Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

R ory didn’t come home for dinner, which alarmed Col. So he went looking for him and found him at the MacPhersons’. He thanked Toby’s parents for feeding him and hauled him off home. He was afraid Rory would make a scene, but hadn’t bargained on the powerful effect of keeping up appearances in front of his peers.

Rory came with him docilly enough. As they walked back to the house, Col said, “I know why ye did it, lad. The escutcheon means a great deal to ye and it does to me as well, but if ye’d heard his anguish, lad—he thought ye’d destroyed his memories of yer mam. Did ye really mean to hurt him that much?”

He watched his son’s face as Rory looked down. It was almost dark by now, but there was enough light to see his expression. It was stony. “Aye, I did. He did the same to me! Just that I don’t squeal about it like a stuck piglet!”

“He’s yer little brother, Rory! Ye’ve a responsibility to look after him.”

“Fook! I’m sick of hearing that! I’ve had that all my life. Ye’re a fine one to talk about responsibility!” Rory’s look of contempt hit Col in the chest.

He closed his eyes a moment and let out a breath trying to ease the pain. After a bit of a struggle he said, “Ye’re right, and I owe ye an apology fer that. I was so stricken with grief?—”

“And ye think we weren’t?” snapped Rory, kicking a stone viciously with his boot.

“I wasn’t thinking at all, lad. I’m sorry.”

“Bit late now,” muttered Rory.

Col swallowed this in silence.

“I used to think ye were a god, when I were a wee lad. Ye could do nae wrong in my eyes,” said Rory.

“Aye, I used to feel the same way about my father, until I realised he wasn’t.” Col shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry ye had to discover I have feet of clay so early, lad. The fact is we’re all human and make mistakes. Sometimes ones we deeply regret. I cannae undo the past as much as I might want to. But I do regret losing sight of ye in the wake of yer mam’s death. But losing her and yer baby sister—” He stopped, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I didnae know how to go on, and that’s the truth. I was weak and I’m sorry. More than I can say.”

Rory stumped on a bit in silence. “Grandpa said ye were weak as piss to lose yer head over a woman so.”

“Yer grandpa was a sour old curmudgeon who never fell in love,” snapped Col.

“He did, actually. Her name was Daisy McMahon, and she played him false. He said women always play ye false and not to trust them. Is that true?”

“Nae it isn’t, yer mam never played me false, nor I her. We loved each other, Rory. Whatever I’ve done or not done in my life, I’ll never regret falling in love with yer mam, she was the grandest woman.”

Rory nodded thoughtfully as they skirted the front of the house to enter the courtyard via the rear of the stable. Col stopped at the entrance and clapped Rory on the shoulder and squeezed. Rory looked at him a moment, nodded, and headed into the house.

Col remained standing there a few minutes and was surprised to find tears on his cheeks. He scrubbed them away and cleared his throat, heading into the house to fetch the dogs for their evening walk.

Over two hours later, he was in the act of pouring water into the bowl in his room prior to washing and shaving when a strange high-pitched shriek that cracked in the middle made him splash water all over the place. He put down the ewer, wrenched his bedroom door open, and burst into the corridor to see Aihan emerge, tying her robe on, and Fergus appear at the top of stairs, puffing.

“Rory’s room,” said Aihan with a nod.

What the fook now? Col headed down the corridor past the stairs to Rory’s room and banged on the door. “Rory?” A muffled sound from the other side of the door and the sound of something crashing. Col’s heart accelerated in alarm. Then the sound of the key turning in the lock. Col shoved the door wide and took in the sight of his son swaying in front of him, his lips swollen and turning blue, his breathing laboured. The room was a mess, which was nothing unusual for Rory, but the crashing sound had been the clothes pole falling over.

“Rory, what the fook?” asked Col in alarm.

“Adder!” he rasped. “It bit me! It’s loose in here somewhere.” He collapsed on these words and Col caught him. He lifted him up and turned, finding Fergus, Willy, and Callum in the doorway. “Out of the way and find the bloody snake!” he barked.

Callum was white as a sheet seeing his brother lying still in Cols arms.

“Is he dead?”

“Nae, but he might be if we don’t do something!” said Col, striding past him to his own bedchamber where he laid Rory down on the bed. Aihan appeared at his side.

“Tie off the wound,” she said.

“Yes, if I can find it,” agreed Col. He began a search of his son’s body, the lad was dressed only in a night shirt, and it didn’t take him long to find the puncture wounds in his calf, the site already puffy and red. Aihan gave him the tie from her robe to use as a tourniquet, which he applied just below the knee, but rather thought it was a bit late with the symptoms Rory was already displaying. It seemed he was having some kind of extreme reaction to the venom. Adder bites weren’t generally fatal, at least not in adults. Rory was big for his age, but still not anywhere near full-grown yet. How did a bloody adder get into his room?

“I have herbal paste, may help,” said Aihan, and disappeared. She reappeared with a small, squat pot, from which she removed the lid and began to apply the paste with her fingers to the site of the bite and surrounding area.

Rory had regained consciousness, to Col’s immense relief, and was lying still, breathing audibly. “Feel sick,” he said.

Divining what was about to happen, Col dived for the empty chamber pot and got it to his son in time.

When the paroxysm passed, Col gave him some water to rinse his mouth, and Rory lay back with eyes closed. Aihan took the pot away.

Col sat on the bed, holding Rory’s hand and listening to him breathe. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

A while later Fergus put his head in the door and said, “We got the wee besom. It was an adder right enough, quite a big one too.”

“What did ye do with it?” asked Col.

“Chopped its head off,” said Fergus. “Made a bit of a mess on the floor of Rory’s room, Willy’s scrubbing the blood off now. How is the lad?” he said, coming into the room.

“Not good,” said Col tersely.

“Athair?” Callum stood in the doorway his face still white under his freckles and addressed him in Gaelic. “Ciamar a tha e?”

“He’s nae well lad,” replied Col, also in Gaelic.

“He’s nae going to die, is he?” asked Callum, a note of panic in his voice.

“I don’t know, Callum, I hope bluidy not.” Col’s voice was grim, and he’d not taken his eyes off Rory as he spoke.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” whispered Callum. “Adders aren’t supposed to be fatal!”

Col looked round at him watching tears seeping down Callum’s white face.

“Aye, they’re not in an adult, it’s another thing with children and animals. It’s a matter of size to venom ratio, ye ken?” said Col with a grim look.

Callum’s knees gave out with a thump, and he grabbed the door jamb on the way down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know!”

“What are ye blathering about, boy?” Col rose from the bed, and Aihan slipped into his place, taking Rory’s hand as Col hauled Callum to his feet and led him out of the room and down the hallway to his own bedchamber. Callum was full out blubbering by now and Col had a cold, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Sitting Callum down on his bed, he crouched in front of the sobbing lad and said with careful restraint, “What d’ye mean, ye’re sorry, Callum? What have ye done?”

“I-I found the snake a few weeks ago. I’ve been k-keeping it in a creel in my room and feeding it mice. I put it in his bed!” He sobbed harder. “I th-thought it would give him a nasty fright, and maybe he’d be a bit sore from a bite. But I didn’t thin-think it would k-kill him!”

Col sprang up and walked away in a circle to restrain his urge to shake Callum till his teeth rattled. “Fook!” He turned back to Callum, who was cowering on the bed. “Bluidy hell, Callum! I told ye nae more vengeance! Well, I hope ye’ve learned ye lesson! Because if he dies, ye’ll never forgive yerself. I won’t, either! Fooking hell!”

“I’m sorry, Athair! I’m sorry!”

“Sorry won’t mend it, Callum. Not this time. Ye’ve gone too far. Fooking, buggering hell!” Col paced for a bit, trying to get his temper under control, listening to Callum’s sobs. He rubbed his face, his hand coming away wet. Jesus wept! He breathed for a bit and then thought about Callum handling a venomous snake as if it were a pet.

“The bloody thing could have bitten ye ! Did ye think of that? If ye’re going to have a pet snake, choose one that’s nae venomous!”

Callum just sobbed harder, and Col crouched down in front of him again. “Don’t take on so, lad,” he said wretchedly. “Rory’s big and strong, he’ll probably pull through. Fook, I wish yer uncle Merlow were here! He’d know what to do fer him.” He sighed. “I need to get back to Rory, lad, but I cannae leave ye like this, buck up a bit, please!”

Callum made a manful effort to swallow his sobs and that, even more than his impassioned crying, brought Col almost to the breaking point. He wrapped his arms round him and hugged him. “Hold fast, boy.”

Callum clung to him a moment, and Col felt his heart crack. Praying to Cat, the saints, and Jesus Christ, he gave Callum one more hug and moved to the door. “I’ll come back and see ye in a bit. Have a rest boy, ye’ve had a big day.” He left, closing the door softly behind him, and strode back to Rory’s room, his heart thudding in his chest and his mind a muddled whirl.

Re-entering his bedroom, he looked to Rory, who lay with his eyes closed, breathing audibly, much as he had been before. Aihan sat on the bed his hand in hers and bathed his face with a cloth.

“He sweat,” she said. “It poison working through body.”

Col nodded and went round to the other side of the bed and sat to hold his son’s other hand.

They sat with him through the night, and by morning his breathing was better, although the swelling in his leg was worse. Callum came creeping in at midnight to see how he fared and was much relieved to discover that his brother yet lived.

With the dawn, Col jerked out of a doze to see Aihan curled up asleep at the foot of the bed. She had stayed with him and Rory all night, fetched and carried, prepared drinks, and wiped Rory’s body when he sweated. And regularly reapplied the ointment to his wound. When he asked her what it was, she said, “Chinese herbal ointment. Stop the skin from rotting. Snake bite often lead to skin rot. Ancient receipt.”

Necrosis. Col shuddered at the thought.