Margaret backed away. If she did this, Angus would know everything. That she was cursed. He would call her a witch. His mother might do worse. Margaret shook her head. She could not.
Gillis frowned.
“What is it?” Angus asked his brother.
Gillis pointed at Margaret.
“Yes. I brought her, as you requested.” He turned from Gillis to Margaret. He had no idea what Gillis wanted.
Gillis’s chest rose and fell as he struggled to breathe. Margaret could hear his lungs rumble. He looked to be at death’s door.
“What happened?” she asked Angus.
“He got speared.” Angus’s face became even more grim. He pulled the bed linens back. Gillis’s body was swathed in a bandage, but it was stained dark red. His mother let out a sob, then quickly covered her mouth with her handkerchief.
Gillis looked at Margaret, his eyes begging her to give him something he’d never had the whole of his life—a voice.
How could she deny him? How could she say no when he pleaded so desperately? It was Gillis, after all, and he deserved to be heard. She might be burned at the stake for doing this, but so be it. She’d been dancing with death for a very long time.
She pulled her gloves off one finger at a time, then laid them aside. Angus’s eyes were wide now, watching as Margaret approached the bed.
“What are you doing?” Angus asked. Even his mother seemed startled by her actions.
“Gillis has something to say.” Margaret knelt near the edge of his bed. She took a deep breath, for the pain would be severe. She’d rather Gillis not know how much it hurt. After several steadying breaths, she took his bare hand.
Thank you. The thought crashed into her mind. His hand was like ice. So cold and so weak. My father. Bring him also.
Margaret let go. She rubbed her temple to remove the piercing ringing echoing there. Even more than the warden, she feared Angus’s father. Not for herself but for what he would do to Gillis and Angus.
“Are you sure?” she asked Gillis.
He nodded.
Angus was staring. “What?”
“He wants your father here as well.”
Angus looked at his mother, then Gillis. Gillis nodded again, affirming what Margaret had just said. Perhaps it was the way Gillis had held her hand or the easy way she understood Gillis’s needs, but Angus’s face darkened.
“What is going on here?” Lady Linkirk asked.
“My lady,” Margaret said. “I already told you Gillis has something to say.”
“But,” Angus stepped closer to her, “how do you know that?”
Gillis waved his hand toward his brother. She didn’t need contact to know what he meant. That she should just tell him. But she’d never told anyone, save Sister Constance. Gillis was the first to figure it out. He’d quickly picked up on her ability to read thoughts on the day she had asked him about James. Mayhap his own difficulty made him more attuned to those of others.
Regardless of his reasons, Gillis knew he was dying. That thought hovered under the words he’d consciously formed. He wanted to speak his mind before it was too late. And they were wasting time.
“I can see his thoughts in my mind,” she said to get it over with quickly. She dared not look at his mother, but Angus’s head began to slowly nod.
“When you touch another person. Skin to skin.” It seemed Angus had suddenly put everything together. “And this is why you wear gloves and cover yourself and do not let anybody near.”
Margaret nodded.
“What are you talking about?” his mother asked. She’d not followed Angus’s quick reasoning.
Angus ignored her. “Does it hurt?” He really was fast to put things together.
She shook her head. If Gillis knew her pain, he might not be willing to say what he had to say. She would not take this moment away from him.
Angus looked doubtful.
“Send for your father,” Margaret said.
Angus strode to the door and opened it, calling to a servant to summon his father. He hurried back to the bedside. He seemed almost eager now for whatever was to come.
“Can you please explain to me what is going on here?” His mother set aside her basin of water. “Gillis is very ill. I cannot allow you to tire him out.”
Gillis shook his head and looked imploringly at his mother, then at Angus.
“Just watch, Mother. You will see soon enough.” Angus gave Margaret a nod to go ahead.
She reached again for Gillis’s hand, taking a deep breath, firming against the pain. Her fingers closed around Gillis’s hand, and a flood of gratitude filled her mind.
“He is grateful that I am willing to help.” Margaret wasn’t sure what was meant only for her and what was meant to be spoken aloud, so she just spoke everything. “He is also grateful to his mother for treating him as an equal. For loving him like a whole person.” This was the best Margaret could summarize, for countless gentle moments between Gillis and his mother flitted through his mind.
Tears rolled down his mother’s cheeks. “Oh, my poor boy,” she whispered, going to her knees on the other side of the bed, laying a kiss on her son’s brow. She gripped his other hand in both of hers.
“Slow down,” Margaret told Gillis, for the mind, even a sick one, jumped from thought to thought faster than what could be spoken.
Gillis apologized silently.
“Angus,” Margaret continued, trying to give words to Gillis’s thoughts. “No man could ever wish for a better brother. You have been the best part of my—of Gillis’s life.”
Angus turned his eyes from Margaret to his brother.
“I’m seeing now a flood of moments,” Margaret said. “I cannot speak them all, for they fill his mind like heather covering the hills. They are memories of you and he, and he is very happy. So grateful for such a brother. His love for you is overwhelming.”
Angus sank onto the bedside.
Images of Angus and Margaret filled Gillis’s mind. The two of them in a chapel being married. These were thoughts he’d made up. Wishes for his brother. Angus smiling grandly as he leaned in to kiss Margaret. Margaret at home with a dark-haired babe in her arms. She pulled her hand away.
Gillis lay with his eyes closed and weak grin on his face.
“What is it?” Angus asked.
“He wants you to be happy,” Margaret said. That was close enough. But Gillis shook his head. Margaret leaned close to Gillis’s ear and whispered, “I cannot say that.”
He smiled weakly again. His breathing rattled his body.
Margaret’s head wanted to burst. She clenched her jaw to draw the pain away.
“I’m sorry,” Angus said. “I should have been with you. I should have been there to keep you safe.”
Gillis reached for Margaret, but he was so weak his fingers barely moved.
Margaret again took his hand in hers. “He says do not blame yourself. You always blame yourself, but I—Gillis—made my own choice.” Angus opened his mouth to speak, but Margaret cut him off. Gillis was insistent. “And do not blame your father.”
“Blame me for what?” Lord Linkirk stood in the open doorway. His glance brushed over Gillis and Margaret, paused for a moment on Angus, but then landed firmly on his wife. As if she were the only one present worth his consideration. Margaret pulled her hand away.
Lady Linkirk looked up at her husband. “This is extraordinary, Alan. Margaret here is some sort of soothsayer. By the merest touch, she can divine Gillis’s thoughts.”
Here it comes. The accusations. The repulsion. This is why she’d kept her curse a secret.
Gillis opened his eyes. At the approach of his father, he went even paler, though it seemed impossible. He wiggled his fingers again, his summons for Margaret to take his hand and speak for him.
Margaret looked at Angus. She didn’t know what Gillis would say, but she had an idea. Angus seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
Angus shook his head. But it should be Gillis’s choice now. This might be the last gift he could give his brother. To tell his father the truth. Margaret was uncertain how much more she could endure. Already, she barely had the strength to sit. She placed her hand in Gillis’s.
“What is this?” Linkirk asked. “Why does my son take the hand of a commoner?”
“She is not common,” Angus said at the same time an identical thought surged into Gillis’s mind.
Margaret looked away from Linkirk. And from Angus. She wished she could be anywhere but here. Especially when that awful scene played out in Gillis’s head, of his brother James. The accidental sword wound. Angus taking the blame and living with his father’s loathing ever since. All to protect his brother. Tell him! Gillis shouted the words at her.
“Gillis wishes you to know something about James,” Margaret said.
“No.” Angus pulled her hand off Gillis’s. Careful, she noticed, to only touch her wrist where her skin was covered by her sleeve.
“What about James?” Linkirk asked.
“No,” Angus repeated.
“He is very insistent.” Margaret was caught between the two brothers. If the truth came out, perhaps Linkirk would soften toward Angus.
“I forbid you to say it,” Angus muttered.
He should have known better. “You forbid me?”
“Please,” he added.
Margaret pulled her arm out of Angus’s grasp and once again wrapped her fingers around Gillis’s. “I am forbidden to speak,” she said to Gillis with her eyebrow cocked.
A rush of urgency filled her mind. Gillis did not want to leave this world with a lie. “It is his dying wish,” she whispered. “I cannot deny.”
His mother let out another sob.
Angus shook his head, but Margaret turned to his father.
“It was me—Gillis—who caused the injury that killed James. Not Angus. It was an accident. Gillis didn’t know James had come up behind him. But Angus took the blame for me—for Gillis.”
Linkirk stood frozen. His eyes went from son to son. Then to his wife, who seemed equally shocked. At last, he glared at Angus. “Is this true?”
Angus lowered his gaze but did not answer.
His father slapped him across the face. Linkirk gritted his teeth and slowly repeated his question. “Is this true?”
Angus’s head nodded ever so slightly.
Gillis squeezed her hand weakly as he tried to convey to her the fear he’d felt about his father’s wrath. But Margaret could never say such things to Linkirk’s face. Not even if it came from Gillis.
She pulled her hand away again; the throbbing in her forehead sent streaks of white through her vision. Her stomach wrenched from the pain. She lowered her head to hide it from Gillis.
“You have been lying to me all these years?” Linkirk’s face had gone hard as stone. Margaret had never seen such disgust from one man to another. From father to son. “You are more fool than I thought. To cover the sins of a simpleton.”
“He is not a simpleton,” Margaret said, then realized her mistake. She staggered to her feet and backed away as Linkirk lunged at her.
Angus grabbed at his father, holding him back.
Margaret hated that man.
“This,” Angus cried. “This is why I lied. This!” Angus shoved his father away as if all the years of dammed-up anger suddenly spilled over. “I had to lie. You would have killed him. You would have killed your own son because of an accident. A terrible one, to be sure, but an accident nonetheless.” Angus’s words pierced like daggers.
He pushed Linkirk again. He was strong, much stronger than his father, and Linkirk stumbled back. “What kind of man treats his son as you have treated Gillis? You are not a father. Not to me and not to Gillis. You are not my father.”
“Stop,” Lady Linkirk sobbed, trying to force the men apart. “Stop this. Can’t you see what you are doing to Gillis?”
Gillis struggled for breath. His eyes were so wide that the whites showed all around. His chest rose and fell, but the rattling seemed to prevent the air from coming through.
Margaret reached for his hand to comfort him, forgetting that it was through her touch that she had started it all.
Gillis gripped her fingers tighter than she thought he had strength for. Once again, the thoughts of his mind poured into hers.
“Stop,” Margaret said, repeating the shouting from Gillis’s mind. “Gillis wants you to stop.”
Lady Linkirk stood between Angus and his father, her arms stretched out like a wall. It seemed she was the only one who could maintain some sort of influence over Lord Linkirk.
“This is not why Gillis confessed,” Margaret said. “He wants an end to your anger,” she told Linkirk. “Forgiveness for Angus. He wants peace between you two.”
Angus grunted. “There will never be peace.” He stepped around his mother and stalked out of the room.
Lady Linkirk lowered her arms. She spun around and glared at her husband. She did not say a word, but for an instant, Margaret glimpsed something in Linkirk’s eyes—something that looked very much like regret. Then Lady Linkirk also left, slamming the door behind her.
Margaret made a dash for the door. She’d rather be anywhere than in a closed room with Linkirk. But he grabbed her by the arm and spun her around.
Her hand went straight for the misericorde hanging at her waist.
He raised his hand and paused. He did not strike. Margaret tried to twist out of his grasp, but his hold would not loosen. He dragged her back toward Gillis’s bed.
Gillis still struggled to breathe. It seemed the closer his father came, the more difficult it was for Gillis to get air.
“Tell him his injury is his own filthy fault. ’Tis but one more sign of his utter uselessness.”
Margaret stared at the man. His son lay dying, and this was what he wanted to say?
Linkirk jutted his chin in Gillis’s direction, prodding her to relay his message. But Gillis could hear just fine. This man truly cared nothing about his own son.
Margaret jerked her arm again, this time managing to pull it out of Linkirk’s grip. Odious man. If he wanted to say something to his son, fine. But Margaret would do it her way.
She knelt on the floor beside him. He was handsome, like his brother. And good, also like his brother.
She smiled, smoothing the hair from his brow. “Your father says he’s proud of the man you have become.”
Linkirk whacked her on the back of her head.
Margaret went on. “He says even though you cannot speak, your good cheer and gentleness has brought happiness to many. Everyone who knows you is blessed by your goodness.”
She felt Linkirk move again to punish her, but the scuffling of boots made her glance up. Angus had returned and pulled his father away.
“Your father says,” Margaret continued, turning back to Gillis, “that because you cannot speak, your heart is softened to the pains of others. Even the sorrows they keep hidden. Your compassion brings them peace.”
Angus sat on the bed beside Margaret. “My father wishes you to know,” Angus said, and Gillis’s eyes moved to him, “that true strength in a man is not found in his ability to put himself above others. It is found in a brave and dauntless spirit, even when life deals him an unfair hand. And you are the bravest man I have ever known.”
Gillis closed his eyes.
Margaret let her fingers trail on his forehead. “Gillis says he was only brave because he had you by his side.”
Lady Linkirk also returned. She took her seat across from Angus and dipped the cloth in the water basin. “My beautiful boy.” She dabbed the dampened linen across Gillis’s brow. His breathing came slower and slower.
Margaret rose. She took her gloves and stumbled out of the room. Her part in this was over. Hopefully, it had brought Gillis some peace of mind to be heard. And perhaps it would ease the loss Angus and his mother felt. Though it seemed little peace would come to the Robson family whilst Lord Linkirk ruled the house.
As soon as she left the room, she sank to the floor, cradling her head. It had never hurt this much before.
How strange, the workings of God. Her family was cruelly murdered while men like Linkirk and the warden lived long and happy lives. Where was the justice in that? But could such men truly be happy? She’d not seen any signs of joy coming from Linkirk. Not ever. Evil begot evil. In his heart of hearts, he must be burdened by it.
The loss of another good man while the bad lived on was only one more reminder that God could not be trusted. This was why she took justice upon herself. Since the world was tipped so far to the side of evil, she would do her small part to eliminate at least one of the vilest.
She pulled her gloves on. A small wooden bench was pushed up against the stone wall of the corridor. She sat. Her skull was splitting with the effort of speaking for Gillis. She lowered her head, pressing hard on her temples with both palms of her hands.
She closed her eyes to try to clear all images from her mind. She’d never spent that long allowing the visions of another to flow so freely into her. Now even her bones were spent.
As the aching slowly faded, a new pain surfaced. Gillis was leaving them. Dear, kind Gillis gone forever. His easy smile. His silent laugh. She would never see them again.
“Tell my family I will see them soon,” she asked of him, hoping his spirit could hear her from the other side of the door. “Tell them they will have justice soon.”
She didn’t need to touch him to know what his response would be. He was of the same mind as Angus. He would have told her to forget about revenge and live her life freely.
“I wish I could, Gillis.” She rubbed her eyes. “I wish I could.”
Servants silently rushed past, all of them ignoring her as she sat waiting. All of them doing their best to prepare for what was going on in the chamber at the end of the hall. It wouldn’t be long now. She had already felt his mind leaving the things of this world behind. Drifting away to a place she could not see, even with the power of her curse.
At last, the door to Gillis’s room opened again, and Angus emerged, his face bleary and worn. The wails of his mother followed him out.