Lord of the Black Isle (21 page)

Elisabeth was especially worried about the brain swelling, for meningitis attacked the brain and the spinal cord, and to bring it under control, she needed antibiotics. Ampicillin and penicillin G were effective against many of the bacteria strains, and in this time period they probably had fewer strains that had developed, so plain old penicillin would do wonders. Not that it would make any difference now, for penicillin wasn't going to be discovered until the twentieth century. And what a shame, for people in this time period would not have built up an immunity to penicillin like their descendants which meant it would be very effective. God, what she wouldn't give for a way to give Mary round-the-clock IVs, but she had no needles or tubes or bottles, and even if she had these things, she had no way to liquefy the penicillin so it could be given intravenously. The best she could do was to try and keep Mary hydrated by forcing water down her.

Elisabeth gave her another round of willow bark tablets, knowing she had done all she could do. She chose to spend the night at the hospital so she could make certain she kept giving her patient willow bark at the necessary intervals. That, at least, seemed to be helping to keep the fever down, along with the cold compresses she had been applying. But the fever was still too high, and Elisabeth was doing nothing to attack the bacteria that caused it. It was doubly frustrating to her, for she had the knowledge that medicines were possible, but she did not have the tools or the training and equipment to make her own.

By later that afternoon, the hospital had become a busy place, for all of the cousins, along with Ailis and David, had come to help with caring for the sick and carrying enough cold water from the burn to keep Mary's fever from rising any higher.

Once, Elisabeth left Taran to bathe Mary's face while she picked at the food David had delivered to her. When he came to see that she ate it down to the last morsel, she called him an ogre.

“Aye, and I may grow into a monster if ye dinna eat all o' it.”

When she finished the last of it, he asked, “Canna ye come back to Aisling long enough to sleep a few hours?”

Although exhausted, Elisabeth shook her head and said adamantly, “No, her condition is too critical for me to even consider such. I cannot leave her.”

David said he would remain with her, but Elisabeth insisted he return to Aisling. “There is nothing you can do here, and you need to get your sleep if you are going to keep things running smoothly. Besides, you would be a distraction for me. You can visit again tomorrow morning.”

His arms went around her. “A distraction, am I?”

“Yes, and you well know it.”

He massaged Elisabeth's neck and her head flopped against his chest, and it was heavenly to stay there even for a moment. When she pulled back, he kissed her. “Then I will have yer breakfast sent to ye here.”

“I love you, David. I truly love you.”

He crushed her against him. “I never thought to hear ye say that. I have loved ye for so long, and I feared ye wouldna ever be able to say those wirds to me.”

She put her head against his chest, holding him to her for just a little longer, and she said, “I wish I could tell you that I love you a thousand times a day for the rest of my life, but…” He kissed her, stopping her words. A moment later, she broke the kiss and turned away to check on Mary.

Later, after she had given Mary another dose of willow bark tablets, Elisabeth sought a quiet place in the chapel area where she prayed for quite some time, seeking and beseeching for a miracle. “I know I cannot save her with my simple medicines. It is a horrible fate to be here with my training and knowledge and knowing what needs to be done, only to find my healing hindered for lack of medicines. If only I had the right antibiotic, Mary could recover within a week. I don't know what else to do. She is so young and I feel so helpless, for I fear she is dying.”

She went back and told Taran to return to the castle and get some sleep. “There is nothing else we can do for her. It makes no sense for you to deprive yourself of sleep just to keep me company.”

“I would rather stay here with ye. I can sleep on one of the empty beds so I'm here if ye have need of me.”

“Alright, but only if you promise to go get some sleep now. I will wake you if I need you.” She stopped by the bed where Mary's mother had been earlier in the day. She felt a twisting in her heart as she recalled the agony on the woman's face because she had to leave her child, but she had no choice, for she had to return home to care for her other children. Before she left, she begged Elisabeth to save her daughter.

Elisabeth sat beside Mary and continued to bathe her in cool water. She prayed. She cried. She got angry. She cried some more, then got up to mix another round of willow bark, knowing even as she did that it was pointless.

Only a miracle would save Mary now.

Sometime later, Mary's fever was approaching the critical zone again, and Elisabeth went to the apothecary. She was startled when she stepped inside, for sitting there on the table was a bottle of penicillin tablets, 500 mg.

For a moment, she was so stunned that she could only stand there as if frozen on the spot and stare at the all-too-familiar bottle.

“'Twould be better if ye gave it to the lass now. Ye can stare at it later.”

Elisabeth whirled around and saw the twinkling blue eyes, and her own eyes began to blur, even though she wasn't the crying type. “If you weren't a vapor, I'd hug you.”

“If the lass were not close to death, I might be tempted to arrange that.”

“I don't know what to say.”

“Weel, that is a first, but ye can fuss over me later. Go now. See to your lass.”

She picked up the bottle and removed a pill, which she mashed and mixed with water. She turned and said, “Thank you,” but no one was there.

She turned and hurried back with a smile in her heart. And somehow, she knew the Black Douglas saw it.

Elisabeth administered the first dose of penicillin and continued to give Mary five hundred milligrams every six hours.

When David returned the next morning, Elisabeth took him to the apothecary and showed him the bottle of penicillin.

He took the bottle and inspected it, then removed the lid, more intrigued by the plastic container than what was inside. When he finally looked at the pills, he looked at her with a curious expression upon his face. “This will kill the poison inside her?”

“We call it bacteria, but yes, it will kill it.”

“Ye spoke to the Douglas last night?”

“Yes, I spoke with him, but not for long. By the time I finished mixing the first dose he was gone.”

She rose up on her toes to kiss him and sent him back to work before she busied herself with the patients, for some were ready to be dismissed, and Ailis was talking to two families with sick children.

Throughout the day and that first night and all the next day, she administered the penicillin to Mary, and the next morning, when she returned to Mary's bedside, Elisabeth could see a hint of color on her face. She put her hand to Mary's forehead. It was much cooler. “Thank God, the fever is dropping.”

David, who had been waiting on her, then ordered Elisabeth to go get some sleep. “I ken Taran can get that wee bit o' medicine doon the lassie's throat every six hours.”

“He has already administered some of it to her, but I need to check on some of the other patients.”

“You are going to bed,” he said, and he picked her up and carried her from the hospital. She had fallen asleep by the time he reached the castle.

Six days after she came to the hospital at Aisling, Mary went home.

When sorrows come,

they come not single spies,

but in battalions!

—
Hamlet
, Act IV, Scene 5 (1601)

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)

English poet and playwright

Elisabeth stretched her tired back and let out a long sigh. Perhaps she had been spending too much time in the hospital and needed some fresh air. She went in search of Taran and found him in the apothecary with his head bent over the notes and writings she brought with her from Soutra Aisle.

“It is heartwarming to see your interest in medicine, Taran. I was serious when I said you would make a fine doctor one day.”

He grinned at her, pride glowing in his eyes. “I should like to go to the university to study medicine… perhaps Paris or Brussels.”

She smiled. “I hope you will remain here for a while. I would miss your help and your dedication to your work here.”

“I still have much to learn. Do ye ha' something ye wish me to do?”

“You can change the bandage on Cailean Matheson's leg. I am going to go for a walk down to Markey Burn, in case you need me.”

“The fresh air will do ye good. Dinna worrit. I can take care of things here, unless we get another patient as sick as the last one.”

She smiled at the excited expression on his face. “I hope that day never comes, just as I hope all our patients have such a happy ending as Mary. Send for me if you need me. Otherwise, I will stop by on my way back to see how things are going.”

After she left and walked far enough that she could neither see, nor hear, the goings-on around Aisling, she felt some of the tenseness flow out of her. She reminded herself of the Biblical verse: “Physician, heal thyself,” for she had put the healing of others ahead of caring for herself, ignoring the fact that she would be of no use to the infirm if she became ill herself. She felt like she could sleep for a week.

It did feel good to get some exercise and to be out of doors. She heard a sound of someone approaching, and when she turned, she saw it was Duff, one of the deerhounds. He came closer and pressed his wet nose against her hand. “So, you want to walk down to the burn with me, I gather. Well, come along then.”

They continued on their way until Elisabeth could hear the sound of the rushing water, and then, quite suddenly, Duff stopped. She called him but he would not budge. She dropped down lower and gave him a pat, but still he did not move. “What's the matter, Duff? Change your mind about going with me?”

“He willna come while I am here,” a familiar voice said, and she stood and turned around to see the Black Douglas standing in all his shimmering radiance a few feet away.

She glanced back at Duff, who was lying down with his head resting on his paws, his eyebrows going up as he looked from her to Sir James and back again. “Yes, I suppose you are right. I heard the story about the dogs at Beloyn Castle and how they would not go near the painting of you.”

His eyes were alive with mischief as if it was something he recalled with fondness, and then he said, “Aye, the story 'tis true. They wouldna come near the painting.”

“Was that because they naturally sensed something, or because you put the fear of God into them so they would behave so?”

He laughed, and such a beautiful sound it was. “What do ye think?”

“I think you had a great deal to do with it. It was probably your way of getting our many-times-great-grandmother, Meleri Douglas, to become inquisitive about you. Am I right?”

He laughed. “Mayhap ye are.”

She started to gloat a bit and say something like, “I knew it!”

But he quelled that idea when he said, “And mayhap ye are wrong.”

“So, which is it?”

“Mayhap it is both.”

She shook her head, as if by doing so, she could clear the bafflement from it. “How can it be both?”

“In ghosting, anything is possible… with a few exceptions, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, laughter dancing in her eyes. “And thank you for the penicillin, by the way. You have saved a life. I wish I could count on more, but I have a feeling that won't be the case.”

“Aye, 'twas a one-time happening, for 'twould no' be wise to make a habit o' it.”

“No, I don't suppose it would be wise. Because it would raise a lot of questions, and I might have a devil of a time explaining it, right?”

“Aye, evil gossip rides posthaste, while guid tends to dawdle.”

“Why did you do it this time?”

“It is not the appointed hour fer ye to understand the way o' it.”

“So will I eventually know, or are you just saying that to shut me up?”

“Weel, the latter has its merits, I canna deny that. Ye are cursed wi' the unwillingness to wait.
Wisely
and
slow; they stumble that run fast.
”

“Don't tell me you've read
Romeo
and
Juliet
.”

“I ha' a lot o' free time.”

She laughed. “Ahhh… the dreadful boredom of having nothing to do.”

“'Tis good now and then to lie fallow for a while.”

“Are you trying to frighten me, for you must know how I worry about the future.”

“Nay, but ye canna fight that which is yer destiny any more than ye can read tea leaves before ye drink yer tea.”

“Then answer me this, are you here now to warn me that something bad is going to happen to me?”

“Nae, lass, I ha' come merely to convince ye to stay the course, to wait fer the silver lining when all seems dark and gloomy.”

“I like the silver lining part,” she said, rather morosely. “It's poetic but difficult to get to the bank.”

He laughed. “I have no doubt, lass, that ye will find a way. Fear nae evil; ye are nae alone.”

She had a clever comeback to that, but his image began to fade and she knew from past experience that he would not be summoned back.

***

Word of Mary's healing did indeed spread, and the hospital rarely had a vacant bed after that, for there was an outbreak of measles and that meant many, many children were brought there for her to treat. It was so crowded that when one patient was sent home, there were three waiting to take their place. Because she spent so much time in the hospital, things were beginning to grow more complicated between Elisabeth and David, for he had grumbled more than once that he was sorry they ever opened the hospital.

When he would come to visit her, he would complain that her supplies were stacked everywhere, and there were so many people coming and going. “'Tis like living in Edinburgh, and I grow quite weary o' tripping over sick people.”

“It is better than burying them,” she replied.

Gradually things began to taper off and she knew the measles outbreak was coming to an end, which pleased David greatly. Late one afternoon, they were down to only two or three patients, when Duncan Buchanan arrived with a twenty-five-year-old woman who turned out to be his daughter, Maude. She had a terrible swelling on her throat. Elisabeth examined her. “Your daughter has a goiter, and it will continue to grow and should be removed. However, that will require surgery and I cannot operate without your permission.”

“Aye, rid her of this evil thing.”

Elisabeth felt a partial thyroidectomy would enable Maude's thyroid to function normally after surgery, and after carefully explaining the procedure, she operated. The surgery was a success and Maude was healing so well that three days later, Elisabeth informed her father that he could take her home.

It was almost dark when Elisabeth walked to the door of the hospital with them and stepped outside for some fresh air. She looked in the direction of Aisling Castle. Sheltered by a stand of Scots fir and pine, larch and shrubbery, the castle was not, at first, visible until one meandered down the lane and around a bend. Then suddenly it appeared: a venerable fortress of dark gray stone, cold and gloomy, with its thick stone mullions, strong battlements, arrow-slits, air holes, and machicolations, which represented the harsh realities of daily life. Yet it was also a startling combination of beauty and function, residence and fortification and comfort that exuded both warmth and luxury.

She heard a dog barking and looked off, just in time to see Duff come loping out of the trees. He greeted her by rearing up against her and almost knocking her down with his big paws. Overhead, she heard the caw of a crow and looked up to see it flapping away as a hawk approached. But the crow wasn't fast enough, and the hawk made fatal contact and flew away with it firm in its grasp. Man or beast… the motto was the same: hunt or be hunted.

She was about to return to the hospital when she heard horses approaching at a fast pace, and then several armor-clad soldiers rode by, their banner flapping as they rode toward Aisling. Since it did not concern her, for that sort of thing was a fairly normal occurrence, she returned to the hospital, tired and hungry. But so were Ailis and Cailean, so it made sense that the three of them could accomplish the important tasks and leave the cleaning to the two clansmen who would spend the night there.

She had not been there long when David sent word by Branan that her presence was needed. “That's all he said and nothing more?” she asked.

“Aye, that is all, but I did recognize the banner of the Earl of Bosworth.”

Her heart sank at the sound of that name and she thought, Oh no! Please God, don't let my services be needed at Bosworth Castle. Her first thought was how David would react if she was summoned to the residence of Ronan Mackinnon.
But, what if it is Ronan who is ill? Well, why don't you go see why David wants you there, before you drive yourself crazy trying to wrestle invisible evils?

It was dark when she returned to the castle and found Bosworth's men in the great hall, where they were finishing off a meal of roast lamb, which they washed down with goblets of ale. David was talking to them, his expression stiffly cordial but guarded, and that was not a good indicator of what was to come. Then she noticed a roll of parchment in his hand, and that disturbed her greatly.

Still clenching the document tightly, David said, “The Earl of Bosworth's daughter is gravely ill, and after hearing of your medical skill, he entreats ye to be his guest at Bosworth Castle so that ye might restore his daughter to good health. In case ye are wont to decline on the basis of his daughter's marriage to Ronan Mackinnon, he has supplied me with a request signed by the Duke of Albany, the King's regent, which is a more subtle way of issuing an order.”

Her heart was beating so fast that she had trouble breathing, for she knew how painful this was for David to accept, but his hands were tied. “So, I am to go care for Bosworth's daughter by accepting his invitation as a guest, or I can be hauled there by force, is that it?”

“That would be my interpretation, yes,” Lord Kinloss said.

“When must I leave?”

“They wanted to leave immediately, but I convinced them that after the day ye had and the lateness of the hour, ye would be in better condition to administer to Bosworth's daughter if ye were to leave at first light.”

She turned to Taran, who was standing nearby and said, “Would you tell Cailean and Ailis that I need my saddle pouch of supplies, and to include one of the pouches of medicines that we have locked away?”

She glanced at David, who seemed to be engulfed in a cloud of melancholy, but she also saw that he tried to hide it, and she was saddened to think her going caused him angst. Was it because he did not trust her and thought she would rekindle an old flame? Or, would he always be this way any time she was asked to treat someone who lived further away? No matter which it was, she couldn't deal with that now. Her services were needed and she was commanded to go. There was no choice in the matter so she turned away, stopping long enough to tell the captain of Bosworth's men, “I will be ready to leave at dawn, and now I bid you good night.”

She ordered a bath, thinking it might be the last one she would have time to enjoy for some time, and while she awaited its arrival, she packed a saddle pouch with her personal belongings, but not too many items, as if by doing so it would mean she would be there longer.

The bathing part was over quickly, but she lingered a while, her eyes closed as she replayed a mental tape of all that had been happening. She understood now why Sir James paid her that last visit, and she was thankful that he cautioned her that it would do no good to fight against her destiny. His last words to her were to stay the course and wait for a silver lining, even when all seemed dark and gloomy.

It seemed pretty gloomy to her now, but he had never been wrong in any of his warnings, and this was probably the first time that she was going to do her best to hold his word close to her heart. And speaking of her heart, it was nigh to cracking right now—a heart-wrenching grief for David, for she knew this must hurt, knowing she was going to reside for an undetermined time in the home of Ronan Mackinnon. Had it been reversed, she would have, more than likely, felt the same. So, how could she convince him that wherever he was would always be home to her? Her eyes blurred at the thought, for she realized that Aisling was home and that she had carved out a little slice of life for herself here. She hated the thought of leaving David, for his absence from her life would leave a terribly deep, dark emptiness within her.

She left the tub and slipped into her gown and thought of David, wishing she had a way to show him how very much she cared for him, some way to prove that it was he, and not Ronan, who resided in her heart.

And then she smiled…

***

David left the men drinking with his cousins and hoped they drank so much they would get a late start in the morning, and that would give her more time to sleep. He tried not to think in terms of Elisabeth being at Bosworth Castle with Mackinnon there, but of Elisabeth, the doctor, ministering to a sick woman.