Lamas Night

"We must bring her tae your chamber and see tae her hurts," Iona said in her low murmur. The three of them lifted Lise, who was silent and unresponsive.

Owen emerged from the milling crowd. "I will carry her," he said.

"I ken ye wish tae help her, but nae man should touch her now, it may wound her further." Mary spoke kindly, but with quiet decision. "We will carry her and tend her."

Together, the three women supported Lise until they reached Margarete's chamber. They laid her on Margarete's bed.

"Can ye tell me where ye feel pain?", Iona asked softly. Lise's eyes were open, but she would not speak or acknowledge them.

"I am going tae lift your night dress and look tae see where ye're hurt," Iona said then. Still Lise did not respond.

Margarete forced herself to watch, but could not assist, as Iona and Mary examined Lise for injury. They gasped when they discovered the gash from which the blood had come, but found no other physical wounds.

"How many o them?" Iona asked. Lise said nothing. Iona held up one finger before Lise's wide eyes. After a moment, she held two fingers. Lise made the faintest of nods.

Margarete sank to the floor, panting and nauseated. Lise's answer sickened her, but at the same time, her utter lack of response had been the most terrifying thing of this nightmare experience. She leaned her head against the bed, struggling to compose herself, and summon the strength that would be required to help Lise. She was infinitely grateful for Iona and Mary. She felt completely helpless and at a loss. How had Iona come to be there. Even in her distress, she wondered.

Mary and Iona washed the wound, but could not get the blood to entirely stop. Iona laid a hand on Margarete's shoulder. "Rise," she said softly. Margarete did so docilely. "Ye must try tae reach her spirit. Hold her hands, speak calmly and soothingly tae her, tell her it is safe tae return."

Obediently, Margarete sat down on the bed beside the inert figure of Lise. She gathered Lise's icy hand and cradled it between hers. She looked into Lise's face, trying to get her to meet her eyes, but Lise simply stared blankly as though seeing nothing.

"Lise," she said softly, willing her voice to be calm and reassuring. "Lise, you are safe now, it is over. Come back. Come back to me. It is over. The..., the men are dead. You are safe. We are here with you. Please speak to me."

Feeling more and more desperate, she continued to speak so, but Lise neither moved nor spoke. Finally, Margarete hung her head in despair.

Iona spoke into the tense silence. "We must take her tae the water so that she may be washed and awakened."

At first, Margarete did not take in the sense of these words. When she did, she raised her head and looked incredulously at Iona. "Take her where?

"The lake is nearest. A sacred pool would be better, but she hasna the strength. Dress her warmly, then collect soap, and warm cloaks for all of us."

Margarete stared, blank-faced, and clearly unwilling and mistrustful.

"What would ye hae us do for her?"

Margarete had no answer. Slowly, she lowered her eyes.

Mary spoke kindly but firmly. "Hae ye ever experienced anything like tae what Lise has endured?"

Margarete shook her head, her eyes still downcast.

"Ye're fortunate. Iona and I hae. You must trust Iona tae ken what is best."

"Her body is violated and injured; so is her spirit. Her spirit wanders. We must call it back so that she can start tae mend." Iona's words made no more real sense to her than Mary's, but Margarete rose and began to follow Iona's instructions. She did not know what else to do.

When their preparations were complete, there was a knock at the chamber door. Margarete went and found Colin, his face haggard, his eyes bleak. When he would have reached for her, she moved fretfully away. He did not try again.

"Are ye unhurt? And what o Lise?"

Margarete clasped her hands together to stop their trembling, and took a steadying breath before trying to speak. His presence was a faint comfort. "I am unhurt. Lise is not. She has a wound which only now has begun to stop bleeding."

"Did the vile swine...?"

Helplessly, Margarete nodded and held up two fingers, no more able to speak the words than Lise herself. Colin understood. He turned away, tasting great bitterness.

"Lise...," Margarete began, then stopped, her voice failing her. Colin turned back, attentive eyes on her face. "She..., she speaks not. Iona says her spirit..., it wanders." Margarete spoke almost in a whisper, but she raised her eyes to his, and he saw the fear. "Iona says we must take her to the lake to be..., cleaned? I do not understand, but I do not know what else to do."

Her breath was coming quickly and he sensed her panic, though he saw how she struggled to master it. He made to reach out to her once more, but did not.

"Iona has wisdom wi women's matters, and she... I will see that ye are nae interfered wi. Go." She turned away, glad that he said no more.

They bundled Lise into a warm cloak, and found others for themselves. With Margarete on one side, Mary on the other, and Iona behind, they half carried Lise out of the chamber, out of the Hall, out of the castle Yard.

It was the stillest and coldest hour before dawn. The night seemed deeper than any Margarete had ever known, and the place horribly alien. Iona guided them to the water. So docile was Lise that, once the rhythm of movement had begun, she had started to walk after a fashion. Still, Margarete and Mary were relieved to help her sink down onto the moss at the lake's edge.

"Gather fuel for a fire," Iona said. "We'll need one after tae warm ourselves."

As Margarete and Mary moved carefully about picking up twigs and dry branches, Iona knelt and coaxed a small fire into being. Lise hunched where she had been left, unmoving. For Margarete, the nightmare feeling persisted. She moved mechanically, relieved to be told what to do.

As she dropped an arm-load of fuel in the heap beside the small flames, Iona said, "Enough; come. We must remove all o her clothes. Her wound and her woman's parts must be washed in the cold water. She canna do this by herself. She must be supported and helped. If she canna wash herself, ye must do it for her." Iona touched Margarete's arm. "Only ye could touch her so wiout increasing her fear."

Later, Margarete would wonder at these words, puzzle over what Iona knew. In that moment however, it was all she could do to understand their meaning. Iona was saying that she would have to enter that icy water, in the middle of the night, to aid Lise in cleansing the residue of rape from between her legs. Margarete dearly longed to vomit. She had committed them all to Iona's care however, and she did not give herself time to think about what must be done.

The three women first removed their own clothes, then pulled the docile Lise to her feet. She did not resist as they pulled off the cloak and the bloody night dress. Margarete felt with alarm that she barely shivered as the chill air touched her, unlike Margarete herself who was shaking violently. They were fortunate that it was a still night.

Surrounded beside and behind by supporting bodies, Lise was propelled into the water. She gave no reaction as it reached first her ankles, then her knees. When it reached her upper thighs, however, she began to struggle faintly and try to stop, but Iona said from behind her, "Ye must enter the water and awaken."

Ruthlessly, Iona propelled her forward. Taking their lead from Iona, Margarete and Mary continued forward by a fierce act of will, pulling Lise with them. As their footing began to slip from them in the deepening water, Iona gave Lise a firm push. Lise was propelled forward, and sank to her shoulders in the freezing water. She pulled in a deep, convulsive breath, then the air was rent by her piercing scream. Iona stayed close behind her and would not let her retreat. Lise pulled in another involuntary breath, and the scream was repeated. Again and again, the sound tore through Margarete like one of the blades that had brought violent death in the Great Hall.

At first, Lise thrashed and tried to leave the water, but Iona blocked her each time. Finally, the screams gave way to an agonized, panting whimper, and Lise stopped moving. The icy water and her own frantic fear left Margarete no fortitude for tenderness. With Mary and Iona's help, she got her arms as firmly as possible around Lise, holding the other woman's body against her with all her strength.

"Lise!", she got out, almost screaming herself into Lise's ear. "I am going to wash you."

In that panicked moment, Margarete's compassion was overwhelmed by her gut-deep need to know that Lise's body at least, was cleansed of the evidence of the night's events. She reached a quick hand between Lise's thighs and began swirling water and soap fiercely around her vulva and between her labia. She was possessed by the single thought that all physical remnants of the vile act should be washed from Lise's precious flesh.

After a moment, still gasping and crying out between convulsive breaths, Lise went limp, and opened her legs to the icy water, the soap, and Margarete. Iona lifted one of Lise's hands and drew it to where Margarete's was. The intention seemed to reach Lise, for she began feebly to participate in the cleansing movements.

"It is enough," Iona said finally, and she and Margarete carried Lise from the water. "Rap her in this heavy cloak immediately, and hold her close tae your side tae share your warmth," Iona commanded, I will see tae the fire.

When she had Obeyed, Margarete saw that Mary was only now emerging from the water. She seemed in no hurry, and was ringing out her long hair as she stepped onto the mossy ground. She came instantly to assist Margarete.

When all four women were covered in the heavy cloaks, they clustered together with Lise at the centre and closest to the leaping flames.

"She is weak," Iona said. We must stay close tae her until her shivering has stopped. A long time later, Iona moved a little away, and sat down facing Lise across the fire. Weary and drained, Margarete and Mary sat down on either side of Lise so that the four of them could each draw from the fire's warmth.

After a long time, Iona said, "Your body has been cleansed. The best way tae cleanse your spirit is tae speak the words o what was done tae ye, then they too may start tae wash away."

Lise stared back at her and maintained a stony silence. Margarete was weak with relief to see that, though still uncommunicative, Lise's face had lost the blank, empty look it had worn. Her eyes followed the others, sometimes focusing on the leaping flames. She shifted slightly where she sat, looked around her once, then rested her gaze on the fire, and said nothing.

A long time passed, so long that Margarete, hypnotized by the sight of the flames, and exhausted, almost began to drift away into sleep.

Into the long silence, Mary said, "If ye'll nae speak, then I will." Margarete's eyes jerked to her in surprise, but Iona and Lise continued to stare into the fire.

"That nine-fingered swine who lies dead on the floor o the Great Hall is Rose's father."

In the silence that followed these words, Margarete's weary mind had to repeat them several times before she understood. Before she had fully absorbed their meaning, Mary went on.

"My husband and I were married nae more than a year before he was killed at the hands o the Macgregor's in a raid on the Laird's livestock. Ours was a good marriage. He was kind and gentle and... good tae be wi. Every day he would do me some wee kindness, and every night I was glad tae go tae bed early wi him. I stayed on in our distant cottage because I didna ken where else tae go, having nae kin here.

About four months after his murder, the Black Macgregor came tae my cottage at night. Maybe he kenned I dwelled there alone, maybe he merely stumbled there by chance. In the same bed where I'd lain with my husband, he forced me.

I had just barely started tae think that I could live properly again after the first rush o grief. Then that happened, and soon I kenned there would be a child. I chose tae keep the father's name a secret so as tae carry the shame myself, rather than let it pass tae rose. Were it kenned that her father was such a despised enemy, what kind o life could she hae? I swore tae keep the truth tae myself, and dawn the woolen cap which is the mark o shame. Tonight, seeing how matters stood in the Great Hall, I decided in that second, that the lie was ended. I could never hope for true revenge, but seeing what I saw, I chose to bare the shame nae longer, but tae lay it where it properly belongs. I dinna ken what this will mean for Rose, but I decided that my entire life was too much for him tae take from me."

Another long silence followed Mary's words. Margarete was staring at her with wide, astonished eyes. It seemed incredible to her that she had never seen all of this, read it in Mary's face, or deduced it somehow. They were friends, but Margarete had seen none of it.

"I had nae husband tae grieve for," Iona said quietly, "But I had kenned one man, and had found pleasure wi him. I was ever one for tramping around alone. One day, the Black Macgregor found me in a far field, and forced himself on me. At first, it seemed like a mere diversion for him, the way a man will grab a cup o wine as he passes a table in the Hall. When I fought him however, he responded wi great violence. I was a long time in healing from the injuries he gave me. The man wi whom I had lain before wished tae seek revenge, but I made him swear he would not do so on my account. I wished any vengeance tae come from none other than myself, and I didna wish for harm tae come tae any because o me, except at a time of my own choosing.

One day, I chanced on him in a drunken stupor. I hacked off his finger, alas, the only part o him I could safely reach. Only once hae I practiced dark mysteries. I used his flesh. I canna ken for sure, but I hae heard rumors that the wound I inflicted never properly mended, and that it gave him more pain over the years than any such wound endured by another. Now he lies dead, one more, along wi his kin, tae make his home in the pit of Hell."

The night wore on. To the East, the sky was beginning to lighten. None of the figures around the fire moved except for Iona, who fed the flames which warmed them.

Shocking, out of long silence, came Lise's voice. It was almost unrecognizable, raw from screaming, and flattened by numbness. When Margarete had heard the first few sentences, she shifted abruptly as though to interrupt, sure that Lise had lost her reason; but Iona's hand shot out and grasped her arm in a hard grip, pushing her silently back, commanding her to hear to the end.

"There were four of them. I'd seen them looking at me in the Common Room of the inn where we were stopped. We'd made a good wage, and were treating ourselves to rooms and beds in-doors for a change.

We had left the Common Room, and were readying ourselves for sleep. We realized that no one had gone to check on the animals. There were our pack-animals, but also the performing animals which were part of our troop. Each night, someone must go around and ensure that all were safe, that cages were secure, that all had been fed. It was my turn, but I had forgotten.

I thought little of going about alone at night, fool as I was. On my way back, one of the four seized me for their sport. They smothered my screams, and pulled me into a room they had paid for. They secured me, and had little to fear. I could not fight them, and there would be no one to avenge me, no father, husband or brother. This was not the first time they had done such an act. They reminisced about past exploits while they took their time abusing me."

Margarete had listened to Mary and Iona with blank horror on her face. As Lise spoke, however, she pulled her knees to her chest and laid her head on them. As Lise's flat voice went on speaking the devastating words, Margarete's body was shaken by sobs of fear, anger and sickness. The hot tears fell under the curtain of her hair, but she made no sound.

"When they had done, they simply let me go. One even threw a coin after me as though we had made a business transaction.

I was injured, far more so than this time. I had vicious bruising on many parts of me from their rough handling. I also had been struck hard on the head when I struggled. I was unable to travel with the troop in the morning."

There was a sudden movement. Margarete yanked herself out from under Iona's hand. She pulled herself away from the fire, crouched, and vomited the contents of her stomach on to the dry ground. The sound of her retching was loud in the stillness, but none came to comfort her, they simply sat, gazing into the fire, waiting for her to return. Slowly, she pulled herself back to her place at the fire, and sat as before, arms about her knees and head down, but no longer could she keep her sobs quiet. The rest of Lise's words were underlain with the gasping, wrenching sounds of Margarete's pain, sickness and grief.

"They left me in the care of some sisters at the nearby religious house. They were very kind to me there, and when I recovered, I made my way until I found another troop to join, which did not take long.

I learned to be cautious, to watch more closely. A generous man even taught me some basic skills to fight off a weak or unwary attacker, or an attacker far gone with drink. Four or five years ago, I would have been able to save myself easily from what befell me tonight.

Those three in the Great Hall reeked with drink, and were unsteady, if strong. I should have been more alert, I should have heard them behind me, felt them approach. I should have been able to defend myself and raise an alarm, have saved myself from repeated violation.

Instead, I lay still like a lamb to the butcher. I didn't even scream. So soft and weak have I become that I was an easy conquest. I thought that life as a genteel servant would protect me, so I stopped being careful. I was a fool."

When Lise had finished speaking, the only sounds were the crackling flames, and Margarete's dry, painful sobs.

They returned to the castle at sunrise. They drew many curious glances by their wet, bedraggled hair, and bleak, haggard faces. No one spoke to them, however, as they made their way toward Margarete's chamber. They reached it as Colin was coming out. He stood aside for them to pass. Their faces forestalled any questions he might have posed.

He watched as Lise was half carried through the open door, his insides burning with shame and guilt. A woman had been abused most grievously in his own Great Hall, by his sworn enemies. His own wife had been menaced by the same vermin, and it had been she who had put a stop to the vile outrage.

He tried to tell himself, as Owen had been doing since the women had left the castle, that the three perpetrators of the abuse were violating every code of honor. The customs of kidnap and ransom were so well established that no one had seriously considered that any would break them. Colin's guarding of the prisoner and his kin had been more to keep a safe distance between them, and his own folk, many of whom had deep personal grudges.

Such a breech of honor as these three had committed was justifiably answered by their deaths, and none would question his actions. At least, he reflected darkly, none should, but doubtless, the kin of the three slain men would choose to be offended, and would seize this as an excuse for vengeance. From a good omen, the capture of the Black Macgregor had turned sickeningly into the harbinger of pain, grief, and the good God only knew what else.