John perused the missive, his frown growing deeper.
When Eoin described the part about Aleck humiliating Helen by insisting he be tended by his leman, Mary, the bishop held up his hand and asked for silence. His eyes reflected alarm. “This also says she fears for her daughter. I was not aware she’d birthed a bairn.”
“Aye, Maggie—she named the lassie Margaret after your mother.”
“’Tis a good name.” Scratching his beard, John looked toward the window as if deep in thought. “Do you honestly think Aleck MacIain would threaten the life of his own daughter?”
“I believe so.” Eoin nodded. “He’s refused to see the bairn because he wanted a son—has told Lady Helen he’ll marry Maggie off as soon as her menses show.”
The crease between John’s brows pinched. “’Tis not unusual to make an alliance when a lass reaches such an age.”
“True.” Eoin pointed to the missive. “If Maggie should survive that long. And if Lady Helen births another lass, I’m afraid MacIain will stop at nothing to snuff your sister out.”
John shook his head. “Few annulments are granted—even fewer when requested by the wife.”
“But surely, with your sister’s life in danger…there could be an exception. You have the power of the church behind you. How could you force her to remain in a marriage where she is being beaten?”
“She could retire to the nunnery right here on Iona. I would guarantee her sanctuary.”
“Helen has already asked to be sent to Iona with the bairn.” Eoin looked John directly in the eye. “Sir Aleck told her he would kill her first.”
John again held up a hand. Eoin pictured the bishop doing this often when considering a grave decision. Again John read the missive. “I cannot believe Helen has been mistreated so.”
“With all due respect, I would not be here if I hadn’t witnessed such abomination myself. Jesus, John, you know me, and moreover are aware I would not speak falsely to you or any man of God.” Eoin spread his palms. “Can you not appeal to the Pope on this matter?”
The bishop folded the velum and slapped it in his palm. “If it is in the best interest of my sister, I will present her supplication to the Pope. This news is disturbing and I believe we should make haste. I fear for her safety and that of my niece.”
Eoin attempted to mask his relief with a frown. “As do I.”
“Do what you can to protect her until I send word.”
“I shall. I must meet with Lord Duncan and then plan to return to Mingary forthwith.”
John stood and ran his hand down his beard. “Before you go, I must ask one thing.”
Eoin quickly rose as well. “By all means.”
“As I recall during your fostering, you fancied Lady Helen. Ah…you haven’t committed a sin?” John drew out the word sin with a suggestive lilt.
Though he should have expected this question, it still took him aback. Eoin shook his head with vehemence. “Never. Neither I nor the lady would stoop to such a disgrace.”
John patted Eoin’s shoulder. “I thought no less, but it was a question that needed asking. If an annulment is to be considered at all, there must be no errant behavior on Lady Helen’s behalf, else she could end up tied to the stake and burned.”
Eoin shuddered. He couldn’t deny he hadn’t thought about Helen in that way. But John’s words drove home the need for saintly behavior. “When can I expect word?”
“I will request an audience with His Holiness as soon as I arrive in Rome, but traveling across the channel can be treacherous, no matter the time of year. Two months is my best estimate.”
Bowing, Eoin thanked the heavens this detour to Iona hadn’t been in vain. “I wish you a safe journey.”
He didn’t usually lie abed when injured, but Aleck’s arm bloody hurt. He blamed Eoin MacGregor for that. The bastard had been none too gentle when he’d applied the splints. Aleck growled. He’d wager MacGregor took great pleasure in setting the bone.
The bastard again set sail without saying a word. At least I no longer have to put up with his stench.
Mary offered him a tonic. “This will help with the pain, m’laird.”
Aleck scowled. “Does it have whisky in it?”
“’Tis willow bark steeped with valerian.”
He pushed it away. “I’ll not take another one of your concoctions without a healthy tot of whisky.”
“Are you planning to continue to act like a milksop, m’laird?” Mary huffed.