Highland Grace

by K. E. Saxon

  “He fought hard all these days past, and he limped not,” Derek said, surprised.

  “Aye, which is why I thought he’d spoken the truth about the nature of the wound.”

  Derek nodded. “But when he failed to meet us in the south tower....”

  “Aye, I did begin to worry then. Tho’ when I hurried up here afterward, I never believed I’d find him laid so low,” Daniel confessed. “All I had time to do was to bathe him down with cool water, pour uisge beatha on the wound, and force a ptisan down his gullet before I returned to the fray.”

  “And now he grows worse;” Derek said, “he awakens not from his fevered slumber.”

  Daniel’s worried gaze traveled from his brother’s damp brow to the blood-soaked binding around his upper thigh. He took in a deep breath and released it slowly as he rubbed the back of his neck and pondered his dilemma. When he finally spoke, he did so with a new determination, saying, “I must tend this, I must. There is no choice.”

  Derek nodded. “Aye,” he agreed. “But we will need to bind his arms and legs beforehand. And even then, it may be necessary to bring another soldier in to help me hold him while you clean the wound.”

  “Aye,” Daniel said and moved swiftly toward the door. He opened it and told the guard to gather rope and bring it back to the chamber with due haste. He turned and walked back to stand at his brother’s bedside once more. “Why does he fight me so?”

  Derek shook his head as he gazed down at his friend and commander. “I know not.”

  “My brother endured a different kind of torment from our scurrilous sire than the man gave to me. Mayhap this odd reaction is due to some evil on that man’s part.”

  Derek nodded.

  The guard came through the open doorway with the rope and handed it to his laird. Daniel and Derek quickly tied down Bao’s appendages. Afterward, the guard and Derek took their positions beside their lieutenant as Daniel cut the binding away and doused the festering wound with uisge beatha. Looking up at Derek and the other man, Daniel said, “Get a good grip on him, for I must cut out the dying flesh. But be you careful that the stitches of his other injury are not opened.”

  The two men nodded grimly as they pressed Bao even further down into the mattress.

  * * *

  Bao was deep in a vivid nightmare. He was a lad of ten summers once more and under his father’s control. Thrashing his head from side to side, he began to yell as he strained to free himself from his father’s black-hearted soldiers who held him down while his father came ever closer with the dirk he would use to cut the horrid emblem into his flesh.

  * * *

  Daniel made the first cut, slicing out part of the rotting tissue.

  “You have already put your mark on me! Why mark you me again?” Bao cried.

  Daniel looked up anxiously when he heard his brother mumbling incoherently.

  “He still slumbers,” Derek assured him.

  “Aye, but I hope not for long after the wound is cleansed,” Daniel replied. He turned his attention back to the surgery he performed. “The edges of the flesh are too ragged for me to stitch; I’ll need to burn them closed instead.”

  Derek and the other man nodded.

  He doused the wound once more with the uisge beatha.

  “Nay!” Bao yelled and fought even more furiously against their hold.

  Daniel waited for Derek and the other soldier to gain control of Bao’s appendages once more. When his brother finally settled, he asked, “Have you a grip on him?”

  Derek nodded curtly.

  Daniel went back to his task, dressing the injury with a poultice of cobwebs to stop the bleeding. He then took the cautery iron from his healer’s box and held it over the flame of the small brazier. It didn’t take long for the iron tip to become red-hot. “Bao will undoubtedly fight this with even more strength,” he warned Derek and the guard.

  “Worry not, we’ll keep him still,” Derek replied determinedly as he braced himself to take the brunt of Bao’s resistence.

  Daniel lifted the poultice from the wound and pressed the ragged edges of the gash together as much as he could before setting the red-hot tip to his brother’s tender flesh, searing it closed.

  * * *

  Bao screamed in agony. “Why father? Why?” he asked as his father pressed a hot firebrand to his groin.

  “Because you would not go with my soldier and do as he asked,” Jamison Maclean said evilly, “you have earned my wrath!”

  “Nay! Nay!” Bao pleaded once more, tossing his head from side to side.

  “Do you forget you are my slave? You will do anything I tell you to do!” Jamison roared.

  “I will not submit to him, no matter what you do to me!” Bao screamed back.

  * * *

  Daniel lifted his eyes once again to his brother’s tormented countenance. He’d understood his words this time, but not their context. It was evident that Bao was in the midst of a terrible dream. Daniel quickly finished cauterizing the wound and placed a poultice on it to soothe the ache before binding it in clean linen. He sat back and took a deep breath. “It is done,” he said. “Now, let us untie his bonds and allow him his rest.”

  A few minutes later Daniel closed the door to Bao’s chamber behind him, resting his back against it and closing his eyes. His brother’s fever was still raging, but at least he’d been able to tend the injury that had caused the illness. Bao was strong. Surely, he would fight this fever and recover. He must. For ‘twould be cruel indeed for fate to have brought his brother back into his life only to take him away before he’d had the chance to know him well.

  * * *

  Branwenn and Prince Llywelyn rode their mounts through the gateway of the keep the next morn, picking their way over fallen and charred debris. It was as quiet as a tomb inside the courtyard, as all who resided there stood silently gaping at the procession before them. A stench of death and scorched wood permeated the air. So this is what war looks like, Branwenn thought sadly. This is what her brothers trained themselves to do, trained their soldiers to do. This is what Bao had been a part of most of his life. Branwenn’s eyes fell upon a cart that was loaded six-deep with the bodies of fallen soldiers. She quickly dropped her gaze to her hands, fearing she would recognize some of their youthful faces, fearing that she may have even danced with one or two of them the night of the Hogmanay feast, and unable to bear the thought that it had been their last.

  Prince Llywelyn halted his destrier and Branwenn followed suit. Lifting her gaze, her eyes immediately locked with her brother, Daniel’s. He stood just outside the door of the keep, at the bottom of the steps.

  Branwenn leapt from her mount and flew into Daniel’s embrace, her eyes streaming with tears of joy and sadness. “So ‘twas Bao, then, that was wounded? Please, tell me he still lives!”

  Daniel kissed her damp cheek and hugged her tight. “Aye, he lives. But he’s quite ill, Branwenn. I thought cleaning his wound would revive him, but he has yet to awaken and his fever still rages.”

  “I must see him!” she said, struggling out of her brother’s arms.

  Daniel looked up into the visage of the man who was now her guardian. “Aye,” he said. “And while you are there, your cousin and I will share some ale in the great hall.”

  Prince Llywelyn nodded curtly and dismounted, handing his reins to the stableman who rushed up to attend him.

  No one spoke as they ascended the steps and entered the keep.

  “We will not stay long, only a day or two while we replenish our supplies, and then we will depart for my kingdom,” Prince Llywelyn said as he stood beside the two in the antechamber of the great hall a few moments later.

  “I cannot leave here without knowing my brother will recover!” Branwenn cried.

  “Then we must hope that your brother becomes well before we leave this place two days hence,” Prince Llywelyn replied staunchly.

  Branwenn fell to her knees before the prince. “I beg you, Your Highness, please do
not force me from my brother’s side while he is in peril of dying!”

  Prince Llywelyn’s eyes softened as he gazed at her. He lifted his hand to her face and held her chin in his palm. “How can I say ‘nay’ to a request so sweetly given?” He nodded curtly. “We shall stay until the man is well out of danger.” After only a brief pause, he continued, “Whether he be fully recovered or nay. Will that suffice, my dear?”

  Branwenn took her cousin’s hand in both of her own and kissed the top of it in gratitude. “My thanks.”

  Daniel’s worst fears fled as he watched the exchange between the two. ‘Twas plain that the prince held affection for his young charge, that he would not treat her ill once she was officially given into his care. “We have much to discuss, Your Highness.”

  “Yes,” Prince Llywelyn replied as he helped Branwenn to her feet. “And this lady is anxious to leave my presence to attend her brother.”

  Branwenn bowed her head and performed a quick courtesy before scurrying toward the stairway and quickly ascending them.

  The two men watched her leave.

  “She’s a high-spirited youngling, but quite beautiful,” Prince Llywelyn stated.

  “Aye. And that is why she will need a strong, but patient, man for her mate,” Daniel replied. He turned his eye to his guest and studied his profile. “Is her intended such a man, Your Highness?”

  “He is strong, for certain. He’s a highly skilled knight in the Earl of Pembroke’s legion. In fact, until only recently, he’s been undefeated at tournaments.” Prince Llywelyn turned and followed Daniel into the great hall. “As you surely know, it takes great patience to become so skilled.”

  Daniel waited for his guest to settle himself into one of the chairs by the hearth before asking, “Aye, but will he be so patient with my sister?”

  Prince Llywelyn sighed. “I will gain a promise from him that he will treat her thus before I allow the marriage contract to be signed.”

  “That eases me greatly,” Daniel said. “Because Branwenn surrendered herself into your hands, you have no obligation to negotiate further terms regarding her welfare. But as a brother who loves her dearly, I must know the details of the contract.”

  Prince Llywelyn nodded. “You already know the pith of the thing, but ask me what you will and I will answer you honestly.”

  Over the next two hours, Daniel did just that. By the end of that time, his worries had been lessened and he was assured that the man to whom Branwenn would be wed was as worthy of her as any he or his grandmother might have found for her.

  “And now,” Daniel said, “we must sign our truce so that I can bring my other family members home.”

  The two men rose from their seats and settled at the high table.

  Prince Llywelyn indicated that his man should bring the rolled document up to them and he and Daniel quickly did the deed.

  “It is finished,” Prince Llywelyn said afterward.

  Daniel gave his steward the signal to have a missive sent to the Donald holding. If all went well, he should have his wife and babe in his arms by sennight’s end. “Aye, it is finished,” Daniel agreed. “And now, instead of enemies, we are allies.”

  “That is good. I’ve a need for more allies,” Prince Llywelyn said.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 19

  ‘Twas nearing the hour of midnight four days later and Jesslyn sat at Bao’s bedside anxiously bathing him with a cool, damp cloth. Daniel told her that Bao had awakened briefly several times o’er the past days and his fever had lessened, but not completely fled. His recovery had looked good, in fact, until sometime early this morning when another infection set in and he’d had to open the wound near his groin, clean and drain it, and then close it up again. The infection had put Bao into another fevered stupor.

  Maryn and Lady Maclean were tending to Bao Li and Nora at Jesslyn’s cottage. Until Bao’s fever broke, they must keep the babes as far from the illness as they were able. The two ladies had agreed to sequester themselves in that cottage until the danger had passed.

  Bao moaned in his sleep and his hand trembled and jerked. Jesslyn lifted the cloth from his brow and gazed worriedly down at him. The images his fevered mind conjured must be of the evil sort, for he did not rest easily. “Bao?” she said for what seemed the thousandth time that eve. “Bao, can you hear me? ‘Tis Jesslyn, your wife.” She took his trembling hand into both of her own and placed a kiss on the abraded knuckles. “We’ve a son, my love. A strong and handsome son.” She started to laugh but it turned into a choked sob. “You were so certain ‘twas a lass we made that day that you had me believing it as well. We never even spoke of a name for a lad! I hope it pleases you—I named our son Bao Li. Branwenn told me that ‘twas the name of your mother’s father.”

  Bao opened his eyes. “He...was a great...warrior,” he rasped.

  Jesslyn smiled through her tears and grasped Bao’s hand even more tightly in her own. “Aye, love, just as you are. Just as our sons will be someday.” She placed the palm of her hand on his brow. “You’re still quite warm. Does your head ache? I can make a ptisan of betony for you.”

  “Nay, lovely enchantress, I need naught more than to hear your sweet voice and feel the touch of your gentle hand on my brow.”

  For the first time seeing the glassy look in her husband’s gaze, Jesslyn’s own brows came together in consternation. “Know you not who I am?” she asked anxiously.

  Bao’s mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. “Nay, goddess, but if you would give me a bit more time, I vow that I shall know you better, and more deeply, than you’ve ever been known by any other.”

  The carnal promise in his words made her blood rush in spite of her worry. “I am your wife. Jesslyn.”

  Bao chuckled. “A goddess would wed a mere mortal? Nay. I know you are naught more than a dream—a wish—that my slumbering mind has conjured.” His eyes drifted closed and it looked as if he were falling back into a stupor once more. She shook him and tried one more time to tell him of his son, but he didn’t answer, so she settled back into her ministrations.

  Jesslyn remained at Bao’s bedside the remainder of the night. Just before dawn, his fever finally broke and he at last fell into a restful slumber. Relieved and tired to her very core, Jesslyn disrobed and settled next to him. After only a few moments, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep as well.

  * * *

  A sharp ray of sunshine pierced Bao’s eyelids and he threw his arm over them as a shield. It was then that he became fully aware of the familiar soft curve of silken, heavy breasts against his side, of lavender-scented hair under his chin, of a long limb settled over his calf. He pressed her to her back and, biting back the shot of searing pain to his injured thigh, rolled onto his side and opened his mouth over her nipple.

  She moved beneath him. “Mmm.”

  He lifted his head and looked into her sleepy eyes. “G’morn, love.”

  Her eyes flew open and her head shot up off the pillow. “You are awake! How fare you?” Her hands grew busy then, feeling first his brow, then his cheeks, then running over his chest to the wound in his shoulder. “How are your wounds, do they pain you?” she asked. When her hand started toward his groin injury, he took hold of it and brought it to his lips instead.

  “I fare well—better still, having awakened with you in my arms once again, where you belong.”

  “I’ve missed you.” She raised up and gave him a kiss.

  Bao stroked his fingers through her tousled hair and held the back of her head in his hand as he brought it down to rest once again on the pillow. He deepened the kiss, devouring her lips, delving deeply into the recesses of her mouth with his tongue. After a time he lifted his head and gazed down into her bemused blue eyes. “I’ve missed you, too. So very much.” Gazing down at her flattened stomach, he said, “Where is my daughter?”

  She burst out laughing.

  Bao gave her a stunned look. “What?”

  Her cheeks billowed as she tried to sto
p laughing, which then made her snort, which then made her laugh even louder.

  Bao grinned, let out a chuckle, too. He had no idea what had his wife so tickled, but he loved her laughter. ‘Twas surely the sweetest music he’d ever hear.

  After another moment, she gained control of her mirth and wiped the tears from her eyes, saying, “I hope you do not object to a son, for ‘tis a son that we have.”

  Bao gaped at her. “A-a...son?” He sat up and stared straight ahead. “I know not how to care for a son—I’ve raised only a lass!”

  Jesslyn sat up then as well and placed her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “Aye, you do. Just look how well you’ve done with Alleck!”

  “Aye, but he’s not a babe!”

  Jesslyn giggled and stroked the worry from his countenance, giving his cheek an affectionate peck. “And what, pray, do you believe will be so different in caring for a male babe rather than a female babe?” she asked. “They both cry when they need changing, or are hungry, or don’t feel well, or just because. We do the same for both genders: We change their swaddling clothes, we feed them, and we hold them and comfort them. We love them.”

  “You named him Bao Li,” Bao stated after a moment.

  “Remember you now?” Jesslyn asked. “You were quite feverish last eve when I told you.”

  Bao nodded his head slowly and looked off in the distance. “Aye,” he replied. “I thought it a dream. A lovely goddess, made of pure gold light, sat at my bedside telling me the story of my grandfather, the great warrior prince.” He looked down into his wife’s eyes once more. “Just as my mother would do each eve when she put me to bed.”

  Jesslyn narrowed her eyes and dropped her arms to her sides. “Aye. And you tried to charm your way into the lovely goddess’s bed!”

  “Nay, into your bed,” he stressed, vaguely recalling now what he’d said.

  “But you did not know it was me!”

  “I was raving, my love,” he reminded her. Then, with care to his wounds, he twisted around to fully face her and cupped her face in his hands. As he gazed intently into the limpid pools of her angry sky-blue eyes, he told her softly, “But last eve was not one of those casual dalliances—nay, it held much more meaning. For when my eyes beheld the golden enchantress, I felt exactly as I did the first time I saw you.”