Page 38 of The Splendor of Fire
Father Allen trembled, his breath becoming shallow. “Please, Chief MacKinnon. Take care of my Moira. H-help…”
Léo’s arms tightened around him to ease the death rattle. “Help her?”
“Help her find her family. Fight for her. Love her.”
Grief crashed over Léo. Without the man he would have gone crazy. Without him he would have died. Without his daughter he may have lost reason to hope. “I do love her. But I’m in prison, Father. I’m not the man I used to be.”
Blood appeared at Father Allen’s lips but he smiled. “Who could help but love her? I’ve loved her since the day I found her. T-tell her I loved her like she was my own. And she was…my own… heart.” The death struggle began. “God bless you, Chief MacKinnon. Serve ye the Lord Christ…He will reveal the way to go.”
Léo’s last thread of sanity weaved within the words of the psalm he’d memorized that morning, and somehow he managed to speak them to comfort his only friend.
“The Lord ruleth me: and I shall want nothing. He hath set me in a place of pasture. He hath brought me up, on the water of refreshment: He hath converted my soul. He hath led me on the paths of justice, for his own name’s sake. For though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils, for thou art with me.”
Father Allen’s trembling began to subside and he relaxed in Leo’s arms, his beating heart beginning to slow. “Jesus?” The name issued from his lips like a question.
Léo’s left hand smoothed the white hair at the priest’s temple like anewborn babe. “Thy rod and thy staff, they have comforted me. Thou hast prepared a table before me against them that afflict me. Thou hast anointed my head with oil; and my chalice which inebriateth me, how goodly is it.”
The room, which stank of woodsmoke, soiled body, and blood, was filled with a fresh scent, sweeter than honeysuckle. An aroma of life.
Father Allen’s eyes began to droop and he gripped Leo’s hand tight. “Jesus?”
Struggling against sobs, Leo continued. “And t-thy mercy will follow me all the d-days of my life. And that I may dwell in the house of the Lord unto length of days.”
Father Allen’s chest lifted and he released his final breath. “Jesus.” The name no longer a question, but sight.
…Alone. He was alone. Grief and hopelessness oppressed him. His only friend was dead, and his only hope, the love of his heart, was gone. Shuddering sobs racked his body. The aroma of life grew. “Please don’t leave me here, Lord. You promised you would not leave. You promised…You promised.”
I’m here, Léo. I’m here.
The door crashed open and Mowbray sank to his knees beside Father Allen. “Is he?”
Léo choked, still holding onto his friend. “Gone.”
Mowbray helped Léo sit up, easing Father Allen from his arms. “What is that smell? It smells like flowers.”
“Jesus.”
Mowbray squinted his eyes at him and examined the back of Léo’s head.
“I’m not touched…” Léo tightened his hand over Father Allen’s one last time then rose, inhaling the sweet aroma of Christ, his strength, his power, his justice.
Tu tiens mon avenir.
“…I am ready to fight.”
Chapter 11
DUN RINGILL CASTLE - OCTOBER 30, 1384
Moira was certain the instructions Ardis had received from Lady MacKinnon were incorrect.
“After you gather up the old rushes and discard them, you’ll need to scrub each stone beneath and make sure that all traces of dirt are gone. Then and only then, you will spread fresh rushes over the floor. Let’s not have another problem like we did the other day.”
An annoyed twinge went up Moira’s neck and settled in her jaw. She gritted her teeth and pointed to Ardis’s mouth and then toward herself in an emphatic swoop.You told me to do that.
Ardis dropped her head toward her shoulder, an annoyed look contorting the striking features of her face. “I feel like you’re trying to tell me something.”
Moira gritted her teeth. Somehow in the last two months Ardis had come to the conclusion that because she had no voice she therefore had no brain.
