by B. J. Scott
“Am I to assume she is better now?”
“Aye. She is has improved, but still has a ways to go. The reason I canna leave with you now.”
Simon patted Lazarus on the shoulder. “Your concern is admirable. But by staying here, your freedom is on the line. And you might even be putting the lass and lad in jeopardy for harboring a fugitive.”
Lazarus knew what Simon said was true, but he’d not repeat the mistake he’d made with Marie. Had he remained to protect her, she might still be alive. And if he’d been captured and executed, at least he would not have to live with the knowledge he might have been able to prevent her death.
“Sheena is far from healed and still needs my help. Once she is well enough to get up and about on her own, I’ll return to the abbey.” Lazarus moved in the direction of the croft. “Go home, Simon.”
“Will you?” Simon blocked the path.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Lazarus halted.
“There is something different about you, Lazarus. Something I canna put my finger on, but you have changed since I last saw you. I’m not so sure you will return once the lass is well.”
Lazarus glared at Simon. “I’m the same man I always was. I intend to care for Sheena as long as she needs me, then I will return to the priory. If God sees fit to see me arrested, then so be it. Now let me pass.” Lazarus stepped around his stubborn friend and entered the croft.
Chapter 9
“Is there a problem?” Sheena asked as Lazarus entered the hut. “You implied we might be in danger.”
“Dinna fash, Sheena. Everything is fine.”
Sheena narrowed her eyes, her stare fixed on Lazarus. “I dinna believe you. If nothing is amiss, tell me who was here and why you insisted we wait inside?”
Lazarus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sheena had a right to know who was at her door. It was her home, after all, and she was not likely going to stop asking questions until he gave her an answer. But he had no intention of telling her any more than necessary to appease her. “A friend of mine from the abbey, Brother Simon.”
“What did he want?”
“He was concerned because I hadna return to the priory for several days and he was just checking to see if all was well.”
“Are you not a free man who can come and go as he pleases?” Sheena asked. “I find it odd he would travel to Berwick, then seek you out unless he had a reason to be concerned.”
Sheena had no idea how close she was coming to the truth. He hadn’t truly been a free man for longer than he cared to remember. He’d forgotten what it was like to go somewhere and not be constantly looking over his shoulder.
“I dinna answer to Simon. To any man,” Lazarus replied. “But he has always fretted if I’m away too long and dinna send word.”
“I dinna understand. Unless . . .” She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing red. “He has an interest in you on more than a friendship level. I have heard rumors—”
Lazarus held up his hand, then moved toward the pallet. “What you have heard are just that, rumors and nothing more. Simon found me when I was a lad and took me in.”
“He found you?”
“Aye. I was gravely injured and left for dead when Longshanks attacked Berwick in 1296.” Lazarus sucked in a ragged breath, then continued. “Following the battle the monks from Ayton Abbey came to bury those who were slain.”
“What of the injured?” Sheena asked.
“From what I was told, there were no survivors when the monks arrived, only a pile of dead bodies. Or so they thought. The few Scots who did manage to escape carried off as many of the wounded as they could, and the rest perished from their injuries.”
“I have heard stories of that day,” Sheena said. “I was still a wee lass so really dinna remember much about the early days of the war with England. But have a vivid memory of what happened closer to the end.”
“I was a lad of fifteen summers, but I dinna recall anything about the early years of the war. I must rely on what Simon told me. He said when the English attacked Berwick, they showed no quarter, slaying almost eight thousand men, women, and children. The monks found me amongst those presumed dead and took me back to the priory. Simon tended to my injuries, then stayed by my pallet day and night until I recovered. Since then, he has thought of me more like a son than a fellow monk.”
“What of your own clan?” Sheena asked. “Why did they not take care of you?”
“Brother Lazarus is an orphan like we are,” Quinn interjected. “He had no family, so he was raised at the abbey.”
Sheena softened her gaze as she peered up at Lazarus. “Is that true?”
Lazarus nodded. “When they found me, I had no idea who I was or where I belonged. Simon thought in time my memory would return, but I still dinna know where I came from. Following the battle, no one came looking for me, so it wasna possible to find out if I had a family or a clan to which I belonged. I couldna even tell them my name.”
“I must admit, I have wondered. Lazarus isna a common name in Scotland. It almost sounds biblical,” Sheena said.
“Because it is,” he replied. “Since I was actually found in the pile of dead bodies, Simon thought it was a fitting name. He likened it to being reborn, similar to the way Lazarus rose from the dead in the Bible.”
Sheena clutched a hand to her throat. “How sad. And no one ever came looking for you?”
“Apparently not. Simon figured the other members of my family were either killed in the massacre or believed I was slain,” Lazarus said. “Even the English thought I was dead.”
“Then you were fortunate the monks found you and took you in.”
“I was very lucky. And because of that, Simon has always been like a father to me. But with that relationship comes the need to answer many questions and constantly inform him if I am delayed for any reason. Even though I’m a grown man.”
“It is kind of sweet,” Sheena replied. “At least you have someone who cares about you.” She fisted the pelt and glanced away.
Lazarus cupped her chin and raised it until their eyes met. “I have wondered about you and Quinn as well.” He lightly stroked the scar on her chin with his thumb. Out of respect for her privacy, he’d never inquired what happened. Heaven knew if anyone understood a person’s right to have secrets, he did.
“Our mam died giving birth to me and our da passed not long after from a plague that wiped out our village,” Quinn said. “Sheena cared for me and took me away before we got sick. But I already told you that the other day.”
As Quinn recanted the tale, Lazarus recognized an expression of anguish in Sheena’s eyes. There were obviously things she kept inside that not even her brother was privy to. Lazarus released her chin and backed away. He’d not pursue this. She’d disclose her secrets if and when she was ready.
“Aye, you did tell me about your parents. And I’m sorry for your loss.” Lazarus bowed his head and said a brief prayer, then placed his hand on Quinn’s back, steering him away from the bed. “What do you say we let your sister take a nap while we skin the hare and make dinner?”
“What did you tell Brother Simon?” Sheena inquired. “I’m surprised he left without you.”
“I said I would return when you were well and not before. Now, try to get some more rest and when you awaken, a hot meal and some fresh bannock will be waiting.”
When Sheena next opened her eyes, the aroma of rabbit stew caused her stomach to rumble. She glanced around the croft for Quinn and Lazarus, but she appeared to be very much alone. What Lazarus told her about his past crossed her mind and her heart ached for him. She couldn’t imagine having no idea who she was or where she belonged. Not that she had a home to go to either.
Quinn entered the croft. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. How are you f
eeling?”
“Much better than I was, thanks to your wonderful care. You’re such a joy and help to me, Quinn. I dinna know what I would ever do without you.”
“Brother Lazarus is the one you should thank,” Quinn said.
“Where is he?” Sheena asked.
Quinn scratched his head. “I dinna know for certain. After he got the evening meal ready, he said he had to go somewhere and wouldna be long. He told me to bring in some wood for the fire, then to stay close to the croft in case you needed anything.” Quinn wandered to the window and peered outside. “I wish he would hurry. I’m hungry, and he said we couldna eat until you woke up.”
“I’m sure he will be back soon. Why don’t you put some trenchers on the table and get things ready.”
Another hour passed, and still no sign of Lazarus.
“I canna believe he is still not back,” Quinn said. “Maybe something bad happened to him.”
Sheena nibbled on her bottom lip. Perhaps seeing his friend made Lazarus realize it was time to return to the abbey, and he did not know how to say goodbye. “Dinna fash. I’m sure he is fine. If he doesna return soon, we will go ahead and eat without him.”
When the door opened, her breath caught.
Lazarus strolled into the croft. “You look much brighter. A nap has done you well.”
Sheena hardly recognized him. He’d bathed and shaved several days’ worth of stubble from his face. But perhaps the most striking difference was his attire. Instead of his monk’s garb, he wore a tunic, trews, and leather boots. “Where did you get those clothes?”
“You no longer look like a monk,” Quinn added.
“I borrowed them from a crofter who lives near the edge of town. My robes are fine at the abbey, but when working around the croft, these are more serviceable.” Lazarus faced Quinn. “It appears you did a fine job of collecting wood. I’ll bet you’re ready to eat. You’ve had a busy day.”
Quinn bobbed his head. “Aye, I’m starving. And I got the table ready while we were waiting for you to come back.”
“Go wash up and I’ll help Sheena.” Lazarus glanced over his shoulder at her. “Since you’re feeling stronger, I thought you might like to try eating at the table. If you’re up to it.”
“Aye, I’d like that. I’m so tired of being abed. But what about my ankle? I—” Before she could finish, he drew back the pelt and slid one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back.
“Loop your arm around my neck like you did before and I’ll carry you,” Lazarus instructed, then scooped her up. He traveled the short distance from the pallet to the table with ease, then carefully set her down on a chair.
“Having a meal together is great,” Quinn said to his sister. “It is almost like having a real family. I wish it could always be like this.”
“Aye, it is very nice.” Sheena glanced at her empty trencher, her brother’s observation giving her pause for thought. Was he getting too attached to Lazarus? If so, it had to stop before things went too far. Otherwise when he left, Quinn would be crushed.
“How be you go fetch the bannock I left cooling by the window, Quinn, while I get the stew,” Lazarus said, quickly changing the subject.
Perhaps he was as uncomfortable with Quinn’s comment as she was. But she had yet to learn exactly how to read him. She watched as Lazarus went to the hearth, lifted the heavy iron pot, then carried it to the table. “It smells wonderful.”
“I hope you’re hungry. I made enough to feed a small army of ravenous soldiers.” He reached for a trencher at the same time she did and their fingers brushed.
Sheena drew her hand away, the same charge of energy racing through her body that had when he’d picked her up from the floor earlier. Clearly Quinn wasn’t the only one who needed to slow down and remember that this was a temporary situation and Lazarus was going to leave. Soon.
Lazarus filled the trenchers, retrieved a jug of ale and three tankards from the shelf, then set them on the table before sitting down.
Quinn joined them. “I love bannock, and Brother Lazarus makes the best I have ever eaten,” he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He tore off a piece and popped it into his mouth.”
“I’m sure your sister is a fine cook.” Lazarus picked up a dagger, cut off a piece of bannock, and handed it to Sheena.
“Oh, she is a good cook,” Quinn said. “I dinna mean to hurt your feelings, Sheena. I hope you’re na cross with me.” He lowered his gaze.
Sheena finished a bite of the bread, then smiled. “There is no need for you to apologize when telling the truth. This is very good.” She took another bite and closed her eyes, savoring the taste.
“Wait until you try the stew,” Quinn said as he shoved a heaping spoonful into his mouth.
“I’m sure it is delicious,” Sheena replied. “You will have to share your secrets with me, Brother Lazarus, before you go back to the abbey.” She focused on her trencher and dug into her meal.
As they ate, Quinn chattered nonstop about his trip to Berwick, boasting how he’d haggled with the vendors and managed to procure the nuts for a good price. He didn’t mention Lazarus’s part in the transactions and to his credit, he let Quinn take all the glory. His humbleness was another quality about Lazarus she found quite endearing.
After his second helping of stew, Quinn yawned and stretched. “I’m full and very tired all of a sudden.”
“That is because the sun has set and it is past your bedtime,” Sheena said. “Help Brother Lazarus clear the table then go wash up.”
“I can handle the cleanup, Quinn.” Lazarus rose from his chair. “You go get ready for bed and I’ll help Sheena back to hers.”
Quinn nodded and raced outside to tend to his needs.
Lazarus quickly cleared the table and scraped the dishes. “I’ll take these down to the stream in the morning and wash them,” he said, then wiped his hands on a linen rag.
“I feel so useless,” Sheena remarked. “You made the meal and cleared the mess. I—”
He placed two fingers against her lips. “I dinna mind. Once you’re well, you can resume your duties as head of the household. Until then, let me take care of it for you.” He slid her chair away from the table. “Are you ready to go back to bed? You have been up for quite a while and must be getting weary.”
“Aye, I’m getting tired,” she said, then glanced away. The thought of him carrying her again causing her heart to race and her stomach to flutter.
“Then to bed it is.” He smiled and lifted her before she had time to respond, then carried her to the pallet. After seeing her settled, he took a step back. “You’re healing well. It willna be long before you can get up on your own.”
“Aye, as long as my ankle doesna give me any grief. My ribs are na nearly as tender as they were. I can actually take a breath and laugh without feeling like a band of iron is wrapped around by chest.”
“That is a good sign. I suspect they were bruised and not broken. But you dinna want to rush your recovery and end up regressing.” He covered her with a pelt, then tucked it snug around her body. “As for your ankle, I’ll make you a walking stick to help you get around on the morrow. But now it is time to sleep.”
“I wouldna want you to go to any trouble.”
“Carving wood is something I enjoy doing.” He tapped his finger against his brow. “It comes naturally for some reason.”
“Perhaps you learned as a bairn,” Sheena said.
“It is possible, but I may never know.” He pressed his knuckles on the pallet beside her and smiled. “But enough about the past. The time has come for you to sleep.”
Again, he leaned so close, she could inhale his woodsy, masculine scent, and felt his warm, sweet breath on her cheek, his lips so close to hers that she thought he might kiss her.
Lazarus straightened, then laughed as he tousled Quinn’s hair. “I would say you’re more than ready to enter into the land of dreams. So off to your pallet you go and get some rest.” He stretched then brought his hand up to stifle a yawn. “Time for everyone to go to sleep.” He glanced at Sheena. “Rest well, and I’ll see you on the morrow.”
Sheena nodded and closed her eyes. For the first time since Lazarus had come to her croft, she was actually sorry that he might soon be leaving. But he was right, she needed to rest and she would think about his departure and the impact it would have on her and Quinn tomorrow. Tonight, she’d take comfort in knowing he was there to watch over them. She shut her eyes, drifting off. But she found herself startled awake when Lazarus began shouting. She sat up and scrubbed her eyes with her fist.
Quinn brought his finger to his lips. “Shhh, he is having another bad dream. If you wake him, his misfortune will come true. Or worse, he will be lost in his dreams forever.”
“Dinna be foolish, Quinn,” Sheena said in a hushed tone. “Nothing bad will happen if you wake someone from a nightmare. It is just an old wives’ tale.” While she did not believe the superstitious nonsense, she saw no point in taking a risk.
Lazarus thrashed about, calling out names in his sleep that meant nothing to Sheena. But they were obviously significant to him. After a few minutes, he settled, his short sharp gasps for air, now leveling off to slower more even breaths.
