Page 17

Angus looked around. “Do ye want some water? Mayhap, a stew?”

“Thank ye, son. Lady Rogene has attended to me, though I must confess, I couldna hold anything in my stomach.”

Lady Rogene… The thought of her warmed his whole body like sunlight.

“Aye, ’tis good…”

He shifted his weight, unsure if he should ask about her. He did want to know the priest’s opinion of her, if he believed her and why, but he thought he must believe her since he let her stay. On the other hand, Angus didn’t want to strain the priest any more than he needed to. Clearly, the man was very unwell.

“I’ll go and fetch the healer from the village, aye?”

“Ah, dinna ye fash, Lord Angus,” he said, but his voice was weak. “God wouldna have sent me anything I couldna take.”

But even though he’d said it, he didn’t sound very convinced. His voice was raspy and the area under his nose wet.

He sniffed.

“Do ye have fever?” Angus said.

“Ah, dinna matter. I’ll stay like this for a day or two and will be all right.”

As he said that, he shuddered.

“I will go and fetch the healer, and I dinna want to hear anything about ye fighting it off on yer own. The village needs ye strong and healthy. Now turn around and try to sleep. I will come back soon, aye?”

Father Nicholas nodded weakly and turned back to face the wall.

Angus shook his head once and left the building.

Poor Father Nicholas. As a priest, he’d always been the one who healed people, but he was also a human being and needed help.

As he passed by the market, he heard a hubbub by one of the booths. A small crowd of people had made a circle and were shouting something angrily.

“Who let ye speak—”

“How dare ye—”

“Ye need to be punished—”

As he elbowed past the people to see what was going on, he was surprised to see Lady Rogene in the middle of the circle. She was standing, shielding a woman from a man. Her arm was stretched out in front of her in a protective manner as she held the woman behind her. The man was as red as a crimson sunset, yelling, saliva flying, his shaggy beard wet with spittle.

“How dare ye!” he yelled. “She is my wife. I have the right to discipline her as I wish.”

“No! You can’t just beat a woman publicly like that… No, you cannot beat a woman, period.”

The woman in question was hiding her face in her hands and sobbing. The surrounding crowd was getting angrier. Food started flying at Rogene: pieces of bread, a few apple cores, fish bones.

Angus felt rooted to the spot as he watched the scene. Suddenly, he didn’t see Rogene shielding a woman from a man.

He saw himself.

He’d been the eternal shield to his siblings ever since he was twelve. Always a big, sturdy lad, even for his age, he knew he could take it better than any of his siblings or his ma.

Except, for him, it had always been just one opponent—his father.

For Rogene, a mob was quickly forming. There must be about two dozen people around her now, plus an angry husband, and if folk had already started throwing things at her, they were out for blood.

“Calm down, everyone!” he said loudly, but his words were swallowed by the screams and shouts.