“Aye and nay.” Meg chuckled at the disgusted look upon Angus’s face. “Some she feels. That is it. She feels it. Some she thinks out. This, weel, this I think she is feeling. It would explain why she crawls abed with a mon who must have all the warmth of a corpse at the moment.”
“If that.” Angus sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. “His body is there, but he isnae, Meg. I stand there watching him breathe and I want to shake him, to do something to get a response out of him. Cecily bathed and stitched three sword wounds on him when he first came home and he didnae e’en twitch.”
“Ye fear that the next time ye stand by the bed ye will be watching him take that final step away from the living,” she said quietly and reached across the table to pat his hand.
“’Tis exactly the way of it. I think it is what Cecily fears, too.”
“Nay doubt. Such a nightmare. The fact that he is such a fine-looking mon, strong and young, only makes it harder to bear. Ones like him arenae supposed to just fade away.”
“Ye have the right of it. They are supposed to stride through life knocking aside all opponents. This slow dying, this giving up seems, weel, cowardly.”
“Nay, not at all. Just because a mon is young and strong doesnae mean he will have any better control of his body than if he is an old mon whose bones creak. Ye say he was beaten and kicked. How can ye tell what was hurt? There are many injuries that can cause this.”
“’Tis what Cecily says.” Watching as Meg stood up, Angus asked, “Do ye ken what ye may be able to do to help the poor lass?”
“Nay yet, but I will do by the time I reach whate’er room she is in.”
Angus stood up and took her by the arm to lead her to Artan and Cecily’s bedchamber. “I hope the lad comes back to us and nay just for my sake. A mon in the village had a brother who acted like this after he feel off a roof. He has told us what to watch for to ken when to send for Artan’s family so that they can be here for his last days. It seems that, since we can get some food and drink into him, he could last this way for a verra long time. This poor mon’s brother lasted two years and then one night he was gone.”
“That would be too sad if it happened to Sir Artan.”
There was little Angus could say to that hard truth, and so he only nodded. At the door to the bedchamber he paused, hating to show her the sad scene. Each time he went in it felt more and more as if he was just there to say faretheeweel.
“One more thing,” he said, then grimaced. “I may be a foolish old man with a more superstitious nature than I kenned I had, but she talks to the lad.”
“How so?”
“Sometimes it is as if she carries on whole conversations with him, and the way she speaks and pauses, weel, ’tis as if there really is someone there.”
“Ah, poor Angus. ’Tis but the game of a lonely child, one who doesnae have anyone to play with. She used to do it at Dunburn when she was a small child, but she would use some rag or the like as her toy. I fear she now uses the poor insensible Sir Artan. Ye ne’er can tell, Angus. It might finally reach him.”
“One can but pray for that. See if ye can get her to eat or drink something. Crooked Cat left her something.”
“I will. She hasnae got any pounds on her to waste.” Meg shooed him aside. “Tend to your business, Angus, and let me tend to mine. Oh, there are two carts of belongings set out in the bailey. I gathered up what few things Cecily and I could gather from things Anabel threw away. I will explain later, but right now I must see how my wee lass fares.”
The moment Angus walked away Meg slipped inside the bedchamber. She needed a minute to see clearly in the heavily shadowed bedchamber, but when she finally saw her Cecily she thought she might have to slip away for a few minutes to weep. Cecily lay curled up at Sir Artan’s side. One small hand was on his neck and her ear was obviously placed so that she could hear his heartbeat.
Meg studied the man lying so still in the bed and could understand what Cecily was doing. He seemed dead, lying stiller than anyone she had ever seen. Meg suspected she would feel compelled to keep an ear cocked to his heartbeat as well. Then she became aware of the soft whispers from the bed and cautiously moved closer. Although she felt guilty for listening in to what might well be private words Cecily would much rather keep secret, Meg also knew something might be said that could show her the way to help Cecily.
“’Twill be a sennight tomorrow, Artan,” Cecily said, idly stroking the side of his neck. “I think your wounds dinnae pain ye as much as they did. An aching instead of an agony. As I have told ye, ye didnae break anything. Rather that chinless bastard didnae break anything when he beat on a wounded mon bound up tightly and leashed to a stake.”
Meg decided that anger at the man who had done such a thing was a good sign.
“Ye are worrying Angus, ye ken. Oh, he tries nay to show it, but ’tis easy to see. He stands there by the bed and stares at ye as if he would like to see inside your head to find what keeps ye asleep and kill it. I suspicion that may be a monly feeling. Ye cannae fight this with a sword or a strong punch in the eye so it angers ye.”
For a lass who had never had anything to do with men, Cecily had a good understanding of them, Meg thought, fighting the urge to say so out loud.
Cecily sighed and gently kissed Artan’s chest just above his heart. “It has been a sennight since ye made me screech like a banshee. I dinnae ken if I can endure sleeping alone too much longer. I shall have to leave ye from time to time soon so that I can find someone to, er, make me hum.”
Rising up on her forearms, Cecily studied his face, and then cursed softly. Not even the twitch of an eyelid. Mayhap she should dance naked about the room, she thought, then shook her head. He was unconscious. He would not notice and she would get cold for no reason. There was always the possibility of making love to him, she mused, and even started to reach for the blanket when she heard the soft sound of a woman’s skirts brush the floor.
Blinking slowly, Cecily finally managed to see clearly enough to recognize who was standing only a foot or so away from the bed. “Oh, Meg,” she whispered even as she stumbled off of the bed and hurried toward the woman. “I was so hoping ye would come.”
Meg caught the smaller Cecily in her arms and held her close. She was not surprised to feel the damp of tears begin to seep through her bodice. For a little while she would let Cecily cry and they would sit down and discuss what had been done for Sir Murray and what needed to be done next. Keeping her arm around Cecily’s shoulders, Meg led her to a little table near the fireplace and urged her down into a seat. Meg then sat right across from her.
“What have ye done for him beside keeping his body comfortable, clean, and fed? Oh, and threatening to go out and find a mon.” She almost grinned at the look of dismay and guilt that crossed Cecily’s face.
“I was rather hoping that, if he is still in there, he might hear that and wake up just to stop me,” Cecily replied.
“Ah, possessive, is he?”
“I think he may be. But how did ye get here?”
“Brought two carts of goods. Ones ye kept to the side and ones I kept to the side. Of course, it now looks as if it will soon all be coming to ye.”
“Nay, maybe not. We have no document proclaiming me heir to it all.”
“The priest has it.”
Cecily nearly gaped at Meg. “What priest?”
“The priest but a few miles from where we were attacked. Your father gave it to me ere we left Angus’s and told me to put it someplace safe if we were attacked. We were and I did. I couldnae read then, ye ken, and I have only just realized what I must have been giving the priest.”
“If we can find that we can get rid of Anabel and Edmund.”
Meg put her hands over her face and shook her head. “I cannae believe I ne’er thought on the importance of that paper.”
Cecily reached over and patted Meg on the arm. “Ye couldnae read and we were all running for our lives at the time. Handing a piece of
paper to a priest probably was the last thing ye recall from that day.”
“Nay, true enough. If the memory e’er crept up on me it was poor wee Colin I thought of and I shoved it right out of my mind.”
“Aye, I did the same. It hurt too much.”
“It hurt me, too, lass, but it also twisted me up with guilt each and every time. I grabbed ye and ran, love. I ne’er thought of anything else. I didnae e’en look to see if I could have reached the boy; so, nay, I didnae think of that time much and pushed the memories from my mind.
“Colin died first,” Cecily said quietly and nodded when Meg looked at her, shock clear to read on her face. “Ye held me so that I was looking back. Colin was dead ere ye e’en started running, Meg.” She took a deep breath to steady herself for saying out loud what she had seen in her nightmares for so many years. “He took an arrow in the eye. I can still see it, still see Papa looking at his bairn dead at his feet, and then hurling himself right at all those armed men, one sword against ten. He did do one thing ere he did that.” She frowned as she forced the memory to linger for a moment. “He kissed Colin, then looked to see us running away. I can still see the tears on his face, but he smiled then, tapped his forehead as he liked to do in greeting or faretheweel, and then he ran straight at all those men.”
“Have ye always recalled it so clearly, Cecily?”
“Nay, and I didnae want to, did I.”
“Then why now?”
“Weel, I have been talking for near a sennight, havenae I? I have talked and talked and one time that just all poured out of me. He saw us live, Meg. That is what I decided. At the last moment he saw that one of his bairns was going to live.”
Meg dragged a piece of linen from her pocket and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Oh my, this is nay what I came in here for.”
Cecily smiled faintly. “Ye were sent in by my uncle, were ye?”
“Och, nay, I came and asked for ye ere he told me of all that has happened to ye.” She looked at the bed. “So ye married your Highlander, eh?”
“Weel, handfasted, but ’twill be a priest when he is better.”
Hearing the unsteadiness in Cecily’s voice, Meg reached out and clasped the girl’s hand in hers. “He will be better soon.”
“It has been a verra long time, Meg, and there still isnae e’en the smallest sign that he kens anyone is here. I have pinched him, stuck him with a needle, and all sorts of things in an attempt to get a twitch, just a wee twitch. Naught. I really do begin to fear that he isnae in there anymore.”
“He is alive, so he is in there. He is just verra deep inside.”
“I looked for some wound on his head to explain this, but there really wasnae anything big, no great swelling. He looks better than he did, the bruises and swellings all fading, so why doesnae he wake up?”
“Who can say, lass? Ye must leave it in God’s hands.”
Cecily closed her eyes for a moment. “I ken it, but this frightens me so and I grow angry. That does nay good.”
“Nay, it doesnae. Ye love him, dinnae ye?”
“Och, aye. So much.”
When Cecily began to cry, Meg quickly moved to hold her in her arms. “We shall see this through, lass. We shall. And we shall find a way to bring your braw laddie back to ye.”
“What did ye think of him then?” Angus asked Meg as they shared some wine in the solar long after others had sought their beds.
“I think it isnae hopeless, but that is all I think,” replied Meg as she stretched her feet out, placing them a little closer to the fire. “Nay, I also think my poor lass is going to lose her voice if he doesnae rouse soon.”
“She is talking a lot. Crooked Cat keeps bringing her a honey mix to soothe her throat for ’tis sore by the end of the day.”
“The mon is missing a lot of her secrets. He will be sorry for that.”
“If he has missed them, how can he ken he has and then be sorry?”
“Dinnae be so clever. ’Tis annoying.” She hid her smile by sipping her wine.
“I want him back, too. I thought I had picked him for my heir because he has some MacReith blood in him and he is a strong laddie, but thinking he might be gone forever soon has made me see it was far more than that.”
“He is the son ye ne’er had.”
“Aye, him more so than his twin, although Lucas is a good lad. His heart is at Donncoill, though. And there was always that standing between us.”
“Weel, I have no gift of seeing or the like, but I just cannae see the lad dying.”
“I will go and sit with the lass in a wee bit. Give her voice a rest.”
“She said she has begun to repeat herself, so ye could save her that shame.” She exchanged a brief grin with him, but concern for Artan hung so heavy in the air the good humor was quickly smothered. “I just keep trying to think of things that might break through the wall he seems to be hiding behind, but the lass has tried them all already.”
“So,” Angus began after a moment’s silence that was not completely comfortable, “how is your husband?”
“Dead. How is your wife?”
“Dead. Both of them.”
“Twice married?”
“And twice widowed and nary a bairn to show for it.”
“Weel, I suspicion that lad and my lass will be filling these old halls with the sounds of children ere too long has passed.”
“’Tis a sound that has been missing for too long. Laughter, too. I thought that when the lads returned and then Artan arrived with Cecily. Ye do ken that I wrote—to her and to the ones who call themselves her guardians?”
“When I wasnae cursing ye for a heartless swine who turned his back on his own blood, aye, I felt that something wasnae right. Nay way for me to find out what was happening, howbeit. The lass and I were kept apart from the others and then I got thrown out.”
“For what?”
“Ripping the cane Anabel was whipping Cecily with out of the bitch’s hands and whipping Anabel with it.”
“Thank ye.”
“Ye are welcome, and it did feel good, but it left the lass truly alone in the end, and that wasnae good.” Meg sighed. “If I am wrong and this lad does slip away, I fear Cecily will feel deeply alone and with the sort of aloneness an old nursemaid cannae heal.”
Cecily finished combing her hair dry and then braided her hair. The hot bath had felt good, and she was ready to face yet another night of trying to get Artan to come home, as she had begun to think of it. In the back of her mind still dangled the thought of making love to him to see if that feeling cut through to the Artan hiding inside this too-still body. Since the thought would not go away, she decided to consider the possibilities a bit more. And the how of it, she mused. She had not had the experience with Artan yet to be able to do it all on her own. The few times she had taken the lead, he had been right there with her, occasionally steering her in the right direction.
Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, she picked up the small tankard of wine she had put there earlier and had a sip. He looked so peaceful, she thought as she watched his face, something else she did regularly in her constant search for some sign of returning life. He looked so handsome, and yet, without that spark of life in his features, they were merely good, well-cut lines placed well and no more. It was that spark of life that turned well-cut lines into real beauty, and she missed it sorely.
She tried to think of something she could talk about that she had not talked about before and then tensed. Turning her full attention back to his face, she waited, knowing she had seen something there, some twitch in his cheek or flicker behind his eyelid. Setting her wine back down on the table by the bed, she straddled his body and stared at his face, trying to will the movement back so that she could see it and judge its worth. Her whole body soon began to ache with tension, but she was so sure she had seen something she did not dare to turn away for one minute.
“Please, Artan,” she whispered. “Please come back. I ken ye were there a minute a
go. Dinnae flee.”
When several more minutes passed and nothing happened, Cecily decided to try pleading to a higher power. “Please, God, please. I will become the perfect wife for him. I will follow all the rules and bow to him in all things. Just please give him back. I ken he started to come home, but he slipped away again. I will learn all those things good wives should ken and be his perfect lady of Glascreag. I will e’en learn how to weave tapestries. Just a twitch?”
She slowly lowered her forehead to his, her neck too sore to hold it up any longer. It must have been a false vision born of hopes that she should not still be cherishing. Sitting up again, she was just about to get off the bed when she saw his nose twitch every so faintly as if he was idly deciding not to sneeze after all. Again, again, she silently commanded, and scowled in frustration. She knew she had seen it, but she needed to be sure before she raised everyone’s hopes.
“Why are ye staring at my nose?”
The voice was hoarse and soft, but it was achingly familiar, and Cecily looked up to find Artan staring at her. His silvery blue eyes appeared magic to her. There was life there again. She choked back a sob of relief as she grabbed her tankard of wine and helped him drink from it.
“Better,” he rasped, lightly rubbing his throat. “Old Fergus tried to choke me, did he?”
“Nay, he tried to beat ye to death a sennight ago.” She nodded when he stared at her in shock. “Ye have been senseless for a sennight. We have tried everything and there wasnae so much as a twitch out of ye until tonight. I think your nose itched.”
“I can recall ye coming into the tent,” he said.
“I was to keep Sir Fergus’s attention fixed on me so that Angus and his men could get closer and then rescue ye.” She held up his hand and pointed to his still-healing wrists. “He beat ye while ye were wounded and tied.”
“What happened to Sir Fergus?”
“He was about to kill ye in a fit of rage and Sir MacIvor took off his head.”
“It rolled to ye and it touched the toes of your slippers.” He frowned. “I cannae remember anything else.”
Highland Barbarian Page 23
