Lord of the Black Isle (9 page)

Father Geoffrey took her with him into the hospital one afternoon, where a patient had a bleeding gash on his thigh. He showed her how to heat oil, water, or metal and then touch it to the wound to seal off the blood vessels.

Later she told him, “With all the fighting and clan battles that occur, I am interested in treatment for wounds, especially when the wounds begin to fester.”

“Ahhh,” Father Geoffrey said. “Ye must become friends with
Erythraea
centaurium
, good for wounds, lung disorders, and blood spitting. And there are honey, garlic, and vinegar for those that fester.”

Soutra Aisle was never meant to be a permanent place for her, but only a stop to educate her, for being a woman she could not stay there for long. When the time came for her to take her leave, they gifted her with more recipes and notes for mixing other medicines they used, as well as seeds to start her hospital garden, including seeds for the poisonous herbs black henbane, opium poppy, and hemlock, and a box to keep them under lock and key.

In all, she spent three months at Soutra, and from what she learned, she realized that this period in time had been grossly misjudged, for their medical knowledge reached far beyond what modern medicine thought, but the opposite was also true, for when it came to sanitation and disease control, they were basically still very medieval.

Throughout her time at Soutra, there always lingered in her mind the knowledge that her allotted time would come to an end, since there was no nunnery here. And when it was time for her to go, it seemed far too soon and caught her completely off guard. The sad occasion was made sadder still when the friars gave a dinner for her and, as a parting gift, authorized six of the friars to escort her to St. Leonard's Augustinian Nunnery in Perth.

With her letter of introduction from Lachlan Mackinnon and another from the Master of the Hospital at Soutra, they made the journey north, learning on the way of an outbreak at St. Leonard's.

“'Tis kinkhoast,” Father Symon said.

“'Tis a dreaded cough,” Father Thomas added.

Pertussis…
but he wouldn't know that term. “Ah… whooping cough,” Elisabeth said, then realized he wouldn't know that term either.

“Mayhap that is another name fer it,” Father Thomas said. “I have heard it is called chin-cough in England.”

At last they arrived in Perth and made their way to the nunnery, where they were genuinely welcomed and seen as a gift from God. Because of the outbreak of kinkhoast, Elisabeth went to work immediately, thinking her friends would be there to help for a while. But, as Father Geoffrey said, “Our staying would only prolong yer becoming acquainted with yer new home,” he said, then seeming a bit embarrassed, he reached into his cloak and withdrew a small leather pouch. When she opened it, she was stunned to see a golden cross studded with tiny diamonds on a gold chain, which he said the Master of the Hospital at Soutra had blessed.

“Oh, this is beautiful, but I could not accept something like this from you. It is priceless,” she said, truly overwhelmed.

“It belonged to my sister. I have kept it since her death, for she wanted me to give it one day ‘to a woman who is beautiful within and without.'”

Of course, she started to cry when Father Geoffrey placed it around her neck. Then Father William, Father Symon, and Father Thomas gathered around her and gifted her with a book of herbs, a pair of medical scissors, and vials and bottles of medicines, one of which she could use straightaway to treat the large number of children stricken with whooping cough.

One of the biggest boons from her time at Soutra was learning that the plant squill was used to treat whooping cough, and fortunately it was in one of her bottles. She knew from medical school that it was still in use in modern times as standardized sea onion powder for many other ailments—asthma, digestive problems, rheumatism, skin conditions, menstrual ailments, heart problems, back pain, hemorrhoids, and wounds. A typical dose was 0.1 to 0.5 grams, and one had to administer it carefully, for there could be side effects.

They took a short tour to the parts where the friars were allowed to go, and she learned the hospital at St. Leonard's was much smaller than Soutra Aisle, and the nuns were not as advanced in their medical knowledge. Comparing the two was like comparing a small clinic to a hospital in the twenty-first century.

All too soon, it was time for the friars to leave, and for some time after her friends had all departed, she found herself staring at the place where she had seen them last, her hand squeezing the cross at her throat, and swallowing to ease the knot there, as she considered herself the luckiest person in the world.

She turned and started to go to the abbey to pray, but as she looked around, she realized there was no better abbey than the beautiful bower where she stood. She dropped down on her knees, still clutching her cross, and thanked God for sending her here, for she knew in her heart it was not a mistake. This is not the path she would have chosen, for being away from Màrrach and her sister was difficult, but she knew she now stood upon firm ground.

She could see her way clearly now, for she knew there was a peaceful and perfect rightness to it, as if she had followed her yellow brick road. That did not mean she had no apprehensions or that she was unafraid. Nor did it mean this would be her home forever, unless she chose to take the vow of a nun. But for now, she would help those in need, practice this new kind of medicine, and pray for a time in her life when something would be permanent.
In the meantime
, she thought,
this is where I am needed
, and she felt an overpowering rightness to her circumstances.

Perhaps things were working out as they were meant to be. She was a doctor and she was needed, and there was little opportunity to practice on the Isle of Mull for it was sparsely populated and Màrrach was isolated. She knew now that leaving there was her opportunity to find a part of Scotland that provided her an opportunity to do what she had trained for. “This is where I was meant to be. This is where I belong, at least for the time being.”

Apparently, she was wrong about that last statement, for her future lay elsewhere, and as a storm strikes without warning, she would be caught by surprise.

I have found power in the mysteries of thought,

exaltation in the changing of the Muses;

I have been versed in the reasonings of men;

but Fate is stronger than anything I have known.

—
Alcestis
(438 BC)

Euripides (484 BC–406 BC)

Greek tragic dramatist

It was over a month later, on a dark, moonless night, when Elisabeth entered the storage room. She put her candle down as she searched for her basket of herbs. Finding it, she slipped her arm through it and was about to pick up the candle when two knights burst into the room and, asking her forgiveness, pulled her from the room and into the torch-lit outer enclosure.

There, in the priory yard, she saw six mounted knights and two saddled horses. She swallowed hard, fighting the sense of panic rising in her throat. Of all the places she thought she would be safe, it was in a nunnery. Who were they and were they taking her? Had MacLean found where she was and sent his knights? Had someone accused her of sorcery? She was frightened, but before she could ask who they were and where she was being taken, she suddenly found herself thrust into one of the saddles. She was starting to cry out when she noticed the prioress was hurrying toward her, but not in an alarmed manner. Did the prioress know these knights?

She put her hand on Elisabeth's knee and patted it. “Dinna fret, Elisabeth. These men are knights in the service of the Earl of Kinloss. His sister is the prioress at Elcho Priory. She was taken to her home on the Black Isle several days ago. It is feared she is dying of a fever. The earl has sent his men here to escort ye to Aisling Castle to care for the prioress.”

“But why me, when they are much closer to the priory at Beauly?”

“The earl has heard there was healer who has performed miracles with the sick at Elcho Priory.”

“But Elcho is here in Perth, not so terribly far from St. Leonard's. Why didn't they bring her here instead of taking her all the way to the Black Isle?”

“They didna know aboot ye at the time, and the prioress had asked to be taken back home to Aisling Castle so she could die there.”

“If the fever is advanced, there is nothing I can do. She may be dead before I arrive. I am needed here, where my presence will make a difference to those not so gravely ill.”

“'Tis naught I can do,” the prioress said. “The knights have their orders and they are signed by the abbot of Fearn Abbey.”

One of the knights rode up beside her and stopped. “Come mistress. We must be on our way.”

She nodded at the prioress. The metal bit clanked as she turned the horse and rode alongside the knight riding next to her. Did he have orders to keep pace beside her? Surely they did not think she would ride off in the dark alone. She rubbed the back of her neck. She was already tired from a long day. She did not relish an even longer moonlight ride followed by however many days it would take to reach the Black Isle, especially riding with a hardened group of knights with frozen expressions of dark pride upon their faces. They looked as if they would rather be anywhere else but here.

Well, at least we have something in common…

All in all, it took almost three days of hard riding to reach the place near Inverness where they would cross the firth to the Black Isle, and another half day to reach their destination. Elisabeth was exhausted by the time they arrived at Aisling Castle. Weary to the bone, she had lost all track of time, for they traveled straight through, only stopping long enough to feed and rest the horses and eat, with very few stops to take anything that even remotely resembled a nap. It was late in the afternoon when she was pulled from the saddle, and when she was grabbed under the arms from behind, her knees gave way.

“Yer a hardy lass, I will grant ye that,” said the knight who caught her, and she recognized by his voice that he was the stern-faced one who had ridden beside her.

She was starting to respond when her head began to buzz and she dropped to the ground.

***

Lord David Murray, the Earl of Kinloss, was staring morosely into the fire when he received word that the healer from Elcho Priory had arrived. He did not expect to see her being carried into the hall like a sack of oats tossed over a shoulder. “Has she caught the fever?” he asked.

“Nae, in truth we didna give the lass time to rest or provide her with naught to eat but a few oatcakes. I ken the fast pace o' the journey withoot sleep was too much for her.”

Lord Kinloss walked closer and stared at the dirty bit of humanity in the arms of his closest friend and cousin, Duncan Murray, and he was shocked to see the face of the woman he rescued and took to Soutra Aisle a few months ago.

“Is she asleep or did ye have to cuff her to bend her to yer will?”

Duncan chuckled. “Nae, she is no' a defiant lass, but that may not be true when she awakes, for she has had a time o' it and she wasna too happy to come here.” Duncan paused and looked from the girl to his cousin. “Have ye met the lass before?”

David was hardly listening to Duncan, for he could not believe this was the same woman he had been unable to forget, and now she was here under his care. He was curious as to how she had made such a reputation for herself in such a short time. But Duncan was looking at him strangely, so he nodded and said, “Aye, I ha' met the lass. 'Tis a long story,” he said, distracted by the long length of trim legs dangling beneath the blue garment she wore. He recalled how many nights he had lain awake with the memory of her uncovered leg during the night they spent in the cave and what agony it had been to lie beside her and have her not.

Duncan laughed. “Weel, I ha' plenty o' time to hear yer tale aboot the lass. Mayhap ye can tell me later.”

David continued to stare at her, recalling the achingly familiar face, for even when it was dirty, she was still a beauty. He longed to touch her auburn hair, rich as golden sable. He said nothing, but he did wonder what she would do when she realized he was the one who had her brought to Aisling Castle.

“'Twas not a happy lass we had, ye ken, fer she wasna pleased aboot being hauled here like so much baggage, withoot a bath or a change o' clothes, and at such a fast pace. Faith! I am in awe that the lass made it as far as Aisling afore she dropped like a stone from lack o' sleep.”

Duncan glanced toward the stairs. “Shall I carry her above stairs and let her sleep a while?”

“Nae, yer tired after such a trip yersel'. Go get some rest. Let me have the lass, and I will take her up to the room that has been readied for her.”

Duncan wasn't so tired that he couldn't grin widely at the words his cousin uttered, so he raised his brows in a questioning manner and then laughed when his cousin paid him no mind.

Ignoring Duncan, Lord Kinloss gathered Elisabeth into his arms and carried her up the stairs and down the long hallway, then paused long enough to nudge open the door to the room, which was next door to the room of his youngest sister, Ailis.

The draperies were open and the afternoon sunlight was dropping below the windowsill. As he started across the room to place her upon the bed, she stirred and opened her eyes and said, calmly as ye please, “What are you doing here?”

“I was aboot to ask ye the same question,” he replied. “Ye didna tell me ye were a healer.”

He saw the dazed look of confusion upon her face as she looked around, as if she was trying to decide just where
here
was. Then her eyes narrowed and she asked, “Do you live here?”

“Aye, 'tis my home and I welcome ye to it.”

She looked around with a suspicious frown. “Just who are you?”

“David Murray, the 3rd Earl of Kinloss,” he replied as he leisurely absorbed the perfect beauty of her dirty face. He had regretted not taking more time to deliver her to Soutra Aisle, and after he left her, he had the devil's own time getting her off his mind. And now, like a gift from the gods, she was in his arms, and he could not think of a better place for her to be.

“The Earl of Kinloss? You are an earl?”

“Aye, since the death of my father, the 2nd Earl of Kinloss.”

She yawned and he could see she was trying to stay awake. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I did not think it important at the time, just as ye did not think it important to tell me of yer past.”

“So, what am I supposed to call you?” she asked. “Your Majesty?”

He detected no contempt or scorn in her tone, so he supposed she truly did not know. He smiled. “Nay, I am no that high on the peerage charts. An earl is addressed as a lord, or in my case, Lord Kinloss, or Lord David Murray, Earl of Kinloss, or the Earl of Kinloss, or simply Kinloss.”

“I will never get that straight,” she said, thinking she would refer to him as “your brother” or “your cousin” or “the earl.” Then she let that ride to get on to more important things. “Are you the one who ordered those knights to haul me away from the hospital?”

“Aye, although I understand yer discomfort, my sister is gravely ill. My cousins did deliver a letter signed by the abbot of Fearn Abbey, asking fer ye to be released unto my care,” he said. “I had hoped that would allay any fears ye had.”

“I was still taken against my will, and I was
not
informed of the letter before they burst into the room and hauled me out to the courtyard and plopped me on a horse, scaring me to death.” She frowned and he remembered her eyes were as green as bracken and still as beautiful as his memory of them.

“Weel, I apologize for the rudeness o' my cousins and I will address it with them.”

“Well, if your sister is as ill as you say, we are wasting precious time. I am filthy with the grime of travel. I will need a bath before I can see to her. Can you arrange it?”

“Aye, I will see to it,” he said, as he lowered her to her feet, then turned and left the room. He closed the door and started down the hallway as a slow smile settled momentarily upon his lips, then vanished, for Lord David Murray, Earl of Kinloss, was said to never smile.

He went downstairs and spoke to the steward regarding a bath for her and also fresh clothing, since she did not have time to pack anything. Then he went to the room of his sister, Caitrina, or Mother Dominique, as the nuns called her once she became prioress. He paused beside her still form. Although she was a small-boned woman, she looked terribly small and frail, for she had lost much weight. He looked down upon her, lying so still, and wondered if she was even breathing. He remembered the pillow fights they had in this very room, so many years ago when they were naught more than saplings and his three brothers were still alive. And now, she was fighting for her life, but he would not let her die. He brought the green-eyed lass to rid her of this illness so she would not be another sibling that he had to lay in the ground.

He did not know if she could hear him, but he said, “I have brought the healer from St. Leonard's, and she will examine ye on the morrow. Ye will be better soon, Caitrina. You will see.”

He kissed her pale hand, which was quite warm, and paused. Her fever was higher and her breathing more labored. He decided to bring the healer to her tonight, but when he knocked on the door to Elisabeth's room, she did not answer. He knocked again, then opened the door and stepped into the room. He saw the tub of used water and her asleep upon the top of the bed, wearing the dress Ailis had given him. A nightgown was folded at the end of the bed.

He remembered the coarseness of the garment she had worn, which was quite similar to what the nuns wore; only hers was of a pale blue color. He tried to imagine what she would look like in a gown like the women wore at court, with the low décolletage, for she was blessed with enough to grace such a gown.

He hated to wake her, but Caitrina needed seeing to. He was about to put a hand on her shoulder when she opened her eyes. She rolled to her side and sat up, then looked around the room and down at the dress she wore, as if she was trying to get everything straight in her mind.

“Thank you for the bath and the clothes. I could not examine any sick person when I was not clean. The sick… they are more susceptible to illness than those who are healthy. If I touched your sister as I was, without bathing, I could give her the germs of another illness.”

He stared blankly at her, wondering what gibberish she was speaking. What was this “susceptible” and “germ” she spoke of?

She realized he probably did not understand what she was saying, for she had encountered this problem before, while a prisoner of the MacLeans on the Isle of Mull and again at Soutra and St. Leonard's. She released a long breath, and although he had opened his mouth to respond, he closed it when she spoke. “‘Susceptible' means, in the way I was speaking, that someone might be affected by something or capable of having something on or in their body that is harmful to others. A germ is something one cannot see, for it is smaller than a grain of sand, but it is there and it can cause disease.”

He was staring at her blankly. She paused. “Do you speak French?”

“Aye.”

She took a deep breath. “A germ is like an invisible seed. In fact the word comes from the French word
germe
, which, as you know, means seed or sprout, which is from the word…”

“
Gignere
, ‘to beget,'” he said. “Ye washed away these invisible seeds when ye bathed?”

Elisabeth nodded. “Yes, cleanliness is a very important part of maintaining good health.”

“Ye have a strange way o' talking, mistress, and yer accent is strange. And fer a doctor, ye have unheard-of ideas and words aboot yer medicine. Where do ye come from, or are ye like yer invisible seed and ye sprout where ere ye please?”

She smiled and said, “I suppose it does sound as though I do. Now, why don't you take me to see your sister? Her name is Caitrina, I believe.”