The Ghost Greyson, Maeve (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

Cadha stared at her for a long while. Silent. Unmoving except for the rise and fall of her chest.

“I know it’s nay easy,” Brenna said softly. “But ye can trust me. I willna hurt ye.” She offered a teasing smile. “Unless ye go after my husband again. And then, I will have to kill ye.”

Cadha revealed a toothy smile that chased away the hatred in her eyes. She placed her wounded arm in Brenna’s hand. “I guess ye’re nay so bad.” Her smile crooked farther to one side. “For a cow.”

“I’ll make ye think cow,” Brenna pretended to threaten. As gently as she could, she spread the pasty green mash on the purpling knot on the girl’s arm. No bone had poked through the flesh, nor did her arm show the unevenness of a severe break. But Brenna had no doubt that at least a small fracture had occurred just above the lass’s wrist. With a barrel stave as a splint, she wrapped it in strips of linen she had torn from the hem of her shift. “There now. The knitbone will do its work. If I had a pot, I’d brew ye some willow bark tea for the pain.”

Running her fingers along the splint, the girl shrugged. “The pain is nay so bad.” She looked up with a sad smile. “I grant ye, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure ye have,” Brenna agreed, her heart hurting for the lass. “Do ye feel able to start the trek back?”

With a nod, Cadha stood, then lifted her sputtering oil lamp. “Need more fuel first and a new wick.” She nodded toward a small pile of broken crockery. “See those? Some had goose fat. Some had tallow. Doesna matter which ye choose. Both burn. Gather enough to fill the lamp and coat a good long strip of linen that we can shove down into the grease for a wick.” She cast a disparaging glance at Brenna’s faltering torch. “The lamp’ll give us a steadier burn than that thing.”

Lamp filled and another strip of her chemise fashioned into a wick, Brenna held her breath as she touched a flaming brand to their creation and lit it. She had used oil lamps before, but never one so crude. Cadha was right. The light burned steady and bright. Much better than her sputtering torch.

“I found a quicker way back to the keep,” Cadha said as she took the lamp from Brenna. “Opens out in an old root cellar they dinna use anymore ’cause it holds water. Probably floods in the spring.”

“I wonder why Magnus didna use that route if it’s shorter?” Brenna wanted to trust the girl, but the fear of being trapped in the cave outweighed it. She would remain cautious until she returned to blessed sunshine.

“I had to dig my through,” the maid explained as she led the way up a steep incline that wound around behind the weeping stone formation that had provided barely palatable water. “I found soft dirt blocking the tunnel instead of rocks. Seemed strange, so I dug through it for a spell. They must ha’ piled it there when they built the root cellar. Magnus probably thought it still closed off or forgot about it.”

The explanation made sense. Somewhat. Brenna followed close, alert to any possible trickery. She had no idea in what direction they traveled. It felt like they still climbed upward, making her wonder how the trail could end in an old root cellar behind the kitchens.

“Dinna think I’m trying to lose ye,” Cadha reassured her with a glance back. She lifted the lamp higher and kept trudging. “If’n I show up at the keep without ye, there’ll be no one to vouch for me like ye promised.”

That made Brenna feel some better, but she still kept up her guard. “Ye said ye had to dig yer way through. Will we have to crawl into the root cellar?”

“Aye. But it’s nay as close as some places ye’ve already squeezed through. I’ll give ye the lamp when we reach it. I willna be able to hold it and crawl with just one arm.” She paused and turned, shining the light so Brenna could see her solemn look. “And dinna fret. I’ll still lead the way ’cause I know ye dinna trust me. Just stay close as ye can so some light reaches around me, aye?”

That Cadha could almost read her mind was more than a little disturbing. “Ye’re a canny one. I’ll give ye that.”

“Nay.” The girl shook her head and continued on, turning sideways to make it through the narrowing tunnel. “I just know how it is when ye dinna trust someone.” She snorted out a laugh. “I dinna trust ye any more than ye trust me.”

“Aye, well…at least we understand each other.” Brenna sidled along, ducking down as the tunnel not only narrowed from side to side but dwindled in height, as well. Soon, she would be forced to drop to her knees. “Do ye need me to take the lamp now?”

“Aye.” Cadha crouched low and passed it over her head. “We might as well start our crawling here.”

“How far must we crawl?”

“’Til we get there.”

Brenna bit her tongue to keep from snapping at the girl. Fool lass. Now was not the time for sassing. They crawled along for what seemed like forever, their tangled skirts and Cadha’s splinted arm making their progress seem slow as tree sap in winter. Smoke from the lamp fouled the space, making it even harder to rein in the panic that there wasn’t enough air.

“Breathe, ye cow, and dinna set my skirts afire.” Cadha’s scolding had a calmness and certainty Brenna envied. “I’m crawling fast as I can. Setting fire to me arse willna make me move any faster.”

“What did I tell ye about calling me ‘cow’?”

“If’n ye must know, I call ye ‘cow’ because I canna remember yer blessit name. I’ll be damned if I call ye ‘Mistress MacCoinnich’ before ye get me hired back at the keep.