Page 23 of Highland Slayer
Dumfries, Scotland
It was stillraining when they arrived.
The village of Dumfries was a curious mixture of architecture. There were cottages with mud walls and sod roofs, other cottages that were of stone, and still other structures that were built from the red limestone that was so prevalent in the southern portion of Scotland. Then there were buildings built of wattle and daub. But no matter what it was built of, it was wet as Estevan and Anaxandra arrived at the southern end of the village. The road they had traveled upon had turned into a muddy sea in some places, slowing their journey considerably. But nothing could stop it entirely. Now that they’d arrived, they were on the hunt for the apothecary stall, which Mother Michael had told them was near the church.
Estevan would have thought that Anaxandra knew exactly where the church was, but he’d found out in a brief conversation during their journey that she had never been to the village of Dumfries, not in the entirety of her life, because Mother Michael would not allow any of her wards travel to locations that she deemed unsafe and debaucherous. That included a village full of people—men, in particular. It was her job to protect the women under her command, which, Estevan was coming to realize, seemed to mean that they lived like hermits.
Therefore, he kept stealing glances at Anaxandra as they entered the village proper. She was trying very hard not to seem overwhelmed by the whole thing, but he could just tell bythe expression on her face that the situation was bewildering. Perhaps it was even frightening, although he couldn’t imagine a woman like Anaxandra being frightened of anything. However, the lack of exposure to the world outside of the abbey was reflected on her face. She had no idea how to process it all.
He thought it was rather fascinating.
In fact, he thoughtshewas rather fascinating.
But he had to admit that the ride north from St. Margaret’s had been a strange one. There had been limited conversation, and Estevan thought it was because she was simply trying to keep a distance from him, but as they drew closer to the village, he realized it was because she was nervous about being outside of the walls of the abbey. Every sight, every sound, had her on edge. Estevan wasn’t sure if he should try to alleviate that fear, because she might take it as an insult. From his conversation with her yesterday, he was coming to understand that he was dealing with a unique young woman. She was fearsome, and well trained, but whatever battles she had fought in had been tightly controlled, presumably by Mother Michael, which meant there had been no time to wander or see the world outside of the fight.
That made a journey like this intimidating for her.
Therefore, he didn’t want to run the risk of offending her by acknowledging that she was edgy to be in an environment she wasn’t familiar with. She was too proud for that. That meant he kept silent for the most part, and it was an uncomfortable sort of silence. He wasn’t quite sure what else they would talk about, and she never made the effort, so they were stuck in a perpetually strange situation.
And he wasn’t the only one who thought it was strange.
While Estevan was mulling over the silence, Anaxandra was in her own world of anxiety. That was the only way to describe it. Though she had been out of the walls of St. Margaret’s several times, it was only in the local area surrounding the abbey.Forests and burns and meadows. She knew how to hunt and did so frequently, but coming into contact with a village the size of Dumfries was something she had no experience with at all. She knew that Mother Michael had recommended her for escort duty because of her skill with crossbow in case Estevan ran into trouble, so there was logic to that. But there was literally no logic in sending her into the village she knew nothing about.
She hopedhewouldn’t figure that out.
St. Margaret’s was built of red limestone that had a weather-worn look to it. She was used to those old walls. But Dumfries had a mix of architecture, types of buildings that she’d never seen before, and it took all of her strength not to stop and inspect them. She was curious about everything, even though she knew that this was not a trip for her discovery. This was a trip to the apothecary to collect medicaments for a fever, and, courtesy of Mother Michael, she knew that the apothecary was near the church.
Wherever the church was.
Looking around the village for the church had her also looking at the people. Women were walking in the street, going about their business, and she was quite curious about the garments they were wearing. No one was wearing what she had on, breeches and tunics instead of a skirt and kirtle. She was well aware that women were expected to wear surcoats and garments without the legs defined, but she had never worn that type of garment in her life. She wondered how comfortable it was.
She wondered how she would look in such a thing.
Vanity was something that was heavily discouraged by the nuns at St. Margaret’s, so she felt guilty even thinking about how she would look in a garment like that. As she and Estevan headed west on the main road that went through the heart of Dumfries, she caught sight of a woman wearing a pale blue dress and a matching robe that was lined with fur. The woman wastrying not to get the bottom of the dress dirty as a servant helped her on to a small palfrey. She was far better dressed than anyone else Anaxandra had seen so far, and, in fact, her dress was quite lovely. Anaxandra found herself staring at it and not even realizing it. Everything she’d seen to that point had been drab and practical. The pale blue dress was made of a shiny material, something that looked lovely and soft.
She wondered howshewould look in that dress.
“Look,” Estevan said, breaking into her train of thought. “There is the church. See it? With the bell tower on the roof?”
Anaxandra tore herself away from the woman in the pale blue dress, looking down the road, toward the west. She could see a short, squat structure, nothing spectacular in the grand scheme of things. But Estevan suddenly came to a halt, pointing to the building that the woman in the pale blue dress was in front of.
“The apothecary,” he said. “There it is, right in front of us.”
That was true. Anaxandra had been so caught up in the sight of the first beautiful dress she’d ever seen that she failed to notice the shop in front of her. It didn’t look like anything more than a run-down cottage with a roof that leaned unsteadily like a drunkard, but the sign over the door, in faded paint, announced the business within:
Aromatarius
That was the Latin word for the apothecary, so Anaxandra and Estevan dismounted their steeds, tying them to the post in front of the business. Anaxandra simply stared at the storefront as if unsure what to do, so Estevan took the lead and headed inside.
She followed.
But she didn’t make it past the door.
Anaxandra stood, wide eyed, as Estevan wandered into the heart of the shop, looking at the tables that contained various ingredients. There was one woman in there already, speaking to an older woman who wore a dirty wimple around her head. It was supposed to be made of white fabric, but it was mostly yellow and stained. Estevan assumed one of the women was the apothecary, so he waited patiently until the business was finished.
The woman with the dirty wimple left the shop.
That meant the remaining woman was the apothecary, or at least worked for the apothecary. She turned to see Estevan and her round face lit up. She was older, with graying hair that was pulled off her face and round cheeks. When she smiled, he could see missing teeth. But that didn’t prevent her from greeting Estevan as she walked up to him and slapped him, hard, on the arm.
