what she had been doing out here.
“You think she wanted to live out here? That maybe she was a recluse or something?”
Maccay glanced at his friend and shrugged. It was not unheard of to find an older man or woman distancing themselves from the companionship of others and to eke out a living in the woods, but mostly those were people who were touched in the head. He had never seen or heard of someone as young as Alis doing so. His curiosity grew.
Setting a deadfall trap like that was not instinctive. It was learned. Who had taught her? The dress he’d found and the clothing should she had been wearing when he found her, were certainly not uncommon to the lower class. The dress inside the satchel was in better condition than the one he had found her wearing, but it didn’t speak of wealth, at least not as he perceived it.
“Let’s go back to the manor,” he sighed. “I think she was out here alone, but still the question remains.”
“Why.”
He nodded. “Sooner or later, we’ll get our answers. I can promise you that.”
4
Alis sat, knees to chest in the small wooden tub, head lowered and eyes closed as Sarah poured the bowl of warm water over her head, rinsing away the remnants of soap from the much appreciated, but short-lived bath.
Her head still pounded ferociously, especially after lowering it like she had, but she was willing to sacrifice the pain for clean hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had a bath, but judging by the dirty bathwater, it had been awhile.
Just a short while ago, Sarah, the woman who had been caring for her, had directed one of the housekeepers to carry the wooden tub into the room. It was then filled with buckets of tepid water from the pond in front of the manor house and then warmed with several more buckets of water that had been heated over the fireplace in the kitchen.
When she had first seen the tub brought into the room and placed in front of the fireplace between the bed and the wall, her heart had leapt with excitement.
A bath!
Finally, she would feel clean again.
At the same time, she didn’t want to move. Movement caused pain. Even with Sarah’s help, it seemed as if every muscle in her body protested the effort to get out of bed.
The air in the room seemed especially cold when Sarah helped her out of the sleeping down that she had been given after her arrival here at Duncan Manor.
Yesterday, Sarah’s sister, Heather, had brought her clothes back, freshly washed and neatly folded. Alis recognized the clothes, but frowned, having the feeling that they weren’t quite what she was used to.
“One more rinse.”
Sarah dipped the wooden bowl into the water again and poured it over Alis’s long hair, falling down over her face like a waterfall.
Alis stared down into the water at her puckered fingers. At least her fingernails were clean now, most of the dirt having soaked away. She hugged her knees tighter as the water poured over her scalp, easing her tension and worry, if only briefly.
She lifted her head, then her hands, to brush the hair from her face, water dripping down her forehead and off her chin as she slowly and carefully turned her head so she could look up Sarah to offer a small smile. “Thank you—”
Her words of gratitude were abruptly halted, as the door to her room opened with a crash, followed by heavy footsteps.
At first, she thought it was the housekeeper returning with something else, but then she realized—and gasped, barely choking back a startled scream as she tried to huddle into a small ball, desperately trying to cover her naked shoulders.
At the same time, Sarah spun around and quickly stood in front of the tub, trying to shield her.
“Maccay!” Sarah scolded. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
“Ah… my apologies,” he said.
He didn’t sound like he was sorry, Alis thought.
She didn’t think he could see much of her in the tub, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She pressed her knees closer to her body and lowered her forehead to her knees again, eliciting a renewed throbbing as she peeked up at him.
“What do you need, Maccay?”
“I need to talk to her,” he said simply.
Sarah muttered under her breath.
“Well, you can’t talk to her right now. Can you please give us a few minutes?”
It was Maccay’s turn to mumble.
Through her still dripping hair, she saw him peer down at her, at least what he could see of her beyond Sarah.
He was holding something under his arm. He frowned before glancing back to Sarah and nodding.
“I’ll wait outside.”
As Maccay turned to leave the room, Sarah stepped away from the tub, reaching out to shut the door loudly behind him. She turned toward Alis, hands on her hips, shaking her head.
“All right, let’s get you out of that bath water. You can’t be very warm now.” Sarah reached for a large folded square of linen that had been placed at the foot of the bed. She unfolded the linen and held it out, turning her head slightly away so that Alis had a modicum of privacy as she straightened, water dripping down her body.
Alis glanced down at herself, eyes scanning her body—the bruises, most of them on her legs and torso.
Had she fallen? Where had she gotten so many bruises?
Sarah wrapped linen around her, and then helped her step out of the wooden tub and then guided her to sit on the edge of the bed.
“There’s a clean nightgown there, if you want to climb back into bed, or you can put your clothes back on. They’re clean.”
While Alis longed to go back to bed, to close her eyes and to disappear into sleep, she knew that she couldn’t hide forever. She felt weak, but not quite as bad as she had yesterday. It still hurt to take a deep breath, but she was breathing easier today. She looked up at Sarah.
“I’ll put my clothes back on.”
Sarah nodded and reached for the folded stack of clothes that had been placed on the chair. “Do you need help?”
“No, I think I can do it by myself, thank you,” she said softly.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Sarah said, stepping toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with Agnes to retrieve the tub. Take your time.” She glanced meaningfully at the door. “He can wait.”
Alis nodded, then watched as Sarah quickly opened the door, slipped out, and closed the door firmly behind her. She heard the sound of voices from the other side—Sarah’s and a male voice.
That Maccay… a curious sort.
Her brief interaction with him before had given her the impression that he was a warrior, and not a member of the laird’s personal family. Nevertheless, he appeared to have complete freedom venturing in and out of the manor house.
She inhaled slowly, testing her limits, and then sighed. She knew what he wanted.
He had questions.
So did she.
Did he know what she was doing out there in the woods? Had he found anything that would help to answer her own questions?
“You’re going to have to wait, Maccay! Let her get dressed!”
“How long is that going to take?”
Alis smiled at his tone of frustration. It served him right.
“Don’t you have anything else you could be doing?”
“Of course I do, Sarah. I’m a busy man. But I still need to talk to her.”
“Well, just wait until she’s finished. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Footsteps, and then Sarah’s voice again. “Have you talked to Phillip today?”
“What? No, why?”
“He was looking for you earlier.”
Another mumble. “I’ll talk to him after I talk to her.”
Both sets of footsteps retreated down the hallway.
Alis looked down at the clothes, placed her hand on them, her palm brushing against the thick woolen fabric of the trousers and the tunic.
Boy’s clothes.
The tunic looked well worn… very well worn.
She frowned.
They seemed familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. These weren’t the type of clothes a woman would wear, but they were hers, so she could only wonder. What kind of woman was she? Was she one to flout convention? Had she been allowed to wear such clothes or had she only worn them because she knew she would be hiding in the woods?
Hiding… where had that come from?
On its heels came another.
If she was hiding, who or what was she hiding from?
She tsked in frustration and then slowly dressed. It was a laborious endeavor due to her sore and aching muscles. Everything hurt. It wasn’t just a recent fall that had caused this kind of discomfort.
She did remember running through the woods, trying to escape that man— Maccay—who chased her, but she seemed to recall that her movements were already stiff, and her body bruised. She relived the several terrifying moments of darting through the woods, trying not to gasp too loudly for breath lest her pursuer catch up with her.
He had anyway, but the brief recollection only prompted her to wonder more. What had she been doing out there by herself?
After what seemed like an incredibly long time, she donned the trousers and pulled the tunic over her head. She gently collapsed back on the bed, exhausted, until a knock on the door startled her.
“Are you decent?”
Oh no, it was that man again. Why couldn’t he leave her alone?
The latch lifted and the door inched open. “You better be decent because I’m coming in.”
Alis stared at the door as a head peeked into the room. Eyes averted, but only for a moment before they swept past the now empty washtub and curiously ventured toward the bed where she sat.
She heard his nearly audible sigh of relief as he stepped completely into the room.
He pulled a leather satchel from under his arm and tossed it toward her.
It landed on the bed next to her.
“I believe that belongs to you.”
She stared at him, intimidated, yet oddly attracted at the same time. Again, she felt her heart skip a beat, and a warmth slowly crept up her cheeks.
His gaze was so… so discerning. Did he know something about her? If he did, she certainly wished he would share. She pulled her gaze from his and glanced down at the leather satchel. She didn’t recognize it, but with her left hand, slowly pulled back the flap and reached inside.
She pulled out a long, woolen and sleeveless gown. She fingered the cloth, a slight frown marring her brow. It was plain fabric, though of a finer texture than the tunic she wore. It had not been dyed; it was in its natural, dull, off-white shade. She looked up at him, eyebrow lifted with curiosity. “Is that mine?”
“I found it in your camp,” he said.
“My camp?”
“In the woods, where I found you. It looks like you had made some kind of lean-to, a shelter.” He gestured to the bag. “That was inside.” He reached for a small leather pouch tied to his belt, tugged at the string and opened it, then plucked something from inside and stepped closer. “I believe this might belong to you as well.” He extended his hand.
Well, at least he wasn’t going to toss it toward her like he had the satchel.
Slowly, she lifted her hand, palm up, and he gently placed the object inside.
He watched her every move, his gaze that of a hunter’s.
She glanced down at the object.
A ring. Silver, with a small red stone.
She didn’t recognize it and told him so.
“You still have no memory of what you are doing out there in the woods?”
He looked and sounded like he didn’t believe her.
She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I don’t remember. What else did you find?”
She placed the ring on top of the dress. It was small and looked like it might fit one of her fingers, but she didn’t want to put it on. She didn’t feel like it was hers.
“Some rabbit snares.”
She glanced up in surprise. “Rabbit snares?”
He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “And the carcass of a rabbit as well as the remains of several fires in the fire pit.”
A fire pit, rabbit traps, and carcasses.
She looked up at him, absently touching her throat, unable to make sense of it. “How long was I out there?” she gasped.
“You tell me.”
“I can’t! I don’t remember!”
He sighed, his lips pressed tightly together for a moment, before he adjusted his position. His demeanor shifted as he took a step closer.
She resisted the urge to lean away as he cocked an eyebrow at her.
His gaze swept her from top to toe and back again. She tried not to cringe, to not wonder what he was thinking as he inspected her.
“Well, you look a little better than you did a couple of days ago. Maybe in a day or two, you’ll start to remember.”
“I hope so.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. Did she? Hiding in the woods? Hunting? Wearing men’s clothes? How did she get there? What was she doing out there? She had asked herself those questions at least a hundred times since she had woken up in this room.
She looked up at Maccay and swallowed. “I suppose I should thank you for bringing me here,” she s
aid softly.
He frowned again.
It was obvious that he wasn’t one to hide his emotions, or at the very least he was not adept at doing so. He continued to study her.
Was he trying to determine whether he believed her or not?
There wasn’t anything she could do about that. She was as confused as he. She had no answers, for him or herself.
“Maccay!”
Maccay turned as Sarah entered the room, followed by Agnes.
“She was dressed when I came in,” he said defensively.
Sarah glanced at her and Alis nodded. “He brought these,” she said, gesturing to the dress, now in a crumpled heap beside her.
Sarah frowned and stepped closer, eyeing the dress and the ring on top of it before looking at her. “These don’t trigger a memory? Anything?”
“No,” she said.
Behind Sarah, Agnes and another young woman lifted the wooden bucket by its iron handles and carried it from the room, water sloshing gently inside.
“Give it time,” Sarah said, her tone kind. “Your memory will return, in due time—”
“When?” Maccay asked, his tone tinged with impatience.
“When it’s ready!” she snapped at him, sending him a look of exasperation. “Now will you let her rest?”
Maccay said nothing, but continued to stare at her.
Alis lifted her hands self-consciously to her hair, still tangled and wet from the bath. Which brought another question surging into her thoughts. What did she look like?
“Maccay, Phillip is looking for you.”
Maccay pulled his gaze from Alis and glanced at Sarah with a nod, before turning and abruptly leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.
5
Maccay walked away from the bedchamber, frowning in consternation. As he strode down the hallway and took the stairs to the great hall, he wondered why.
Did it matter to him why the girl had apparently been abandoned in the forest? Maybe her memory loss had nothing to do with the injuries she sustained out there. Maybe she was limited mentally. He immediately shook his head. That wasn’t it. She was alert, well spoken, just confused.
