A Highland Pearl (Highland Treasures Book 1) (2 page)

Maidie took a last stitch, cut the thread with a small dirk
she carried in her bodice, and looked up at Gavin. “I’ll need your help with
his holding.” She turned to the servants. “Hold tight, for he’ll try to flay
his arms.” They secured their grip on Andrew’s large arms. To Davina she said, “Try
to hold his head still.”

Davina went quickly to kneel over Andrew, holding his head between
her hands.

Gavin knelt down at his brother’s feet, pinning both to the
floor in a firm grip. The chief’s powerful frame became tense and taut. If he
had not lost so much blood, the restraint they gave would not be enough to hold
the man to the floor. Hopefully, they could keep him down.

Picking up the flask of whisky and in one quick movement,
Maidie poured some over the newly stitched wound. As she expected, Andrew
roared, filling the great hall with reverberating sound. Tasks stopped, heads
turned, and all except the wounded man quieted. He tried to kick his feet and
flay his arms. Everyone held tightly to his limbs. The roaring diminished to a
loud groan, then subsided and he grew quiet, exhausted from expending so much
energy.

Maidie swiped an arm across her face, using a sleeve to wipe
moisture from her eyes. She looked at those around her, still holding their
place on Chief Munro’s limbs. “You may release him now. He’ll be fine.” They
stood slowly. Maidie watched Gavin. He squatted on one knee beside his brother
with a look of anguish about his face. Questions burned in his hazel eyes.

She spoke before he asked, “I have no answer for your
question. Your brother’s life is in the Lord’s hands. I will pray for his full
and speedy recovery.” Gavin nodded in understanding. Maidie kissed the small
gold cross hanging on a chain around her neck and bowed in silent prayer.

A servant appeared with the paste of herbs in a bowl. Another
held two cups of steaming mint tea. Maidie took the bowl and placed it beside
her. She reached into the leather sack to draw out a small cloth bag. Loosening
the string on the bag, she took out a tiny amount of finely ground poppy
leaves. With her finger she stirred the powdered leaves into both cups.

“Leave one cup of the tea here for the chief and give each of
the wounded a sip or two from the other. It will help their pain.” She took the
cup from the attendant.

The servant left to administer the second cup of tea to the
other wounded. Maidie scooped some of the mixture from the bowl with two
fingers and gently smeared it on the laird’s wound. Groaning, he moved his dark
head from side to side.

She finished and then asked help in binding the wound. Looking
at Gavin, she asked, “Would you help me bind the wound? He needs to turn on his
side so we can pass the bandage underneath.”

Reaching into the cloth sack, Maidie pulled out the roll of
white linen strips. Beginning with the abdomen, she began to wind the bandage
around Andrew’s large frame. Gavin pushed his brother over to one side. He
groaned. Maidie passed the roll of bandages along Andrew’s back. Gavin turned
him to the other side while Maidie pulled the roll over the side and abdomen.
They repeated the process twice more, until she felt enough cloth covered the
wound.

“Please lift his head and let me put a wee bit of this tea
between his lips,” she told the servant at Andrew’s shoulder. The man held the
chief’s head up. Maidie pressed the cup of tea to his lips. The fine straight
mouth remained closed. Davina moved to take the servant’s place. She held the
head of her brother in her lap and gently raised him enough to drink.

“He’s in great pain. I can tell from the set of his body. Can’t
you do something?” Davina turned her eyes to Maidie. The girl’s eyes darkened
to the deepest black with the misery she felt.

Maidie reached into the small cloth bag and took out more
powdered poppy leaves. She sprinkled another small portion in the cup of tea
and stirred with her finger, then placed the cup to the laird’s lips once more.

Davina spoke to her brother, “Andrew, please open your mouth
and drink the tea. It’ll help you feel better.” The lips did not move. “Please,
I implore you!” Davina shook the broad shoulders.

Grey eyes glazed with agony, opened to stare at Maidie. She
was taken aback and shuddered. Never had she seen such eyes. Unlike the dark
ones of his brother and sister, the eyes of Andrew Munro belied his nickname of
Dubh
. The hair of his head and covering
his body was indeed black, but his eyes of soft clear grey appeared almost
silver in color.

“M’Laird, if you would open your lips and swallow this tea, you
will feel better in a wee bit,” Maidie spoke gently.

The mouth opened to take the cup between its lips and sip the
tea. He coughed and winced. The eyes closed once more. His body tensed,
becoming rigid, but soon relaxed and grew limp.

Maidie spoke to Gavin, “He needs to be washed and taken to a
comfortable bed.”

“I’ll see to his washing,” Davina spoke while gently placing
Andrew’s head on the pallet. She stood and told the
gille
or young servant
, “Bring clean water
and more towels to the laird’s chamber,” then turned to Maidie who stood. “We
are forever in your debt, Madam. Will you come daily to check on my brother and
see to his welfare?”

“Yes, Lady Davina. I’ll come,” Maidie promised. She handed
Davina the cup of tea. “See that he drinks several sips more when he awakens.
It will keep the pain at bay.”

Gavin turned to Maidie. “I’ll escort you home, Madam. I must
take Randal to his family and tell Anne of his passing.”

“Ach! Sven. I forgot he waited outside in the yard for me. He
will be frightened.” She turned, grabbing her bags and rushed to find her son.

Chapter Two

Maidie frantically searched for Sven,
but could not find him in the inner bailey. She called his name with no
response. Her eyes searched the walkway on the upper curtain wall, thinking he
may have climbed to a higher place to look out over the countryside. She saw
only guards.

She called to a nearby fellow, “Have you seen my son?”

He returned, “Nae, Madam. No’ a lad have I seen this day.”

Panic seized Maidie, causing a pain in the pit of her stomach.
“Lord, where is Sven? Help me find him.”

A servant led an ox-drawn cart into the bailey. Another led
two saddled horses. The tanist must be getting ready to transport the body of
Randal home to Anne. Maidie ran to the man leading the horses.

“Have you seen my son—a wee lad of six years?”

“Nae wee lad have I seen,” the servant turned to take the
horses closer to the door of the keep. The ox cart followed.

Maidie ran ahead of the men and tugged at the heavy wooden
door, just as Gavin opened it from the inside. She crashed into him. He caught
her arms in a firm grasp. “Where are you going in such a rush, Madam? I am
ready to take you home.”

She looked up into the dirt-streaked face of the chief’s
brother. “I canna find my son. He was to stay in the bailey until I came for
him.”

Gavin took Maidie by the arm. “Come with me, I’ll help you
look while they put Randal in the cart. I want you to help me talk to Anne.
Women have a better way with words than men. You look around the hall in that
direction.” He pointed to the southern section of the great hall where men
carried Andrew up the stone steps, followed by Davina and two maidservants. “I’ll
look this way and into the kitchen. He may have gone for food.” Gavin pointed
in the opposite direction to the three arched doorways leading to the castle
kitchen, pantry, and the last to the service close outside the keep that housed
the brewhouse, bakehouse, dairy, laundry, blacksmith, and workshops.

Maidie rushed around the great hall of the keep, searching
frantically for Sven. He was nowhere to be seen. The sour taste of hysteria
began to rise in her throat. She almost ran into a small group tending the
wounds of a warrior lying on a mat of rushes. Angus worked at stitching a large
gash on the man’s arm.

The physician looked up when Maidie rushed by. “Stop her,” he
told the fellow standing next to him.

The young servant grabbed Maidie’s arm. She tried to pull
free, but he held tightly. “I’m looking for my son. Let me go,” she cried.

“Master Angus wishes to speak to you.” The young man pulled
her toward Angus.

She resisted, but he was too strong. He brought her to stand
beside the physician, while he finished stitching the wound and cut the silk
thread. A servant raised the head of the wounded man while another gave him a
sip from a wooden cup. Maidie thought the liquid must be the potion Angus gave
his patients.

“Why are you running around the keep in such a fashion? Others
need to be tended, or is your job over now that you cared for the laird?” He
stood in front of her, his narrowed eyes glinting with a black light. “Go to
that one over there.” He pointed to a wounded man who moaned loudly. “Use your
secret potions and appliances on him. He needs attention.”

“I’m looking for my son.”

“The wounded need you. Take her to Alan,” Angus told the young
man. He bent down to look her in the eye. “I see you still carry your sack. Dig
deep into it and bring out a cure for him. He’s one of the laird’s best
warriors. You must mend him to fight another day.”

Maidie drew back from the physician’s foul breath. The lad
dragged her to Alan’s side. He moaned, thrashing from side to side. Why didn’t
the servant give Alan some of the poppy tea to drink? It would have eased his
pain. Maidie knelt by the wounded warrior and placed the leather bag beside
him. He, like the others, was covered with blood and filth. No one had washed
the open wound on his leg or the cuts on his body. She could not leave him
thus. He would surely die. Mayhap Gavin would find Sven. Surely, her son was
close at hand and in no danger. She silently asked the Lord to keep him safe.

Maidie looked up at the lad. “Fetch some hot water, towels,
rags and soap. Have the cook make hot tea. I have no more mint to sweeten it,
but mayhap you’ll find some in the kitchen. I’ll need a stool to sit on.”

The lad nodded and hastily left in the direction of the kitchen.
Maidie touched Alan’s forehead. Fever had not set in, but it surely would if
his wounds were not cleaned quickly. She looked around the hall searching for
the flask of whisky. She needed it. All of the herbal paste was used on the
laird and she had no herbs to make more. Had Gavin found Sven?

Alan moaned again, and her attention turned back to him. She
reached into the leather bag and drew out the needle, silk thread, and dirk for
the second time. She could not leave a man in such need. Angus was right. The
wounded needed tending. She would stay and help where she could, but Gavin must
find Sven.

The young servant returned with the articles Maidie requested.
He placed a large bowl of steaming water beside her, along with a stack of
towels and rags, with a piece of lye soap on top of the stack. Maidie put the
needle, thread and dirk into the water for sterilization, and then placed them
on a clean towel.

She dipped a rag into the hot water, soaped it, and then began
washing Alan’s belly. Repeating the process on his arms and legs, she washed
around the open gash on his thigh, then toweled him dry. He moaned from time to
time but did not open his eyes. Maidie noticed a cut on his neck that may need
suturing and began the tedious job of carefully washing his face and neck, but
not getting soap or water into his eyes or wound. When the warrior was as clean
as she could get him at the moment, she picked up the needle to thread it.

“Mam! Mam!” Sven’s voice rang out across the great hall.
Maidie turned to see him running toward her from the outside door. Gavin
followed. Her son ran into her arms. She held Sven fast with one hand and the
needle out of his reach with the other.

“Where have you been? I’ve worried myself sick about you.”
Sven raised his head from her shoulder to look into her eyes. “I told you to
stay within the bailey,” she scolded.

“I was with Effie and Dan. We went to see the horses.” The lad
rested his head on her shoulder again.

“I found him in the stable trying to talk the stableman into letting
him ride a horse,” Gavin said, striding up to the group. “I thought you would
be ready to go with me to Anne’s.”

“I must stay and help Angus with the wounded. He can’t get to
them all, and they need help.” Maidie gently pushed Sven aside, picked up the
thread, and began threading the long needle.
 
She looked at Gavin. “Thank you for
finding Sven. He shouldn’t have left the bailey.” She gave Sven another hard
look, then turned back to Gavin. “Will you please take him to Flora’s? She will
keep him until I’m finished here. Do you ken where Flora lives?”

“Aye, I ken where Flora lives.” A strange look glinted in
Gavin’s eyes. “I’ll take him, but I wanted you to go with me to Anne’s when I
take Randal home.”

“Mayhap Flora will go. She’s lost a husband also, and will ken
how to comfort Anne. Sven can stay with her son until she returns. The two boys
are close friends.”

“I’ll ask her, but Flora doesn’t have your easy temperament.
She may do more harm than good.”

Ah, so Gavin is acquainted with Flora well enough to know
about her high and erratic temper. Maidie couldn’t think about Flora and Gavin
at the moment, she had to direct her attention to the task of stitching Alan’s
wound.

Maidie kissed her small son’s flushed cheek. “I love you,
Sven. Go with Sir Gavin to Flora’s now, and play with Phillip. I’ll be home
when I’m finished helping the wounded.”

Sven gave her neck another hug. “Hurry home, Mam.”

Maidie smiled at the sweet face with a wrinkled brow. Gavin
took Sven’s hand and led him away. Her wee son looked back at her. She waved.
Her heart felt relief. Now she could concentrate on the waiting task. The
wounded warrior moaned when Maidie took a stitch in the open wound.