Ada wrapped a cloth around the boy and briskly rubbed the babe between her hands. Not sure of what she was doing, Robert could only stand and watch. Realizing that the messenger still stood in the doorway, he questioned him.
“Where is Struan?”
“Struan is bringing Sandy, er, Sandy’s body home. He is but a few hours behind me,” the man replied.
“Fine, then. Tell the women downstairs to prepare for their arrival. I will follow ye down shortly.”
Once the door was closed, he turned back to the bed. Firtha had moved to take the babe from Ada.
“Is he...?” Robert could get no more out.
“The bairn lives. Not as hearty or hale as we’d like, but hebreathes.” Robert nodded, glad that his efforts had been successful. Or had they? He stepped closer as Ada tended to Anice’s unmoving form.
“And...?” His throat constricted so much that he could not say her name.
“She is still alive as well. She will need time to recover from the blood loss. If the afterbirth comes as it should, she haes a good chance.”
He did not even want to ask how and when that would happen. This was closer to a birth than he wanted to be. Ever.
“I need to see to Struan’s return. If ye have no more need of me?”
He found a basin of water in front of the hearth and rinsed the blood from his hands as best he could. He would wash more after arrangements had been made. The two women were busy and he left without another word, closing the door behind himself.
It was as he walked down the steps to the main floor that he realized the irony of it all. Now that Sandy was dead, the only person who stood in his way to recognition was Anice’s bairn. The same son he had just safely delivered with his own hands. He laughed out loud at vicarious fate, but said a prayer of thanks to the Almighty. No matter what happened to him, at least Anice was safe.
She was safe.
And Sandy was dead.
Alexander Struan MacKendimen,God rest his soul, heir to the MacKendimen, was killed during an attack by brigands on his way home to be present for the lying-in of his wife. One arrow did the job, in his back and through his chest. None of his English cohorts saw who shot the arrow or even from which direction it came; they only knew that Sandy lay facedown in the mud when his father arrived to “escort” him home.
They laid him to rest in the family graveyard on the side of a hill two days later. Many remarked on the way that the sunfinally broke through and shone brightly on that morning. After the strange snows and thunderstorms, the morn was as it should be on a day in April. ’Twould be a fine spring and even summer ahead of them, according to the old ones who read the signals of nature.
Since his wife would not be able to attend services for several weeks and since the priest arrived just after the storms ended, the decision was made by the laird to bury him as soon as possible. And so they did—with a lack of the usual fanfare one would expect for the heir of a clan.
The priest’s other duty in Dunnedin was to christen the new heir to the clan, Craig Alexander MacKendimen. With the bairn’s difficult birth and uncertain future, his grandfather insisted on a quick baptism and Father MacIntyre obliged. The good father also agreed to kirk Anice so that if she did not recover, her soul would be ready for death. A busy few days for the only priest in the area, but he left Dunnedin feeling that the living and the dead had been well served by him.
Lady Anice, now widowed, did not leave her childbed for two full weeks, her chambers for another two. Her recovery from the difficult birth was slow and one of the women of the clan helped her to nurse the bairn, for once he decided to survive, he thrived and grew, quickly overtaxing his mother’s ability to make enough to keep him satisfied. Now returned from the borders and her sister’s lying-in and birthing of twins, Moira made fortifying potions for Anice to aid her in regaining her strength.
Her behavior was exactly what it should be for one who had just lost her husband—once recovered, she even had a mass said for his eternal soul. She attended that mass and carried her bairn with her. No one in the clan who had witnessed her marriage to Sandy those months ago would have been surprised to discover that she prayed a mass of thanksgiving while the priest prayed one for the dead.
14
Robert opened the door to the workroom and entered it.
Connor followed close behind as he always did when they were within the keep. Outside, Robert could escape his young assistant, but inside they were rarely separated. Connor took his new position quite seriously and behaved as though on a holy quest. Once seated at the desk, Robert looked over the papers listing the stores of the keep. At least Connor was diligent in his duties, for the list was more organized than he would have ever done himself. The man would make an excellent steward in a short time.
“So, Connor, what other changes have ye to suggest this morn?”
Robert said it facetiously but knew his assistant would have several more ideas about doing things differently than before. Since Robert’s strength lay in other areas, he was not offended at all by the man’s changes. In fact, there were more than a few he planned to take with him on his return to Dunbarton.
He was glad for the man’s help, but part of him did not want to face leaving. Not that he had any choice in whether to stay or go—Struan had announced Connor’s appointment as steward-in-training at dinner a few weeks before and the matter was set. Only the timing remained undecided, and that depended on Anice’s continued recovery and her ability to take over as chatelaine once more. Mayhap the end of summer and Michaelmas would find him back in Dunbarton.
He could not seek her out, so he contented himself with occasional sightings of her as they both made their way around the keep. He knew that she ventured farther and farther fromher chambers as both she and the babe recovered from their ordeal. Although the babe was brought to the great hall with some regularity, even fed by a maid in front of the hearth, Robert had not gotten a close look at the newest addition to the clan. No words had been exchanged about his part in the birth and he was never certain of what explanation Struan had received on his return to Dunnedin. Robert could surely understand a hesitation on Anice’s part to disclose his intimate involvement. Not many men participated in the birth of their own bairns, let alone reached inside a woman not their wife to help the babe out.
Their work was interrupted by a knock on the door. Connor opened it and, as if called by his thoughts, there was Anice standing in the hallway. Rising from his seat, he waved her into the room.
“Anice, ’tis good to see ye.” He smiled as he pointed to a chair. “Come in, sit with us a bit.”
