By Honor Bound Part 24

"It was pleasure," she said, her cheeks coloring a bit at the memory. "But I am afraid. Aiden's birth wa.s.so difficult. I dread the next one. And I fear Talcoran's rage even more."

She felt well enough. She joined Gruach and the other women in a celebration when news came of Crinan's defeat and death at Dunsinane.

"We will celebrate better when the menfolk return," Gruach promised. "And then I suppose a few months from now most of you will again ask leave to go home and have babies, as you do after every war. I remember the last time."

There was delighted laughter at this, and some rather rowdy speculation about who the happy new parents would be. Elen said nothing. She had told no one but Fionna about her pregnancy, and had sworn Fionna to secrecy. Talcoran should know first.

She did not feel well the next day, but thinking it was only that she had eaten some bad food at yesterday 's party, she went to attend the queen. She was with Gruach and Fionna when a second messenger came with more details about the battle.

"The king was unharmed," the messenger said, "but many were wounded."

"The Thane of Fife," Fionna asked breathlessly, "is he well?"

"He is, lady." The messenger knew Elen. He would not look at her. "Conal mac Duff is well, but Talcoran of Laggan was sorely wounded."

"What? Talcoran? I don't believe it," Elen cried.

"Aye, lady, it's true. He took a spear in his side. It is not known if he will live."

"No! He can't die!" Elen staggered as if it were she who had been struck down. She felt two pairs of arms supporting her.

"It's all right, Fionna, I have her." Gruach made Elen sit down. "Put your head down, cousin, or you will faint."

"I have to go to him." Elen fought Gruach's arms, trying to stand again. "Please, Gruach, give me permission to leave court. I will travel to Dunsinane to be with my husband."

"You will do no such thing. I'll have none of my women wandering around a battlefield. Macbeth has told me about the ruffians, the deserters and defeated soldiers who skulk about after a fight, looting the unburied bodies and

attacking anyone they meet. I leave to your imagination what they would do to a woman such as yourself.

"I will take an armed guard." Elen would not be dissuaded. "I'll be safe enough. If he should die alone, when I might have been at his side, I could never forgive myself."

"Elen, if you disobey me in this, I will see to it that both you and Talcoran are banished from court. Will you have him recover from his wound only to learn that you have ruined him? He will not thank you for your devotion then. Neither Macbeth nor Talcoran would permit you to go on such a foolish errand, and neither will I."

Elen, knowing only too well that Talcoran would also have her pregnancy to be angry about, gave in. In her heart she knew Gruach was right. Dunsinane was no place for her. While her concern for Talcoran would have sent her to find him no matter the danger to herself, she would do the wiser thing. She spent the remainder of the day on her knees in the chapel, until her legs and back ached from the hard stone floor, and the damp chill had reached into her bones.

That night she miscarried. It was Briga, with her knowledge of herbs and ancient medicines, who finally stanched the bleeding when Elen was certain she would die.

"You have saved my life again," she said to Briga. "I won't forget it."

"It was my duty, mistress," Briga said simply.

"No one can know what has happened. Briga, Ava, I want you both to promise me you will not reveal either that I was with child or that I miscarried it."

Her servants swore what Elen wanted.

"Lady," Ava said, "how can we explain that you are unable to attend the queen today? You are

IT too weak to stand." "Send a message that I am distraught about Talcoran's wounding. Say I will resume my duties the day after tomorrow. Gruach may seem to be annoyed, but she will understand. Briga, you will concoct one of your herbal remedies for me, so when I return to the royal apartments I will appear to be in good health."

"Yes, mistress."

"I will see no one but Fionna. No other visitors."

They left her alone to rest, but her disordered thoughts would give her no peace. She was overwhelmed with guilt. She had desired Patric, l.u.s.ted after a man not her husband. She had gone to Talcoran and demanded readmittance to his bed, not because she wanted him, her husband, but because she had wanted Patric, and because her body had clamored for physical release from that need. Now heaven was punishing her. Talcoran might die, and the baby he had given her, possibly his last child, was gone, too, and it was all her fault, because she had wanted Patric. She hated the very thought of Patric.

Let Talcoran live, she prayed, let him live and I will care for him and love him and give him another child though it cost me my life.

When Fionna came, Elen made her, too, swear not to reveal her pregnancy or its end. Talcoran must never find out. It would destroy the closeness they had so recently recovered. If he knew what had happened, his fear for her and his strength of will would combine to keep him permanently from her bed. If he lived.

She sent three of the men Talcoran had left to guard her off to Dunsinane to find him.

"See him face to face if he is able," she instructed them. "Bring me word from his own lips that he is healing. Failing that, speak with Drust. Every other day, one of you will return to me with news of him."

Two days later the first of the men returned to tell her Talcoran was indeed grievously wounded and might well die. Subsequent reports suggested that though extremely weak, he was improving slowly.

Frantic with worry over him, Elen spent her days trying to convince Gruach to let her go to Dunsinane. In the end it was Macbeth who reunited them. He sent a letter directly to Elen, telling her Talcoran would live. He had ordered Talcoran taken by litter, in slow stages, to Laggan.

"He spoke in his delirium of the sweet air and sunshine of that place," Macbeth wrote. "I think it best to send him there to recover, though his convalescence will be long, and I will miss him at my shoulder for every hour of that time. Show this letter to the queen and tell her it is my wish that you and your son should leave the court and join Talcoran at Laggan, to stay with him there until he is completely well."

"Mistress, what is it?" Briga had rushed into the bedchamber at Elen's loud cry. Elen flung her arms around the woman, the king's letter crushed in her hand.

"Talcoran will live!" Elen was laughing and crying at the same time. "We are going home, home to Laggan. He will be there. Briga, I'm so happy."

The following day, Elen, Colin, Briga, and Ava departed for Laggan, accompanied by a troop of Talcoran's men-at-arms. They traveled as quickly as they could, urged on by Elen's impatience to be with Talcoran again. She hoped they might overtake him along the way, but he was at Laggan half a day before she arrived.

"He is very tired, lady," Drust told her. "We carried him to his bed. He should be sleeping. It would be good to let him rest."

Elen paid no attention to Drust. She was halfway up the steps, hurrying to her husband. He was not asleep. He lay propped up in bed. He was so still, and so very pale. His cheeks were hollow. There were dark blue circles under his sunken eyes. A dirty bandage was wrapped about his chest.

"Oh, my darling." Elen threw herself on him, not noticing when he winced in pain. She kissed him hungrily, then sat back to look at him. A skeletal hand reached up to stroke her hair. She caught it and pressed it against her lips.

"Elen." His voice was a hoa.r.s.e, weak croak. "I regret ... I cannot . . . greet you ... as I would like." He produced a sad parody of a smile.

"I am here to make you well," she told him brightly. "By the king's command."

"I fear . . . that is ... .impossible."

"Would you have me disobey the king? I'll do no such thing. You will recover, my love. I'll see to it." She looked about the room. "This place needs cleaning."

"I'm too tired. No maids in here. Let me sleep." He closed his eyes.

"For today and tonight you may. We'll clean tomorrow. But I will have Briga in here to look at your wound and put fresh linen on it right now. Then we will bathe you and trim that beard that's half-way down your chest. And cut your hair, too."

Briga came, and scowled at the filthy wrappings over Talcoran's wound. It took a long time to remove them. They were stuck to his flesh, and crusted with blood and dirt.

Talcoran lay quietly, giving no indication of the pain he must have felt when Briga tugged at the cloth. He was hardly like Talcoran at all. Most of his fierce spirit seemed to have fled through the wound in his side.

Elen turned her head away when the last bit of bandage was gone. Then she made herself look. This was her husband, and she would care for him. She would be brave for his sake.

The wound in his right side was a long red gash, the edges of which had been crudely sewn together. Even with her small fund of knowledge in such matters, Elen knew the attempt at repair was inadequate and the wound was not healing properly.

Briga stood, looking grim, contemplating the damage.

"This needs marigold petals," she said softly, as if she were thinking aloud. "An ointment of dried yarrow leaves and swine's grease."

"I want to watch what you do," Elen said. "I want to learn."

"First, we will need boiling water and linen cloths to cleanse this." Briga gestured toward the wound. "I cannot undo what the surgeon has so badly sewn. My lord Talcoran, you will always have a thick scar in that spot. What I can do for you is hasten the healing and make you more comfortable."

"Do whatever you think is right," Talcoran told her, his low voice oddly lifeless.

Elen worked with Briga, cleaning the fiery red wound with herb-infused water, and then dressing it with a thick, greasy salve Briga had compounded. Elen gritted her teeth and choked back the bile that rose to her throat as they poked and prodded the tender flesh, but she kept at it, and at last Talcoran lay peacefully, his wound wrapped in fresh, clean linen. Elen drew a fur covering up to his chin.

"Sleep now," she said. "I'll bring you food later."

"Not hungry," Talcoran whispered through blue-white lips. He had made no sound during all of their sometimes necessarily rough treatment of his wound.

"I will prepare an infusion of bitter herbs," Briga told Elen. "It will improve his appet.i.te."

"I'll sit with him tonight."

"No, mistress. Have a care for your own health. From what I've seen of Laggan Castle today, there is much work for you outside this chamber. I will stay with Lord Talcoran this night."

Briga was right. While they had been at court they had left Laggan in Dougal's hands, but Dougal, try as he might, was now too old and too slow to see to all that must be done.

Elen took firm control of Talcoran's domain, managing to do it without injuring Dougal's tender pride. She sent Drust and a few of Talcoran's men to collect overdue rents, and when that was done, she put Drust in charge of the castle's men-at-arms, who, in their master's absence, had taken to lounging about the great hall all day drinking and playing with the serving wenches. She gave Drust strict orders to turn those men into soldiers again before the Thane of Laggan was up and about. Drust took on the task with relish.

Elen dismissed some of the more s.l.u.ttish servants, hired the younger daughters of some of the farmers who worked the fields of Lagganshire, promising them fine dowries when they married, and set about cleaning Laggan Castle from tower to storage cellars.

She tried to make Talcoran do their accounts, thinking he needed distraction. He could not spend every day just lying in bed, looking out the window. Talcoran had never been very concerned about such matters. He could count well, but he could barely read and write. He had left the account books to an inept secretary, who, during the winter just past, had run away with one of the kitchen wenches, taking along for dowry half a dozen silver cups that had belonged to Elen's father. It was too late to recover the silver, but the account books could be repaired and made more accurate, if only Talcoran would take an interest. He did not, and soon Elen was doing that task, too.

She thrived on all the work she had undertaken. She slept well and ate heartily. Her healthy body had apparently recovered completely from her miscarriage. Her mind was constantly occupied with the management of Lagganshire. As the results of her efforts became more and more obvious, and she found herself ruling an efficient, productive domain, she felt a sense of competence and well-being she had never known before. Even her guilt over the last winter's brief desire for Patric had begun to dissipate.

"I'm content here," she said to Briga one evening. "I don't care if we never go back to court."

"You will have to return, as soon as our master is well."

"If he ever does recover. It's taking so long."

"Mistress, I confess when I first saw that wound of his, I thought he would die of it. It was a terrible injury and sapped most of his strength. We ought to be patient with him."

Talcoran did eventually leave his bed. He spent the warm autumn afternoons sitting in the sunshine, watching old Dougal teaching Colin to use his tiny sword.

"He's too young," Elen objected. "He's just a baby."

"Leave him alone, Elen. It's only a game," Talcoran said, letting her see he was annoyed by her interference.

To please him, and to placate his uncertain temper, she stopped voicing her objections.