"I wondered. When we stopped at the cottage I found a few small spots of blood on the blanket. I dinnae understand why she just suffered and didnae tell me."
"Weel, the wound can only be reached and treated if she sheds her clothing," Jolene said as she sat on the edge of the bench and shook her head.
"Ah, of course." Gybbon grimaced. "Modesty."
"Silly thinking, I know, but I am no good at suffering with pain. I would shed my clothing before a whole army if it meant someone could stop my pain."
"And I would wear myself out killing all those men who looked at ye, so we best hope ye are ne'er pushed to that point," drawled Sigimor. "Come to me if ye feel a pain."
Gybbon shook his head and laughed softly. "And what would ye do?"
"I would do a lot of patting her on the back and saying ‘There, there, stiffen your wee backbone and grit your tiny teeth.'"
Grinning at the way Jolene rolled her eyes, Gybbon looked at Sigimor as Jolene said, "Aye, and that worked so very well when I had the girls."
Something in Sigimor's eyes told Gybbon that his friend had suffered every moment his wife was in pain during a birth but that he loved the results of it so deeply he would not stop fathering more.
"Weel, it stopped your screaming."
"Because I was stunned! I could not believe you thought it would help." Jolene looked at Gybbon, as she ignored the way Sigimor fed Freya a little meat even though her lips twitched with the need to laugh. "Now, Gybbon, she may have just been denying that she was hurt or it simply was not a serious hurt at first."
"That sounds like foolishness," Gybbon said. "She just didnae want me demanding to see the wound. That could have gone on for quite a while longer, but the moment she swooned from pain, fever, or the constant slow loss of blood, I would have tended the damned wound. She was just being stubborn or hiding behind needless modesty." He glanced toward the door again. "I think I should check on her before Sigimor and I leave. She just wouldnae sleep so long. She had a touch of fever last night, ye ken. Do ye think it got worse?"
"It could have. I will go have a look at her."
"Ye dinnae have to go up. I ken how to tell if she is feverish or nay."
"I did the patching. My job now is to make sure it is working," Jolene said as she walked toward the door.
Gybbon thought about that reasoning for a moment, caught Sigimor grinning at him, and hurried to follow her. When he reached Mora's room, Jolene was already sending one of the maids for a pan of cool water and collecting up what she would need to change the bandage.
"The fever has worsened," he said as he walked up to the bed and stroked Mora's hair. Freya leapt up on the bed as the maid returned with the water.
"Aye. I feared it might." Jolene set the bowl of water on the bedside table. "I want you to bathe her face to try and cool her down while I take a peek at her wound, mayhap even change the bandage. Ye are also to try very hard not to look at her."
"Jolene, I have seen a few women without their clothes on. I am nine and twenty."
"She would be embarrassed and, if she asks, I want to be able to say no without guilt or the need to hide my expression."
"That bad a liar, are ye?"
"Abysmal."
He wrung out the rag in the pan of water as Jolene arranged the bedcovers to hide as much as possible while still giving her access to the wound. With as soft a touch as he could manage, he wiped Mora's face and neck. Despite his best efforts to do as Jolene had asked, he glanced down at Mora. There was little to see and her wound grabbed his attention.
Her skin was pale and the wound with its stitches, and lingering redness, was glaringly obvious. It was ugly, marring what looked to be unmarked skin. It also looked like far more than a scratch, and probably had been even before Jester had tossed her to the ground. Jolene was right. Robert had attempted to gut her as she fled him.
Thinking of all the ways he could kill the man, he washed down her arms, then wiped the skin showing above the edge of the blanket. She had also been unarmed. He suddenly grinned and thought, Unless you count Freya. Seeing the seriousness of the wound also convinced him it was very necessary to hunt down the boy. A man who would try to kill a small, unarmed, and fleeing female in such a way would not hesitate to cut down a small boy.
"Has the wound improved at all?" Gybbon asked as Jolene tied off the new bandage.
"Aye," she said as she washed her hands. "The fever is probably just because she was so long without the care it needed, acting as if she did not have a gash in her side."
"But she probably shouldnae ride a horse for a while, aye?" he asked as they left the room.
"Oh, nay, she should not do that until the wound is tightly closed, and even then, she will have to go gently for some time. It would be best if ye could take her in a cart or wagon."
He softly cursed as he turned to walk into the hall, not waiting for Jolene as she had darted into her bedchamber saying something about washing and changing her clothes. Sigimor was no longer alone. There were his brothers, Fergus and Tait, and three MacFingals as well. He had to wonder just how close the clans had become since Sigimor had recognized the connection between the families.
"Do ye ever stay at your home?" he asked the three young MacFingals as he sat down on Sigimor's left.
"A lot, but we are nay missed much when we do leave. Too many of us," replied Nathan.
Geordie MacFingal nodded. "Aye, and 'tis probably for the best if some go for a wee wander now and then. Thin the herd," he added, and grinned.
Gybbon looked at Sigimor. "Jolene feels Mora's fever is just because she didnae get the wound tended to fast enough. She shouldnae ride a horse for a while though, nay until the wound is closed up tight."
"Ach, then we will need a cart for ye to get to your brother at Gormfeurach, and that could make the journey more dangerous than it need be if for no other reason than it will be slower and thus longer." Sigimor shook his head. "Ye can take some of these fools with ye though as, for the moment, we are on good terms with most all the clans and lairds for a fair distance."
"And ye think I should leave as soon as I get my hands on her brother and aunt, dinnae ye?"
"I do." He looked at his brothers and cousins. "Ye lads ready to travel to a wee village up the road?"
"What are we looking for?" asked Fergus.
"A wee lad of about seven and a woman who was caring for him."
"Someone wants them dead?"
"Aye, e'en though they are cousins. They want what was given them by their father's father."
"Reason enough for some." Nathan helped himself to some of the bread still on the table.
"Why do they think they should have it?" asked Fergus.
"Because it used to be part of the keep and its lands and their father is dying. They dinnae like that their grand-da took a piece out of the estate, e'en if it was for his own son."
Fergus shook his head and took a long drink of cider. "Madness."
"Happens all too often," murmured Nathan.
"Still doesnae make sense," said Fergus. "Ye are supposed to be able to trust kin. Ye are blood and there can nay be anything as close as that. It isnae e'en a fair battle as family kens all your secrets and all your weaknesses."
"I dinnae have any secrets," said Sigimor, and frowned when Fergus just shook his head and laughed before shoving some eggs into his mouth. "Why is that funny?"
Wiping his mouth, Fergus looked at his big brother, who was also his laird. "Because ye simply cannae keep them inside."
Sigimor looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "That may be true. Ne'er really done anything I felt I had to hide."
"Because ye are so weel behaved?" Gybbon just laughed when Sigimor spared a moment of glaring at Fergus to glare at him.
"The only reason to be quiet is if ye did something wrong or something ye are ashamed of."
"Then you must be fair to bursting with secrets," said Jolene as she walked into the hall and sat on Sigimor's right.
Sigimor gave a sharp tug on a lock of her hair, then grinned as she fussed to put it back in place. "So, the lass will be abed for a wee while, aye?"
"Aye," she answered, "although I cannot say for how long. Could be as little as a day or two or could be a week or more. I do not know how fast she can throw it off."
"What is the longest ye think it may take?"
"A fortnight, and if it is not gone by then, then something else is wrong."
Sigimor nodded. "Then we will figure we have that long but hope it is much less, and definitely no riding a horse for a week or more."