Adam may have thought he could use her as a means to an end, a pawn he could sacrifice to bring him closer to King Malcolm.
But he’d underestimated her determination and her skill.
She was no helpless hostage, waiting faithfully in the hopes Adam would return to free her.Indeed, she doubted he’d return at all.Why would he?He’d get no ransom from Fergus.
What then was he planning?
She couldn’t guess.
But she wasn’t going to sit idly by until her fate was decided for her.
She couldn’t escape at once, of course.Building trust took time.But abiding in the pavilion of the physician had its advantages.
She found, even shackled, she could be of some use.First of all, she’d cooperated with her captors.They were probably so relieved to have a willing prisoner, they didn’t question her choice when she offered her hands to be shackled in front of her rather than behind.
The physician in whose pavilion she was imprisoned wouldn’t speak to her.At least not at first.He’d likely been warned by the king that she was a spy, that he should beware her lying tongue.
But she quickly discovered, as with most of those in the healing profession, he was a gentle man with a kind nature, driven to help others.All she needed to do was convince him they were kindred spirits.
She began by reciting her prayers at frequent intervals.The king had told the physician she wasn’t really a nun.She would prove him wrong.
She made the usual entreaties, of course.Grant me Your grace.Give me time for repentance.Your will be done.But she added her own personal prayers.For the health and safety of the soldiers on both sides.For the forgiveness of those who had wronged her, wittingly or unwittingly.For God to guide the physician’s hands.And for the improving welfare of all those he treated.
The physician couldn’t help but be influenced by her good will.
Soon a royal guard came in with the complaint of an aching belly.
“Ye as well?”the physician said with a sigh.“The cook must have served rotten meat.Ye’re the fourth today.I’m out o’ ginger, but I have oil o’ rosemary.’Tis the best I can do.”
“Good sir,” Eve said softly, “I have ginger.”She nodded toward the corner of the pavilion, where the guards had left her things.“In my satchel.”
He looked at her with suspicion, as if she were offering him poison.
The guard groaned and clutched his abdomen.
The physician frowned and reluctantly reached for her satchel.
He pulled out the vials, reading the markings until he came to the one with ginger.He uncorked it and sniffed at the contents.Then he dribbled a wee bit on his palm and tasted it.Satisfied, he spilled a few drops upon the guard’s tongue.
The guard grimaced in disgust and tried to spit it out.“’Tis poison!Ye’ve poisoned me!”
“Nay!”he barked, closing the man’s jaw with his hand.“’Tis only a strong flavor.Ye’ll be fine.”
As the guard began to wheeze, likely making the effect of the ginger worse, the physician shook his head and shared a smile of amusement with Eve.
“Go on then,” he told the guard.“Lie down for a while, and ’twill pass.”
The man’s eyes were watering when he left, but he nodded.
When he’d gone, the physician corked the vial and slipped it back into her satchel.“I’m ne’er sure whether ginger is a healin’ herb or a clever distraction.”
She gave him a conspiratorial smile.“I suppose ’tis good medicine, as long as it works.”
“That ’tis.Thank ye, lass.”He shook his head.“I’ll have to speak with the cook.I’ve used up all my ginger just this morn.”
“Ye’re welcome to mine,” she said.“Take as much as ye need.”
“Ye’ve got quite a treasury o’ herbs,” he remarked.
