Page 39 of A Laird and a Gentleman

For the next several hours the two women worked to treat everyone with the salve and the smoke. When Estella and Petunia returned, Mariam asked them to bring Mistress MacInnes down to the great hall so she and Vivian could treat her along with the others.

Once that task was complete, and Nessie rested comfortably near the hearth, Vivian put the maids to work bringing each patient a bowl of steaming bone broth Mistress Farriday had supplied from the kitchens. The afternoon faded to evening, then darkness came and torches were lit to keep the great hall illuminated. The work of healing went on and on.

Through the night, Alexander and Quinn brought more patients into the chamber until all the beds were filled and new ones had to be created. As of yet, no one had died. For that, Mariam was grateful. Influenza was an insatiable monster, bringing down the castle’s children, warriors, servants, with equal fervor. Nearly one-third of the castle had fallen ill by daybreak.

When Mariam could no longer focus her mind on the task at hand, and her legs felt so weary she could hardly stand, she took a seat, meaning to sit there for only a moment as she closed her eyes. Please God, spare those who have yet to fall ill, and help those who are to get better.

“Are you falling ill?” It was Vivian’s voice that startled her awake.

“Nay.” Mariam opened her eyes as she straightened in the chair. “I was only resting a moment.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

Mariam ran her hand wearily through her hair. “Not until we start to see some improvement.”

“Their symptoms are easing. There are just so many it is hard to notice.” Vivian extended her hand to Mariam and pulled her to her feet. “You and I need to stay healthy. I say it is time for a rest, however short. Come with me.”

Vivian pulled Mariam from the great hall, to the courtyard and beyond to a grassy place. As they walked, Mariam’s thoughts moved back over the last several hours. It had been such an unusual experience, having Vivian by her side as they struggled to heal all who were sick. The healer had accepted Mariam from the moment they’d met for who she was, neither fearing nor trying to change her. No one had ever accepted her magic so readily before. A dizzying sense of hope unfurled within her—perhaps when all of this was through, she and Vivian could be friends. Life-long friends.

“Vivian,” Mariam said when they reached a grassy spot. “Thank you for coming here, and for your help. I can’t tell you what it has meant to me.”

“That’s what friends do for each other.” Vivian stretched out on the grass, and placing her hand behind her head, stared up at the morning sky. “Sit or lie down and breathe the air for a while. It will do us both good.”

With a smile, Mariam did the same. Overhead, the usual summer sky had turned to gray as though reflecting the somber mood of both women who gazed upon it. The sky was odd, but Mariam was too tired to reflect anymore upon it.

“Do you have any idea of how your people were exposed to influenza?” Vivian asked. “The illness has become much more prevalent in the past few years since traders have started exploring new shipping routes outside of Europe.”

“Traders?” Mariam’s stomach tightened as she glanced at Vivian. “Not four days ago, the castle welcomed one of Laird Sinclair’s crews from one of his ships. They stayed overnight here before they set sail for Portugal. Could they have brought the disease with them?”

Vivian’s eyes filled with sadness. “Aye, that is usually where it starts; with a ship’s crew recently returned from an eastern foreign port.”

Fear slithered down Mariam’s neck. “What will happen to the sailors?”

Vivian looked away. “If they are lucky, the sea air will help to invigorate them.”

“And if they are not so lucky?” Mariam asked.

“Many will die,” Vivian replied, her voice filled with remorse.

Mariam released a heavy breath as she closed her eyes. When visions of sick seamen filled her mind, she opened her eyes once again. Perhaps the illness would begin and end with the castle residents and the seamen. Hoping that much was true, Mariam asked, “Did you see this illness elsewhere on your journey to Ravenscraig, or are we the only ones who suffer?”

“There are others . . . In the village we passed on our way here.” Vivian’s voice was unsteady.

Mariam’s heart sank as she turned her head toward Vivian. “The villagers are ill? Several of them came up to help serve dinner on the night Cameron returned with his men and the seamen.”

“That’s when they must have been exposed to the illness.”

“What can be done to help them?”

“I tried to ease their suffering by treating those I could when we passed through. Then, I left supplies with several of the women to treat anyone else who becomes feverish.”

Mariam’s clenched her fists at her sides against a rush of frustration. So many of Cameron’s people were suffering, and not only from illness. “These are truly troubling times . . . We face enemies on all sides.”

“You are not speaking only of influenza, are you?” Vivian asked.

“Nay.” Mariam swallowed hard. “Do you know who I am? Who my father is?”

“You are Cameron’s ward, and a woman with unusual abilities. Who sired you has no bearing on who you truly are.” Vivian’s gaze connected with hers. Sympathy and understanding reflected back. “How long have you been able to control the wind?”