“Aye,” Meg agreed and smiled faintly, “it does, and ’tis such as that that makes wee Cecily a gifted healer.”
“Because she can think such things out and understand them?”
“Aye and nay.” Meg chuckled at the disgusted look upon Angus’s face. “Some she feels. That is it. She feels it. Some she thinks out. This, weel, this I think she is feeling. It would explain why she crawls abed with a mon who must have all the warmth of a corpse at the moment.”
“If that.” Angus sighed and dragged his hand through his hair. “His body is there, but he isnae, Meg. I stand there watching him breathe and I want to shake him, to do something to get a response out of him. Cecily bathed and stitched three sword wounds on him when he first came home and he didnae e’en twitch.”
“Ye fear that the next time ye stand by the bed ye will be watching him take that final step away from the living,” she said quietly and reached across the table to pat his hand.
“’Tis exactly the way of it. I think it is what Cecily fears, too.”
“Nay doubt. Such a nightmare. The fact that he is such a fine-looking mon, strong and young, only makes it harder to bear. Ones like him arenae supposed to just fade away.”
“Ye have the right of it. They are supposed to stride through life knocking aside all opponents. This slow dying, this giving up seems, weel, cowardly.”
“Nay, not at all. Just because a mon is young and strong doesnae mean he will have any better control of his body than if he is an old mon whose bones creak. Ye say he was beaten and kicked. How can ye tell what was hurt? There are many injuries that can cause this.”
“’Tis what Cecily says.” Watching as Meg stood up, Angus asked, “Do ye ken what ye may be able to do to help the poor lass?”
“Nay yet, but I will do by the time I reach whate’er room she is in.”
Angus stood up and took her by the arm to lead her to Artan and Cecily’s bedchamber. “I hope the lad comes back to us and nay just for my sake. A mon in the village had a brother who acted like this after he feel off a roof. He has told us what to watch for to ken when to send for Artan’s family so that they can be here for his last days. It seems that, since we can get some food and drink into him, he could last this way for a verra long time. This poor mon’s brother lasted two years and then one night he was gone.”
“That would be too sad if it happened to Sir Artan.”
There was little Angus could say to that hard truth, and so he only nodded. At the door to the bedchamber he paused, hating to show her the sad scene. Each time he went in it felt more and more as if he was just there to say faretheeweel.
“One more thing,” he said, then grimaced. “I may be a foolish old man with a more superstitious nature than I kenned I had, but she talks to the lad.”
“How so?”
“Sometimes it is as if she carries on whole conversations with him, and the way she speaks and pauses, weel, ’tis as if there really is someone there.”
“Ah, poor Angus. ’Tis but the game of a lonely child, one who doesnae have anyone to play with. She used to do it at Dunburn when she was a small child, but she would use some rag or the like as her toy. I fear she now uses the poor insensible Sir Artan. Ye ne’er can tell, Angus. It might finally reach him.”
“One can but pray for that. See if ye can get her to eat or drink something. Crooked Cat left her something.”
“I will. She hasnae got any pounds on her to waste.” Meg shooed him aside. “Tend to your business, Angus, and let me tend to mine. Oh, there are two carts of belongings set out in the bailey. I gathered up what few things Cecily and I could gather from things Anabel threw away. I will explain later, but right now I must see how my wee lass fares.”
The moment Angus walked away Meg slipped inside the bedchamber. She needed a minute to see clearly in the heavily shadowed bedchamber, but when she finally saw her Cecily she thought she might have to slip away for a few minutes to weep. Cecily lay curled up at Sir Artan’s side. One small hand was on his neck and her ear was obviously placed so that she could hear his heartbeat.
Meg studied the man lying so still in the bed and could understand what Cecily was doing. He seemed dead, lying stiller than anyone she had ever seen. Meg suspected she would feel compelled to keep an ear cocked to his heartbeat as well. Then she became aware of the soft whispers from the bed and cautiously moved closer. Although she felt guilty for listening in to what might well be private words Cecily would much rather keep secret, Meg also knew something might be said that could show her the way to help Cecily.
“’Twill be a sennight tomorrow, Artan,” Cecily said, idly stroking the side of his neck. “I think your wounds dinnae pain ye as much as they did. An aching instead of an agony. As I have told ye, ye didnae break anything. Rather that chinless bastard didnae break anything when he beat on a wounded mon bound up tightly and leashed to a stake.”
Meg decided that anger at the man who had done such a thing was a good sign.
“Ye are worrying Angus, ye ken. Oh, he tries nay to show it, but ’tis easy to see. He stands there by the bed and stares at ye as if he would like to see inside your head to find what keeps ye asleep and kill it. I suspicion that may be a monly feeling. Ye cannae fight this with a sword or a strong punch in the eye so it angers ye.”
For a lass who had never had anything to do with men, Cecily had a good understanding of them, Meg thought, fighting the urge to say so out loud.
Cecily sighed and gently kissed Artan’s chest just above his heart. “It has been a sennight since ye made me screech like a banshee. I dinnae ken if I can endure sleeping alone too much longer. I shall have to leave ye from time to time soon so that I can find someone to, er, make me hum.”
Rising up on her forearms, Cecily studied his face, and then cursed softly. Not even the twitch of an eyelid. Mayhap she should dance naked about the room, she thought, then shook her head. He was unconscious. He would not notice and she would get cold for no reason. There was always the possibility of making love to him, she mused, and even started to reach for the blanket when she heard the soft sound of a woman’s skirts brush the floor.
Blinking slowly, Cecily finally managed to see clearly enough to recognize who was standing only a foot or so away from the bed. “Oh, Meg,” she whispered even as she stumbled off of the bed and hurried toward the woman. “I was so hoping ye would come.”
Meg caught the smaller Cecily in her arms and held her close. She was not surprised to feel the damp of tears begin to seep through her bodice. For a little while she would let Cecily cry and they would sit down and discuss what had been done for Sir Murray and what needed to be done next. Keeping her arm around Cecily’s shoulders, Meg led her to a little table near the fireplace and urged her down into a seat. Meg then sat right across from her.
