The confirmation that she had indeed been missed reminded Astrid of Marcán’s assurances that they had done nothing wrong. “Ye learn names quickly.”
“Out of need. Just as being here was not my choice, being in the clan of Black Oengus was not my choice. If I wish to survive, I must be accommodating, find a use for myself.” Merewyn’s eyes narrowed as if to see whether Astrid understood her meaning. She definitely did.
Merewyn continued, “And I must learn names quickly and serve my master or mistress well. That means paying attention when things are happening that no one else notices.”
“Where I was is of no concern to ye.”
“I am concerned only with my mistress and her pleasure.” Astrid knew her face showed her surprise at Merewyn’s words even though she tried to cover it. The smug smile she received in return increased her fear that this was some sort of threat. There was no question in Astrid’s mind that Merewyn knew exactly where she had been and with whom.
“And ye may speak to no one without my bidding ye to do so.”
“Of course.” Merewyn glanced toward Joan. “Is Joan someone ye would have me speak to? Canshebe trusted?”
“Aye, ye may speak with Joan and none other… and not about me.”
Three children, winded and wide-eyed, came through the door. Merewyn immediately stopped talking and dropped her eyes to the material again.
“What d’ye here?” Astrid called to the tall boy, his face flushed from exertion.
“We have been sent for Maeve. Niall has been stung again. He cannot catch a breath.”
Merewyn’s hand halted its work before she resumed stitching.
“Look in the buttery. She’s helping put up the foodstuff,” Astrid answered.
After the lads left, Astrid sought Merewyn’s gaze. “D’ye know something of bee stings?”
Merewyn shrugged and said, “A bit.” She looked around but said no more.
Astrid had the distinct impression she was lying. “Now ye were telling me how ye were a good help to me? Aiding a man who may die from a bee sting would indeed be a great help.”
She pierced her with a look. “If anyone finds out, they could burn me alive!”
Merewyn must have heard Beibhinn’s ranting. And the poor girl had only just arrived! Beibhinn’s favorite declaration was that all healers, Seers, and druids should be burned alive. It got just the reaction she sought. Fear and trembling.
Astrid blew a breath before answering. “I will not tell a soul. Ye givemethe remedy.”
Reaching inside her kirtle, Merewyn withdrew a small vial and handed it to Astrid. “He only needs a small amount mixed in water.”
Moments later, Astrid had the cup filled and was racing toward the field. The work on the fields had come to a complete stop and everyone was gathered around young Niall. His father had the lad’s head propped on his lap as Niall struggled to breathe. Those standing around looked on with horror. It was a terrible sight to see a man so hearty struck down by such a condition. There was no sign of the old healer.
“Here.” Astrid indicated the cup and the man tipped his son’s head up.
She knelt beside them and brought the cup to his blue lips. Being careful not to spill any of the liquid, she held it to his mouth. The torturous wheezing caused her hand to shake.
“My thanks,” the elder Niall said. “We appreciate ye coming yerself.”
Astrid nodded, offering him a hopeful smile. “This will ease the pain.”
And she prayed that it would. The liquid trickled in, slowly at first, then more quickly until the cup was empty.
Niall took one deep, shaky breath. He exhaled with a smile, nodding, and the crowd cheered. Niall sat up, his father’s hand clasped on his shoulder.
“My thanks,” Niall said.
“Mayhap ye need to be inside today?”
Niall stood, ducking his head in embarrassment at all the attention. “Oh, I’ll be fine now. My thanks.”
