Page 21 of Her Highlander’s Darkest Temptation (Highlanders of Cadney #14)
“Och, easy enough tae manage.” Lydia watched as the healer mixed a few herbs into a cup of elderberry cordial. “Chamomile, meadowsweet an’ a touch o’ touch o’ nettle should set ye aright. If it daesnae, then I’ll give ye a bit o’ comfrey an’ mugwort.”
The elderberry cordial sweetened the concoction somewhat, making it easy to drink. Lydia swallowed it down. Evelyn nodded approvingly.
Together, the three women settled at the table.
“I’m grinding herbs tae powder fer salves…
mostly yarrow salves for wounds, with a touch o’ vervain or valerian tae numb it.
The others are nettle an’ mint, because we’re gettin’ intae the warm season, and ‘tis a good one fer burns. I’ve plenty o’ tallow, beeswax an’ renderin’ from the butchers in the village tae mix it intae. ”
Lydia nodded. “What of honey for the yarrow? Since it is for wounds, would not honey help?”
“It would, an’ there’s some in the beeswax, which is why we’ll use tha’ more fer the yarrow poultices.” Evelyn nodded approvingly, and Maisie smiled in encouragement.
The pestle and bowl for grinding were worn smooth with use, so it was no hardship for Lydia to use.
She ground the amounts of herbs Evelyn requested, then mixed them into the base for the salve as evenly as she could, then heated them slightly to ensure the properties of the herbs were infused into the mixture.
Before it cooled, she tipped it into the pots that Evelyn provided, and labeled each with both the name and a symbol by which servants who could not read would recognize the medicine if Evelyn was not there.
“Me laird was right, ye’ve a neat hand. An’ a steady hand fer the work. Ye ken yer herbs, yer preparations an’ yer mixin, and ye dinnae waste or spill the medicines.” Evelyn smiled.
“I… it is how I learned…”
“And ye learned well.” Evelyn nodded. “I dinnae have an apprentice, though Fair Folk kens I need one. The last I trained returned home tae her village some years ago, an’ I’ve nae found another with the skills an’ patience since.
But ye’ve a gift, an’ the focus for the work.
If ye’re willin’ tae learn an’ nae tae shy o’ blood or illness, I’d be happy tae tak’ ye on. ”
Lydia blinked. For all that she’d originally hoped to be selected for such duties, in her heart she’d come to believe she had as little talent as a healer as she did for being a servant.
“I… I’m not sure how I would handle blood.
Or sickness… I’ve never had much to do with anything like an infected wound… ”
“Daes blood make ye faint?”
“No-nae little amounts. But the worst wound I’ve ever seen treated was the one Laird Ranald had when he brought me here.” Any worse wounds she’d witnessed had been fatal.
“Broken bones trouble ye?”
“I’ve not much experience with those, but… I do not think so?” Lydia frowned. “I’ve heard that setting is the worst of dealing with such things, and it is usually over quickly?”
“True enough, unless ‘tis a shattered bone tha’ needs stickin’ back taegether in some fashion, but I’d be tending tae that fer some time...long enough for ye tae ken if ye could handle it or nae.” Evelyn nodded.
“An’ illness?” Evelyn made a slightly disgruntled expression.
“A main part o’ a healer’s duties in these parts is tending tae colds, summer coughs, or people that eat somethin’ they shouldnae.
There’s days ye’ll be elbow deep in waste from one end or the other o’ a patient, an’ I’ll tell ye now, it often smells right foul. ”
“I… I’ve never been one to be ill just because others are. I’ve not ever been accused of having a delicate stomach, if that is your concern. And it cannot be worse than a summer midden heap, can it? Or a chamber pot that someone has forgotten to empty? Such things have never troubled me.”
And I can always rub a bit of cedar oil or pine under my nose, or peppermint, to mask the smells, if I know what I am about to encounter.
“Think ye’d have the nerve and patience tae see a lass through labor, or a man through sewin’ up a bad wound?”
“I… have no idea, but I would not consider it impossible.”
Evelyn studied her for a moment. “Yer answers are honest, an’ I like tha’.
She nodded decisively. “I’ll tell me laird an’ Master Corvin tha’ I’m taking ye on fer the moment.
Ye’ll dae yer morning duties an’ yer evening duties fer Laird Ranald as he wishes, or nae, but in between, ye’ll come tae me. ”
Lydia nodded, then bit her lip. “Just to be certain… Maisie told me of a hierarchy to observe. Does this mean…”
“Means tha’ Laird Ranald is still yer first master, but Healer Evelyn is yer second. Even if Laird MacEwen calls fer ye, ye have a responsibility tae excuse yerself an’ call another fer him, if Healer Evelyn has need o’ ye.”
“An’ if there’s a battle, or a scourge o’ illness in the keep - God defend us, an’ I pray it daesnae happen any time soon - even Laird Ranald will understand tha’ I’m the only one ye heed, until the disaster is over. Ye understand?”
“Aye. I do.” Lydia dipped her head. “Laird Ranald is laird over all of us, but you are now my master in all else.”
“Good. Ye’ve a quick mind as well, an’ ye ask sensible questions. Those are good qualities fer a healer’s apprentice tae have.”
Maisie laughed. “Ye’re welcome then, fer I taught her the second.”
Lydia blushed, her flush deepening when Evelyn raised an inquiring eyebrow. “It is true. I am…shy, and I was reluctant to question when I came. Maisie taught me…
“If ye dinnae ken… ask.” The other two women finished the sentence with her, and the group dissolved into gentle laughter.
The three of them got back to work, and Lydia did her best to hold onto the lighthearted mood Maisie’s quip had generated. It was difficult, however, when she recalled the plans she had made. And the secret she was keeping.
She longed to confide in the other two women, who were fast becoming friends - a new experience for her - but she could not bring herself to do so. What if they betrayed her secret to Laird Ranald? Duty would probably mean they were required to.
There was a clatter at the door, and the panel opened to reveal Donall, alongside his friend, Laird MacEwen. The latter was clutching his arm, a long, shallow cut across the right forearm, wrapped in a crimson-stained cloth. Evelyn frowned. “What happened?”
Laird Ranald snorted. “Fool wasnae payin’ as much attention tae his eating knife as he was tae a serving lass at the tavern, where we went tae seek rumors in the village. Slipped an’ sliced his arm instead o’ his roast.”
Lydia saw Evelyn tip her head, and guessed the healer meant for this to be a test of her actual abilities.
She rose from the table, wiped her hands carefully on a clean towel wrapped in her apron tie, and took his arm.
The wound wasn’t deep, and had mostly stopped bleeding, but the fact that it had been made with a soiled eating knife was some cause for concern.
“It needs cleaning. Then perhaps a yarrow comfrey salve?”
“Good. Use one of the honey-based, ‘twill ensure there’s nae foulness in the wound.”
Lydia turned away to get clean cloths, and a pot from among the salves she had recently mixed.
It was the work of moments to wash the wound with the hot water and cloths boiled over the fire, then gently apply the salve and a clean bandage.
“Keep it clean and dry for the rest of the day, my laird, and it should be well-mended by tomorrow.”
“Thank ye, lass. Ye’ve a deft an’ gentle touch.” Laird MacEwen smiled at her, and Lydia managed a shy, uncertain smile back, before she stepped away.
“Thank you, my laird. If you will excuse me, I must return to work - the salves will not make themselves.” With a final dip of her head, she turned back to her herbs, her heart pounding.
It wasn’t the act of tending the wound that had unnerved her, nor Laird MacEwen’s kindness. He was always unfailingly polite when they encountered one another, even though he sometimes teased her for falling asleep in the library.
No, what unnerved her was rather the ferocious and unexpected scowl she had seen on Laird Ranald’s face while she bandaged his friend’s wound.