Leprosy
A suspicion brewing in the back of Broderick’s brain kept him tossing and turning all night, and prompted the decision to make the journey to Darling Abbey. “’Tis fitting Cladh’s body be returned there,” he told Teak as the lad helped him pull on his boots. “He needs to be buried soon, and Abbot Septimus might be able to shed light on the matter.”
The pre-dawn tide was too low to take the galley, so he opted to use one of the rowboats stored in the boathouse on the banks of the Nith. Lark carried the shrouded body to the river, then Broderick sent his horse back to the castle with a groom. Two clansmen put the body into the rowboat, hauled it to the river, climbed aboard and took up the oars. Broderick followed and held out his hand to assist Adrian. He couldn’t fully explain why he thought the lad should come along, but there was no harm in it.
The drizzle seemed appropriate as a weak sun struggled to break through the clouds and they began the grim voyage across the Nith. The boat scraped bottom several times, but Broderick was confident they would reach the other side before the tide went out completely. He was apprehensive about leaving Kyla and Lily, but once the tidal bore flooded back into the estuary, they’d be able to return quickly. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long to complete his investigation at the abbey.
They had almost reached their destination when Adrian spotted another, smaller rowboat, grounded on a sandbar. It wasn’t an uncommon sight in the tidal estuary.
“Come loose from its moorings,” one oarsman remarked as Adrian climbed over the side and waded through the shallow water. The lad reached into the boat and held up a splintered oar.
He helped the youth regain his seat on the bench when he returned, holding the mooring rope. “The murder weapon, no doot,” he said.
Adrian nodded his agreement.
They towed the stranded boat behind them and dragged it up on the beach alongside their own.
Broderick left his clansmen to watch over the boats and the body. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling of foreboding as he and Adrian followed the path through the meadows to the magnificent abbey.
*
Corbin tucked his hands under his armpits, but it didn’t stop the uncontrollable shaking caused by a night spent crouched in the drafty undercroft. His body was too stiff to contemplate moving. Racking his brain as to the next step in his plan, he edged further into the shadows when he heard voices—a young lass giggling, the deeper voice of a youth. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who wanted to be out of sight of prying eyes.
He strained to hear their whispered conversation.
“Will the laird nay miss ye?” the lass asked.
“Nay. He called for me to help him dress early. He’s on his way to Darling Abbey.”
Corbin came close to crowing at his luck. The youth was Maxwell’s valet. His glee was short-lived. How was he to kill his enemy if he’d gone to the abbey?
“Why has he gone there?” she cooed.
“Taking the old sexton’s body back, I reckon. But enough talk. Are ye going to show me yer lovely tits again?”
Corbin toyed with the idea of remaining hidden while the pair rutted; watching others fornicate could be stimulating, but time was of the essence. If Broderick had left the castle, Kyla and Lily were probably alone. Gripping the kitchen knife, he shuffled his feet on the rough stone floor.
The lass squealed.
“Who’s there?” the lad demanded to know.
Corbin held the maud to his face and leaned forward. “Just a poor auld woman,” he replied in a high-pitched voice.
The valet came to his feet and sauntered over, peering into the gloom. “Why are ye down here? This is a place for trysting and the like. And what’s wrong with yer face?”
Corbin took a risk. “Leprosy is nay a pretty sight,” he said plaintively.
The lad nigh on tripped over his own feet in his haste to beat a retreat. The would-be lovers scurried away without a backward glance.
*
Kyla was disappointed Broderick did not appear to break his fast. She’d looked forward to discussing Elizabeth Melville’s writings with him. She hoped another lesson of sling throwing might be on the day’s agenda. If he brought his shawm…
She gritted her teeth. There was no point falling into the trap of allowing him to become part of her life.
“Broderick’s gone to Darling Abbey,” Lily explained as she took her seat at table. “He thinks Cladh should be buried there.”
A chill raced across Kyla’s nape. Why did the mere mention of the place fill her with dread? “Will he be back within the day?” she asked, despite a determination not to care if he returned at all.
Lily shrugged, but a commotion near the servery caught their attention. Doreen was scolding a cringing maidservant.
Kyla ate another spoonful of oatmeal. “If I stay here much longer,” she said, “I’ll have to recall how Cook makes oatmeal on Skye. This just isna the same.”
She startled when Doreen harrumphed. She hadn’t seen the woman approach the high table.
“’Tis good enough for us Lowland folks,” the maid muttered.
Lily giggled.
In an effort to change the subject and redeem herself, Kyla asked, “Is something amiss with yon serving lass?”
Doreen looked to the rafters as if to find some answer to her exasperation. “Down in the undercroft, she was. Doing what, I can only imagine. Claims she saw a woman hiding there who has leprosy. If ye want my opinion, she got caught with her ti…” She glanced at Lily and pursed her lips. “’Tis just an excuse.”
“What’s leprosy?” Lily asked.
Kyla had never seen a leper, but had heard of the terrible disfigurements the disease caused. However, she saw no reason to alarm the bairn. “’Tis an illness, but Our Lord was able to cure it. The Bible tells us so.”
“Aye,” Doreen confirmed. “’Tis a cursed affliction. Very contagious. They say it only strikes heretics. Their noses fall off.”
Lily immediately clamped both hands over her nose as her maid flounced away. “My nose won’t fall off, will it?” she asked, panic bright in her wide eyes.
Kyla put an arm round her shoulders. “Nay. Pay no mind. Whoever is hiding in the undercroft just didna want anyone to…”
Her throat constricted. Broderick sought a mad monk for Cladh’s murder. Such a man might seek a hiding place, might even be mistaken for a woman.
Lily’s curious mind had apparently moved on while Kyla was immersed in unsettling conjecture.
“What’s a heretic?” the bairn asked.