And kill them he would!
He wouldna let them lay their filthy hands on his beautiful, feisty Elyne
As Elyne stepped out of the water, Graemme ran toward her screaming a battle cry which terrified her. Long black hair whipped back from his face. His eyes blazed with blood lust. The veins in his neck stood out in livid ridges. With lips contorted in a grotesque snarl baring his teeth, he looked ready to pounce and rip out her throat.
Rising fever had made him berserk!
He intended to kill her, just as she'd feared!
Elyne screeched when he raised his sword and started his backswing.
"Down!" he roared at her.
Did he mean to behead her on the ground?
Strange. He didn't look at her but at something behind her.
Though terrified of him, her instinct told her to obey his command.
She huddled on the ground and made herself as small as she could.
The sword swooshed as it cut the air. Her hair fluttered. A strange sound followed. Something fell and rolled in the leaves. A scant time after, a body hit the ground beside her.
Warm blood splattered her. The man had no head! She didn't scream. If she had, she would have choked. She heaved until all that came from her stomach was yellow, bitter fluid.
It was not over.
Another man howled and tried to run. Gramme swung the mace with his left hand. It bashed into the back of the lout's head. Its iron studs embedded in his skull.
With a loud thump, the filthy churl fell like a log.
Graemme leaned over, his hands steadying his knees as they wobbled.
Still filled with blood lust, he growled, "Are ye harmed, lass?"
"Nay. I had no warning they were here."
"Do ye see any other's lurking in the woods, wife? Since I see two of ye, I dinna trust my sight.
He could not see clearly! He blinked his eyes and shook his head. Hopefully, there was only one of her now.
She swiveled her head, her gaze searching for anything unusual.
"Nay, no one."
Saints help her! Was he going to fall?
Elyne jumped up and paid no heed to the gory scene around her. She tried to put her shoulder under his left arm so he could lean on her. They took one step together. He used his sword as an aid to walk, but it wasn't enough.
Graemme slithered to his knees, but kept an iron grip on his sword hilt.
A horse thundered toward the lodge, scaring Elyne so much she ran back to the dead man and grabbed the blood soaked handle of the mace. Giving it two mighty tugs, it released the man's skull. She jumped, spreading her legs wide to avoid the spiked iron ball near hitting her legs.
A single horseman came down the path. They were ready for him should he belong to the other two. Elyne ran to stand beside Graemme, her nostrils flaring and eyes blazing murderously. They could not see the horse or its rider from where they stood.
Squat barked ferociously.
The man banged on the door. It squeaked when he opened it.
Chapter 24
Elyne expected to hear Squat fighting the intruder, but his frenzied barking changed tone. He sounded excited and happy, happier than he'd ever greeted her!
Relief washed through her. Squat knew the visitor.
She near fell to her knees in relief when Ranald, dressed in his usual black clothing and robe, came around the lodge and turned toward the wood. Squat followed so close, he looked like he wanted to lean into the walking man.
"Elyne! Graemme! Where are ye? If ye're swiving in the woods, get yerselves back! It's time to return to Raptor and wed, whether ye wish it or no."
When Squat saw Elyne and Graemme, he came running and yipping, as happy as a dog can be on finding its owners. By the time Ranald reached them, the crazy dog was sniffing the corpses, then turned his back toward them and dug with his rear bowed legs, raining dirt down on the bodies.
"By God's brows, sister. Ye look like a Valkyrie ready to swing that bloody mace to dispatch another soul to Hell and not Valhalla." He looked her over closely. "Are ye hurt? Do ye know ye're blood-splattered?"
Unable to form words, she shook her head for his first question and nodded for the second. She'd started to shiver and her teeth chattered, which was strange. She should be relieved now her brother was here to protect them.
"Do ye also know ye are both nekid?"
She looked down and flushed.
He spoke low and soothingly as he walked toward her. Gently, he pried the mace from her hand. Removing his black cloak, he spread it around her shoulders, uttering soft soothing sounds.
"Ye are safe, now, love. But we must see to Graemme. He looks the worse for wear."
"I am fine. Take care of her." Graemme's voice was strained and weak. "I think she hasna seen a man beheaded afore."
"Aye. Being set upon by those two would ruin anyone's day."
Graemme didn't have the strength left to swing a weapon. He was relieved when Ranald helped him to rise then took his sword and laid it on the ground with the mace. He felt near to passing out, so maybe he imagined what he saw.
Ranald looked around the clearing, ignored the dead bodies but fixed his gaze on the leaves and small branches. His eyes held such determination Graemme wondered for what he searched. Suddenly, a wind started to blow. Leaves and branches lifted and hovered above the bloody weapons then fluttered to the ground until they hid them from view. It happened so suddenly Graemme blinked.
Ranald grinned at him. "That should keep them out of sight until I get you two inside."
Walking over, he put his arm around Elyne's shoulder and led her inside the lodge then turned to be sure Graemme was still behind him.
"Did I tell ye, ye look like Lucifer had hold of ye and dragged ye around the woods this past sennight? What happened to yer leg?" He stopped and eyed Squat. "This little beastie doesna look ferocious."
"A little mistake."
"Little? Dinna tell me ye set a trap and caught yerself?" Ranald's dark plum-colored eyes crinkled at the corners.
He settled Elyne in a chair at the table and put water on to boil.
"Ye both look like ye need a bit of care. Elyne. If ye feel up to it while I get my bag from Satan's Spawn, wash off the bastards' blood and dress yerself. Graemme, sit on the bed. Get yer leg up. It's swelling."
"What about the bodies," Elyne asked in a quavering voice.
"They dinna mind waiting until after I've finished caring for the living."
He picked up Squat, turned and strode out the door.
Elyne poured water in the basin, smeared a glob of soap on a cloth and scrubbed her body so hard she near took the skin from it.
"I wish ye had not seen what ye did today, Elyne."
For truth, Graemme sounded sorry she had.
"Ye took his head with one swing," she said and gagged. Covering her mouth and closing her eyes, she tried to wipe the memory from her mind.
"Aye. One swift act is merciful. Two is torture."
"When you readied to strike, how did ye know I would drop down? My head could be out there in the dirt."
She rinsed the cloth and thought she'd cleaned off all the horrible blood splatters. Dumping the soiled water out the window, she refilled the basin. She almost screamed when Graemme's hand reached around her and took the cloth.
"Hold still while I wash yer back. The louts were behind ye, so ye got more blood and, er, other stuff, on yer back than front."
He sounded almost out of breath with the effort. She spun around and tried to take the cloth from him.
"Ranald said ye should be on the bed!"
He raised his hand high, out of her reach. "I will after I've soaped yer back. Be still, else I'll fall. Ranald will think ye tripped me in my pitiful state."
How could he try to joke at such a time? She felt guilty enough. She sure as Hades didna want him fainting at her feet. Ranald would scold her for even allowing him to walk around.
When he rinsed the cloth of
its soap, she was startled to see the water turn so red. He threw it out the window and poured a fresh basin full from the pot heating at the fireplace.
"Ranald's cloak will need washing. It wiped most of if off yer back," he muttered.
His hands got slower and slower as he wiped off the soap. Finally, he was done and dropped the cloth in the basin.
She turned and put her arm around him to help him back to the bed. On the way, she started to tremble again thinking how close they'd come to being dead. They would have killed Graemme, then after taking their turns raping her, 'twas probable they would have slit her throat.
"Ye didna say how ye knew ye'd not lop off my head instead of his."
"I knew ye would obey."
She almost stopped in her tracks, but the faster she got him to the bed the better. He might be losing strength, but his injury didn't seem to lessen his thoughts of swiving. She had ample evidence. Whenever his left hand happened to brush against her breast, he hardened further.
"Are ye daft? Ye knew I would obey ye?" She drew his thoughts away from sex. "How? Do ye think ye have tamed me so I will respond to yer voice?"
"Tame? Ye?" Graemme snorted. Loud. "Ye responded to the command to drop down. It was not a request. 'Twas the urgency in my voice. It made ye do as I said to keep yerself safe."
They had reached the bed. When he sat, she grasped his ankle and helped lift his leg onto the bed. He eased back on the pillows, looked up at her and winked.
"Mayhap ye had best dress now, unless ye'd like a tussle between the sheets?"
How could he sound so hopeful when he was near to passing out?
"Ha! Not likely," she made her voice as firm as she could, since it still quavered a little.
She turned her back to Graemme and hurried over to a peg on the wall where she'd hung a green smock and kirtle at dawn. No sooner had she pulled it on than Ranald called out he was coming in.
His body filled the doorframe. Squat squeezed between Ranald's legs, near tripping him. Not only did her brother have his supplies from his horse, but he carried Graemme's sword and the mace. He had washed the gore off both.
Ranald's gaze took in everything in the room with one quick sweep.
"Nothing has changed. 'Tis as if Moridac will walk into the room at any moment, bragging about his hunt for the day," he said.
Elyne's heart tripped seeing the beauty of the left side of his face lit in a wistful smile. 'Twas indeed as if his twin was there. Had Moridac lived, their appearance would be identical...except for the scars on the other side of Ranald's face.
He placed his large leather pouch of healing herbs on the table then hung the mace back on the empty nail. Carrying the sword over to the bed, he propped it against the wall near enough for Graemme to reach it easily.
Elyne went over to open the pouch and spread its contents on the table, selecting the jars, stoppered bottles and crushed herbs she knew would heal wounds. She rinsed the basin with hot water then half-filled it. On the small table beside the bed, she put it and the cloths she kept washed and clean for dressing Graemme's leg.
"Well, now, let me see what ye have been up to," he said as he started unwinding the bandage. When he had bared Graemme's leg down to the skin, he looked up in surprise.
"Teeth marks? And not from Squat, nor yer departed friends, eh?"
He looked from one flushed face to the other.
"Well, 'tis not likely ye bit yerself. Ye do remember ye were here to learn to know each other so yer marriage would be calm and peaceful? Looks to me ye decided to go at each other with tooth and hand." He raised his right brow, the scar crossing through it making him look even more quizzical.
"From the mark of a hand on yer right nether cheek, Elyne, I would say ye either started or ye finished an argument?"
"He started it! He told me packing mud on my face would smooth the wrinkles I've added to my face from frowning."
Ranald glanced up and studied her face then shook his head. "What wrinkles?"
She gasped and felt over her face. "Between my brows and around my eyes!"
Her brother ducked his head. Still, he couldn't wipe the grin off his face.
"Lucifer's wagging tongue! Watch her else she'll dump another bucket of mud over me!"
"A bucket?"
"Aye. Not one but two! After I had hunted all day trying to find grouse for her dinner, I was bathing in a pool of ice water. She tried to drown me, too."
"It served you right. Ye were pig-headed and didn't heed me when I told ye it would rain and ye should take a cloak."
Ranald shook his head as he kept changing one hot cloth for another. Finally, he probed around the cleaned wound. "This can only be yer work on his leg, Elyne. I recognize yer bite from the time Moridac teased ye saying yer tits were getting bigger than yer head!" He stopped to look at her. "Did ye do it underwater?"
Graemme answered for her. "Nay, she did it whist swinging upside down!"
"Hmm." After putting another hot compress on the wound, Ranald sat back in his chair. "Whilst I wait for this to cool, I think ye'd best tell me all."
When they both started talking at the same time, he held up one finger. They shut up.
"One at the time." He pointed to Graemme. "You start."
Graemme told of his miserable day and of her giving him the mud bath. He admitted he had mayhem on his mind when he started to chase her.
She interrupted him to tell her brother the miserable man she was to marry had put snares around the woods to catch her like some wild game. Then he let her twirl and struggle until she was dizzy. Naturally, she wouldn't let him treat her like some pig held up for bleeding, so she grabbed him. The only spot she could reach was his thigh.
"If yer precious parts ye are so afeared of losing had been in reach, ye would be one short of a pair!"
"See! Yer sister is begging for a beating."
"Begging? Ye already struck me."
"Before or after the bite?" Ranald quirked his head to the side.
"After." Elyne flushed and lowered her eyes.
"Well, now, then ye are even. Mud for Mud. A hand print for teeth marks." He shook his head. "The two of ye are worse than my twins. He pulls her hair. She cuts his in his sleep. We will see what Grunda has to say about yer sennight together."
Elyne gasped when he lifted the hot compress off Graemme's leg. Two of the marks on his leg had swelled even more, the flesh leading from them red and angry. They looked filled with putrid fluid near to bursting the skin. Ranald stood and took a thin knife from amongst his things then put it in the boiling water. She busied herself getting more clean squares of cloth and spreading a thicker drying cloth beneath his leg.
Walking over to the food storage box, she looked at each bottle before she selected one slightly different from the others. It wasna wine but a potent drink the Scots brewed in caves close to waterfalls where they could collect the purest water. She poured a generous amount in a cup and brought it over.
"Ye're going to pour this on yer handiwork?"
"Nay, fool! 'Tis for ye to drink so ye dinna squeal like a girl getting her time of the moon."
She lifted his head and held it to his lips. After the first tentative sips, he rolled his eyes.
"Why have ye not offered this afore? 'Tis our favorite in the Highlands. Ye canna get cold after a few cups of it."
"Believe me, 'tis Chief Broccin's favored drink, also." Ranald came over holding the handle of the knife with a padded cloth and sat down. "This will hurt, but I have to release the poisons else they will spread through yer blood and kill ye."
Before Graemme could worry about it further, Ranald quickly cut through the two spots. Graemme grunted through teeth gnashed together. Elyne had wet cloths ready to catch the fluid as it spurted out of the wounds. A few squeezes from Ranald, and the flesh emptied. After he cleaned out the wound, he inspected the ugly smelling fluid.
"As I suspected. Elyne's teeth forced dirt into the wounds. Luckily, I always carry jars of
creams and waxes made from Chickweed wintergreen. The good Brother Cadfael came through Kelso Abbey several times and taught me much about wounds. It should heal quickly now."
While Graemme caught his breath, his new brother-by-law placed a heavy poultice of the ointments on his leg and held it with clean bandages.
"I dinna want ye on yer feet until the morrow. Unfortunately, we canna delay longer. Raptor's guests are getting restless. Chief Broccin threatens to bring everyone here to have Father Martin perform the wedding vows."
"Brother, he's marrying me off to a man who will beat me every time I thwart him. Ye saw the bruise!"
"Ye're the one who first angered me. I told ye once our family motto is With a Strong Hand."
Graemme snorted and chuckled. No doubt, the strong drink had made the man mindless.
Ranald looked at him and grinned. "I think ye got the better end of the fight, Elyne. Ye should watch yerself, though. He might decide to take a hunk out of yer arse the next time ye decide to act like a man." He stopped and studied Graemme. "Be wary, Graemme, if she picks up a sword. Tis more lethal than teeth."
Elyne was near as exhausted from the morning as Graemme. Whenever Ranald moved, Squat followed him. He seemed to want to know what was going on and was suspicious of the salves and elixirs. Every time Ranald stopped for something, Squat laid on his back, inviting him to pet his stomach. He declined until after he was through treating Graemme. Then he bent over and ruffled up the dog's fur and, putting one big hand on his underbelly, rocked him back and forth until Squat's tongue lolled out with joy.
She was grateful when her brother led her to sit her down at the table. Squat stood on his barrel legs and begged to get in her lap. She picked him up and he was snoring in a short time.
Ranald went over to inspect the gruel. "It has been on for a while, but a little extra water will thin it out," he said as he added some and stirred. "I picked some wild fruit on the way. With butter, honey and nuts, it will help make a filling meal."
Surrender Page 24
