Page 43 of Dorchad

Chapter Eleven

Days sprawled out into weeks as Rebecca shifted into her new role at Gealladh as the clan’s healer. Her predecessor had sent word that he had decided to retire and stay with his family rather than return to the clan, which prompted Tair to offer her the position.

“You neednae look after the MacRune. We dinnae grow ill, and near all our injuries heal within hours,” he told her over breakfast one morning. “Our vassals need only minor doctoring now and then. All birthing females leave our service to live with their families in the village, and they’ve a midwife there to attend them.”

The temptation to instantly accept grabbed Rebecca, but she knew she had to point out a few things that the laird didn’t understand.

“You should know first that I’m a doctor of physical therapy, my lord, not a medical doctor,” she told him. “My expertise is in helping people to regain and improve their ability to move and function, and cope with related pain. I have a fair amount of first aid and trauma treatment knowledge, but I’m by no means an expert. Your people also might be more comfortable with a healer from this time.”

“Bollocks,” Lucy said pleasantly. “You know more about safe and sanitary medical practices than the old healer, plus you’re familiar with herbal medicines, which is all we have in this time. Our vassals are comfortable with you already, which they wouldn’t be with a stranger. You’re better than perfect.”

“All right, if you’re willing to let me try, I’d be happy to serve as the clan’s healer.” She smiled. “Can someone give me a tour of the infirmary?”

“I shall, if I may, my lady,” Lochran, the day-blind Chief of the Night Watch, said to her. “The old healer bid me gather herbs from the forest for him, and I ken where he kept most of his tinctures and blends.”

Tair nodded his agreement. “He has naught more to do until dark.”

Rebecca had the sense that the chief had other motives, but since she had moved into Dorchad’s quarters everyone seemed curious about their relationship. She knew she had to protect the chieftain’s privacy, for what happened between them was no one’s business.

“Of course,” she told Lochran. “Thank you for offering.”

After the meal he escorted her to the infirmary, which was tucked away in a quiet passage not far from the chieftain’s quarters. Rebecca noted the way that the blindfolded man walked with confidence through the stronghold as if he’d memorized every inch of it.

“You’ve accomplished a great deal in learning to live with your hemeralopia, Chief,” she said after he deftly avoided two maids carrying ash buckets downstairs. “Have you ever sought any type of treatment for your condition?”

“Other than this.” He tapped the linen bandage covering his eyes. “I went to the magic folk to ask if they had some potion or spell to shield my eyes. They had none. My weakness perplexed them, as they believe I should be blinded by all light. Yet fire, candle, moon and starlight dinnae affect me, only sunshine.”

“It’s probably the UV rays,” Rebecca said, and when he frowned briefly explained how sunlight’s ultraviolet radiation differed from the other forms of light. “You’re likely hypersensitive to it, so your blindness is a kind of automatic bandage your body puts over your eyes.”

“’Tis an interesting notion.” He stopped in front of the door to the infirmary, tapped on it and then opened it. “I’m entering with Healer McIan,” he said as he stepped over the threshold. “Show yourself.”

Rebecca was surprised to see Sheona step out from behind a rack, and then her gaze shifted. “You’re hurt.”

“No’ gravely, my lady.” The maid stared at Lochran as she tried to hide her hands behind her. “I but wished to find some salve to put on my palms.”

“Let me help.” Sensing the girl didn’t want to be touched, she gestured toward a stool by the worktable. “Please, sit.”

Lochran went over to one of the racks of pottery and small boxes, and brought back a crock sealed with beeswax. “’Tis the healer’s burn balm,” he told Rebecca.

She pried off the wax and sniffed the amber salve inside the crock, which smelled herbaceous, floral and sugary sweet.

“Yarrow with something calming like lavender, I think.” She put a small dab on the back of her hand, noting the slight stickiness. “The base is honey, which can also help heal minor burns. May I apply some to your hands before I bandage them?”

Sheona reluctantly extended her arms, and Rebecca frowned as she saw soot marks on her skin and the singeing on the cuffs of both of her sleeves.

“We should wash the burns first, if that’s all right?” As the maid nodded she went and poured some water into the washstand basin, and grabbed a soft cloth before bringing it over to the work table.

“How did you injure yourself, lass?” Lochran asked her.

“’Twas when I visited my mam in the village,” Sheona said, sounding sullen now. “She bumped into me as I added wood to the hearth, and I fell into the fire, burning my hands on the embers.”

What she described would have resulted in far worse burns, Rebecca thought as she gently washed the maid’s hands. These were more likely from flames burning close to the skin. Sheona probably had her reasons for making up the lie. From the way she kept nervously glancing at Lochran, part of that might be not wanting him to know.

“Chief, it’s going to take a while for me to treat her, so please, don’t let me keep you idling here,” Rebecca said, hoping he would take the hint.

“Of course, Healer. If you’ve any questions, come to see me in my tower. Be careful and rest, lass,” he said to Sheona, and then left the infirmary.

As soon as the door closed Sheona sighed and her shoulders slumped. “My thanks, Healer.”