The Viking (13 page)

It worked. Shortly thereafter, Macoran burst through the door. “What is it?”

“Kannak has the fever,” Stefan answered.

Macoran did not hesitate; he moved the curtain aside and went into Jirvel
’s bedchamber.

“What are ye doing?” a stunned Jirvel asked.

Macoran felt Kannak’s head, pulled her up to a sitting position, wrapped her blankets around her and started to pick her up.

“Ye
cannae have her.”

“Stand aside lass. She goes with me.”

“Nay, ye cannae take her, I will not allow it.”

He carefully slipped Kannak through the bedchamber doorway and waited for Stefan to
open the door to the outside. “‘Twill be a harsh winter and Kannak will spend it in the village where I can see that she lives.”

“The whole winter?”

Once he got Kannak out the door, he handed her to Stefan and mounted his horse. Then he opened his arms, waited for Stefan to give him the girl and made sure she was completely wrapped up. “There be an empty cottage now that the elder Andrew has passed. Ye are welcome to come or stay as ye please, Jirvel.”

Jirvel stood in the doorway with tears in h
er eyes, “What right have ye to…”

“I am yer laird and
I command it. She belongs to me…” he quickly glanced at Stefan, “just as all the children do. Ye will do as I say, Jirvel.” With that, he turned his horse around, nudged the horse’s flanks and took Kannak away.

Stefan was pleased though he did not let on. Instead, he opened his arms and let his adopted mother cry on his shoulder. “Macoran did the right thing. Ye said yerself we are out of the medicine for headaches and fevers. It would take too long for me to fetch more and return. Gather yer things and follow them. I will see that the fire be put out, take the cow to William and ask him to come for the chickens when he can. Then I will come.”

CHAPTER XI

Stefan was beside himself with worry. Something made him fear if he was not with Kannak and quickly, she might die the way his mother died in his father’s absence. She and Jirvel were all he had and he had come to love them both. Once Jirvel was on the horse and headed for the village, he made sure the fire was cold, grabbed his extra clothing, stuffed them in a cloth sack and slung it over his shoulder. Then he took the cow to William and started the long walk to the village. He could have borrowed a horse, he knew, but he did not want to take the time to return it. Once he was there, all he wanted to do was stay with Kannak. Soon he was running more often than walking. Still, it seemed to take forever.

The elder’s cabin was much the same as Jirvel’s except it had no second room. Nevertheless, the one room was large enough for all three of them to have a bed and by the time he got there, Macoran had already moved two more in. It left little room for the table and chairs, but that was the least of their concerns.

Stefan dropped his sack near the door, knelt down beside Kannak
’s bed and touched her cheek. It was still very hot. “How does she do?” he whispered.

Jirvel put her hand on his shoulder. “She sleeps finally and I doubt she can hear us.” She pointed to the array of bottles and small sacks on the table. “Macoran brings every kind o
’ potion and remedy he can find and enters without knocking. But we must take care not to give her too much even if he insists. He may be our laird, but he knows nothing o’ helping the sick.”

“Nor do I.”

“Then ‘tis time ye learn. I must go out. If she moans, hold her hand. It seems to comfort her.” She waited for his nod and then slipped out the door.

Stefan got up, moved a chair next to Kannak
’s bed and sat down. She looked so vulnerable and so very ill. He again touched her cheek, but it was just as hot and there was nothing he could do. When she suddenly opened her eyes, she looked disoriented and frightened. Instinctively, he took her hand and when she finally focused on his face and recognized him, she tried to smile. “Sleep, wee bairn, sleep.” She lightly squeezed his hand and closed her eyes.

But he did not let go of her hand. He remembered how affectionate his aunt and uncle were and realized he missed it. They constantly hugged him and even when he got older and protested, they continued to often muss his hair or pat his back. If Kannak were well, perhaps he would not be so bold, but just now all he had to give her was his affection and
perhaps somehow it would help.

For three long days, Kannak fought the fever, could not seem to get warm when she chilled and cried out in pain from the raging headache. Jirvel cared for her during the day and then tried to get at least some sleep while Stefan watched over her at night. Macoran came day and night, bringing still more remedies the first day and then beginning to take some away that night. He reported others were ill as well and needed them; the fever seemed to be sweeping through the
whole village.

Stefan built the fire hotter when Kannak chilled and then let the embers simply smolder when she was hot. He lifted her head up and forced her to drink as often as he dared, and then held her hand every time she moaned. Just as Jirvel said, it seemed to calm her and it calmed him too. It also let him know when the fever was subsiding and it was not until the third night th
at her hand felt almost normal.

At last, she opened her eyes and truly smiled at him. “I thirst,” she managed to whisper.

He was thrilled, grabbed the goblet by his chair, lifted her head and helped her drink. “Shall I wash yer face?”

“Aye, that would feel good.”

Stefan wet a cloth and carefully dabbed her forehead, her cheeks and then her chin the way Jirvel showed him. Again she smiled, which touched his heart in a way he could not quite understand.

Through a small opening in the window covering, the northern lights danced against the wall and Kannak turned her head to watch them.

“Some believe God lives in the north and he sends his lights to assure us he be still there. Would ye like me to take ye outside?” As soon as she nodded, he sat her up, wrapped her blankets around her and lifted her into his arms. To his surprise, Macoran opened the door and he had not even heard the man come in. When he glanced toward Jirvel’s bed, she was sitting up watching.

There was not a soul outside except the guards when Stefan carried her into the courtyard. The northern lights were especially beautiful and looked like a multi-colored curtain waving across the sky. He watched the lights and the delight in her eyes for a time, but when she seemed to drift off to sleep again, he took her back.

Holding her in his arms was a time he would remember always and it was another lesson learned - people, even grown men need the touch of another human being. In the days of her illness, holding her hand seemed to help her and at the same time it somehow took away most of the hurt in his heart over losing his father.

*

It was a winter of much sorrow.

Kannak was indeed not the only one to come down with the fever and although she slowly recovered, several of the younger children and even a few of the elders died. The clan
’s graveyard was located down the beach on the side of the hill. Stefan helped dig the graves and for a time it seemed they completed one burial only to be faced with another.

With the low river water, fishing was not as plentiful and several of the men had to go to sea to find other kinds of fish. Hungry wolves were often spotted too close to the village and fires were lit along the ed
ges to keep them away at night.

Then the snow and ice came.

Even so, Mistress Macoran took her daily walk along the ocean shore still hoping the Vikings would come back. When she wasn’t looking for Vikings, she cursed her husband and prayed he would die of the fever. But he did not even manage a sneeze and she was furious.

In her father
’s village, her sons had been caught twice playing with fire and it was all she could do to keep them in check before they shamed her. For that she blamed Macoran as well. She never should have bedded him and proclaimed bareness to her father instead. Why did she always manage to think of these things after it was too late? Now she was stuck with a husband whom she hated and two sons she was beginning to care even less for. It was all Macoran’s fault and she would make him pay if it was the last thing she ever did.

*

Once the illness left the village, Stefan spent his time gathering wood and dried heather for their fire, went fishing and hunting. He bartered two salmon for a chicken and spent two hours slowly turning the spit to cook it so they could enjoy a special celebration for Kannak’s fourteenth birthday. Kannak got better each day but it took three weeks for her to get all her strength back. Stefan took her on short walks at first and then longer ones until she pleaded to be let on her own lest everyone think her a wee bairn still. He reluctantly let her have her way.

For Jirvel, there was another kind of suffering. She stayed inside the cottage most of the time and when she did go out, she avoided going close to the keep or to any place she knew Macoran might be. Seeing him, especially with his wife and children was unbearable. She was pleasant, when she could not avoid her mistress Macoran, but she had no desire to befriend her and pra
yed the woman did not know why.

*

It was after the snow melted and the weather warmed that Stefan drew his sword and was furious enough to use it. He walked around the corner of a cottage just in time to see Kannak struggling to get free of a man who had his arms tight around her. Stefan’s rage was instant. He grabbed the man by the hair and yanked him away from her. Then he moved back and drew his sword. A second later the other man did the same and they both prepared to fight.

Kannak gasped. “Nay, Stefan, he dinnae hurt me.”

“Go to yer mother, Kannak.”

But instead of doing as he said, she saw the other man begin to attack, heard the crash of their swords and screamed. Seconds later Macoran and several other men came running.

“What is it?” Macoran asked. “Why do ye fight?”

Stefan successfully blocked the man
’s second strike and was about to go on the offense when Macoran arrived. There was fury in his eyes and he did not take them off his opponent even for a moment, “He tried to force Kannak.”

“If this be true, I will kill him myself,” said Macron.

“‘Tis not true,” the other man said. “I only tried to kiss her.”

Stefan was not appeased, “Ye dinnae kiss a lass unless she be willing.”

It was the first time Stefan called her a woman and Kannak set aside her terror in favor of wonder.

“Put away yer swords.
‘Twill be no bloodletting this day.” Macoran put his hand on the top of Stefan’s and tried to force it down. But Stefan resisted and was not willing to put his sword back in the sheaf until after the other man did. He held his fierce glare steady, found it hard to let go of his anger and it surprised even him. “Be it not true a lad’s family be the only thing worth dying for?”

“Aye,
‘tis true, but no one will die this day. This day we anticipate the coming of spring and all that entails, finally.” He noticed they had drawn a crowd and turned to the others. “There be nothing more to see.” Then Macoran glared at the other man, “I will deal with ye later.” Macoran’s ire was evident and the man soon hung his head and walked away. “Did he hurt ye, lass?”

She was less interested in her laird than she was in Stefan. “Nay.” But as soon as she started to walk to him, Stefan finished putting his sword away, turned and headed down the path toward the river. “Would ye
really
kill a lad if he hurt me?” Stefan ignored her but she was not about to let him get away without an answer even if she had to run to keep up with him.

When the others were gone and Macoran realized Jirvel was the only one near him, he smiled. “That lad loves yer daughter.”

She returned his smile. “I know. ‘Tis a delight watching him.”

“Do ye believe he be the reason she does not choose a husband?”

“I do. ‘Tis a delight watching her too.” They might have talked longer, but when Jirvel looked, Macoran’s wife was watching from the landing. Jirvel curtsied to her laird and walked away.

That afternoon, Agnes was seen walking down the beach talking to herself.

*

The rains followed the snow, but on a clear day when the sun finally began to dry the land and Stefan had gone off with the other men to hunt, there came a fateful knock on the door. Kannak answered it and was surprised to find Laird Macoran standing there. He had not come to see them since her illness.

She curtsied but he gently waved her aside and entered.

“I would speak to yer mother alone.”

She looked to her mother for permission, saw her nod, grabbed her warm cloak and left, closing the door behind her. Yet she did not close it completely and was tempted to stay and listen. But when she glanced around, she saw one of Macoran’s sons watching from the end of the path. She was not fond of her laird’s sons – no one was, and she decided to watch him instead.

How she would have liked kicking both twins in the shins for all the mischief they got into. Once she caught them trying to bore a hole in the bottom of a small boat so it would sink. Another time, she rescued a pu
ppy before they could drown it.

Abruptly, the twin she was watching ran down the path toward her, shot past without even a glance and headed into the courtyard. Too late she suspected the boy intended to tell Mistress Macoran where her husband was and that would surely bring trouble to her mother. All she could do now was watch him dart up the steps and disappeared through the door of the keep. A moment later, mistress Macoran appeared on the landing and glared at Kannak.