Warriors Of Legend

by Kathryn Le Veque, Kathryn Loch, Dana D'Angelo

  One by one his men charged. Micah easily deflected each attack, sending them sprawling into the snow. He barked at the soldiers, goading them to best him. Then John picked up a sword and challenged Micah. For the first time, Kate saw Micah hard pressed. Yet, even John could not match his speed and power. Micah made swordplay look like a graceful dance.

  “Ah, you louts,” John barked, backing away. “Watch well the baron and learn. For a day may come when your sword arm is wounded in battle. Being able to fight with the off hand may save your sorry skins.” John brandished his weapon and attacked again.

  Micah laughed and defended, ultimately sending John face first into the snow.

  Kate chuckled and walked downstairs. An interesting practice but icy air clung to her skin by the window. She headed toward the warmer kitchens and pushed open the door.

  “Good morning, my lady,” Sarah said and bobbed a quick curtsey.

  Kate glanced up and saw the young stable boy, Tobin, take the cup Sarah handed him and hurried off to his chores, stuffing a piece of cheese in his mouth. At least there had been no more fights between Tobin and William.

  “Good morning, Sarah,” Kate said and fetched her herb bag to make her tea. She scowled, a few of the key herbs she needed were gone. Fortunately, Marjorie walked through the door.

  “Marjorie, did you get the herbs I asked for?”

  Marjorie frowned. “What herbs?”

  “I left a list for you some time ago.”

  “I’m sorry, my lady, but I received no list.”

  Kate sighed. “Mary probably misplaced it.” She quickly sorted through her bag, telling Marjorie the herbs she needed.

  “I have plenty, my lady, I will fetch them for you.”

  “Thank you.” Kate turned her attention to Sarah who poured wine into several cups. “Is that for my lord and his men?”

  Sarah bit her lip nervously and nodded. “The baron will no doubt be thirsty when he comes inside.”

  “Good idea,” Kate said and smiled. “I shall put these on the table in the great hall.” She gathered the cups onto a serving platter.

  “Thank you, lady,” Sarah said with a brilliant smile.

  Kate set the last tray of wine cups on the table. Micah and his men bowled through the door laughing and joking. He saw Kate and strode to her, scooping her into his arms and spinning her around. She squeaked in surprise.

  “I like you waiting on me.”

  She rolled her eyes at him but inwardly she cheered. Perhaps Micah returned to his former self. “What is it about fighting that makes men so randy?”

  He laughed, setting her on her feet. Grabbing a cup of wine, he drank deeply. “Where’s my food, wench?” He softened his words with a wink.

  “In the kitchens,” she said and shoved him toward the hearth. “Get out of that stinking mail and I might bring it to you.”

  Micah chuckled, picked up a second cup and handed it to John. “Here, my friend.”

  “Nay,” John said with a grin. “You worked me hard today, I’ll settle for a bit of watered ale.”

  Many men chorused his decision. Kate nodded and hurried back to the kitchens.

  “Sarah, we need watered ale,” she said and grabbed clean cups.

  The poor girl turned white. “Wine did not please the baron?”

  “Oh, it did,” Kate assured her. “John and the others wish watered ale.”

  Sarah moved next to Kate and started to help but her hands shook.

  “What’s wrong, child?”

  “I…I am simply overtired, lady.”

  Kate sighed. “Why don’t you get some rest? Mary and I can see to dinner.”

  Without another word, Sarah fled the kitchens.

  Kate finished the water and ale cups herself. Mary joined her with bread and cheese for the knights.

  “I am going to tend to dinner,” Mary said.

  “Will you need any help? I told Sarah to rest.”

  “I’ll be fine, lady, I’ve been preparing a hearty stew for this eve. The rest of the meal will be simple to finish.”

  Kate spotted Micah walking down the stairs. He had changed into a clean tunic, braes, and dry boots. He approached her and offered his arm.

  “Will you join me, my lady?”

  She grinned up at him and nodded. “I’m wondering if we will ever finish our chess game.”

  He sighed with mock resignation. “Lady, I cannot.”

  She stared up at him, wounded. “Why not?”

  Micah stepped closer, brushing her cheek with a fingertip. A wondrous sensation tingled through her skin and coiled deep within her. Kate shivered and swallowed hard.

  “I have discovered,” he said softly, “playing chess with you robs me of the concentration required for the game.”

  Is that some sort of compliment? She studied him for a moment. His indigo eyes glittered, and the corners of his lips tugged upward ever so slightly. Kate fought down her own smile, remembering when he told her to learn when he jested. “Ah,” she purred. “Then perhaps you would rather yield the game to me.”

  Micah laughed wonderfully. “Well met, lady. But if I am to lose, then I should at least go down fighting.” He leaned close. “Although if my men find out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “If they do find out you can always tell them you lost on purpose because you didn’t want to make me cry.”

  “You don’t know how true that is.” He escorted her to the table with the chess board.

  ***

  Kate shook her head as Micah finally checkmated her king. It had been a valiant struggle. Despite Micah’s repeated bawdy and humorous objections over Kate distracting him throughout the game, he won after all. He sat back and gave her a tired smile.

  “Well played, my dear wife.”

  She grinned. “See, you had nothing to worry about.”

  He chuckled then grimaced, his hand rubbing his stomach.

  Kate scowled, his mischievous attitude seemed to be fading rapidly. “Are you all right?”

  “I fear I’ve managed to give myself a bellyache.”

  She stood, her hand touching his forehead. “You are a bit warm. I hope your antics in the snow did not give you a fever.”

  He caught her fingers in his. “I told you I am made of hardy stock. It is probably just too much wine on an empty stomach.”

  Kate’s scowl deepened. Micah only drank one glass. She had seen him drink much more on an empty stomach without trouble. So why did he not feel well? More than likely the cause was his jaunt in the cold air. Kate glanced at the table. Mary and the servants carried food out of the kitchens.

  “Mary has fixed a nice stew, perhaps that will help.” To her shock, Micah turned absolutely green.

  “I…I don’t think so, chérie.” He stood, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Perhaps I shall just retire early tonight.”

  Her worry increased. Micah never refused dinner. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Nay, chérie, you need to eat.”

  “I will later. First, I want to see you to bed.”

  Kate walked with Micah upstairs, watching him cringe at the sight and smell of food. In their room, she helped him undress, concerned at his sudden weakness. She started a pot of water to boil over the hearth.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said and hurried downstairs to gather her herbs, relieved to note Marjorie left the ones she requested.

  As Kate returned the great hall to go upstairs, she heard a few men say they were not hungry and also complained of aching stomachs. All had fought outside, perhaps the same ailment struck them as well. She asked Mary to make some barley water for the men, then took her herb bag upstairs.

  Micah curled under the blankets, shivering. Kate added the barley to the pot of water and stirred it. She returned to the bed and sat on the edge, stroking Micah’s black hair away from his face.

  “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Aye,” he said softly. “Now that I’m laying down my stomach doesn’t hurt
so much.”

  Micah closed his eyes as Kate’s fingers traveled lightly over his temple. They remained silent until the boiling water caught her attention and she poured a cup.

  “Here,” Kate said and helped him sit up. “This should soothe your stomach.”

  He drained the cup and leaned against her. “With your wonderful attentions I have no choice but to feel better.”

  She laughed softly and cradled his head against her breast. Micah uncoiled just a bit and she sat with him a short time.

  “Micah?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I need to go downstairs. Other men do not feel well either.”

  He sighed in disappointment. “I do not wish to share you with anyone. Have Marjorie look after them.”

  “I will but I need to talk to her anyway. I’ll be right back. I’ll have one of the servants wait at the door in case you need anything. Do you think you might become sick?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I’ll leave a bucket just in case.” Kate kissed his cheek and found a clean bucket. She left him with a servant guarding the door.

  Kate stopped at Marjorie’s room and fetched the healer. Downstairs she found Mary administering the barley water with moderate success. Marjorie checked each man then returned to Kate.

  “It would be wise to set up an infirmary down here. I can easier tend to them. You will be caring for the baron?”

  “Aye,” Kate replied. “I feared they may taken fever playing in the snow.”

  “Still, these symptoms…the baron has the same?”

  “Aye.”

  Marjorie shook her head. “So many…all so close to one another…” Her voice faded and she scowled.

  “What’s wrong, Marjorie?”

  “Nothing.”

  The servant interrupted Kate. “My lady, the baron says his stomach is causing him a great burning pain now.”

  Kate glanced at Marjorie. “Milk?”

  Marjorie nodded and smiled. “I’ve taught you well, child.”

  “That you have, Marjorie, thank the good Lord.”

  Kate fetched the milk and entered the solar. An awful shade of gray tinged Micah’s face and he lay awkwardly, with his head near the edge of the bed.

  “Did you get sick?”

  “Aye,” he replied, his voice rasping.

  Kate noticed a foul smell coming from the bucket. She scowled and looked at it. Micah had not retched very much. Small greenish masses flecked the dark liquid.

  A whisper of dread crawled down her spine and Kate quickly shoved the bucket away. Tending illness did not bother her but this was abnormal. Kate set the glass of milk on the table, remembering Marjorie’s concern. Again she touched Micah’s forehead, his fever had worsened and sweat dotted his brow.

  “Does your stomach still burn?”

  “Aye.”

  Kate helped him set up and drink the milk then moved the blankets and felt his belly. It proved distended and Micah flinched as she probed.

  “That hurts?”

  “Aye.”

  Kate’s gaze went back to the bucket, desperately trying to find another answer to her fears. The evidence brutally stood before her.

  Kate dampened a cloth and settled it on Micah’s forehead, trying to think logically.

  He opened his eyes, gazing at her miserably. “Perhaps you were right,” he said. “It seems I may have caught a chill.”

  “Micah, I—”

  A soft knock startled her. “Enter.”

  John opened the door and stepped inside with Marjorie right behind. He looked at Micah in concern. “I believe we have something of an epidemic here.”

  Kate sighed and wrapped her fingers tightly around Micah’s. “I know the cause of this,” she said hoarsely.

  “What is it?” John asked.

  “Poison.”

  Micah sucked in his breath. John turned gray and Marjorie stiffened. Kate pointed at the bucket and Marjorie checked it, cursing in Gaelic.

  “But if someone poisoned Micah, why are the other men sick?” John asked.

  Micah squeezed his eyes closed. “You know the strategy, John,” he growled, his grip on Kate’s hand became crushing. “In hoping to get to me, they attacked all.”

  “But only a handful demonstrate illness. I’m fine and so are most of the others.”

  Kate scowled. “Micah did not eat, so the poison could not have been in the food. You drank a cup of wine…”

  Micah’s eyes flew open. “The wine?”

  Kate’s heart dropped to the floor. “Sarah prepared it alone in the kitchens.” Her thoughts reeled as the pieces fell into place. “Sarah came to work in the kitchens on the very day the merchants arrived. I saw her speaking to the merchant who abducted me from Appleby but I never thought anything of it.”

  “Still,” John said. “We must be careful about laying blame.”

  Kate nodded, looking at Marjorie. “I trust your judgment. You vouched for her after teaching her some herb–lore…”

  Marjorie’s face turned florid. “That little wench!” she screeched. Again she cursed violently in Gaelic. “I will tear the little strumpet limb from limb. All I wanted to do was help her after she lost her family and now she does this.”

  Micah stared at the old healer, his eyes wide. “Glory, Marjorie, relax. I do not blame you for this.”

  Marjorie snapped her jaw shut, staring at Micah in shock.

  Micah managed a grim smile. “Marjorie, we may have our differences, but you have always been forthright regarding your feelings. The woman who calls me young steed to my face and defies me blatantly would not use poison.”

  Marjorie ogled at him a moment, then her lips twitched. “Aye, young steed,” she said softly.

  Micah chuckled and winced, his hand clutching his gut.

  Marjorie stepped forward, gently probing his stomach. “We must discover which poison was used in order to treat it.”

  Kate bolted to her feet and rummaged through her herb bag. She carefully set out each item and ran a mental inventory. She accounted for everything, including the items Marjorie gave her…except for one thing.

  “Savin Oil,” she whispered.

  Marjorie turned sharply. “What?”

  “The Savin Oil is missing from my herb bag.”

  “Are you sure, lady? Both of us have other herbs which can be deadly if used incorrectly.”

  Kate nodded. “I am sure, Marjorie. Savin Oil masks its symptoms as cold humors. Only Savin Oil causes the foul matter Micah retched.” She paused and gulped a deep breath. “Think about it Marjorie, if Sarah had used something like Hemlock for example, we would question why a healthy young man’s heart stopped for no reason. But Savin Oil causes fits.”

  “Good God,” John said in horror. “Those who die of fits are said to be possessed or—”

  “Cursed,” Micah growled.

  “The huntsman’s curse, the merchant was terrified of it because he saw one man drop dead in the street suffering a fit,” John added, nodding.

  “John,” Kate said, returning to Micah. “I need to know how much poison Sarah used. If she put it in all of the wine cups then the dose was small. Micah is young and strong. By catching it early I might be able save him.”

  Micah swallowed hard. “You mean there is a chance…”

  Tears gathered in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. “You could die, Micah.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Micah closed his eyes, his face turning gray. Kate, her jaw aching and her throat tight, forced down the agonizing fear within her. She had to stay calm and keep a level head.

  John hurried out the door. “Hubert!” he bellowed.

  “We need to make emetics quickly,” Marjorie said.

  Kate returned to her herb bag and pulled out a small jar with finely ground powder.

  Marjorie’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. “Bryony Root?”

  “You know as well as I do it’s the only thing strong enough to completely purge Micah�
��s stomach.”

  “Kate,” Micah said his voice soft and his eyes wide. “Are you sure? I thought Bryony Root was a poison too.”

  Kate swallowed hard, praying she made the right decision. “It will only be a small amount, Micah. But we must rid you of as much poison as possible.”

  He slowly nodded. Kate made the tea while Marjorie returned downstairs to tend to the other men. Micah drank the tea and soon cleared his stomach. He fell back on the bed, gasping for air.

  “I am sorry, Micah,” she whispered, smoothing his hair from his face. He looked at her a moment then squeezed his eyes closed, grimacing in pain.

  “It makes sense,” he said weakly. “After we married, MacLeary had to change his tactics. Kidnapping you will serve no purpose. I must be eliminated.”

  Kate shivered. “I’m not going to let you die, Micah.”

  His lips lifted slightly. “I believe you. But if you become a widow, MacLeary will make a bid for his son to marry you. With enough gold the Scottish church will support him.”

  She rose, trying not to think of his terrifying words, and returned to the table to make another tea. Her hands shook and she fought to still them.

  “Not again,” Micah muttered.

  “Nay,” she said softly. “This is a tea of Heart Trefoil.”

  “Good.”

  She gave Micah the tea and he finally fell asleep but his fever increased. A bit later John and Hubert returned.

  “We found Sarah,” John said. “You were right. She used Savin Oil. She’s in the dungeon.”

  Kate leaned against the wall, praying it would keep her from falling.

  “Sarah only put a couple of drops in each cup,” Hubert said. He paused and looked at Kate a long moment. “Someone paid her but she refuses to say who.”

  Micah groaned and Kate flew to his side. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body convulsed, his limbs twisting upon themselves. Kate’s heart dropped like a stone and tears fogged her vision. What have I done? I am killing him. She forced herself to think logically. Savin oil caused fits, not Bryony root. Above all, she dare not lose her faith in her abilities or she would lose Micah. Kate quickly shoved a stick in his mouth, so he would not bite his tongue. She, John and Hubert did their best to keep Micah from hurting himself.