Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

S hade wondered how they settled so easily into a routine. It was almost three days since his return and the kiss. Quint hunted or fished for them and even prepared some of the meat for winter storage. He cut more firewood and used some of it to make minor repairs to the lean-to. They talked over supper and went to their beds not long after nightfall. Quint slept on a pallet on the earth floor, and she slept in her bed.

Quint kept out of sight when someone arrived seeking her healing skill, not explaining why, though she did prefer no one knew of his presence, at least for now. Not that she could hide him for long since someone was bound to find out. She knew what they would assume, that she had finally found a man. But what would they think when he left?

"Shade, are you lost in your thoughts? I've called out to you three times," Quint said, his hand touching her arm to gently rouse her as he came to stand in front of her.

His innocent touch constantly sent a flutter through her. She had learned from her healing how much a simple, caring touch meant to people suffering pain or illness. It let them know they were not alone and that someone cared. Her grandmother had often spoken about it to her, explaining the importance of a healing touch and how it had to be given from the heart.

Could his touch be healing her lonely heart? Or did she simply ache for a man's touch?

Shade looked to the woods as did Quint when they heard the tinkling of the many talismans Quint had insisted that she craft to add to the ones already hanging in various trees around the cottage. Each was a symbol of protection, imbued with the healer's knowledge and care, serving as guardians against evil and harm. The presence of those charms assured any visitor that they were entering a sanctuary where the old ways still held power and reverence. The charms also alerted Shade to visitors before they reached the cottage.

Quint stepped quickly in front of her, shielding her with his body, and his hand went to rest on the blade of one of the three daggers at his waist.

Shade went to step to his side, intending to see if it was someone who required healing.

Quint's arm shot out, blocking her. "Stay put."

"Shade," a strong and familiar voice called out before a large man came into view.

Shade rested her hand on Quint's shoulder. "It is all right. Angus is a friend." She stepped around him to greet the big man with a smile. "It is good to see you, Angus. I hope all is well with you."

Angus rubbed his bushy beard, its flaming red color the same as his long hair as he kept a keen eye on Quint. "A friend or someone in need?"

"What concern is that of yours?" Quint demanded, annoyed that the man asked.

Angus's already large chest expanded even more as he drew back his shoulders. "Shade is my friend, and I will not see her harmed."

Annoyance flamed in Quint's eyes as he went to step forward, intending to find out just what type of friend Angus was to Shade.

Shade hastily stepped in front of him to prevent a possible altercation. "Quint required healing and is now kindly repaying me by tending to a few things that needed doing around here before winter sets in. So, tell me what brings you here, Angus."

The large man held out his arm, pushing up his sleeve to show her an extremely dark bruise that covered his forearm. "It's my fighting arm and I need to know it won't fail me since I go to join forces with Clan MacLeish against Clan Glencairn."

"Come with me, Angus," Shade said, a touch of concern in her voice as she turned toward her cottage. "I will see to your arm, and you will share what news you have heard about this impending battle."

Quint waited until they both entered the cottage, then he followed in behind them.

One look from Shade and Quint knew she intended to tell him to leave. He spoke before she could. "I want to hear what he has to say about this looming battle."

"You fight for one of the clans?" Angus asked, his eyes narrowing as he waited for a response.

"Nay. I have no time for battle," Quint said, "but I have heard that a battle might ensue, and I wish to keep abreast of it."

"Sit, Angus, and you can tell us what you know as I tend to your arm," Shade said, eager to hear for herself any new news since she was worried for her friend Ula.

"Lord Torrance has made a false claim to a portion of Clan MacLeish land. He insists it belongs to Clan Glencairn. Chieftain Ryland disputes the claim and rightfully so. His claim is nothing more than a ruse. Torrance's hatred for Ryland is the true reason he wants to battle with Clan MacLeish. Torrance doesn't want to claim just the piece of disputed land but the clan itself and all its holdings. Clan MacLeish is a prosperous clan and Lord Torrance wants it to add to his wealth and power while getting whatever revenge he feels he deserves against Ryland. If he isn't stopped, he will continue to claim land in the area. Besides, he is a cruel, selfish man who enjoys seeing people suffer."

"Then why do men fight for him?' Shade asked.

"Fear," Quint said.

Angus nodded. "He's right. Men fear what he will do not only to them but to their families as well if they disobey him. He has a fierce temper, and he thinks nothing of unleashing it for all to see, even on his own wife."

"Does Chieftain Ryland have a chance against Lord Torrance?" Shade asked.

"I don't know. I heard talk that Lord Torrance hired not one but two troops of mercenaries to fight alongside his warriors. It is why I go and offer my help to Chieftain Ryland. He needs as many warriors as he can get, though if what I recently heard is true, I worry that the battle is already lost." Angus said and glanced at the hearth, shaking his head. "I pray it isn't so."

"What isn't so?" Shade asked, a dread running through her.

Angus's voice turned to a whisper as if fearful of speaking aloud. "I heard men say that he hired… The Monk." He shook his head again. "He is a cold-blooded warrior and a madman, slaughtering those eight monks who took him in and tried to help him."

A chill ran through Shade, shivering at the thought of what the monks must have suffered. "How can one man kill so many?"

"The devil has a hold on him that's how," Angus said.

"It makes no sense to me," Shade said, and it hadn't since the day she heard about it.

"The devil. I tell you it's the devil that has control of him," Angus insisted. "I pray what I heard isn't true, for if The Monk has joined forces with Lord Torrance, then I fear Clan MacLeish will suffer a bloodbath." Angus glanced at Quint. "You're quiet. I find that those who have come across The Monk rarely say a word about him."

"Odd you should say that, Angus," Shade said. "My step-da is one of the men who helped bury the eight monks. He saw the one they now call The Monk and the only thing he said was that he never wants to be in his presence again."

"Aye, I have heard the same myself. Pure evil is how those who have met him describe him," Angus said and again glanced at Quint. "So, did you meet The Monk? You would know if you did. He would be alone, no one dares go near him. He is weighed down with heavy scars and a deep scowl, and there is a raging madness in his eyes."

"Who concocted that description?" Shade asked. "Or did The Monk spread it himself to frighten people away?"

"How can you think it is nothing more than a tall tale when your own step-da refuses to say any more about The Monk?" Angus asked. "The only way I could tolerate the man would be if he fought for Clan MacLeish."

Shade didn't want to hear any more about The Monk. Whether mad or the devil himself, she didn't want anything to do with the man who had taken her friend's life.

"How soon is this battle expected?" she asked.

"Talks continue between the clans but many believe the talks are nothing more than a ruse so the two clans can build their troops and form plans. Chieftain Ryland is wise when it comes to battle, but Lord Torrance is not a man to be trusted nor is his word," Angus said. "They will meet on the battlefield there is no doubt about that." He looked down at his arm. "Will I have the strength to fight?"

"Nothing feels broken, I believe it is nothing more than a bad bruise that will heal and not rob you of an ounce of strength. I will soak it with a special brew, then give you some salve to rub on it at night until the bruise is well faded."

"I knew you could help me, Shade. You always do. Some warriors I know told me the arm was rotting and I would die. So, I came straight here to you to get the truth."

"I am glad you did, Angus. You are welcome to stay the night if you wish," Shade offered.

"I appreciate that, Shade, but I have plans to meet a few warriors not far from here who go to join Clan MacLeish. Whoever gets there first will make camp and wait for the others."

"At least let me give you some food to take with you, for yourself and to share if you wish," Shade said.

"You are too kind, Shade," Angus said and reached into the folds of his plaid and withdrew a coin and laid it on the table.

"I cannot take that, Angus. It is too much for the little I have done for you," she insisted.

"Nonsense. Besides, it will serve for any future ailments I may bring to you." His brow puckered. "I recall your friend Ula wed a MacLeish warrior, and I know if she asked for your help you would go to her. I only ask that you tend to any wounds I receive or," —he let out a heavy breath— "if I should linger painfully in death that you will end my suffering quickly."

"I will do as you wish, Angus," Shade assured him.

He smiled. "Now I can battle in peace."

Quint stepped outside while Shade tended to Angus's arm. He didn't like what he heard. There was no reason Shade had to go to Clan MacLeish. No doubt they had their own healer, and she would not be needed there. But if her friend requested that she go there, Shade would not turn her down. This was none of his concern, yet he could not help but feel it was. Besides, he had his own mission to see to, and he had delayed seeing to it long enough. Why then did he feel that Shade's safety needed to come first?

It wasn't until they nearly finished eating supper that Quint made mention of the possibility that Shade might be summoned to Clan MacLeish. "It is too dangerous for you to go to Clan MacLeish while battle rages or after the battle is done."

"If my friend, Ula, or her husband, Caleb, need me, I will go."

"It is a full day's journey from here. It would not be wise of you to travel there alone, before, during, or after battle."

"I will not leave a friend in need," Shade said, wondering why it should matter to him.

"Clan MacLeish probably has a healer."

"I am sure she would welcome another healer especially during battle."

Quint was ready to forbid her to go, but it wasn't his place. So how did he stop her? And why would he bother to? He decided it was better to leave the matter for another time, though in the end, he would make certain she did not go to Clan MacLeish.

He waited a bit before saying, "Your step-da has met The Monk?"

"Rawlin, my step-da saw him as did the other men there who helped bury the monks, though none spoke to him. I believe Rawlin said nothing more about it to me because I was friends with one of the monks."

"A healer friends with a monk? That's an odd friendship."

"Which is why Brother Emmett and I kept it to ourselves. It was his interest in the local plants and their properties that brought him to me, and why we maintained caution when meeting. He made it clear that his fellow monks would not approve of our friendship, with me being a woman and a healer. Brother Emmett and I spent many pleasant hours talking about plants and healing. He had a kind heart and would have made an excellent healer. I miss him and think of him often, and every time I go into the woods to gather plants."

"Did he ever mention the fellow that is now known as The Monk to you?"

"Aye, he believed he had a troubled heart and soul."

"Did Brother Emmett believe he could be saved?"

"Brother Emmett believed that prayer could heal and solve just about anything, but he also asked me if there was a plant or a mixture that might help ease the man's rage until his heart finally healed."

"Is there such a plant or mixture?"

"There are plants that can calm. Valerian and gowan can calm though too much of them together can cause tiredness. Black Henbane can be used as well but it can be a deadly plant if one is not knowledgeable about it."

"Did you give Brother Emmett such a mixture?"

"Nay, I did not believe it was a wise thing to do?"

"Why?"

"That was what Brother Emmett asked since he was disappointed with my response. What he asked of me would not have helped the man. It would have only given him a reprieve, and a brief one at that, and not allowed him to concentrate on his healing. He was where he needed to be to heal, surrounded by monks who cared and prayed for him. Given time, I believe he would have healed."

"And yet eight monks are dead."

"Aye, but was it by his hand? Shade asked.

"Why do you question it?"

"Something that Brother Emmett said to me the last time I saw him. He believed the man was improving."

"How so?"

"A smile, gentle as it was, Brother Emmett was thrilled to see it on the man's face as they worked in the abbey's healing garden together. Knowing Brother Emmett as I did, I would say that if he permitted him to work in the abbey's healing garden with him then he had come to trust him. It is because of knowing Brother Emmett that I question what may have happened there on that horrific day."

Sadness filled her words and her eyes, so Quint turned the talk to her garden, asking about the plants she grew as she cleaned the bowls and set them to dry by the hearth, then scrubbed the table with a blend of herbs that gave off a pleasant scent.

Not long after, they sought their beds and it wasn't long after that that Quint heard Shade breathing gently in sleep, and he soon followed.

Shade didn't want to enter but something propelled her to. She didn't belong here. She wasn't welcome here and yet she could not stop from entering the abbey. It was eerily silent. She couldn't even hear her own footsteps. She knew where to go, though, how she knew puzzled her, never having been here before now.

She entered what Brother Emmett referred to as the refectory. The room where the monks took their meals. She stopped briefly upon seeing the bloody bodies sprawled about and hurried to each one to see if she could save any of them. They were beyond saving, having been struck repeatedly with a sword. She rushed to search for Brother Emmett and found him on the floor barely breathing.

She dropped down beside him quickly seeing what she could do to save his life.

"Too late," Brother Emmett whispered. "Go! Go before it is too late for you. Go!"

She couldn't leave him. She couldn't let him die alone. She held his hand until it went limp and when she released his hand and looked upon him one last time, she saw that on his brow was inscribed a cross made from ashes and blood. Someone had blessed him. Light began to fade from the room and a chill settled over her.

She heard Brother Emmett warning her to go and she hurried toward the door but stopped when seeing that every monk bore a cross made from ash on his brow.

Who had blessed them? Who was trying to protect them? Keep them safe?

A shadow of a man suddenly fell over her, and she looked to see the shadow raising a sword ready to swing it at her, and she screamed. Before the sword could strike her, she was grabbed by the arm and yanked away.

"Wake up, Shade, wake up!"

Shade's eyes popped open to find herself in Quint's arms.

"You saved me," she said, clinging to him, fearful he would let her go when she desperately needed his strength.

"From whom?"

"The Monk," she said, resting her head on his chest. "Don't let him get me. Please don't ever let him get me."

"He's already got you and he will never let you go," Quint said.

"Wake up, Shade. It's a nightmare, nothing more than a nightmare."

This time Shade's eyes opened, and she did find herself in Quint's arms, his hold tight around her and she stared at him speechless. It was a nightmare. It meant nothing. Quint wasn't The Monk. He had no scars, wore no scowl, but there was a rage in his eyes, but it wasn't anger… it was passion.