Enraptured by the Highlander

“But why?”

I ask meself the same question.

“The King’s pride, Me Lady, there is nothing else,” Caelan replied flatly. “He kent he had already triumphed over yer English King, once by marring the Frenchwoman who was also sought after by yer King. Then he snubbed yer King again by not heeding his call to break from the Catholic church. He insulted his King and his honor and we were the ones who paid the penalty for his error.”

The lass’ head, covered with an embroidered velvet caul, lifted. “What happened with my brother?”

The bleakness of that day was one Caelan would never forget, when he woke up to see Peter stiff and cold in his makeshift cot.

“Our warriors lost at the River Esk, Me Lady, and we were forced to march to the castle in Arnside for over two days. It was there Sir Duglas, yer brother’s friend, asked if there was a doctor among us and I volunteered. He took me to yer brother, who was almost dead from a poisoned stab wound. I sent for some herbs to treat him and had to cut away the rotten flesh from him. I made a poultice for his wound and made him drink some medicine.”

Caelan thought back to that day, “He was grateful to me, but… nothing I did could have saved him. The poison had already gotten into his blood. I found him dead the next mornin’.”

The lass was pale and her jaw looked clenched tightly. He could only imagine what she was thinking but decided it was a mercy that she had not seen her brother’s cold, bloated body. Her shoulders sagged. “H-How can it be that you’re a Laird and a doctor?”

His lips twitched, “I dinnae come by the position by choice or birthright, Me Lady.”

Her interest showed on her face, “What do you me?”

The scrape of the upper doors came and Caelan stepped away from her. “I ken that is a tale for another time.”

Heavy footsteps of the jailer were coming fast but the lady did not turn away, she only stepped away from the door. The jailer came in but nearly tripped over his feet when he saw who was there. The water in the cup nearly sloshed over as he quickly he jerked to a stop.

“My Lady,” he said, his eyes flitting to her and Caelan. “My Lady, why are you here?”

“I came to speak with the man who killed my brother,” she said calmly. “I wanted to know why.”

“And has he told you why?” the man asked eagerly.

“No,” the lass said, turning to him and then back to the jailer. “No, Leicester, he hasn’t.”

“I am not surprised,” the man, now known as Leicester, grunted as he shoved the bowl and cup into the cell. “These Scottish dogs have no shame or remorse. Eat!”

Caelan took the bowl, “Thank ye.”

Sitting, he drank first and ate the cold, bland meat and stale bread. He felt the lass’ eyes on him the whole time but did not look up. The jailer had a time limit and got testy when he did not finish eating in time.

“All right,” Leicester snapped. “Enough.”

Caelan handed over the bowl and cup, feeling his stomach roil with the unpalatable food. The man took the bowls away and he looked to the lass. She stepped away with her eyes lowered. When Leicester mentioned for the lass to come with him, he heard her murmur, “Another day then.”

He looked at her back, “Another day then.”

The lass didn’t come back for three long days, but he kept himself prepared for whenever she did. Leicester was still his guard, bringing him his food and allowing him to bathe every other day, another unheard of mercy for a prisoner of war. Some were not allowed to see the light of day, much less bathe and though he wondered about it, he did not think about it too much. He had not heard or seen the Earl and took it as a blessing.

Did the lass believe me when I said her brother died from poison?

Time was slipping to evening again when he heard the grated screech of the door above and frowned; the jailer Leicester had already come and gone, so who was this? The Earl? His chest tightened with anxiety, he was not ready for another debate with the man, but then the lass came instead and his worry thawed.

Her hair was in a thick braid and her dark coat covered flashes of a blue dress. So, she had come just as she said she would. He sat up, “Me Lady, I’m glad to see you again.”

Her face was stoic, “The other day you said that your position wasn’t one you came to by choice or birthright, what did you mean by that?”

Pulling the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders he said, “Me brother Cullum was the one whose birthright gave him the lairdship. I was three years younger than him. All me life I wanted to be a physician, so I trained with the best in me village and even went to the capital for a time to see how they went about their craft. I was called back home after me brother died from dysentery and it was only then that I was made Laird.”

The lass—Lady Adelaine—looked sorrowful. “That’s horrible.”

“I still kept up me role as a doctor even when I did me duties to me Clan,” Caelan added. “It took me a while to balance both.”