Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
He wanted to see for himself if his wife could work magic, since it would take magic to relieve the Abbott’s affliction. He had seen such distorted hands before and nothing quelled the suffering.
The Abbott settled the argument. “I accept your offer of help, Lady Fia.”
Lady Fia.
He may have addressed her properly, but she did not like the sound of it. She was not a noble. She was first and foremost a healer.
“I need some leaves brewed,” Fia said, reaching for her healing pouch attached to her belt. She had been glad to retrieve her grandmother’s pouch at the cottage, her own having been confiscated and never returned to her when captured. She had added several small pouches of herbs to the larger pouch, herbs that she used more frequently than others. She had also added small pouches filled with an often-used salve.
She handed crushed nettle leaves to the monk waiting to make the brew. It would relieve the Abbott’s swelling and ease the pain he suffered. In the meantime, she fished for a pouch of salve she was certain she had packed and smiled when she found it.
Varrick felt a jolt to his chest seeing her smile and the Abbott’s eyes turned wide, as well as all who looked at his wife. He hid his own surprise well. His wife was a beauty, there was no denying that, but when she smiled there was a softness to her beauty that forced one to linger there and drink it in as if one could never get enough of her gentleness.
“I assume you prefer I not touch you, so please take a generous portion of the salve from this pouch and rub it into both of your hands, paying particular attention to where it most pains you,” Fia instructed and placed the pouch in front of the Abbott.
The Abbott did as she instructed, then pushed the pouch back to her when done.
“Keep your hands tucked in the sleeves of your robe, the warmth will help the salve work,” Fia said. “And drink all of the brew.”
Warning shouts not to drink the witch’s brew circled the room.
“SILENCE!” Abbott John called out. We are in the Lord’s house. A witch’s magic has no strength here. She will see that for herself.”
Fia realized too late her mistake. The Abbott had set a trap for her, and it was the first time she wanted to pray for her healing to fail, but she could not do it. Her purpose as a healer was to help people and she could not betray her purpose.
She was surprised when she felt Varrick take her hand beneath the table and squeeze it as he turned his head and whispered in her ear, “Remember what I told you—remain close to me.”
Relieved her husband had realized the same as she had, she was only too happy to remain at his side. She squeezed his hand in return, hoping he understood she was grateful.
Varrick showed not a trace of surprise when he felt his wife’s hand respond to his squeeze, though it was not her response that had surprised him… it was his own. The gentle warmth of her hand in his large one and the tender way she latched onto him with strength had felt like she had hugged him, and the loving sensation lingered within him.
He was glad when he heard talk resume around the room and pulled him out of his strange musing.
The Abbott drank the brew when it was ready, evil not mentioned again. All turned pleasant, with talk of weather, crops, and battles, but Varrick was aware it might not last.
Abbott John was summoned away, along with Brother Luke, after a while, and Argus joined them at the table and conversation centered around the journey home until Varrick leaned across the table to whisper, “Keep men on watch, I do not trust all here. We need the witch and can let nothing happen to her.”
Argus nodded and left the table but not before Fia heard the man mumble, “Not yet.”
Abbott John and Brother Luke returned quite a while later and went straight to Fia, laying his hands flat on the table in front of her. “The swelling is gone and the pain fades. What magic did you work?”
Whispers rushed around the room sounding like a roomful of buzzing bees and Fia could almost hear them condemning her.
She was quick to speak up for all to hear and hopefully for all to understand. “It is no magic. The brew was made of nettle leaves and the salve was a mixture of comfrey, arnica, and sheep fat. You probably have comfrey growing in your garden, though arnica is not easy to find but it does thrive in the frost and snow. I can instruct your healer how to make the salve, so you have it when needed.”