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Authors: Heather McCollum
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as a sheered lamb with a rash.
“You will want to be on your way soon then,” Thomas said. “To deliver the body before he completely turns to mush.”
“Thomas,” Jane chided. She pressed a napkin to her lips as if his statement had soured her stomach. “Not for the table, please.”
“We will leave on the morrow,” Ewan said and watched Dory imitate the napkin press to her lips. Smart lass. She watched Jane’s every move and practiced. Goblet up, silent sip, goblet down, gentle wipe of the lips.
“So soon?” Jane asked, her eyes wide. She glanced at Dory who smiled at her with a little nod. Jane seemed to relax. Could Dory truly help the woman with the herbal drink? Or would she use her magic? It certainly could turn her suicide mission into something plausible if she befriended someone who had the king’s attention.
“Before we leave,” Dory said timidly. She was definitely playing a role. “Perhaps my lady Jane could show me the beautifully maintained gardens here at Wulfhall.”
“Certainly,” Jane said with a genuine smile.
Thomas shrugged and sipped more wine, his scrutiny of Dory’s charms not yet sated.
Ewan’s hand fisted under the table. “I would love to see yer fine gardens as well,” he said. “I don’t often leave my lovely bride’s side.” He looked pointedly at Thomas. “I am rather jealous.”
“Aye,” Edward chimed in. “The Scots are a barbaric sort.”
Ewan smiled at the insult. “Aye, barbaric, hot headed, and quite lethal.”
“You would do best then to keep the lady Dory locked up while at court,” Thomas said with an acerbic chuckle.
…
“You will drink this everyday for a fortnight,” Dory whispered and handed a list of herbs and a small bladder of the remedy to Jane. “Make it fresh every other day. This is enough to get you going.”
They sat on a cold stone bench in a secluded alcove surrounded by the early spring roses. The sun was setting quickly, surrendering the world to shadows. Birds dipped among the blooming apple trees scattered on both sides of the pebbled walkway, chirping as they sought their nests.
Jane studied the list. “This will cause me to menstruate?”
Dory nodded, though that was only part of the woman’s problem. “Yes, but you must also use this paste. I learned it from a wise woman in the Caribbean islands.” She handed the wide-eyed lady a linen wrapped tightly around a paste of mashed cherries and flour. “Rub this on your abdomen at night and let it sit until it dries and cracks off. It will warm the womb and make it inhabitable.”
“I should use just what you have in here or do I need to make more?”
“This should be enough. It is powerful medicine.”
Jane nodded.
“Now,” Dory said, taking Jane’s hands, “I would have us pray together for the healing to be blessed by God.”
“Yes, for the love of England and his majesty, please let me conceive a healthy heir,” Jane whispered, her head bowed.
Dory glanced around to make certain they were alone. She couldn’t let Ewan catch her using magic or he might not help her in London. But she also couldn’t let this generous woman walk into danger when she could help her. Dory watched carefully to ascertain Jane’s eyes were closed and laid one palm flat on her back. Upon contact she sensed the woman’s dormant ovaries and blocked tubes. As she was, there would be no way for her to conceive. Dory had met a woman like this in port once, an aging woman who desperately wanted a baby.
Dory concentrated on the power she felt radiating out from the birthmark on her wrist. It tingled when her magic stretched through her whole body, warming her middle. Strange how people thought of her as having two separate powers when her magic really did the same thing, moved the smallest of bits. In the body the bits were parts of blood, flesh, or bone. In the air the bits were water or the tiniest specks of air.
She focused the power as a long line of blue light
“You will want to be on your way soon then,” Thomas said. “To deliver the body before he completely turns to mush.”
“Thomas,” Jane chided. She pressed a napkin to her lips as if his statement had soured her stomach. “Not for the table, please.”
“We will leave on the morrow,” Ewan said and watched Dory imitate the napkin press to her lips. Smart lass. She watched Jane’s every move and practiced. Goblet up, silent sip, goblet down, gentle wipe of the lips.
“So soon?” Jane asked, her eyes wide. She glanced at Dory who smiled at her with a little nod. Jane seemed to relax. Could Dory truly help the woman with the herbal drink? Or would she use her magic? It certainly could turn her suicide mission into something plausible if she befriended someone who had the king’s attention.
“Before we leave,” Dory said timidly. She was definitely playing a role. “Perhaps my lady Jane could show me the beautifully maintained gardens here at Wulfhall.”
“Certainly,” Jane said with a genuine smile.
Thomas shrugged and sipped more wine, his scrutiny of Dory’s charms not yet sated.
Ewan’s hand fisted under the table. “I would love to see yer fine gardens as well,” he said. “I don’t often leave my lovely bride’s side.” He looked pointedly at Thomas. “I am rather jealous.”
“Aye,” Edward chimed in. “The Scots are a barbaric sort.”
Ewan smiled at the insult. “Aye, barbaric, hot headed, and quite lethal.”
“You would do best then to keep the lady Dory locked up while at court,” Thomas said with an acerbic chuckle.
…
“You will drink this everyday for a fortnight,” Dory whispered and handed a list of herbs and a small bladder of the remedy to Jane. “Make it fresh every other day. This is enough to get you going.”
They sat on a cold stone bench in a secluded alcove surrounded by the early spring roses. The sun was setting quickly, surrendering the world to shadows. Birds dipped among the blooming apple trees scattered on both sides of the pebbled walkway, chirping as they sought their nests.
Jane studied the list. “This will cause me to menstruate?”
Dory nodded, though that was only part of the woman’s problem. “Yes, but you must also use this paste. I learned it from a wise woman in the Caribbean islands.” She handed the wide-eyed lady a linen wrapped tightly around a paste of mashed cherries and flour. “Rub this on your abdomen at night and let it sit until it dries and cracks off. It will warm the womb and make it inhabitable.”
“I should use just what you have in here or do I need to make more?”
“This should be enough. It is powerful medicine.”
Jane nodded.
“Now,” Dory said, taking Jane’s hands, “I would have us pray together for the healing to be blessed by God.”
“Yes, for the love of England and his majesty, please let me conceive a healthy heir,” Jane whispered, her head bowed.
Dory glanced around to make certain they were alone. She couldn’t let Ewan catch her using magic or he might not help her in London. But she also couldn’t let this generous woman walk into danger when she could help her. Dory watched carefully to ascertain Jane’s eyes were closed and laid one palm flat on her back. Upon contact she sensed the woman’s dormant ovaries and blocked tubes. As she was, there would be no way for her to conceive. Dory had met a woman like this in port once, an aging woman who desperately wanted a baby.
Dory concentrated on the power she felt radiating out from the birthmark on her wrist. It tingled when her magic stretched through her whole body, warming her middle. Strange how people thought of her as having two separate powers when her magic really did the same thing, moved the smallest of bits. In the body the bits were parts of blood, flesh, or bone. In the air the bits were water or the tiniest specks of air.
She focused the power as a long line of blue light
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