A New Twist to an Old Threat - Pt 2

[strongjustice]

The wagon halted outside the Infirmary, and several men slid the stretcher from the wagon and carried the wounded Anwen inside the building. Years ago, the Templars had constructed a fine architectural building and the insides were furnished well beyond normal confines of infirmaries or hospices… Lord Aberdeen had allowed Lady Aislin much latitude in regards to the medical profession and the funds to enhance Skye’s facilities. This facility was a prime example of the Gaelic Renaissance in motion.

Healers and nurses guided the entourage to an examining room, with a feeble attempt to keep Jonathan out. His insistence to remain with his charge overcame the attempts to keep him out. Now, the shifting of the wounded woman from the stretcher to a heavy table made Jonathan cringe… he knew the Lady Anwen was in dire straits… he could only look to the healers and beg their indulgence to aid the wounded woman.

A doctor came to interview Jonathan on what happened to the woman. “Lord Doctor… my Lady was the victim of an excruciating torture for days upon end. I shall not go into detail as My Lord informed me not to… and bade ONLY the Lady Aislin tend m’Lady…”

Anwen was lost to the world as all knew it and she now resided in the realm where darkness and death ruled. Her body quaked from the fever raging within her and her wounds though they had been tended were festering. Her right arm broken and hung limpy from her shoulder as it was dislocated, face covered in a multitude of dark ugly bruises, and the wound that ran down her left cheek red and raw ... in short she was a bloody mess.

Her mind was clouded and dark... yet filled with images of a man... William; her heartbeat was slow and faint as was her breathing... did she still live?? When she was moved once more and pain lanced through her she knew the answer was YES!!! for if she were dead would she still feel the pain? The heat from her fever??

So many injuries to the 'small 'woman....few men would have the fortitude to draw another breath and yet here was this flame haired woman doing just that. She wanted to die and yet fought to live...why?? Through dry cracked lips and parched throat she croaked "Miela vorge inmran niemth (Take me home... they wait)" though no one would know what she was saying... but to some in the infirmary and healing wards might have heard the strange language before... only from one of their own.

She began to thrash a bit in agony and the grips of fever....a voice one that was somehow known to her began to speak though it sounded far away... "My Lady..... victim.." was all she heard before once more surrendering to the dark.

Aislin moved her eyes along the page before her, reading the small notes made by both herself and Roac when it came to the new medical book they were making in secret. Autopsy was not a known thing in these times, so Aislin had no name for the things herself and Roac were doing. All they knew, was that those who came to them were already dead and no one would miss them. A knock upon the door had Aislin's head rise so her ocean eyes could see who would be entering. "Aye, come in." Waiting, she saw one of the healers peek their head in, casting blue colored eyes towards her in return.

"My Lady Healer, you are being requested."

It was not uncommon for certain people to request her, for many of those she knew personally had injuries often. Pushing the chair back, she rose to her tall form of nearly six foot and moved slender legs under the blue and white gown to head for the door, following the healer down the halls towards one of the private rooms. Indeed, Adam had helped Aislin keep this place better then any other Scottish healing building they had both known and for good reason. Aislin made sure to keep everything in top shape. When she entered the room, ocean eyes were cast to those inside, then the woman who lay on the bed in a mangled heap.

No expression crossed the lady healer's face as she saw Anwen, the wife of William Maubrey, laying there and struggling for life. Aislin held no emotions towards the woman, or any of the sick for that matter when it came to such things. She seemed as empty of them as she moved towards the woman who struggled and thrashed about slightly as fever set in. "Who be bringing her here?" Aislin was at a cross road. Would the Duke and Duchess think she betrayed them if she laid her hands on this woman to help heal her? Would letting the woman die crush the spirit of a man who tried to kill her husband and many others so that he in return would lose the will to fight back? Could this be a moment that could change many views and perhaps switch goals about? The out come of this woman was not really Aislin's concern. It did not matter who she was really, it was simply how Aislin approached any victim that lay on her table and under her hands. "Bring the herbs to slow and cool the fever."

Jonathan approached the Lady Healer, dropping to one knee, his head bowed low. “M’lady… I am Jonathan of Verigsburg, knight to Lord William Maubrey… the Lady Anwen is in my charge. Please save her… I beseech thee…” His manner was ever so humble… now politics and military played no part in his duty. His Lady was near-death… and he had been charged with her well-being.

Still, she was much more political then most. When the one who brought her would come forward, Aislin would turn eyes to them. She would listen to anything that would be said, but not without her own opinion. "This be a great risk to bring the wife of a male who be hunted down. Ah be hearing that his wife, nay be innocent of her own blood shed. Ah be curious why such a risk be taken, when the Duke and Duchess themselves be but buildings away?"

The young knight dropped to both knees… his hands cupped in humility before his chest. “Aye, tis true M’Lady… but Milord asked for you personally… He said that only the Lady Aislin of Turas Lan could save her. “ he paused and glanced upwards, only to once again drop his head and eyes… “Aye, tis great risk that the Lady Anwen can be used as a pawn by the great Lord of the Isles… but tis a risk Lord William would gladly pay to save her. AND, I would be more than willing to trade my life for the Lady Anwen’s life…”

Jonathan was a young knight… maybe too young to have such great responsibility thrust upon him… but he was brave, diligent, and held true faith to the Lady Anwen, for his own unmentioned reasons. His pleas to High Lady Physician to save his Lady were honest and true. To look upon his face, one would doubt him ever having blood upon his hands; though the death of Kira stained his soul....

[strongjustice]

Ocean eyes remained on the male who spoke and introduced himself as Jonathan of Verigsburg, a knight to Maubrey. Aislin kept her face calm and placid. Titles showed a good deal and yet told people nothing about the person before them save they worked hard or knew the right people. The plead, was not uncommon. To see one of Maubrey's men lowering his head before her as if she were a Duchess herself made Aislin sigh gently. It was not a sigh of annoyance, but one of choice. His plead was not what swayed her, but the thought of what could be lost in politics should she not heal the woman.

Her personally? Any other woman may have been disturbed to hear that a man such as Maubrey knew her title, name, and who she was. Aislin did not think that far. “Ah do nay see the dying woman to be someone who could be used as a pawn, but aye. There should be just payment for this, morally of course. At ease Sir Jonathan.” Eyes passed to a healer that was waiting for anything to be asked for. “Lady Healer, ah be needing ye to give her the drink while ah be looking over her injuries. Make sure she be drinking most of the liquid, no matter her protest.” The healer gave a nod and moved towards the woman, waiting for the tea to be brought. Tea was normally made mixed with herbs to ease the taste.

Rolling the sleeves of her dress up, she made sure they were tightly in place at her elbow before she moved to the right side of the woman and began to check over her as carefully as she could. Aislin held steady hands, which was rare in these times. When she held a limb up, it was without shaking save from Anwen's own making. “She be looking a lot like someone ah be knowing. Since there be such honesty in the room, ye care to explain her appearance Sir Jonathan?” It was really not important to healing the woman at all, but Aislin could not resist asking as she reached for a dagger held up by an assistant and began to remove the clothing that was left on the woman. There was no room for modesty here, for Aislin could not be patient enough to have things in her way when time was an essence.

Gentle hands lifted her head she groaned as pain shot through her. Warm liquid passed her lips to slide down her throat... she coughed and most of it ran down her face, but again the liquid was coaxed into her. Cool cloths applied to her head, but she was still unresponsive other than to the excruciating pain she felt. Their words were jumbled and she did not understand but a few of them.

She tried to open her eyes, but it was no use... she had not the strength to do it. Her body trembled, and was glistening with sweat... suddenly cool air touched her skin as her clothing was being removed. "Bekra chegna? ( what is happening?) the faint sound might have been missed for her voice was but a mere whisper. The bruise on her throat was dark and the marks from the ropes that had been there red and welted. Why would no one answer her?? Where was she??[/color]

At the Lady Aislin’s words, Jonathan rose and stepped back two steps. His vision still cast down in respect of the woman physician. If Lord William respected the woman, then who was he to even doubt her standing as a Lady of Court. “M’Lady, t’was a matter of revenge, according to those present. It seems a misguided lover of Lord William’s past, reemerged to plague his wife. The woman and her cronies tortured miLady…” his soft, genteel eyes rose, seeking the Lady Aislin’s face, then once again lowered to the stone floor.

He did not watch the healer tend to Lady Anwen… but as the wounded female speak, his head glanced back over his shoulder… sighing he looked back to the floor before him, and spoke softly… “There Lady Aislin… she speaks a tongue I know not…” he scratches his head in confusion… “I never heard lady Anwen speak this tongue before… tis strange to me and the men that brought her Grace here…”

Finally, he looks up at the Lady Physician, to Anwen, then back to Aislin… “Save her M’Lady… please !!”

So close to death was Anwen... her strength fading with every passing minute. She no longer wanted to fight but give in to the darkness that consumed her for her... she did not hurt. Her body was free of the torments she had endured for those weeks at the hands of Kira and her man. Drifting further into the abyss to a time long ago... she was but a girl running in a field she was laughing and there was another with her another girl with hair like spun golden silk... they were close it seemed from the way they were laughing and running. She did not recognize much of the land but somehow she felt a part of it in her soul. "Urgra madse ruininga...( I am ready Cousin)" the words were barley a whisper as she let them fall from her lips. Anwen had no idea of what she was saying in reality though they were distant memories of a life she no longer could remember... or could she?

Deeper she drifted letting go of life wanting the incredible pain to stop and no longer willing to fight to keep death at bay... she was dying... and she was ready. Her once strong body was now frail and weak, most of the blood that had covered her had been cleaned and wounds tended... soon it would be time to set broken bones... it would be excruciating and those around her glad she was not awake. A nurse had coaxed tea with herbs to keep her asleep into her. It would help with some of the pain as well, it would still take a few to hold her down and the nurse looked at the man who had brought her in. "Sir ye may be needed to hold the Lady down as we set her arm and leg... it will be painful for her but ye must do as we say for her sake." the nurse said in a kind soft voice. She was not trying to scare him but rather prepare him for what was to come.

Fever still gripped her tightly and her small frame quaked from it... sweat drenched her body as she convulsed. Muscles twitching of their own accord no longer controlled by the woman… her head lay limply against the pillows on the bed. She was now covered by a sheet as blankets were placed on her as well to help warm her.

Jonathan sat next to her bed, frustrated that he could do nothing… frustrated that Lord William was in London by now… frustrated that his Lord did not seem to care what was going on or how Lady Anwen was… If he could he would take the red-headed woman from here… and shelter her to be safe from harm. It was Lord William’s past that got his Lady in this shape… regardless of WHO did it to her…

The man that was once loyal as a pup to Lord William now felt fealty to someone else. It was as if someone, or something, had cleaned his eyes of the blurred vision of how things are suppose to be. All his eyes could see now was a beautiful woman, broken and beaten beyond recognition.

He stood and leaned over her as she spoke that odd language again… he just looked to the healer with a confused look. “Do yu understand her? What language is this?”

As the healer spoke, Jonathan just nodded and leaned over her more… his strong hands, atop the sheets, at her arms and legs… “Ready when yu are? Just say when…”

Aislin's question about the woman's appearance went unanswered. There was more talk about the unknown language that she was speaking then about how she looked identical to Kaelyn. Aislin did not wish to say Kaelyn's name and expose her to them if she was in hiding. Still it made her pause.

Ocean eyes turned towards Jonathan as he begged her once more. “Ah said aye, ah would be saving her. Ye need nay worry yet.” The male finally moved to hold Anwen down while others spoke of how she was talking. Aislin had heard it before, though it was not a known language in her own mind. Looking over her shoulder, she glanced and connected eyes with Roac. He came over to her swiftly. “Go and send a runner to find Lady Kaelyn. Tell her to hide her face upon entering this room.” As Roac made his way out, Aislin prepared to help set the woman's limbs.

Badly mangled, they had need to be twisted and popped back into place, which was a gruesome and harsh punishment. Wounds had to be sown loose to let any toxins seep out from them. Ointments were placed on her wounds, some had need to be burned in order to kill any infections. Anwen may have been tortured before, but this was much the same in the sense of renewing the pain. As long as she stayed awake and screaming, Aislin was not as worried as she could be. Surgeons moved in to take care of the limbs that were mangled or broken beneath the skin, cutting her open and digging deep to fix it by charts they held. The process was bloody and gory.

Oblivious to all around her Anwen, the slight rise and fall of her chest mixed with her oddly whispered words were the only sign she yet lived. Hands pressed her down as others ripped painful limbs... a new torture began. As he healers turned and twisted broken bones to set them she screamed out. Her painful wails echoing off the walls and ceiling filling the room... her body twisted and turned trying to extricate herself from those inflicting more torment on her....until in a last effort she stilled exhausted no longer able to fight. A collective sigh from those holding her was all that was heard now. How could she still be able to fight as she had when in her condition?? Years of a harsh life and impeccable training.

Far away on the farthest northern borders of Skye and Scotland is where the flaxen haired Elite Ranger was.... In a camp surrounded by her men and preparing for the coming onslaught against the English and their tyranny. Kae sat by the fire sharpening stone in hand sword on her lap... The sound of the stone grinding against the metal blade filled the otherwise silent night. A chill breeze blew all were huddled within their cloaks and fur. The flames licked hungrily at the wood... causing it to crackle as embers wafted skyward into the night sky to meet its destiny with the moon and stars. Tomorrow she and her men were to meet a different kind of destiny... one of life and death as well as the ever elusive need for freedom and peace.

So much rode on this young woman's shoulders.... Fighting for her country and home, raising her children alone, and coming to grips with the fact that this could be her last battle... for none knew what Fate held for them and she had learned long ago to never wish for things that one could not possibly obtain.

The rider rode hard down the roads toward the last reports of Dame Kaelyn’s positions… Now escorted to the Dame’s tent, the man formed a fist and laid it across his chest upon his heart. “Dame Kaelyn… yer presence is requested immediately by Lady Aislin… a matter of State I am told… I would be grateful to be allowed to ride back with you…” the man stepped back and waited for her to respond.

A rider approached and her Knights reacted swiftly, drawing swords and shouting commands in their language. "You there hold! State yer business!" Phantom demanded sword at the ready... this was a time of war and one could never be to careful or relaxed. The commotion brought Kae to her feet as men rushed to surround her in a shield-burg of heavily armed and armored men. Their sole quest to protect with their lives. Kae looked at the man and then to her own knights. "Ban chak tui ( stay your weapons)" she said in a firm command. "What brings ye here?" her heart thudding with hope that it may be word of Darius yet knowing it was not. She remained stoic as she waited for him to tell her what could have brought him here in the middle of what was to soon be a battle zone.

The ride sat upon his horse, his hands in the air as he listened to the woman… “Lady Aislin requests yae coom MiLady… tis urgent it tis…” He nodded… “Lady Aislin’s gaet a woman, badly beaten an’ torured, near death… speakin’ soom straenge langu’age. She said nuttin baet tae git yae quick…” the lad said in a thick brogue… He was anxious to get back to the Castle and the Infirmary where he would be safe…