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Averill sighed and turned to face her maid.
"'Tis a sound plan, Bess," she insisted firmly. "Nothing discourages a behavior like an unpleasant result."
"If that were the case, the hangovers Lord Stewart and his sons surely suffer after they drink would have put them off of it decades ago," her maid said grimly.
"There is a vast difference between a sore head that passes once you have started drinking again and the inability to keep anything, including the drink itself, in your stomach," Averill assured her. "Trust me, if Laird Stewart and his sons are violently ill every time they drink, they will stop drinking. 'Tis plain common sense."
"Aye, but what if they realize you are dosing them?" she asked worriedly.
"They will not know," Averill assured her. "We will give them this first dose while they are unconscious, dribble it down their throats while they sleep just like we fed Kade the broth when he was unconscious."
"You got little of that down his throat, and surely won't be able to get much down theirs," Bess muttered darkly.
Averill frowned as she realized this was true. Perhaps she had to rethink diluting the tincture in mead and should just drop a few drops of the concentrate straight down their throats. Aye, she decided, that would work nicely.
"Come," she said, and led the way out of the room.
"Where are we going?" Bess asked in a hiss, as they moved up the hall.
"To give the tincture to Kade's father and brothers."
"I thought we needed mead for that?" Bess asked with dismay.
"'Twill be easier if we just slip a few drops of the tincture down their throats," Averill explained. "And if we are quick, we can have it all done before Laddie returns."
"Oh, dear Lord," Bess muttered, but then followed silently as Averill sought out and found Kade's father's room.
"God's breath, how does he stand it?" Averill murmured, gazing over the Stewart laird's bedchamber. While there were no lit candles or fire to light the room, it was still only midday and enough sunlight was coming through the open shutters that the room and its occupant were more than visible. Which she could only think was a good thing. This room was as bad as the great hall, the floor littered with discarded clothes and food, broken furniture, and torn-down tapestries. On top of that, it smelled as if someone had died there.
Grimacing, she turned to Bess, only to find her missing. Frowning, she moved back to the door to see her cowering in the hall.
"What are you doing?" Averill asked in a hiss.
"I'll wait out here and stand watch," Bess said quickly.
"Nay, I need your help. You need to hold his mouth open while I pour the tincture in."
"Oh, please, my lady," Bess begged, shaking her head. "I cannot--"
"You can," Averill insisted, catching her hand and dragging her into the room.
"We really shouldn't be doing this. I think you need to--"
"Hush, you will wake him," Averill whispered with exasperation as she retrieved her tincture and opened the vial.
"The second coming wouldn't wake him," Bess said with disgust, peering down at the insensate man.
"Then what are you afraid of?" Averill asked dryly. "Open his mouth."
Bess snapped her mouth closed and bent to open Lord Stewart's. The moment she'd grasped his chin and forehead and pulled his lips apart, Averill leaned over and tipped the tincture to drip a mouthful in.
As soon as she straightened again, Bess released his mouth and hurried for the door. Averill clucked with exasperation at the woman's cowardice, but otherwise ignored her and watched Eachann Stewart's face as she put the lid back on her vial. A relieved breath slipped from her when Lord Stewart began to smack his lips and work his mouth, automatically swallowing the liquid inside. Satisfied, she took a moment to examine him, noting that he looked very similar to Kade except that he was older and had a red and bulbous nose. That would be from the drink, she supposed with a little shake of the head.
"My lady," Bess hissed from the safety of the hall.
Sighing, Averill turned and moved to join her.
"Can we not go below now and--"
"Nay," Averill interrupted firmly. "We have to do the brothers now. Gawain first, I think. His room is closest."
"Surely dosing the father is enough. There's really no need to--"
Ignoring her words, Averill simply caught Bess's hand and dragged her to the next room. Fortunately, after several steps, Bess, blessedly, gave up protesting. It made things go much more quickly, and within moments they were done and slipping out of his room as well.
"This is the last one," Averill said encouragingly as she led Bess to the last door in the hall.
"Thank God," the maid muttered. "Your mother must be rolling in her grave at the business you get up to."
Ignoring her, Averill led the way into the room. Of the three, it was in the worst shape. It seemed obvious that the three men had no care for their possessions. Each room sported broken furniture and other items that had been destroyed, but here even Brodie's bed was broken, one of the newel posts having been snapped, leaving the draperies hanging down at one corner.
Shaking her head, she moved to the bed and waited for Bess to pry his mouth open. Averill then bent to pour in her tincture.
"There," she said as she straightened. A little sigh of relief slipped from Averill's lips as she closed the small vial and slid it back into her bag of medicinals. "'Tis done. All we can do now is wait and see what comes of it."
"Thank God," Bess breathed, releasing her hold on Brodie's mouth. "Please, my lady. Let us get out of here now."
"Aye," Averill said with exasperation and decided she'd never again take the maid along with her on such excursions. Bess had whined and carped the entire time, fretting like an old woman.
Well, all right, Averill acknowledged to herself, at more than forty summers Bess was an old woman. Still, that was no reason to be as timid and nervous as a mouse. 'Twas no wonder the maid had been so scandalized by what Sally and Old Ellie had been telling her about pleasing a man--the woman wouldn't have the heart to try any of them. She'd probably lain quivering in bed, eyes squeezed shut every time her husband had tried to mount her...and wouldn't that have been a pleasant experience for both of them? she thought with disgust.
"My lady,"
Bess hissed.
"I am coming," Averill muttered. "I just--"
She paused abruptly and gave a startled shriek as Brodie's hand suddenly fastened itself around her wrist. Eyes widening and shooting up the bed, she found herself staring into his bleary gaze.
"Here, lovey, how about a kiss?" he slurred, giving her arm a tug.
"Yer da may no put up much o' a fuss," Aidan said quietly. "He's no a stupid man and, despite the drink, kens things are slippin' away here. Another family takes to its heels every day, moving to greener pastures, and those that remain behind are only awaiting their chance. Half the castle staff is gone, and of those that remain behind--" He shook his head. "Cook is gone, the maids'll no even enter the great hall anymore, and the men avoid it, too...Aye, yer father may be glad to pass the title and responsibility on to ye."
Kade fervently hoped so. While he hadn't spent much time around Eachann Stewart, the man was still his father, and Kade had no wish to commit patricide. But after all he'd learned from Aidan about the state of affairs here, he couldn't simply walk away this time and leave his father in charge either. Stewart was in a bad way.
"Did you say the cook is gone?" Will asked, and the dismay in his voice drew the first smile Kade had managed since sitting down to talk with Aidan. After three years of rotten food and near starvation in that hellish prison, Will had an insatiable appetite. Kade had been amazed at the food he'd seen the man put away since rising from his own sickbed. He'd been even more amazed to find himself matching him bite for bite and was slightly upset to hear there was no cook, himself. But not nearly as forlorn as Will appeared to be.
"Aye," Aidan said, and grinned at Will's expression. "But I ken where he is and suspect he could be convinced to return does the situation change."
"Mayhap ye could--" Kade paused abruptly, eyes shooting upward as a great shrieking and wailing sounded overhead. Before the end of the first shriek, he was on his feet and running, his heart slamming against his chest as a litany of possible reasons for the sounds ran through his mind. The women might have stumbled upon a mouse or some other vermin while preparing the rooms above stairs, or one of them might have had an accident and hurt herself grievously. He was hoping for the former.
