Autumn's Touch (Seasons of Fortitude Series Book 3)

by Elizabeth Rose

  “It’s a sign from God,” said one of the nuns from the crowd, blessing herself as she spoke.

  “She’s being punished for something,” agreed Sister Angela, nodding vigorously.

  “I am not being punished,” said Autumn, wishing they would all just leave her alone. They were always telling her she’d be punished or tempted by the devil since she didn’t pray with them morning, noon, and night. “I’m telling you, I’m not really hurt.”

  “Aye, ye are, lassie,” said Nairnie, reaching out for Autumn’s arm. “I saw the flesh hangin’ from yer bones. Now give me yer arm so I can sew ye back together.”

  “There is a lot of blood,” agreed Sister Bertha, looking at Autumn’s arm.

  “I’m sure I’m not even bleeding any longer.” Autumn didn’t feel pain or as if she were hurt much at all.

  “Let me take a look, lassie.” Nairnie waved her hand in the air, urging Autumn to uncover her arm and show her the wound.

  Autumn felt vibrant and full of life. It must have been the rain that made her feel this way. Or possibly, the fresh storm air. She slowly removed her hand that covered the wound, letting Nairnie wipe away the blood with a wet rag. All the nuns watched, and the guards looked on with curiosity as well.

  “I don’t think I need stitches,” she said, smiling at the nuns instead of looking at her arm.

  “No’ only that – but ye arena goin’ to even need it wrapped,” said Nairnie. “I dinna understand.”

  “Understand what?” Autumn looked over to her arm. Where flesh was hanging just minutes ago, it was now melded back together. Instead of the open wound she’d witnessed, there was only a raised patch of red skin with a jagged perimeter that was entirely intact. Her heart jumped. Curiously reaching out one finger, Autumn traced along the edges of her wound just to make sure. “It – it’s gone. I mean . . . the skin is no longer broken.”

  “Why do you sound surprised?” asked one of the nuns. “Isn’t that what you told us?”

  “I – yes, I guess I did.”

  “I saw the wound with my own eyes,” said Lester. “Where did it go?”

  She heard Sister Bertha gasp. When she looked up, the nun was holding her hand to her mouth. “It’s the work of the devil. He’s possessed your soul for not praying with us every night.”

  “The devil?” asked Autumn, confused. She had thought the nun would say her healing was sped up because of their prayers. “That’s nonsense. I’m just a fast healer.”

  “I’ll say,” added Nairnie. “I wouldna believe it either if I didna see it with my own two eyes. Lass, what did ye do? I didna even see ye make a poultice or use yer herbs at all.”

  “I – I didn’t do anything,” said Autumn, realizing all the nuns were backing away from her in fear now. “It must have something to do with the lightning that struck the tree and also traveled through me. Yes, I’m sure that’s what caused the fast healing.”

  “She’s cursed,” came the whisper of a nun.

  “Stay away from her,” said another.

  “Lady Autumn is tired and needs her rest now,” announced Nairnie. She shot up off the chair and started herding the nuns away like a pack of sheep.

  “I’m not tired,” said Autumn. “Matter of fact, I feel filled with energy. I couldn’t sleep now if I tried.”

  “Go on, now. Ye two as well,” Nairnie said to the guards, waving her hands, shooing them away. When they all left, Nairnie hurriedly collected up her supplies. “We need to get ye to yer chamber anon. Ye canna leave there until we figure out what’s happenin’ here.”

  “Nairnie, stop it,” said Autumn, studying her arm in astonishment. “I’m sure it was healed from the lightning, that’s all. It has nothing to do with the devil.”

  “I ken the clootie has naught to do with it, but ye had yer hand over the wound. Think about it, lassie. Ye healed yerself!”

  “Do you really think so?” Autumn smiled and ran her fingers over her arm in satisfaction. How exciting it would be to have the skill of healing with her touch alone. “I wonder if it will happen again.”

  “Ye’d better hope no’ because, if it does, ye will have to come up with some fast answers to suffice the Sisters. As it is, it’s goin’ to take a lot of convincin’ from me tonight to make them believe ye are no’ aligned with the devil, or perhaps a witch yerself. Do I need to remind ye what the church has done in the past to those accused of being witches?”

  “Now, you know as well as I that I’m not a witch. I’m sure we have nothing to worry about.”

  “Let’s get ye to bed. I have my work cut out for me tonight, tryn’ to calm down the clishmaclaver that ye’ve started.” Nairnie guided Autumn out of the great hall.

  “I told you, I’m not tired. Matter of fact, I’m so full of energy that I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again.”

  Nairnie cocked her head and squinted one eye. “I’m no’ so sure it was only the tree that got struck by lightnin’. But until we ken more, ye’d better just hush up about what happened. Now go to yer chamber, and I’ll see ye in the mornin’.”

  “All right,” said Autumn. “But give me the baskets of herbs.” She took them from the old woman and opened her door. Entering the room, she peeked out the crack in the open door until she saw Nairnie waddle down the corridor and head toward the rooms that housed the nuns. Then she quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, heading to the infirmary instead.

  Chapter 2

  Autumn spent all night in the infirmary not only tending to the wounded men with balms and ointments but also trying out her new healing touch as well. There was only one nun at the door at night since there weren’t any critically injured men right now. It was Sister Gertrude – and she was fast asleep.

  “Thank you, Lady Autumn,” said one of the patients, smiling and putting a hand to his head. “I feel so much better.”

  “I’m glad,” she said softly, bringing her hand away from his head. “Mayhap just keep quiet about this,” she told him, just like she’d told the rest of the men there the same thing. She didn’t want the nuns coming after her, and especially not Nairnie.

  “Keepin’ quiet isna an option since everyone already kens about yer new gift,” said Nairnie, entering the room behind Autumn. Autumn turned to see the old woman standing there with Sir Royce FitzWilliam, the lord who started the infirmary and owned Mablethorpe Manor.

  “Sir Royce,” she said, jumping to her feet, spilling rosemary and lavender from her basket in the process. What was he doing here? He was supposed to be campaigning in France since he took Sir Warren Mowbray’s place when Summer and Warren got married.

  “What is going on here?” asked the man, walking over to the shutters and pulling them open. Morning’s first light spilled into the room, making it possible to see without a candle. Autumn had one lit candle with her. She bent over and quickly blew it out to save the wax for nightfall since wax candles were so expensive.

  “She’s healed us,” said one of the men from the bed.

  “Lady Autumn, I thought ye were sleepin’,” said Nairnie with that scolding look on her face.

  “I told you I wasn’t tired,” said Autumn, picking up a cloth and wiping her hands. “Lord Royce, it’s such a surprise to see you here when I thought you were in France.”

  “I returned for supplies for King Edward. However, the weather has been so stormy lately that I’ve been stranded here. That’s why I decided to check on Mablethorpe. I’m glad I did.” Royce was a young man and very handsome. He was still single as far as Autumn knew. He had almost been Summer’s husband at one time, but Autumn was glad her sister married Sir Warren instead. “The nuns have told me that you were visited by the devil.” He walked over and checked one of his men that had been wounded fighting with him. “Sir Louis, your leg seems to be healing quickly.”

  “It’s because of Lady Autumn,” said the man. “I wasn’t doing that well, but with her new healing touch, I feel so much better today.”


  “What’s this all about?” grumbled Sir Royce. His curious eyes flashed from one man to the next and then back to Autumn.

  “I was struck by lightning,” she told him, seeing that the men were reluctant to say more after they’d promised her they wouldn’t. “I seem to be able to speed up the healing process.”

  “What?” His brows arched. “Are you some sort of . . . witch?”

  “Nay!” she said. “I’m not a witch.”

  “You wander around the infirmary by yourself in the dark. Your flaming red hair isn’t even covered. Perhaps you’re a strumpet instead?”

  “My lord,” said Nairnie, interrupting. “Can I speak with ye in private please?”

  Autumn was glad that Nairnie stepped in. Autumn didn’t like the way the conversation between her and Lord Royce was going. She didn’t want anyone calling her a witch and certainly not a strumpet!

  She pretended to be cleaning up her things. But she was listening with her back turned to Nairnie and Sir Royce’s conversation.

  “I don’t want a witch or a strumpet at Mablethorpe. It isn’t right,” said Sir Royce.

  “She’s neither, my lord. I assure ye,” protested Nairnie. “She tells the truth that she’s been hit by a lightnin’ bolt and now has the power to speed up healin’. I’m sure it’s just temporary. It willna last.”

  “I don’t like it,” growled the knight. “She’s upsetting the nuns.”

  “She seems to have made the patients happy,” Nairnie pointed out. “They said they are feeling much better.”

  “I have a close connection with the church and won’t let her keep upsetting the nuns.” Sir Royce paced back and forth. “If word gets out that she’s been visited by the devil, I’ll have the bishop knocking at my door and closing down Mablethorpe.”

  “I’m sure he wouldna do that,” said Nairnie.

  Autumn looked over her shoulder to see Sir Royce walking through the room, checking one man after another. Nairnie followed right behind him. “I might have to close down Mablethorpe myself if she keeps healing the men so fast. An infirmary is nothing without wounded men.”

  “What are ye sayin’, my lord?”

  “I’m saying I have a promise to both King Edward and the church to keep Mablethorpe running. I may own the manor, but the king is the one who funds it – as a favor to the church. Don’t you see? One hand washes the other. It is no longer in my best interest to let the girl stay here.”

  “Ye wouldna really send her away? After all, she’s given up her life as a lady just to help people. How could ye do this to her, my lord?”

  Royce stopped and fingered the short beard on his chin in thought. “I suppose that wouldn’t sit well with her bastard triplet brothers if I threw her out. I don’t want them hunting me down. I know how much of a vendetta they can hold toward a man. After all, they even raided their own father. Nay, you’ll have to convince her to leave here of her own accord.”

  “She’ll never leave, my lord. She loves it here.”

  “Nay, I don’t,” Autumn spoke up. She turned around and looked directly at them.

  “Lady Autumn, ye were listenin’ to our conversation?” gasped Nairnie.

  “I’m not happy here, Sir Royce,” Autumn admitted. “I haven’t been happy here for some time now. I will leave Mablethorpe of my own accord.”

  “Lady Autumn, think of what ye’re sayin’,” said Nairnie. “Where will ye go?”

  “I don’t know,” said Autumn. “I suppose I could go to Scotland for a while. My brother, Reed’s wife, Maggie, is having a baby soon. I could be of help during the birth. So could you, Nairnie.”

  “If that’s what you want,” said Sir Royce trying to make it sound like it was her sole decision. She was sure the man would have thrown her out if she had refused to go.

  “Aye, it’s what I want,” she said, staring at him with no expression at all on her face. “It is my birthday soon, and I’ll be seven and ten years of age. It is time for me to move on to bigger and better things.”

  Sir Royce seemed taken aback by that comment. “Then, by all means, go find what you’re looking for,” he told her. “I’ll even make sure you and Nairnie get there in time for the birth of your brother’s baby. I’ll put you aboard a ship I have sailing for Scotland tomorrow.”

  “What about afterward?” asked Nairnie. “Lady Autumn, where will ye live once Maggie has birthed the baby?”

  “I’ll live with my brother, Rowen, at Whitehaven, as before,” said Autumn. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Sir Royce, I need to pack for my trip.”

  * * *

  The ship set sail for Scotland the next morning with Autumn as well as Nairnie aboard. They’d taken with them only what little they could carry but, then again, they didn’t own much. Still, Sir Royce gave them permission to return and collect the rest of their things to move back to Whitehaven afterward.

  The guard, Lester, came with them as their escort, while Ardagh stayed behind at Mablethorpe. The mansion had a small garrison that was stationed there to protect the nuns from possible invaders.

  “I’m sorry ye had to leave,” said Nairnie, walking up to look over the edge of the rail of the ship as they traveled north up the coast. Lester lingered behind them. The ship was a trade ship owned by Sir Royce, and it was carrying twenty tuns of goods in the hold to trade with the Scots.

  “I didn’t have to leave. I chose to leave,” Autumn reminded her, raising her face to the sun and closing her eyes. They’d had quite a few storms lately, so the sun’s warmth on her face felt comforting.

  “Ye ken Sir Royce would have made ye leave either way. If ye had remained in yer chamber instead of sneakin’ out to heal the men in the first place, ye might have been able to stay at Mablethorpe.”

  Autumn’s eyes popped open. “I will not keep my gift from those in need,” she told her. Then something caught her attention. It was a dark, foreboding castle high atop a cliff overlooking the water. “What’s that?” she asked, thinking how sad and lonely the place seemed. Most castles were whitewashed and had the resident lord’s brightly colored banners hanging from the battlements. This castle was dark and dreary. It had one small pennant that looked to be dark gray or possibly black attached to a tower.

  “That’s Ravenscar,” said the guard walking up to join them.

  “Ravenscar?” she asked. “That name sounds familiar, but I don’t know why. Tell me more, Lester.”

  “Ye dinna want to ken anythin’ about that place or the man who is said to be the gatekeeper of hell.” Nairnie made a face and spat over the rail into the sea as if she were trying to cleanse her mouth just from mentioning the man. “He doesna deserve to live for the horrible things he’s done.”

  “What has Lord Ravenscar done?” asked Autumn innocently. She had lived a sheltered life and was not aware of the idle gossip.

  “What hasna he done? Dinna ask about it again. ‘Tis better ye dinna ken.” Nairnie blessed herself – something Autumn had never seen her do before. Then she turned and walked away.

  “Lord Ravenscar is a dark beast,” Lester told her. “Nairnie is right in what she said.”

  “How so?”

  “Ravenscar has brought about war on many occasions for no reason other than he didn’t like the way someone looked at him,” Lester continued. His eyes stayed fastened on the dreary castle as the ship passed by.

  Autumn chuckled, thinking this was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “Certainly, you are exaggerating.”

  “I’m not,” said the guard shaking his head. “Lord Ravenscar has been known to kidnap the children of his enemies and lock them up in his dungeon.”

  “Lock up innocent children?” A shudder ran through her.

  “The lucky ones get to be his servants. The others are killed and eaten for dinner.”

  She rolled her eyes and turned to lean forward, her arms on the rail as she tried to get a better look at the castle. “That is an old wives’ tale if I ever heard one.”

&nbs
p; “He kidnaps women as well. Word has it he . . .” The guard looked around to make sure no one was listening. Then he leaned forward and said in a hoarse whisper, “He ties them up and has his way with them. In bed, if you know what I mean. It’s said you can hear the women screaming out in the night as one’s ship passes Ravenscar.”

  “Oh, my!” The wind picked up and she clutched her cloak around her neck, trying to shake the horrible image from her mind.

  “It is said Lord Ravenscar likes young women the best. The ones about your age,” said Lester. “Virgins,” he added. “He likes to break them in right.”

  “Stop it!” she shouted, clutching her cloak to her body tighter as the ship passed the vacant dock. “You are just trying to scare me. You shouldn’t be talking so freely to a lady to begin with, Lester.”

  “Forgive me, my lady,” said the guard with a bow of respect. “I got caught up in the stories. I never would have spoken so freely if you hadn’t asked to learn about that beast of a man.”

  “Beast,” she repeated, turning back to try to see more. Up on the battlements of Ravenscar Castle, she spotted a man. He was dressed in a black cloak with the hood pulled up over his head so she couldn’t see his face. The castle was too far away to see anything clearly.

  The clouds covered the sun again and a cold wind picked up. It made the man’s cloak whip in the wind around him, almost like wings of a demon. He was one dark shadow. A shadow she never wanted to meet up with as long as she lived. As the ship sailed away, she found herself transfixed, not able to look away from the beast atop the battlements. His back was toward them but, as the ship passed, she watched him slowly turn around. She wasn’t able to see his features, but there was one thing she knew for sure.

  He was looking directly at her!

  Chapter 3

  Sir Benedict Grenfell walked the battlements, pacing the castle’s walkway in thought. Lord Ravenscar was dying and there was naught he could do to help his liege lord. The man was an angry, mean, son-of-a-jackal, and no one even knew his real name. Benedict’s late father had once been the man’s captain of the guard. Benedict took over that position quickly once he paid fealty to Ravenscar, taking his father’s place.