True to the Highlander(23)

“For a boy?” Elaine gave her a questioning look. “To clothe the lad, a feileadh breacan do you mean?”

“Is that what you call a kilt in your native language? It’s what the men wear, right? Your father gave me permission to care for the deaf boy who stays in the hall at night.”

“Aye, though I’ve no’ heard it called thus before. Leave it to me,” she said, crossing to the door.

“Will you teach me to speak your language, Elaine?”

“Of course. We can begin your lessons anon.” Holding the door to her chamber, Elaine told her, “dorus,” and pointing to her bed she continued, “leabaigh. Wait here, and I’ll come back for you.”

Alethia paced and checked things off her mental to-do list while waiting for Elaine’s return. Once she had something clean to put on the child, he’d need a bath and a haircut. She shuddered at the thought of what vermin might be living in his matted hair.

She knew what it meant to be orphaned and to lose the people who were the center of your universe. What would’ve happened to her if she hadn’t had such a large extended family? It wasn’t in her nature to stand by and let this deaf child fend for himself. He’d been reduced to begging, isolated and unable to communicate, and she could not turn her back on him.

“’Tis done. Let us return to the solar,” Elaine said from the corridor.




Spending the morning in the women’s solar had been a joy. Alethia hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been until she had company again. Reciting all the words Elaine had taught her, she made her way back to her room, surprised to find the door open.

“Milady, I’ve been waitin’ for ye.” Beth sat in the chair by the hearth, a pile of mending in her lap. “I brought the wee basket with your soaps back. One of the lads found it by the loch.”

“Oh.” Two bolts of cloth lay on her bed. One was a muted plaid like the kilts Malcolm and his men had worn the day they’d found her, and the other a fine linen. “Where did these come from? All I asked for was a bit of wool to make a child’s garment.” She ran the linen through her fingers, savoring the texture. Visions of a new gown and chemise more in the billowing style worn by the MacKintosh women formed in her mind.

“Lady Elaine asked one of our weavers for them.” Beth rose from the chair, setting her mending aside. “Their youngest lad has taken ill with a’ghearrach.”

Alethia gave her a puzzled look.

“Och. I dinna ken the word. Whatever the lad eats or drinks runs right through him. He suffers cramps. Lady Elaine has been visiting the family and helping as much as she can, but he’s very ill.”

He had dysentery. She thought of her emergency supplies. “There’s no healer in your village?”

“Nay. No’ for a year past.”

“I’m not a healer, but my grandfather was. I might have something that will help, and I have a book of remedies. It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“Och, the family would welcome any help, milady.”

Alethia moved the basket containing her bath supplies to the top of the mantel. “Have you given any thought to my offer?”

“What offer would ye be talkin’ about?” Beth’s brow furrowed.

“To use my scented soaps. In exchange, I have a favor to ask.”

“Aye?”

“I need a child’s bed. I’m going to take care of the deaf boy who stays in the great hall.” She could see the battle waging inside Beth. “You do want to be noticed, don’t you?”

“Humph. I’ll return by None. I’ll get what ye ask, and I’ll try the other. Once. If, as ye say, a bath and fine scented soap will gain my lad’s affections…” She shook her head, her eyes full of doubt.

“Oh, I promise it will. Go now. I have things to prepare for the weaver’s son.” She walked with her to the door. “I’ll see you back here at None.” Whenever that is. Alethia went to her trunk to fetch her book of Native American herbology.

For a moment, she was lost as she traced her grandmother’s writing on the inside cover. For every illness known to man, the Creator has provided a cure. Look to nature, my darling Alethia. Love, Gran. Gran had added her own notes on many of the pages, things she’d learned over the span of her life.

She always brought the book with her when she worked the Renaissance fairs. Most of them were held in rural areas, and she liked to get away from the crowds whenever she could. Hiking through fields and woods reminded her of endless summers in the bush country near the Canadian border, hunting, gathering and trapping with her uncles and cousins. She loved identifying medicinal plants used by her people throughout their history.