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“I would.” He kissed the top of my head. “I saw Ian’s face; it was like his own flesh was being torn, each time Je
Chapter 33. THE WATCH
Je
Not content to sit idle, though, within a day or two she had ventured as far as the kitchen, and then the back garden. Sitting on the wall, the well-wrapped baby in a carrying sling, she was keeping me company as I simultaneously pulled dead vines and kept an eye on the enormous cauldron in which the household’s laundry was boiled. Mrs. Crook and the maids had already removed the clean wash to be hung and dried; now I was waiting for the water to cool sufficiently to be dumped out.
Small Jamie was “helping” me, yanking out plants with mad abandon and flinging bits of stick in all directions. I called a warning as he ventured too near the cauldron, then raced after him as he ignored me. Luckily the pot had cooled quickly; the water was no more than warm. Warning him to keep back with his mother, I grasped the pot and tilted it away from the iron contrivance that held it and kept it from falling.
I sprang back out of the way as the dirty water cascaded over the lip of the pot, steaming in the chilly air. Young Jamie, squatting beside me on his heels, splatted his hands joyfully in the warm mud, and black droplets flew all over my skirts.
His mother slid down from the wall, yanked him up by the collar and dealt him a smart clout on the backside.
“Have ye no sense, gille? Look at ye! There’s your shirt’ll have to go and be washed again! And look what ye’ve done to your auntie’s skirt, ye wee heathen!”
“It doesn’t matter,” I protested, seeing the miscreant’s lower lip quiver.
“Weel, it matters to me,” said Je
We were turning back to the mass of sodden clothes, when the sound of hoofbeats came from the road.
“That’ll be Jamie back, I expect,” I said, listening. “He’s early, though.”
Je
The horse, when it appeared at the crest of a hill, was not one she knew, to judge from her frown. The man aboard, though, was no stranger. She stiffened beside me, then began to run toward the gate, wrapping both arms around the baby to hold it steady.
“It’s Ian!” she called to me.
He was tattered and dusty and bruised about the face, as he slid off his horse. One bruise on his forehead was swollen, with a nasty split that went through the eyebrow. Je
“Jamie,” he gasped. “We met the Watch near the mill. Waiting for us. They knew we were coming.”
My stomach lurched. “Is he alive?”
He nodded, panting for breath. “Aye. Not wounded, either. They took him to the west, toward Killin.”
Je
“Are ye bad hurt, man?”
He shook his head. “No. They took my horse and my leg; they didna need to kill me to stop me following.”
Je
“We met them near midday. It took me over two hours to get to a place that had a horse.”
She stood still, for a moment, calculating, then turned to me with decision.
“Claire. Help Ian to the house, will ye, and if he needs aught in the way of doctoring, do it as fast as ye can. I’ll give the babe to Mrs. Crook and fetch the horses.”
She was gone before either of us could protest.
“Does she mean… but she can’t!” I exclaimed. “She can’t mean to leave the baby!”
Ian was leaning heavily on my shoulder as we made our way slowly up the path to the house. He shook his head.
“Maybe not. But I di
It was growing dark by the time we reached the spot where Jamie and Ian had been ambushed. Je
“East,” she said, finally coming out of the trees, scratched and dirty. She beat dead leaves from her skirt, and took her horse’s reins from my numbed hands. “We ca
We made a simple camp, hobbling the horses and building a small fire. I admired the efficiency with which Je
“I used to make Jamie and Ian show me things, when they were young. How to build fires, and climb trees – even how to skin things. And how to track.” She glanced again in the direction taken by the Watch.
“Di
Her nimble fingers were tugging at the bodice of her gown. I stared in amazement as she spread the folds of cloth and pulled down the top of her underblouse to show her breasts. They were very large, and looked hard, swollen with milk. In my ignorance, I had not thought to wonder what a nursing mother does if deprived of her nursling.
“I ca
“I didn’t know it did that!” I blurted, staring in fascination.
Je
She emptied the cup onto the ground, remarking, “Shame to waste it, but there isna much to do wi’ it, is there?” Switching hands, she placed the cup again and repeated the process with the other breast.
“It’s a nuisance,” she said, looking up to see me still watching. “Everything to do wi’ bairns is a nuisance, almost. Still, ye’d never choose not to have them.”
“No,” I answered softly. “You wouldn’t choose that.”
She looked across the fire at me, face kind and concerned.
“It isna your time yet,” she said. “But you’ll have bairns of your own one day.”
I laughed a little shakily. “First we’d better find the father.”
She emptied the second cup and began readjusting her dress.
“Oh, we’ll find them. Tomorrow. We have to, for I ca