The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair
Chapter Twenty-Four
Once they arrived, Uncle Logan led Jennet straight to her mother’s healing chamber. He knocked on the door and her mother answered, squealing with glee as soon as she set eyes upon her.
“My thanks to you, Logan, for bringing her home.” She wrapped her in a tight hug and Jennet nearly let go of her tears, but she had to stay strong to fix her father.
“Brenna, we have work to do. How is Quade?”
Her eyes misted as she whispered, “He’s worse, Logan. His leg is turning shades of red I don’t like. I fear I’ll have to amputate it to save him, but you know I’d hate to do it.”
“Then we’ll fix him. Jennet thinks she knows what to do, so I’m going to help her.” Torrian came in the door from the great hall, and Uncle Logan called out to him. “Torrian, get MacAdam, Gregor, and Maule here. Also bring your sisters. Meet me here in ten minutes.”
“May I see him?” Jennet asked.
“Aye, but he rarely awakens. I hope he will for you because he feels so guilty about yelling at you.”
Jennet stepped into the chamber, surprised to see a torch lit. Her father was huddled under the covers. He lifted his head to see who had arrived, then said, “Jennet?”
“Aye, Papa. I’m home again.”
He did his best to sit up, but Uncle Logan had to help him get comfortable.
“Jennet, my apologies for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have done it. I know you were only trying to do what was best. And thank the Lord for Torrian that he kept me from striking you. I didn’t realize what I was doing. You know I’d never hit you if my mind were hale, do you not?”
“I know, Papa. But I’m going to fix you. I’m quite sure that something I experienced in the last sennight will prove to be the healing step, finally. It may hurt.”
“Anywhere but that spot.”
Jennet thought hard, deciding she wasn’t going to lie directly to her sire, so she evaded with a question. “Papa, do you feel any better?” After all, it was exactly that spot she needed to go after.
“Nay. The fevers continue. I don’t feel like eating, your mother forces me, and I spend much of my time sleeping. What goes on in the world, Logan?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, so please drink this.” Logan offered him the goblet of the water of life.
Her father eyed it and said, “Gladly. My thanks.”
Pleased his attention was drawn away from her, she decided to collect her necessary supplies while the brothers chatted,giving the uisge beatha time to work. Two basins, multiple strips of linen, linen squares, her mother’s poultice for dressing the wound after, and soap. And she needed a special tool to pry something fine out of the wound. She found two possibilities and set them on the nearby chest. Fortunately, many people were coming and going, the distraction again keeping her father’s thoughts from her.
Please, God, let this work.
Once everyone was inside, Uncle Logan said, “Are you ready, Jennet? MacAdam, you hold the leg she’s working on. Kyle, the other. Gregor, you on the other side of him. Hold his arm so he won’t hit her. Torrian, you’re to jump in wherever you’re needed. We all need to hold him down while Jennet does her work.”
Her mother looked from one to the other, then back to Jennet. “What exactly are you doing, Jennet?”
“Mama,” she answered, lowering her voice, “the same as before, but I’m not stopping until I find what’s in his wound. There is something there, I’m certain of it.”
“Lass, he’ll never allow it. I’ve tried multiple times. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed that same spot, especially when he was first injured.”
“But you quit like I did. I’m not quitting this time.”
Uncle Logan barked, “Jennet, are you ready? Lily, Bethia, take your mother outside.”
“Logan, I’m staying.”
“Nay, you’re not. You’ll distract your daughter.”
Her mother moved over to her father and set her face next to his. “Nay, I’m staying with him.”
“Bethia, get your mother out of here.”
“Nay, I’m staying.” Her voice raised.
Her father asked, “What’s going on? I don’t understand why Brenna can’t stay. What is Jennet doing? I couldn’t hear the conversation.”
Her mother turned to her and grabbed her wrists. “Jennet, do not hurt him. Please. I love him too much. I cannot lose him yet.”
Uncle Logan bellowed, “Out. Brenna, Bethia, Lily, Sorcha. Out, all of you. Get Brenna out and don’t let her back inside. And don’t open that door until we’re done.”
Bethia grabbed her mother’s arm and Lily the other. “Come outside, Mama. The bairns are all out here. We can make some pastries for them. Let Jennet do what she must. I know you trust her.”
Once they were gone, Jennet pulled a chair over to where she needed it and pulled the coverlet back. She then lifted her father’s plaid so she could see his leg wound. “Papa, forgive me, but I must do this. I think it will work. Just tolerate it for a few minutes, and I think we’ll be done.”
“Go ahead, Jennet. Hurry.” He leaned back in his bed, glared at his brother, and prepared himself to allow her to begin her work. At least for now.
Uncle Logan nodded to the other men just as Sorcha came back inside. “I’ll help you, Jennet, if you need anything.”
“Forgive me, Papa.” Jennet pierced the wound, draining the purulent fluid from the wound, colors of red, white, yellow, green all blending together as it landed on linen squares and into the basin. Once it was done draining, she patted it dry, then grabbed her linen square and another tool to help her probe inside the wound. She made her first scrub across his sorest spot and her father bellowed, but this time at his brother.
“Logan, let me be. Leave me alone. All of you out. Where’s Brenna? I want my wife. Enough, Jennet. The pain is too much. Brenna!”
The tirade continued but Jennet ignored him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see how the four men fought to hold him down, though the liquid had started to work because his movements were slowing. Her father’s bellows continued, but her uncle said, “Ignore him and do what you must, Jennet. Don’t stop for anything.”
She cleaned to the bottom of the wound, not seeing anything that could be causing his pain, so she scrubbed one more time and this time the linen caught on something. She set her hand in there, feeling the prick of something. Grabbing her tool, she calmed herself after a wave of excitement that she may have found the culprit. She probed the wound where she’d felt the prick, finally settling on something hard. Grasping it with her tool, she tugged, causing more blood to flood the area. Her father’s yelling was worse than ever, but she tried again. “Sorcha, another linen to soak up this blood. If you could just keep sopping, it would help.”
Sorcha did as she was asked, and the two continued, ignoring the sobbing she could hear coming from her mother in the great hall. “I think I have it.” Sorcha sopped near her tool and Jennet pinched and pulled. She moved slowly, knowing that if there was anything inside, she had to get the entire piece and not break it. At last, she tugged carefully and set the object free. “There. ’Tis done. Sorcha, just sop up the blood until it stops, then go get my mother.”
She held the object up for Uncle Logan and her father to see. “Let him go now. I’ll not hurt him again. Papa, I found it. ’Tis what has caused all your pain.” She examined the nefarious culprit more closely, her smile widening in relief.
Torrian asked, “What the hell is it, Jennet?”
“A sliver of wood. Something that pierced his skin, like the end of a sword. ’Tis verra sharp, Papa, so every time you moved, it embedded deeper is my guess.”
Her father looked at it, rubbing his wrists from where he’d been held. “Jennet, the pain is nearly gone already. There’s still some soreness, but the sharp pain is gone.”
“Seriously, Papa?” Gregor asked. “Jennet, you’ve just done a miracle.”
The door flew open, and her mother stood there, sobbing, her face drenched with tears. “Mama, look, I found it.” Jennet held the sliver up, about the length of her big toe, for her mother to see. Her mother came over to her, studied it, then hugged her.
“Thank the Lord you came back.”
“Mama, will you finish? Put the poultice on and dress it? I have to step outside for a moment.”
“Of course. Go do what you must.”
The door opened and her sisters and cousins pushed their way inside, all anxious to see what was happening. Jennet made her way to the door, but the last thing she heard was Uncle Logan yelling, “Don’t you leave Ramsay land again.”
She smiled and yelled back, “Not this time, Uncle.”
Jennet strode straight through the hall, ignoring all the questions, people still coming inside to see what would happen with their old chieftain. Word always traveled quickly on Ramsay land.
“How is he, Jennet?”
“Did you fix him?”
“You must heal him. We cannot lose our chieftain yet.”
She ignored all her clanmates and cousins because this was something she needed to do for herself, so she stayed her path and headed outside, over to her mother’s beautiful garden. As soon as she sat down, the tears came, her shoulders hitching with relief that she’d found exactly what she needed. She prayed that she’d gotten the whole piece out and that there were no more inside.
Bethia came along and sat down beside her, taking her hand in her own. “Well done, sister. You’ll be Papa’s hero now. Do you think it was the cause? How did you figure it out?”
“Ethan. When we headed back, he took an arrow in his shoulder and just yanked the arrow out. He never realized that he’d left a piece of the arrow inside. He came down with a fever, then terrible pain, and I decided to look for the arrow tip. When I found it, his pain went away quickly. And it hurt the most in the exact spot I found the arrow tip. I thought it could be the same with Papa, though because it was in there longer, the situation was much worse. More fever, more pain, more drainage.”
“Brilliant thinking.” Bethia gave her a quick hug, then said the words Jennet was dreading. “Now tell me about Ethan.”
She wasn’t going to hide from the truth. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s marrying someone else.”
Bethia said, “Oh, Jennet. I’m so sorry. I’m sure you’re hurt over that.”
She couldn’t put into words how hurt she was. “I am, but everything inside me is churning. You’ll hear all about it later, but I was accused of being a witch.” She filled her sister in with the briefest of details about the journey back to Black Isle, including the reivers, the witchery, and being thrown in the firth.
Bethia, a stunned expression on her face, said, “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry? The threat you made to the reivers was brilliant, sister dear. But that it made you a target later is awful. You must be a bundle of emotions right now. You need some calm and peace. I’m glad you’re home, and I believe you’ve fixed Papa. Would you like to come and stay with me for a few days?”
“I would love that.”
“I’ll make you forget all about Ethan. You should see the new litter of puppies we have.”
“I can’t wait.” She’d go with her sister because she knew it would be good for her.
But there wasn’t a chance she could forget Ethan.