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She entered the cottage to find Helga fussing over Twilla. Snow had been pleased that Helga had taken over the duties of the healer, having been the only one with some knowledge of healing thanks to her mum who had taught her. All in the clan had been pleased as well and with guidance from Willow throughout the year, she was doing well.
“She’s been asking for you, Lady Snow,” Helga said, tears in her eyes.
Snow approached, Helga having placed a chair next to the bed for her.
“You do well for all in the clan, Helga,” Snow said as she slipped off her cloak.
Helga hurried to take it. “Thank you, m’lady. I enjoy the task. I’ll take my leave, since Twilla told me she wanted to speak with you alone.”
Snow took Twilla’s hand as soon as she sat. “I’m here, Twilla.”
The old woman’s eyes fluttered open. “I don’t have much time.”
Tears sprang to Snow’s eyes.
“Don’t be sad. It’s time for me to go. This old body of mine has had enough. I’ve lived longer than I should have and it’s time for me to truly rest. But first…”
Snow gently squeezed Twilla’s boney hand as her breath caught. She had lost much weight in the last month leaving her far too fragile.
“I need to tell you something, though I hate to burden you with it, but I feel it is necessary.” Twilla fought for a breath before continuing, “I know the reason Tarass’s parents’ left here…”
Snow was shocked and curious but she hated to see Twilla struggle to breathe. “You should rest and—”
“No time,” Twilla said and rested her breath a moment, then continued, “Tarass’s father was called away on some matter that concerned his wife. When he discovered what it was, he ordered her and his son to leave here and go to her people where he would meet her. He had to make sure those who knew what he’d been told and those who planned to tell others never got the chance.” She rested again for a few moments, then resumed talking, getting straight to the point. “Tarass’s mum, Haldana, was a direct descendant of the first Pict king. It was ruled years ago that in order to sit on the Scottish throne, the one claiming the throne had to be wed to a descendant of the Pict. If she was a direct descendant of a Pict king, then no one could deny her child’s claim to the throne. Once Haldana married Tarass’s father any child they had would be the true heir to the Scottish throne.”
Snow didn’t quite believe her words. Could they be nothing more than the ramblings of an old, ill woman? “Are you saying that Tarass is the true heir to the throne? And how was it that Haldana didn’t know of her heritage?”
“He is the true heir, and it was kept from Haldana to protect her against those trying to claim the throne. I don’t know how it was found out, but Haldana’s people are the ones who alerted Winton to the information.”
Snow was trying to understand it all, but it seemed an unbelievable tale. “Who told you?”
“No one. I overheard Tarass’s da talking with who I assumed later was someone from Haldana’s tribe. He had stopped here briefly before joining his wife and son. They discussed the whole ordeal and Winton was pleased with the news the man had brought him. All were dead who posed any threat to his wife and son, though the man urged Winton to keep his wife and son away from his homeland, at least until Tarass was a skilled warrior.” Twilla paused for a much needed breath. “When news reached me of his parents’ deaths, I thought it was what had gotten them killed and worried Tarass would face the same fate. I also worried that someone had found out about Tarass’s heritage and wanted him dead. I was relieved along with everyone else to learn that the problems that had plagued the clan had been caused by a renegade band of barbarians who sought revenge against Tarass for a battle once fought.”
Snow had strongly agreed with Tarass when he had told her that Twilla needn’t know the truth about her son. That Conall was better off left dead years ago.
However, there was something she didn’t understand. “Why not let the secret die with you? Wouldn’t that best protect Tarass?”
“A secret is no secret when more than one person knows about it, and there may come a time when ignorance would do more harm than good for your husband or first born son. So the secret is yours to carry now and do with it what you will.”
Twilla struggled to breathe, the effort it had taken to talk having stolen her limited breath, leaving her weak.
“You must rest,” Snow said, her thoughts heavy with what Twilla had told her.
