“Can I tell you a secret?” Maggie asked Ainsland one late October morning. “I’ll have another child next summer.”
Ainsland lifted her head from her washing and asked tentatively, “Is that what you want? Or is it what Luke wants?”
“Both,” she grinned. “It’ll be different this time. Charlie will be older, and…and I feel an ache in my heart whenever I think of the twins. I’m ready for more. I want more. Losing the babies made me realize how uncertain life is.” With a smile, she reached out and touched the swell of Ainsland’s belly. “Seeing you and Collum so excited these last six months has made me remember that excitement in my own past. I want it again.”
“You mean you wanted to feel Luke’s body against yours again,” Ainsland said and then laughed.
“That as well,” she confided. “Here, let me help you carry the wash up to the house. Will Collum be long? I wanted to tell him and see if he can feel the baby, yet.”
“He’s gone to Intes to treat a boy with a badly damaged shoulder. He may be back by supper.”
“I can’t wait that long,” Maggie admitted, the disappointment evident in her voice. “I’ll have to come back tomorrow.” Turning, she called, “Charlie! We’re going up to the house! Come with MaMa!”
The toddler wandered towards them, a large, yellow flower clutched in his hands. The two women walked slowly to accommodate the child’s halting progress.
“Are you enjoying your new house?” inquired Maggie, as they walked the short distance from the stream to the newly completed healer’s cottage.
“Very much, although I was perfectly happy with the old one. It was Collum who said we have to have a separate house. He said a healer’s surgery is no place for a healer’s children to live. The children might be scared by some of the things a healer must do to save lives. They could become ill more easily, too.”
“Children? So, you’re already thinking of more?” teased Maggie.
“Maybe,” Ainsland replied with a smile. “It is a good-sized cottage.”
The new house was much bigger than the old, including a main room, a kitchen, and three large bedrooms. It had been built between the stream and the old cottage.
“How is Princess coming along?” Maggie asked, as she reached down to lift her dawdling toddler into her arms. “Does she like her new home?”
“She loves it. I told Jane that it was really an extravagance, but she insisted that Collum and I take the horse. She said she and Finneus had no place for another one. They told us it will benefit those in need since Collum will be able to get to the sick or injured more quickly. They also insisted on paying for the horse’s upkeep. Finneus declared that it was a public service and said not to argue about it. We couldn’t afford to have the horse any other way, so we didn’t argue.”
“Princess does seem to like the little yard behind the house and the small stable that Elspeth’s older son and his children made for her,” Maggie pointed out. “It does help Collum to get to those who need healing more quickly, of course. I’m sure his feet are much improved as well.”
“He says so.”
Maggie paused then announced, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Certainly. What is it?”
“Will you teach my children to read and write and do sums? I know that some in the village can do those things, but Luke and I never had any learning like that. I see the books in your house and want my sons and daughters to be able to read them or write things so they can have a better life.”
“Of course, I will teach them, but what of you?”
“Me? I’m too old to learn. Don’t you have to be young when you’re taught? The only thing we learned as children was how to speak and the ways to do practical things.”
“Maggie, one of the people I taught at my other house was a man who was thirty-nine years old. You’re only twenty. You can learn at any age.”
“I’d like that. Luke might like to learn, too.”
As Maggie helped Ainsland hang the clothes on a line to dry, they heard the sound of approaching hooves on the path that led to the house and the surgery.
“Look!” Maggie cried. “Collum’s back early, isn’t he?”
Ainsland followed her gaze and saw her husband riding up the path towards them. Then, she noticed the horse.
“That’s not Princess,” she muttered. “I do hope she hasn’t gone lame.”
As the figure got closer, Ainsland realized with mild shock that, although he resembled her husband almost exactly, the man on the black stallion was not Collum. His face was the same, but his hair was slightly shorter, his shoulders more expansive, and his clothing much finer.
“Is this where I can find Collum the Healer?” the stranger asked in Collum’s voice.
“Who wishes to know?” Ainsland responded politely.
“I’m Edward, Collum’s brother.”
“And I’m Ainsland, Collum’s wife. Collum won’t return for several hours. If you can, please come in and wait for him. I’ve some fresh bread, dried meat, and cheese and some honey wine.”
The man looked taken aback by Ainsland’s words but recovered himself quickly, agreeing to wait for his brother’s return.
“I should go,” Maggie said reluctantly, her curiosity piqued. “Luke will be wondering where his own supper is if I don’t get it started. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Maggie. Should I tell Collum your news?”
“Yes, please.” Turning to Collum’s brother, she said formally, “Good day to you, Sir.”
“And to you,” he replied.
Ainsland kissed Charlie. Then Maggie nodded to the stranger and began her long walk back to the village.
“So, this is my brother’s home,” Edward said thoughtfully, as he followed Ainsland through the threshold of the new house. “Newly built, I see.”
“We lived in the surgery, but we’ll have a child before the spring so here we are. Our many friends in the village helped us build it.” She smiled and added, “Although I daresay they might have had other motives in mind. It wouldn’t do for the only healer in these parts to move in search of a better place.”
The man nodded approvingly with those same wise eyes of Collum’s. He studied Ainsland as she gathered the food and drink then asked, “Have you been married long?”
“Six months.”
Edward beamed at her and said, “The child was a wedding present?”
Blushing, Ainsland ducked her head and busied herself by eating a piece of dried beef.
“Is my brother happy?” he inquired suddenly.
Lowering her cup, Ainsland asked, “You begrudge him his happiness?”
“No. I’ve prayed for it these last few years. It’s been my mother’s greatest wish that her sons live happily in their days on the planet Etherea.”
“Do you always speak so formally?”
“Not to ordinary country women, no,” he said with a chuckle. “But you’re no ordinary country woman, are you? My brother would never have married you if you weren’t something quite out of the ordinary. Also, despite your circumstances here, you’ve obviously come from a family of either means or education or both.”
“I appreciate your courtesy in conversation, but I’m your brother’s wife. I don’t want to be stiff and formal with you, no matter what my past or yours may be.”
He nodded and said, “Good. And to answer the question you’re too polite to ask, I’m your husband’s full brother but not a twin. All of my father’s sons take after him in appearance, except for the eyes. We have our mother’s eyes.”
“Are you the eldest?”
“Yes, and Collum is the youngest. The most independent as well,” he added with a wry smile.
“Why have you come?”
“I was on my way to Lysen to purchase some cattle from a cousin for my lands. My parents and other brothers are actually already visiting at that cousin’s house, since he and his wife recently celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of their marriage. It was agreed upon that we would all meet there to celebrate with the family.
I knew that Collum lived in this area, and I wanted to visit him. It’s been five years since any of us have laid eyes on my brother, although we hear news from travelers.”
Ainsland had many questions about her husband’s family and why none of them had visited him during the previous five years, but the only question she could think to ask at that moment was, “You’re a landowner, then?”
“I was a soldier until my hand was injured in the fire that killed Collum’s first wife.” He held up his right hand and turned it over so that Ainsland could see the scarred skin mottled pink and red on the palm. “It healed, but I can no longer hold a sword. One of my father’s landowners died without an heir at about the same time, and he asked me if I’d consider taking over the running of that estate. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I was extremely well-suited to that life. Two years ago, I took a wife, and our first son was born last month.”
The fire that killed Collum’s first wife, Ainsland repeated silently. She was about to ask her brother-in-law to explain when they heard the sound of horse’s hooves coming up the path.
“Would you like to go out to meet him?” Ainsland asked uncertainly. Her mind was still fixed on his words, and she was suddenly very anxious about her brother-in-law’s appearance at the house. How would his presence affect her husband?
“I think I’ll wait here for him,” Edward told her.
“Then I’ll wait with you.”
Before he approached the house, Collum admired the black stallion that was grazing in the yard near the stable. Princess seemed to easily accept this visitor. Collum wondered to whom it belonged since there was no one in the area with such a fine animal, not even Finneus.
When he opened the door to his house, Collum saw that Edward was seated at the table with Ainsland. The man rose and said softly, “My little brother.”
For a long moment, Collum didn’t move. Then, the corners of his mouth twitched, and he said, “Edward.”
The men came together in a series of fraternal hugs, clapping each other on the back and grinning from ear to ear. Ainsland heaved a silent sigh of relief, although she continued to be uneasy.
“Let me look at you!” Edward exclaimed, holding Collum slightly away from him. “You’re looking well.”
“As are you. How are Landon and Grayson? And what of John?”
“All well. Mother and Father, too.”
Collum stepped forward and briefly embraced his brother once more before breaking away and moving towards Ainsland. He kissed her and then deposited his bag on a stool by the hearth. He sank into a chair and rubbed tiredly at his face.
“I’ll get you something to eat and some honey wine,” Ainsland told him.
“I believe I’d be happy with only the wine,” he sighed. “Sit, Edward. I’m glad to see you, but, as Ainsland knows, I sometimes return home from my efforts tired and weary.”
“Was the boy’s shoulder so bad then?” Ainsland asked, as she lowered the cup of wine in front of him and placed some beef, cheese, and bread on a plate. “Oh, I forgot about the blackberries! Would you like some, Edward?”
“I would. Thank you.”
Collum gulped his wine and then leaned back in his chair. Once the berries had been added to their plates, he answered, “Yes, the shoulder was bad. He’d been trampled by an ox. He’ll never be able to lift his arm much in any direction, even after it heals. I’ll have to go back tomorrow and then every few days until I know there’s no poisoning in his blood.”
“How old?” Edward asked, real concern in his voice.
“Sixteen.” Nibbling on a piece of cheese, he said, “The only son. He’s run the farm since his father died last year. He and his mother won’t last long there now.”
“Where is this farm?”
“Just past our village.”
“Perhaps I can find a place for them on my lands.”
Collum laid down the bread in his hands and asked, “You have your own lands?”
“And a wife and a new son. I know. Don’t mock me, Brother. The warrior is now the lord of the manor and is perfectly happy to oversee those who live and work on the property. I may own and organize my lands, but I try to treat those who share them with me fairly and with respect. It seems to be a worthwhile approach.”
“And what of the others?”
“Landon is a merchant, and Grayson works in my stables.”
“He always was good with the horses,” Collum put in. “And John?”
“John is a priest.”
“That’s fitting. How is Mother?”
“Mother is…well…Mother. You should see her with my boy. My wife adores her. Mother hasn’t changed one bit, unless you say she’s become more lovely.”
“And Father?”
“Father seems to grow larger in heart by the year. He’s good with my son, just as he was good with us. His duties keep him constantly occupied, but he makes time for us, as usual.” Edward chewed several blackberries, rinsed them down with some wine, then added, “He longs to see you, Collum. We all do. Everyone will be thrilled to hear of your life, your wife, and this child you’ll have. Would you not come for a visit soon?”
Collum looked across the table at Ainsland. His family would love her as much as he did. They would cherish the baby as they already cherished his brother’s son. He turned back to Edward and said, “I’m needed here, Edward. There’s no other reputable healer for at least twenty miles.”
“So, you’ll never leave this place until your death?” Edward asked with a hint of anger in his tone. “Your child shall never know his grandparents or his uncles and their wives and children? The mother of your baby will never meet the mother of her husband?”
Collum stood abruptly and left the house. Edward sat with Ainsland in uncomfortable silence for a moment then slammed his fist onto the table, causing Ainsland to jump involuntarily.
“He’s so stubborn!” he cried. “He would cut off his nose to spite his face!”
Ainsland rested a soft hand in Edward’s scarred palm. He was impressed that she was bold enough to perform this act of touch without flinching. His wife, who had known him before the incident, was the only other person besides his parents who could bear to touch him there without recoiling.
“Edward, don’t be angry,” she said quietly. “I’ve only had him for a few months. I can’t bring him back from his isolation in such a short time. I may never be able to accomplish it. There are some things which can never be undone.”
“He used to be such an outgoing boy,” Edward admitted sadly. “He was a boisterous lad, although completely serious when it came to his vocation. When Cierran died, he continued to move and breathe and to treat the sick and infirm, but his soul was empty. He walked in the world of men, but he wasn’t one of them. It nearly killed those of us who loved him.”
“Why was it so? Not that the death of a husband or wife isn’t devastating, but there must be more to it than that.”
He nodded and said, “He hasn’t told you. Not yet, as he would say.” With a great sigh, he announced, “I’ll tell you, although it will make him angry should he find out. You’re the man’s wife, the mother of his child.” He lightly squeezed her fingers then said, “Cierran was Jordan’s daughter.”
“Jordan, Collum’s master?”
“Yes. She and Collum loved one another almost from the time my brother was apprenticed to her father. Collum was well on his way to becoming a master healer by the time he was fourteen. They married at fifteen.”
“Did they have children?”
“Not at first. Jordan had confided that Cierran was barren. Collum didn’t care. However, as the months passed, he suspected that Cierran was not incapable of bearing a child. He told Jordan of his suspicions, but Jordan dismissed them as hopeful musings. Several years after they were married, Cierran conceived. Collum and Cierran were thrilled by the knowledge, but Jordan was ashamed at having been proved wrong by his brightest student and about his own daughter. He and Collum had words on the subject not long before the child was due to be born. That’s when it happened.”
“When what happened?”
“A fire started in the house while the two men were off in the master healer’s surgery having a heated argument. A local beggar ran to my house to tell me that my brother’s home was burning. He said he couldn’t get in the door, but he could hear my brother’s wife screaming from inside. I rushed to the inferno and found the doorway blocked by a thick wall of fire. I thought I might climb through the window to reach her, but, just as I did, the roof began to cave in. I touched her sleeve, and then fire began to rain down on me. The beggar pulled me back through the window as the beams collapsed. People who’d seen the smoke and flames smothered me and stopped the embers from igniting any more of my clothing, but my hand had been badly burned.
“Collum arrived in time to hear Cierran’s dying screams. Neighbors stopped him from rushing into the flames to save her. They knew there was no saving her then. Once the roof collapsed, the fire was soon extinguished. However, my sister-in-law had already died of the smoke and burns. It was terrible.”
Edward released Ainsland’s hand and drank deeply from his cup. He then poured more wine for himself from the jug.
“Collum and Jordan blamed themselves for Cierran’s death. Collum reasoned that he should’ve been at home, that if he had it would’ve saved his wife and child. He felt it would have spared me the injury that cost me my vocation since I could no longer lead my men without being able to use the necessary weapons. Jordan blamed himself for the argument that had drawn Collum away. Neither man could face himself or each other. Their friendship and their work together were destroyed. Two months after the fire, Collum disappeared, leaving only a note to say that he could no longer go on living so close to the ruins of the house and the bodies of Cierran and his child. None of us ever saw him again.”
“But surely you knew where he was. Why didn’t you come? What made you stop here today?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps I was afraid that I would no longer recognize my brother if I came to him.”
“Will you come back?”
“Maybe he’d be happier not seeing any of us, not being reminded of the tragedy of before.”
“But what of everything else that was before?”
Edward didn’t answer and got to his feet.
“I must go. He’s tired, and I keep him from his house and his bed. I’m glad that he’s well, and I hope you and your children continue to prosper.”
He lifted her hand and kissed it then turned to leave.
“Edward?”
“Yes?”
“Where are your lands?”
“Past Varnan. It’s only a few days from here by horseback. Call on me anytime.”
“I will, even if Collum doesn’t. I’ll bring our child when I can.”
Edward looked gratefully at her and nodded. Then, he was gone.
Shortly after his brother left, Collum returned to the house. Ainsland had already cleared the plates and cups and was busying herself by washing the tabletop. Without a word to her, Collum lowered himself into a large cushioned chair. He watched her wring out the rag then walk across to where he sat to hang it on a hook. As she crossed in front of him, he reached out and drew her down into his lap. She leaned against his chest, shut her eyes, and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Within minutes, she felt his hand on her belly and his lips on her hair.
“Tell me about your mother,” she said softly without opening her eyes. “What is her name? What’s she like?”
“Her name is Vivien, and she’s as gentle as the breezes. Her love feels like the rays of the sun.”
“And your father?”
“My father is Richard. He’s a massive man with a chest so broad that it seems to go on forever. His hands are large, and so is his heart. His love for his family is boundless, but his temper with those who’re vile is a fearsome thing.”
“How did they meet?” Lifting her head, Ainsland opened her eyes and touched his cheek with her fingertips Before saying, “Why did they not marry?”
“They couldn’t. My father was married at a young age to a girl he had never met before. It happens in the nobility, as you know. He didn’t love her, nor she him, but they were good children and followed the dictates of their families and the duties of their class. Over time, they grew to love one another as brother and sister, but there was no passion in their union. My father’s wife was often with child, but only one of their children survived to adulthood.”
“But that still doesn’t explain –” Ainsland began.
“I’m getting to that,” Collum interrupted. “My mother was brought into the household when both of my parents were fourteen. She was an expert weaver, an orphan with a talent that kept her from the streets. There was a great passion between my parents, and my brother, Edward, was born less than a year after they met. Two years later, Landon arrived. Three years after that, Grayson was born. My sister, Inya, who died in childhood, came a year later, then came John. Edward was ten when I was born. And then there were no more.”
“And your parents are still in love?”
“Very much so. My mother still lives in his house, the house in which we were raised.”
“And his wife doesn’t resent this?”
“I think she was glad that he found a great love that he couldn’t find with her. In later years, she’s found a great love of her own with a man in high office.”
“And what of your half-brother who was born to your father and his wife?”
“Timothy is a good man who’s married to a duchess but loves the milkmaid. I pity him, for he’s trapped by the same conventions that trapped my father. He and his wife have four sons and two daughters and now bed their lovers in what they pretend are secret encounters. In truth, neither of them has fooled the other. The milkmaid has given birth to three sons who greatly resemble my brother, and the two daughters of the duchess bear a striking resemblance to a foreign lord who often comes to call.”
Ainsland sighed and kissed Collum’s neck. He slid his hand up to one breast and concentrated on the texture of her smooth lips against his jaw.
“Are you disappointed?” he murmured.
“Why should I be? You and your brothers were born out of love and were blessed with good parents. I’m sorry your mother and father couldn’t have married one another though. I’m glad that you and I are only bound by the conventions we choose.”
He kissed her passionately for several minutes and then let her recline in his arms once more. He felt the child under his palm and wondered idly – and not for the first time – if he would have to induce an early birth in order for Ainsland to be able to safely deliver their baby. He knew that it was pointless to speculate. He would have to check the baby’s size as her time grew nearer and take action if need be.
“Maggie’s going to have another baby,” Ainsland told him. “She said it would come next summer.”
Collum bit his tongue and undid the front of her dress, exposing her breasts. He didn’t want to talk of Maggie or the fact that he had told her and Luke not to conceive another child for at least a year after the birth of the twins. It had been the most difficult delivery he’d ever attended where the mother had survived. He’d wanted Maggie to give her body time to heal completely in order to prepare for another baby. Still shaken from the trauma of the birth and the death of their twins, Maggie and Luke had agreed wholeheartedly. Collum wondered what had changed their minds.
“Collum,” Ainsland breathed, slipping her hand behind his head. “Stop worrying about Maggie for a while and be with me.”
He lifted her and locked his lips around one nipple. He bit gently at the large pink bud and rolled his tongue over the tip until she groaned with pleasure. Soon, she lay naked in his lap, her nipples sore from Collum’s attentions, and her passage throbbing and wet in response to his caresses.
Ainsland abruptly squirmed off his lap and knelt before him. She undid his pants and tugged at them until they lay on the floor. Then she removed his shirt and stared at him in the light of the fire and the lamps. Climbing awkwardly onto his lap, she sat facing him, the feel of his hardness teasing her as she brushed against him.
“We won’t be able to do it like this much longer,” she observed. “Already my belly is getting in the way, and I have to lean back and let you support me.”
“This position will be out of the question soon,” he agreed. “It will be worth the wait though.”
Collum gazed at his wife, never moving as she slowly lowered herself down onto his shaft. It was only when he found himself completely embedded in the hot passage that he gave in to his ardor. He savored the now-familiar grip of her flesh around his and relished the sound of his name as she called it out to him. The force of his orgasm almost brought him to his feet, and he held onto Ainsland as though he were afraid she might fall.
The next morning as Collum rode off to see the boy with the injured shoulder, Ainsland walked to Elspeth’s house. She sat with the old grandmother as she did at least twice a week, and they talked, sewed, and played with the smallest of the grandchildren.
“What’s troubling you?” Elspeth asked. “You’ve been thinking of something serious all morning.”
“Collum’s brother came to see us yesterday.”
“It was an upsetting visit?”
“Yes. Not so much at first, but it went that way in the end. There was no quarrel between them, not really. It’s only that Collum won’t go home to see his family because of something horrible that happened a long time ago.”
“They remind him of this,” Elspeth said matter-of-factly.
“Yes. But his brother was so nice, and I’d like to meet the lot of them. Collum spoke of his parents and brothers to me last night, and they all sound so wonderful. I told his brother I’d come to see them with the baby when I was able.”
“Did you tell Collum this?”
“No.”
“That may cause a divide between you and your husband.”
“I want to see them. I want my child to know them. It’s not his decision to make.”
“Maybe not, but if you go without his blessing, he’ll resent it. You can’t simply go off for several days and not tell him where you and the child are going. When the time comes, talk to him of your wishes. Perhaps he’ll change his mind about seeing his family and go with you. Or perhaps he’ll have them here to see you and the babe.”
Ainsland knew that Elspeth was right, but she wasn’t so certain that Collum would change his mind. She fretted over this throughout the walk to Jane and Finneus’s home. As she passed the ramshackle house with the snarling dog, she barely glanced up. She’d grown used to the beast that never approached her but stood constantly on guard.
She’d begun to talk to the dog each time, greeting him and admonishing him for being so unkind to her. That morning, Ainsland simply said, “Not today, Beastie.”
Oscar the tailor was at Jane’s house when Ainsland arrived.
“He’s measuring my Becky to make her a new dress,” Jane declared. “There’s a boy she admires, and I promised her that she would have a gown of any color she’d like.”
“Who is the boy?”
“Mael.”
“Oscar’s son?”
Jane smiled and said, “Yes, although Oscar doesn’t know that, yet. Mael knows, though. I think he’ll eventually ask for Becky’s hand in marriage. I believe Oscar will be pleased. He and Mael’s mother always liked Becky. She’s a good girl, and she’d be a help with the tailoring.” Her expression changed, and she said sadly, “I’ll hate to see her go, though. She’s been a good daughter to me for the short time I’ve had her.”
“She’s not dying,” Ainsland said helpfully.
“I know, but living under my roof and living in the village are two different things.”
Ainsland had intended to talk with her friend about Edward’s visit, but she found herself trying to console Jane for most of the afternoon about the inevitable departure of Becky.
“You’ll have me and my babies to keep you company,” Ainsland finally said.
“You won’t be able to walk so far with a group of little ones,” Jane pointed out dejectedly.
“Then you’ll have to come to us. You spend way too much time here by yourself anyway. You can go see Becky as well. It would get you out more often.”
“You’re so young,” Jane said, patting Ainsland’s hand. “You don’t know what it will be like.”
Her cheeks burning, Ainsland got to her feet and declared, “I’m no infant! I was married at fourteen and ran one of the largest households of the area. I know exactly how demanding it can be to have men, children, and animals underfoot as one tries to work. It makes life more interesting, and I’d never use it as an excuse to abandon my family or friends!”
She stormed out of the drawing room, forgetting her basket of mended clothing and startling a bewildered Becky and Oscar as they entered with bolts of fabric in their arms.
By the time Ainsland reached the little house that lay between Jane and Elspeth’s, she was in tears. She sat heavily under a tree and hugged herself for comfort. She was worried about Collum; she’d quarreled with Jane; and she couldn’t stop thinking of poor Cierran and her unborn child dying in the fire. Ainsland missed her mother and wanted her counsel. She longed to share her happiness with the woman and hear her secrets on husbands, childbearing, and childrearing. She wanted her father to hold his grandchild.
She felt the wet snout of the dog on her cheek, threw her arms around its neck, and sobbed. The beast stood still and steady and let her cry into its fur. Finally, when she had quieted, he sat and began to wag his tail.
“Oh, Beastie. Thank you.”
Ainsland reached into her pocket and withdrew a piece of bread that one of Elspeth’s granddaughters had deposited there. She fed it to the dog, who licked her fingers with gratitude. She giggled at the rough tongue and sat, petting him for several minutes before getting to her feet.
“I have to go, Beastie. Collum will be back shortly, and I should be there.”
The dog whined slightly, as she started on the path.
“I’ll be back soon!” she called to him, and his tail wagged once more.
She was amazed at how much simple comfort the dog had provided her. The encounter had lifted her spirits. She hurried home, anxious to see her husband and to ask how the injured boy was faring.
The cottage was in sight when Garreth of Blon stepped out onto the path in front of her.