Connor frowned, for nothing was the matter with his legs. His chest and head ached still, but they were healing. ‘Tell Seamus I don’t wish to see him now. I’ll come to therathwhen I’ve healed. Not before.’
Grania’s face furrowed. ‘I will tell him. But he wants to speak with Aileen.’
‘Now?’ Aileen asked. Anxiety lined her face, and Connor wondered why. Seamus was a good chieftain, a well-respected leader. What reason would Aileen have to fear him?
‘Yes, now.’ An air of smugness surrounded Grania.
Aileen departed with haste to meet her chieftain, her gaze averted. The door closed, and Connor was left to wonder what she hadn’t told him. He tried to bring his attention back to Seamus’s daughters, but with little success. He wanted to know what Aileen had done.
‘Why would Seamus wish to speak to Aileen?’ Connor asked.
‘She is forbidden to heal.’ Grania’s face shifted to anger. ‘After what she did, none here will let her be the healer again. Cursed, she is. You’d do well to leave this place and let our new healer help you.’
‘A new healer?’ Conner grew still. Aileen had said nothing to him about another healer. A rigid suspicion fouled his mood. He’d thought Aileen was the only healer in the Banslieve. But she’d lied.
‘You may come and live with us,’ Sinead offered, lifting a dab of honey to his mouth. ‘We would be happy to look after you.’
He ignored their invitation. ‘Why is Aileen forbidden to heal?’ he asked.
Grania exchanged a look with Sinead. ‘Our father will tell you of it.’
A moment later, she changed the subject. The shrill chatter of the women made his head ache, and though Connor tried to keep a good humour, he wanted them gone.
‘Do your hands hurt terribly?’ Grania asked.
They did, but he refused to admit it. ‘They are fine.’
He could hardly concentrate, for questions crested inside him. ‘But I would like to rest again.’
They murmured their sympathy, and he was thankful when they left at last. When they’d gone, he stared at his bandaged hands. The swelling had not improved, and the pain seemed magnified.
Worse was the dawning fear that Aileen had not fixed his hands properly.
‘You were not to tend any of my people.’ Seamus’s tone was quiet, but it held the power of a chieftain. ‘You disobeyed my orders.’ A tall, heavily muscled fighter with long grey locks that fell to his shoulder, none dared to suggest that Seamus had grown too old to be a swordsman. He had not changed his clothing from the raid, and sweat lined the flanks of his mount.
‘Connor needed help,’ Aileen argued. ‘He would have bled to death if I’d left him.’
‘You should have brought one of us there.’ The unyielding set to Seamus’s face revealed his opinion of her healing.
Aileen gripped her shaking hands tightly. ‘His wounds would have become poisoned.’ She couldn’t have stood by and watched him suffer. He had needed immediate help, his wounds sewn and his hands splinted. Enough men had died in the past few moons from lack of care.
Seamus did not respond to her remark, but directed his horse towards the sick hut. ‘I am going to bring him back to ourrath.The new healer will look at him.’
‘And who is she?’ Aileen stiffened at the mention of her replacement.
‘Her name is Illona. She is the healer of the Ó Banníon tribe and has offered to share her skills with us, since our land borders are so close.’
‘Do you not realise that the Ó Banníon men did this to him?’ Aileen exploded. ‘How could you even think of letting that woman near him?’
Surprise transformed Seamus’s face. ‘Has Connor said this?’
‘He has. And you should be wary before you let their healer near the tribesmen and women.’
‘Do not presume to tell me what I should or should not do, Aileen. He will leave the sick hut this night.’
‘He does not wish to see you. Not until he has healed.’
‘Then I will hear that from his own lips. Not yours.’ The chieftain’s tone turned threatening. ‘Have a care, Aileen. I did not bring your case before thebrehonsfor judgment, though I could have. No one has forgotten what you did.’
