Betrayed by Carla Simpson

Author:Carla Simpson [Simpson, Carla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2022-03-10T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Nineteen

Men, women, and children staggered into the yard below.

Those who could, walked. Others were carried or rode in the single cart drawn by an oxen. Or had been left behind.

The attack at Abh-more had come the day before just at nightfall. No one was spared--men, women, children. Those who could, had escaped. Those who did not, were cut down.

The great hall was turned into a camp of wounded and dying.

Brynna heard the alarm, then stood frozen at the entrance to the hall as survivors slowly entered the main yard, men carrying children, women cradling wee bairns. One older man who had lost his entire family carried from the back of the cart to a pallet before the large hearth, one leg gone below the knee.

There was no time to dress into other clothes. Instead, she gave instructions in her night shift to Morna and the girls at the kitchen, along with several Fraser kinsmen, to set water to boil and bring bandages. There were wounds to tend, food could come afterward.

He saw the way she took charge, orders given for things that were necessary with so many wounded, hungry, and weary people now crowded at the main hall and adjoining rooms.

It seemed the entire village was encamped at Lechlede, including a goat, several hens, and geese that were quickly dispatched to the stables.

She stopped Morna on her way back to the kitchen.

"They will need food, and send someone to bring Maisel. We will need her skills with so many injured."

Twice she had looked up, to find James watching her. And twice he looked away as if he could not bear the sight of her. She pushed back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her--emotions she had not thought possible to ever feel again, then turned to so many who needed her care.

She worked alongside Morna and the other women of Lechlede through the long hours of the morning seeing to the needs the injured. Maisel came with her powders and medicines, helping ease the pain of those with wounds, or saying those ancient words to ease the grief of those who had lost love ones.

Once, she glimpsed Ruari as he eased an old woman down onto a pallet. He listened as Maisel spoke in the old way, holding the woman's hand, for there was no priest to give her comfort.

"Better the old ways," he said afterward. "And not the hollow words of monks, who are godless."

His words, unusual for one who always had that smile on his face and laughter in his voice, were cold with a pain that came from some anger he kept hidden.

Too many were lost that day, but perhaps the hardest loss was the infant a young woman clung too. Her man had died in the attack, the child born in the aftermath as they huddled in the fields and watched their cottages burn. The babe, born too soon, had died shortly after.

"Nay!" the young woman screeched, when Brynna tried to help her. "I will hold her.

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