"Nay, but he's the closest thing we have to a healer. He's stitched up many an injured warrior."
Dani trailed behind Gavin as he carried the priest across the great hall, through a doorway near the back, and into a small room resembling a library, with shelves on one wall and a desk opposite. A low-burning hearth fire provided a small amount of light. Gavin placed the priest on a cot.
Dani liked the feel of the warm, cozy room, but it was too dark. "Want me to light a candle?"
"Aye, as many as you can find on the mantel."
She touched the wicks to the hearth flames, then stuck the lit candles into the heavy iron candelabra on a table. Crocker trotted in and glanced around the room, one of his eyes dark and the other milky. She hadn't noticed this about him in the great hall.
"Good heavens, m'laird. What's happened?"
Gavin explained the situation as Crocker examined Father John's head.
Dani watched, silently praying the priest would recover. What kind of thugs lived around here… attempting to kill a man of the cloth? The person who did this possessed no conscience. They had no qualms about killing anyone… perhaps even her. She shivered. This was no fantasy land.
"Do you think he'll recover?" Gavin asked.
Crocker nodded. "I pray 'twill be so. I know of a poultice I can put on it."
"Good."
"I'll go gather some of the herbs." Crocker beat a hasty retreat.
"Father John?" Gavin sat on a chair and leaned toward him. "Are you in much pain?"
When the older man didn't respond, Gavin frowned in concern.
"What can I do to help?" Dani asked.
Gavin arose and paced. "Naught I can think of… except pray. As you well ken, the Almighty will be far more receptive to your requests than mine."
Dani wished Gavin wasn't so down on himself. Why on earth would he think of himself as evil? He shouldn't listen to others' criticisms.
She supposed Father John had some sort of traumatic brain injury. Even though a concussion was serious, she hoped it wasn't a worse injury, like a skull fracture. If this were the twenty-first century, he would be rushed to a hospital.
"Are there any physicians in the area?" she asked.
Gavin paused in deep thought. "Torr MacElrath's clan has a resident physician. 'Tis a couple of days' ride, but I'll send Finch for him." Gavin strode from the room.
A moment later, Crocker rushed in, breathing hard and carrying a steaming bowl of fragrant herbs.
Alarmed, she stared at the wooden bowl. "I wouldn't put anything hot on his injury. It will make the swelling worse."
"Indeed. I shall let the herbs cool. But they must be steeped in hot water first."
She nodded, relaxing a bit. "Can you check to see if his skull is fractured?"
"I did already. I saw no splintered bone."
Of course, it would be impossible to tell without an x-ray or MRI. She sighed, realizing the major drawbacks of living in 1630.
Gavin returned. "Finch will go to retrieve the physician from Clan MacElrath, but 'twill be a few days before they return."
How frustrating it took so long. Father John could grow far worse by then. She found it disturbing someone with her own last name might have done this. "Do you think Wilona MacRae had him assaulted?"
"Aye." Gavin's gaze turned fierce. "I wager she hired someone to kill him or sent one of her lackeys."
"Why? What does she have against him?"
