Return to Alastair (31 page)

The rap was loud at the door. Impatient.

“We cannot open to you,” Anain hollered. “We have the pox within! Can you not see the sash of warning?”

“Who is it sick, old woman?” the gruff voice demanded.

“Tell us!”

“Sshh! You frighten the baby! ’Tis an old man and woman from Merinth! They came so far, but I fear they may journey no more. They’re both stricken. Pray that my daughter and I and her child not be overcome as well.”

“That is nothing to me! Know you anything of the children of Sanlin Dorn?”

Tiarra stood at the mention of the name, but Lucas motioned her to stay still, stay quiet.

“All this town has heard that name,” Anain answered the unseen soldier. “His children seemed born under a curse. The daughter works at a tavern, I have heard. The boy, I could not say.”

Anain turned her eyes upon Tahn on the bed, and then on Lucas.

“What are the names of your sick folk?” the voice outside demanded.

“Petra and Arn Balin,” Anain answered without a moment’s hesitation. “But they can tell me no more now. Both of them worsen, God help us. Do not come near.”

Only silence answered, and then the sound of footsteps moving away.

Thank you, Father,
Lucas prayed.
Keep us by your grace.

“Lucas . . .”

It was Tahn’s voice, sounding so weak. Lucas hurried to the bedside and leaned close, reaching out one hand to touch the heat of his friend’s forehead. “I’m here, Tahn. How can I help you?”

Tahn’s hands fumbled forward, and Lucas took both of them in his.

“Lucas . . . I can’t go on . . .”

The words hit with a weight of stone. “Yes. Tahn, you can, brother.”

Tiarra came up close beside them, looking very pale.

“I should . . . give myself . . . the blade I have given so many,” Tahn said, his voice low and weary. “Why do I wait . . . when I am only fueling the fires?”

Lucas stared down at him. He remembered those words, the exact words, the day Tahn had come so close to killing himself. Lucas had found him with his dagger drawn, ready to pierce his own heart.

“Tahn,” he said quickly. “What good is it to die? You have more to live for. The Triletts, Tahn. Netta Trilett. They still need you.”

Only Netta’s name had drawn Tahn’s attention from destruction that day. Only the message Lucas had carried, that Samis had orders against the Triletts once again. Tahn had found a will to live for Netta. For the hope of saving the mysterious woman who was loved by the angels of God.

“Netta loves you, Tahn. Because God loves you. We didn’t always know it. But there can be no doubt now. The angels are here. For you, brother. Because God loves you.”

Tahn breathed in difficult gasps. “God loves . . .”

“Yes. He loves you. He saved you from hell, Tahn. He saved you from the wrath of Samis and from all the pain you carried. Do you remember the joy you told me about? Having the children’s love? And God’s love? Like being alive from the dead, you said. It made me hungry to know the same thing.”

“He . . . he loves you . . .” Tahn stammered, suddenly trembling.

And Lucas could not help a small smile. “Yes. I know. God is good. We must never forget that.”

“My sister . . . needs him . . .”

“She has him. She prayed with me. She’s having a difficult time with this, but she knows him, brother. She’s learning.”

“She’s crying . . . so far away . . .”

He tried to tell Tahn that Tiarra sat beside them. That she was fine and God had hidden them, and everything would be all right. But Tahn didn’t respond. The moment’s consciousness was gone.

Tiarra sat with silent tears brimming in her eyes. “He almost seems to be leaving us.”

“No,” Lucas answered her. “I’ll not accept that.”

Catrin’s baby wailed, and it took longer this time to quiet him. She stirred a pot on the hearth when she finally had him settled, and then brought down dishes from a shelf. “You must eat,” she told them. “Do not worry so much for your friend that you don’t keep up your own strength.”

She set stew before them and before her mother. Tiarra tried to eat a little, but Lucas could not. It was a war inside Tahn, Anain had said. Good against evil. The smell of the stew was strong and good, but he couldn’t bring himself to taste it. He would stand with Tahn in that battle somehow, though he couldn’t even begin to understand it.

In the afternoon, Father Bray returned to the cottage, bringing bread and his prayers. Tiarra watched the baby Gabriell react immediately, stretching his little arms toward the priest. Bray hesitated for a moment and then swept him up and held him.

“He’s comfortable with you,” Lucas said, his eyes looking sad and thoughtful.

“Yes. It is mutual.”

There were no more words between them, and the priest turned toward Tahn on the bed. “Is it a contagion to be feared, Anain?”

“I thought it might be at first. But now I don’t believe it. No one else has taken sick. And whatever it is holds his mind as firmly as his body.”

Those words troubled Tiarra deeply. When would he be all right?

Father Bray sighed. “Lord be with him.”

“Do you mean that?” Tiarra questioned him. “Truly?”

The priest seemed stunned by her doubt. “Yes, daughter, or I would not say it.”

His words only stirred the old bitterness inside her, and she could not hold it back. “I’m not your daughter. And you have shown little care for the truth in regards to my brother so far.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “I’m sorry. I only meant for the soldiers to think there would be many eyes on what they did. I had hoped that if Captain Saud couldn’t fulfill his quest in secret, he would give it up. I never meant to supply them cause to continue openly.”

She stared at him, skeptical.

“It plagues me,” the priest continued. “Because your brother’s heart was not the way I presented him. He had no ambition at all except to save you and Lucas from the bandits.”

“But the people already hate him! They will hate him all the more now! Even if the soldiers have gone, when we step out of this cottage—”

“You’ll have to leave the city by night,” he said. “When he is able to travel.”

“Why?” She pressed at him. “Why should we slip away and hide? You called us innocents. Why don’t you announce it to the people of the town? Why don’t you tell
that
openly and demand to know why my brother has been blamed and despised all these years? When will someone speak the truth of what happened? Alastair should be begging forgiveness. They have no right to harm him—”

The priest solemnly nodded. “You are right. It is time the truth was known. I’ve been talking to Emil about that. And he wants to talk to you when he gets the chance.”

She felt a chill of doubt. Would it be right to listen to him? “I didn’t know if he spoke the truth,” she admitted.

“He does. And you need to know that it is not for any guilt of the past that your brother is sought after now. It is because of the kinship. Lionell will not have his wealth and power in jeopardy.”

The old woman looked over at them but said not a word.

“Why does he think he is threatened?” Tiarra asked. “Tahn may never even seek to meet him.”

“I know. But perhaps Lionell sees all men as greedy. He believes a cousin may try to grasp the baronship for himself.”

“Then do they always war against cousins?” Tiarra asked in disbelief.

“Not far from the truth. Male cousins, at least. But daughters cannot become barons. Or claim any more of the riches than what they are given. And that would be why you were left alone so long.”

“Why would Tahn want whatever power Lionell has?” she scoffed. “Martica told me about their world. And my brother has enough. Lady Trilett cares for him.”

“Yes. I would think that would be enough for any man.”

“Then can you tell them their fears are absurd?”

“It would do no good, child,” the priest told her. “They only believe what they choose to believe.”

Tiarra sighed in frustration. Was there nothing they could do then, to end this senseless nightmare? “I would like to meet this Lionell Trent one day,” she said angrily. “I would spit in his face and tell him what a fool he is. Some people have families who gather happily and bless one another. We might have been such to him.”

“Indeed,” Father Bray agreed. “Were he and his father other-minded, it might have been.”

“We might have had our mother with us,” Tiarra said more softly.

“And your father,” the priest added.

She said nothing in reply to that, only shook her head sadly.

The afternoon was long, and Tahn seemed to be slipping away from them. He didn’t speak again, didn’t open his eyes. Lucas watched the healer woman moisten his lips with water or a bit of her medicine. But he was not awake. She could not get him to drink.

With prayers circling in his mind, Lucas sat in silence. It should not end like this for a man as brave as Tahn who’d survived so much. He should marry his lady and live to see strong sons. But Lucas knew that death drew near to them. He knew it when he touched Tahn’s skin and realized that the heat was still there but not a drop of sweat. It was as though the fever had baked him dry.

Anain kept bathing him on and on until Catrin relieved her at it. And then Tiarra in her turn. But that was not the answer, Lucas’s restless mind was telling him. It was deeper. In the battle itself.

Father, we have asked so much. Protection from the baron and the bandits. Healing and strength. Grant your patience as I ask for your wisdom. Show us what to do.

Several times they could hear commotion in the streets. Perhaps it was the baron’s men still searching, or restless townsmen hoping for reward. Lucas knew the sun would soon be fading. With the darkness came uncertainty. The bandits might be back. They might be in league with the soldiers by this time. And if they found no sign of Tahn elsewhere, they might become suspicious and demand to see Anain’s afflicted patients for themselves.

He wondered if Lord Trilett would truly send men. And if he did, would they be enough against the numbers already here? Lorne had known only to warn them of bandits. Would they be prepared to face the baron’s armed soldiers?

He remembered the beautiful Netta, the way she had looked at Tahn, and her gentle care of the knife wound Samis had put in his back. Lucas had not felt that he belonged at Onath. But he had prayed for them and prayed for them often. Tahn was a miracle wrought of God, that salvation could work in him. And Netta Trilett was a miracle to love him, even before the wounds were healed and all of the darkness had died away.

Don’t let it end, Lord,
Lucas prayed.
Bring them together again. And what of this girl, this sister? She has no one else in the world.

Tiarra looked at him as if she had understood his silent prayer. And Anain spoke the words neither of them wanted to hear.

“The fever has taken too much out of him. If he cannot wake, he’ll not live the night.”

Lucas might have expected a burst of tears from Tiarra. But she said nothing. Her face did not change. She rose and solemnly peered out the window and then slowly sank to the floor and leaned her head against the wall. He thought he should comfort her, but he knew she would not welcome it. There was nothing he could do to help.

“Will you eat?” Catrin asked him. “Please. You need to keep your strength up. Even without him, you’ll have to escape the city—”

Lucas stopped her. “
Without
him? I do not want to hear such words. You might as well speak of my own death.”

“He is that much to you?”

“He gave God back to me, when I thought it folly to think the Lord would ever hear me again.”

“If he knows God,” Catrin said softly, “there is comfort.

He will go to bliss.”

“He is not ready for bliss. This world still needs him.”

Anain set aside the bowl she was holding. “Why, Lucas, son of St. Thomas? I have heard many things. I know he was treated unfairly here. But I also know his sword was the death of many. He rode with the mercenary of the mountain, the wicked Samis, stealer of children.”

Lucas bowed his head. “Perhaps Father Bray never told you that I rode with them too. Perhaps he never explained that Tahn stole away the children Samis held and gave them a new life with the Trilett lord at Onath.”

“There is much he never said,” Anain answered him slowly. “He never told us that you were a man of blood.”

Lucas sighed. “There is only the blood that washed away all guilt. Don’t you see it? It covers me, and Tahn too, as he lies here on the bed. God brought us here. God has opened the portals of heaven and poured forth his own blood upon men.”

Anain and Catrin both stared at him. He knew his words were strange, but they were past him some way, and he did not try to stop them.

“I don’t know what God will do. But Tahn lies somewhere between heaven and earth right now. I can’t be with him where he is, but I stand with him where I am. And we are all brought together for a reason. This is my family. It’s my sister, despairing along with me at my brother’s side. I don’t know what you are to the priest, some kind of family too, and I’ll not ask for any explanation. Only be a mother to us. Be a sister. Let the blood of God hold us together and fill this house. He will feel it. I think he will know.”