Page 122 of Laird of Smoke
Adam was trapped in the midst of the corruption.By oath, he must be loyal to King Malcolm.But in his soul, he knew what the king allowed was wrong.
The only way out of the turmoil was to subdue both sides.To somehow convince them that war wasn’t the answer.But he wondered if that was a hopeless endeavor, considering how much men loved to wield weapons.
He’d subdued an uprising before, at Perth, between the king and his rebelling lairds.For that, he’d used the power of the church.He doubted it would work in this situation.But perhaps, being a spy on both sides of the war, he could whisper in the ears of the two leaders and persuade them to come to a peaceful compromise.
Eve, averting her eyes, presented him with the threaded needle.
He carefully removed the blood-soaked gown.The cut was still there, but the bleeding had subsided for the moment.Still, he had to work fast.
“I’m goin’ to need both o’ ye to help hold him down.”
Though he worked quickly, stitching up the wound was an unpleasant task.Simon jerked awake and moaned with each jab of the needle.And Fonia sobbed with each of his moans of pain.
Finally it was done.
“A dollop o’ honey, a clean bandage,” he announced, “and Simon should be good as new.”
Eve wasn’t so sure about that.
Simon had roused with a yelp when Adam made the first stitch to close his wound.He was obviously glad to see his wife unharmed and the knife out of his side.But the pain of the needle was fierce.And sometimes infection set in after such a wound.On top of his physical suffering, the sight of his smoldering alehouse was doubtless dispiriting.
With Fonia’s encouragement, he survived the rest of the stitches.
As for Eve, she hadn’t been able to watch.She couldn’t imagine how Adam could endure it.On the other hand, she supposed a Rivenloch warrior had to be accustomed to inflicting and repairing wounds.
She handed him the pot of honey and linen for bandages.
While he worked, her gaze lit upon the dagger lying nearby.She narrowed her eyes at the button set into the haft.When she recognized the king’s insignia, she stifled a gasp.
Had Simon been stabbed by a royal soldier?Were Fonia’s attackers in the king’s army?Was this the kind of war against the Fergus clan Malcolm’s men-at-arms were waging?
It seemed too horrible to consider.And yet the evidence was undeniable.
She had to tell Adam.
He might be the king’s man.But surely he’d never approve of such senseless violence against innocent clanfolk.
She had to make things right.More than ever, she sensed that God had called her here.Led her to this place to redress those wrongs.She would find the men who had assaulted Fonia, stabbed Simon, and set fire to their alehouse.And she would see they paid for their sins.
While Fonia and Adam were distracted, Eve wiped the bloody dagger on the grass and slipped it into her satchel.
Eventually, a group of neighboring clanfolk came to seek the source of the smoke.By then the fire was mostly out, leaving the alehouse smoldering.Exclaiming in dismay and empathy, they comforted Fonia and Simon.They thanked the kindly monk and nun profusely.And they offered the homeless couple lodging and food until they could recover.
Eve and Adam bid them farewell, knowing they were safe in the bosom of their clan.
But as soon as they returned to the path, Eve confronted Adam.
“We can’t go to Darragh yet,” she said.
“Why?They’ll be fine,” he assured her.“Their clanfolk will care for them.”
She pulled the dagger from her satchel.“This is why.”She showed him the royal insignia.“King Malcolm’s men did this.We need to make this right.”
He stared down at the dagger for a long while.Then he sighed.
She was prepared for him to be resistant.After all, though she wasn’t supposed to know who he was, she knew he’d sworn allegiance to Malcolm.She expected he’d try to make some improbable excuse for the soldiers’ actions.
He’d say the dagger wasn’t proof.It could have been stolen by someone else.
