Read Online Oath of the Brotherhood by C. E. Laureano - Free Book Online
Authors: C. E. Laureano
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name?”
“Caitlinn Ó Laoghaire, my lady. My husband’s Donall the Elder. One of the Mac Cuillinn’s tenants.”
Aine nodded and turned her attention to the infant. “May I?”
Caitlinn gave the baby over to Aine without protest. Automatically, Aine extended her awareness into the boy, seeking signs of illness, but she found only a drowsy sense of well-being and the faint stirring of hunger. Whatever troubled the mother, she had not let it affect the care of her newborn.
“How old is this little one?” Aine asked.
“Born a fortnight ago, my lady.”
“A difficult birth, was it?”
“Aye. The midwife barely stopped the bleeding with an application of casewort and yarrow.”
“I see.” Aine handed the child back to his mother. “May I examine you?”
When the woman nodded, Aine made a show of her cursory examination, though she hardly needed to. She immediately sensed the sluggishness Caitlinn hadn’t been able to shake offsince the child’s birth. The woman had been far closer to death than she knew.
“I’ll mix a tonic of yellow dock, stinging nettle, and dandelion to strengthen your blood,” Aine said. “It may still be a month or two before you regain your energy, though. Try not to exhaust yourself.”
Caitlinn bowed her head in relief. “Thank you, Lady Aine. You are very kind.”
“Not at all.” Aine smiled at Mara and Donall. “Take care of your mama, all right?”
The children beamed.
Ruarc handed her a wax tablet and stylus before she could ask. She jotted down the woman’s name, her diagnosis, and the remedy and then moved on to the next patient.
None of the patients taxed Aine’s skills, considering a single touch revealed what ailed their bodies. She made her examinations and assured them she could mix a remedy back at Lisdara. Soon, her wax tablet was full of names and notes, and the crowd dwindled to only a handful of petitioners.
When the last patients had been seen, Mistress Bearrach strode to Aine’s side and took the tablet without asking. She scanned the notations, clucking her tongue. “Too fast. You don’t spend enough time with the patients.”
Aine’s cheeks heated. “Do you think I got the diagnoses wrong?”
Mistress Bearrach’s scowl returned, but her black eyes twinkled. “I have no doubt they are correct. But it won’t do to make it look so easy. People begin to ask questions.”
Aine swallowed hard. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Don’t you? When you touch them, you know what’s wrong with them, just as you felt the wards.”
Aine tried to deny it, but her dry mouth wouldn’t form the words.
For the first time, the old healer looked at her kindly. “I know how difficult it is to keep such a thing secret. There shouldn’t be a need. But even here, different can be dangerous.”
Then, as if the conversation had never taken place, Mistress Bearrach said, “Don’t dawdle now, you two. You’d think I was asking you to carry the horse, not the other way around. We still have work to do.”
Aine mounted with her guard’s help and spurred her mare after the healer, concealing her smile. Apparently she was not the only one hiding her true nature.
A quick glance at Ruarc, however, showed no such amusement. In fact, he looked as troubled as she had ever seen him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
More feasting followed in honor of the Timhaigh guests, and the night after his arrival Conor dressed for a celebration again, this time in slightly plainer garments. As he made his way down to the hall, he was surprised to find only the slightest twinge of apprehension.
Far fewer guests crowded the hall, since the realm’s lords had already begun to return home. Gainor and Niamh sat at their regular places, but Niamh didn’t even look in Conor’s direction when he took the chair beside her. Even the guests seemed to have lost interest in him.
Something else caught their attention, though. Conor followed their gazes. Aine stood in the entry, her
“Caitlinn Ó Laoghaire, my lady. My husband’s Donall the Elder. One of the Mac Cuillinn’s tenants.”
Aine nodded and turned her attention to the infant. “May I?”
Caitlinn gave the baby over to Aine without protest. Automatically, Aine extended her awareness into the boy, seeking signs of illness, but she found only a drowsy sense of well-being and the faint stirring of hunger. Whatever troubled the mother, she had not let it affect the care of her newborn.
“How old is this little one?” Aine asked.
“Born a fortnight ago, my lady.”
“A difficult birth, was it?”
“Aye. The midwife barely stopped the bleeding with an application of casewort and yarrow.”
“I see.” Aine handed the child back to his mother. “May I examine you?”
When the woman nodded, Aine made a show of her cursory examination, though she hardly needed to. She immediately sensed the sluggishness Caitlinn hadn’t been able to shake offsince the child’s birth. The woman had been far closer to death than she knew.
“I’ll mix a tonic of yellow dock, stinging nettle, and dandelion to strengthen your blood,” Aine said. “It may still be a month or two before you regain your energy, though. Try not to exhaust yourself.”
Caitlinn bowed her head in relief. “Thank you, Lady Aine. You are very kind.”
“Not at all.” Aine smiled at Mara and Donall. “Take care of your mama, all right?”
The children beamed.
Ruarc handed her a wax tablet and stylus before she could ask. She jotted down the woman’s name, her diagnosis, and the remedy and then moved on to the next patient.
None of the patients taxed Aine’s skills, considering a single touch revealed what ailed their bodies. She made her examinations and assured them she could mix a remedy back at Lisdara. Soon, her wax tablet was full of names and notes, and the crowd dwindled to only a handful of petitioners.
When the last patients had been seen, Mistress Bearrach strode to Aine’s side and took the tablet without asking. She scanned the notations, clucking her tongue. “Too fast. You don’t spend enough time with the patients.”
Aine’s cheeks heated. “Do you think I got the diagnoses wrong?”
Mistress Bearrach’s scowl returned, but her black eyes twinkled. “I have no doubt they are correct. But it won’t do to make it look so easy. People begin to ask questions.”
Aine swallowed hard. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Don’t you? When you touch them, you know what’s wrong with them, just as you felt the wards.”
Aine tried to deny it, but her dry mouth wouldn’t form the words.
For the first time, the old healer looked at her kindly. “I know how difficult it is to keep such a thing secret. There shouldn’t be a need. But even here, different can be dangerous.”
Then, as if the conversation had never taken place, Mistress Bearrach said, “Don’t dawdle now, you two. You’d think I was asking you to carry the horse, not the other way around. We still have work to do.”
Aine mounted with her guard’s help and spurred her mare after the healer, concealing her smile. Apparently she was not the only one hiding her true nature.
A quick glance at Ruarc, however, showed no such amusement. In fact, he looked as troubled as she had ever seen him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
More feasting followed in honor of the Timhaigh guests, and the night after his arrival Conor dressed for a celebration again, this time in slightly plainer garments. As he made his way down to the hall, he was surprised to find only the slightest twinge of apprehension.
Far fewer guests crowded the hall, since the realm’s lords had already begun to return home. Gainor and Niamh sat at their regular places, but Niamh didn’t even look in Conor’s direction when he took the chair beside her. Even the guests seemed to have lost interest in him.
Something else caught their attention, though. Conor followed their gazes. Aine stood in the entry, her
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