Dragonfly In Amber - Gabaldon Diana (читать книги бесплатно полностью без регистрации сокращений txt) 📗

There were limits to what money could manage, but Alex’s face glowed like a candle flame when Mary came through the door, temporarily obscuring the ravages of illness.

“I’ve brought Claire, dearest.” Mary dropped her cloak unheeded onto a chair and knelt beside him, taking his thin, blue-veined hands in her own.

“Mrs. Fraser.” His voice was light and breathless, though he smiled at me. “It’s good to see a friendly face again.”

“Yes, it is.” I smiled at him, noting half-consciously the rapid, fluttering pulse visible in his throat, and the transparency of his skin. The hazel eyes were soft and warm, holding most of the life left in his frail body.

Lacking medicine, there was nothing I could do for him, but I examined him carefully, and saw him tucked up comfortably afterward, his lips slightly blue from the minor exertion of the examination.

I covered the anxiety I felt at his condition, and promised to come next day with some medicine to help him sleep more easily. He hardly noticed my assurances; all his attention was for Mary, sitting anxiously by him, holding his hand. I saw her glance at the window, where light was fading rapidly, and realized her concern; she would have to return to her aunt’s house before nightfall.

“I’ll take my leave, then,” I told Alex, removing myself as tactfully as I could, to leave them a few precious moments alone together.

He glanced from me to Mary, then smiled back at me in gratitude.

“God bless you, Mrs. Fraser,” he said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, and left, hoping that I would.

I was busy over the next few days. The men’s arms had been confiscated, of course, when they were arrested, and I did my best to recover what I could, bullying and threatening, bribing and charming where necessary. I pawned two brooches that Jared had given me as a farewell present, and bought enough food to ensure that the men of Lallybroch ate as well as the army in general – poorly as that might be.

I talked my way into the cells of the prison, and spent some time in treating the prisoners’ ailments, ranging from scurvy and the more generalized malnutrition common in winter, to chafing sores, chilblains, arthritis, and a variety of respiratory ailments.

I made the rounds of those chieftains and lords still in Edinburgh – not many – who might be helpful to Jamie, if his visit to Stirling should fail. I didn’t think it would, but it seemed wise to take precautions.

And among the other activities of my days, I made time to see Alex Randall once a day. I took pains to come in the mornings, so as not to use up his time with Mary. Alex slept little, and that little, ill; consequently, he tended to be tired and drooping in the morning, not wanting to talk, but always smiling in welcome when I arrived. I would give him a light mixture of mint and lavender, with a few drops of poppy syrup stirred in; this would generally allow him a few hours of sleep, so that he could be alert when Mary arrived in the afternoon.

Aside from me and Mary, I had seen no other visitors at the top of the building. I was therefore surprised, coming up the stairs to his room one morning, to hear voices behind the closed door.

I knocked once, briefly, as was our agreed custom, and let myself in. Jonathan Randall was sitting by his brother’s bed, clad in his captain’s uniform of red and fawn. He rose at my entrance and bowed correctly, face cold.

“Madam,” he said.

“Captain,” I said. We then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, staring at each other, each unwilling to go further.

“Johnny,” said Alex’s hoarse voice from the bed. It had a note of coaxing, as well as one of command, and his brother shrugged irritably when he heard it.

“My brother has summoned me to give you a bit of news,” he said, tightlipped. He wore no wig this morning, and with his dark hair tied back, his resemblance to his brother was startling. Pale and frail as Alex was, he looked like Jonathan’s ghost.

“You and Mr. Fraser have been kind to my Mary,” Alex said, rolling onto his side to look at me. “And to me as well. I… knew of my brother’s bargain with you” – the faintest of pinks rose in his cheeks – “but I know, too, what you and your husband did for Mary… in Paris.” He licked his lips, cracked and dry from the constant heat in the room. “I think you should hear the news Johnny brought from the Castle yesterday.”

Jack Randall eyed me with dislike, but he was good as his word.

“Hawley has succeeded Cope, as I told you earlier that he would,” he said. “Hawley has little gift for leadership, bar a certain blind confidence in the men under his command. Whether that will stand him in better stead than did Cope’s cannon-” He shrugged impatiently.

“Be that as it may, General Hawley has been directed to march north to recover Stirling Castle.”

“Has he?” I said. “Do you know how many troops he has?”

Randall nodded shortly. “He has eight thousand troops at the moment, thirteen hundred of them cavalry. He is also in daily expectation of the arrival of six thousand Hessians.” He frowned, thinking. “I have heard that the chief of clan Campbell is sending a thousand men to join with Hawley’s forces as well, but I cannot say whether that information is reliable; there seems no way of predicting what Scots will do.”

“I see.” This was serious; the Highland army at this point had between six and seven thousand men. Against Hawley, minus his expected reinforcements, they might manage. To wait until his Hessians and Campbells arrived was clearly madness, to say nothing of the fact that the Highlanders’ fighting skills were much better suited to attack than defense. This news had best reach Lord George Murray at once.

Jack Randall’s voice called me back from my ruminations.

“Good day to you, Madam,” he said, formal as ever, and there was no trace of humanity on the hard, handsome features as he bowed to me and took his leave.

“Thank you,” I said to Alex Randall, waiting for Jonathan to descend the long, twisting stair before leaving myself. “I appreciate it very much.”

He nodded. The shadows under his eyes were pronounced; another bad night.

“You’re welcome,” he said simply. “I suppose you’ll be leaving some of the medicine for me? I imagine it may be some time before I see you again.”

I halted, struck by his assumption that I would go myself to Stirling. That was what every fiber of my being urged me to do, but there was the matter of the men in the Tolbooth to be considered.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But yes; I’ll leave the medicine.”

I walked slowly back to my lodgings, my mind still spinning. Obviously, I must get word to Jamie immediately. Murtagh would have to go, I supposed. Jamie would believe me, of course, if I wrote him a note. But could he convince Lord George, the Duke of Perth, or the other army commanders?

I couldn’t tell him where I had come by this knowledge; would the commanders be willing to believe a woman’s unsupported, written word? Even the word of a woman popularly supposed to have supernatural powers? I thought of Maisri suddenly, and shivered. It’s a curse, she had said. Yes, but what choice was there? I have no power but the power not to say what I know. I had that power, too, but dared not risk using it.

To my surprise, the door to my small room was open, and there were clashing, banging noises coming from inside it. I had been storing the recovered arms under my bed, and stacking swords and assorted blades by the hearth once the space under the bed was filled, until there was virtually no floor space left, save the small square of floorboards where Fergus laid his blankets.

I stood on the stair, amazed at the scene visible through the open door above. Murtagh, standing on the bed, was overseeing the handing-out of weaponry to the men who crowded the room to overflowing – the men of Lallybroch.