The Border Series (Omnibus Edition) by Arnette Lamb

Author:Arnette Lamb [Lamb, Arnette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-09-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“Saladin is dying,” Malcolm said.

Dumbstruck, Alpin craned her neck to stare up at him. His mount sidled, pivoting on prancing front hooves. She snatched the reins to steady the horse. Thinking a hunting accident was the cause, she found her voice. “Oh, no.”

Dark circles under his eyes, darker misery in his bearing, Malcolm tapped his teeth together and stared at the arched doors of the castle. “Aye, ’tis true.”

Alarm barreled through her. “How did it happen?”

“For the last few days he complained of a sour stomach. He went to sleep last night and hasn’t awakened.”

Elanna’s potion. But the drink wasn’t supposed to induce sleep. “You tried to rouse him?”

“Aye, we burned feathers and put them ’neath his nose. Rabby yelled his name loud enough to bring down the angels. It’s no use. He’s still unconscious.”

“Oh, Malcolm, you mustn’t give up hope. Where is he?”

Malcolm jerked his head toward the gates. Riders, three abreast, entered the yard. “A few minutes behind us in the wagon. Rabby’s driving it.”

Her senses reeling, Alpin dropped the harness and yelled for Alexander. When the soldier joined them, she held up her hand to Malcolm. “Come down, Malcolm.” His hand slipped into hers. She felt his tremor of fear. “I promise you, he’ll be fine.”

He huffed in disagreement. “We never should have gone on that hunt, and he ought to eat the same bletherin’ food as the rest of us.”

Alpin prayed that he’d merely ingested too much of Elanna’s purge. She squeezed Malcolm’s hand. “What did he eat last night?”

“Some roots and berries. Dandelion greens. The same rabbit’s food he always eats.”

The creaking of wheels signaled that the wagon was nearing the gate. “What roots? Could he have chosen wrong and harvested a poison?”

“I don’t know,” he growled through clenched teeth. “It makes no sense. He’s been eating plants all his life. He knows what to eat and what to avoid.”

“What did he drink last night?” Alpin held her breath.

Looking dazed, Malcolm glanced back at the dray. His shoulders slumped. “We all drank from the swineherd’s well, some of us from his beer barrel. But not Saladin, of course. He took some of that orange water he favors. Nothing tainted or unusual.”

That’s what he thought. Alpin knew better. As sure as the bearded fig tree grew in Barbados, Elanna and her potion had snuffed out Saladin’s life. It was Alpin’s fault, though. If she hadn’t brought Elanna to Scotland and suggested she bring her potions, Saladin would be alive and well.

Common sense intruded. If Elanna had made him ill with her potions, she must make him well again.

Alpin gave his hand a final squeeze. “You and Alexander take him inside and put him in his bed. I’ll get Elanna. Don’t worry. She’ll know what to do for him.”

As Alpin raced across the yard, she thought of the horrid turn the day had taken. An hour before, in the sun-drenched tiltyard, she had leaned against the post that housed a well-battered quintain. Beside her lay a keg of rum and a canvas bag containing lengths of sugarcane and a machete.

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