why there were no infirm, or elderly, or anyone with so much as a limp here.
“Ye cannae be serious,” he muttered aghast.
“She is!” Joan shouted. “I will have to send me sweet boy away. Had he died, I could have a nice funeral. But I cannae do that now.”
His stomach churned as disgust blended with anger. “Let me get this straight,” he began with clenched teeth. “Anyone - including a little boy - who is infirm or aged or otherwise incapacitated, is sent away?”
Mariam and the women nodded, looking relieved that he finally understood.
Jamie and Fergus came to stand beside him. Onlookers stood just outside the cottage, trying to get a glimpse of what was taking place within.
“Are ye all mad?” Lachlan shouted.
Murmurs broke out among those standing outside Joan and Andrew Chisolm’s cottage.
Inside, three women and a little girl looked at Lachlan with a blend of fear and confusion.
“Ye actually send people away? Even children?” ’Twas a rhetorical question, his tone filled with revulsion.
One of the women sitting next to Joan decided it might be best to explain the way of things to their addlepated new leader. “’Tis the way of things here,” she said. “’Tis nae fair to put a burden on the healthy. If ye cannae help or contribute the rest of the clan, ye go away. ’Tis the most righteous thing a person can do for the betterment of the clan.”
Aghast, Lachlan, Jamie, and Fergus could only listen incredulously.
“Aye,” said the shorter woman. “Every last one of us would do the same. ’Tis a noble sacrifice.”
“Noble sacrifice?” Fergus was just as repulsed as his laird and friend were. “Ye call sendin’ a little boy away a noble sacrifice?”
Indignantly, Joan sat a little taller in her seat. “Aye, I do!”
“He may never gain use of his arm again,” said the other woman. “Ye can see how that could be a burden to the rest of us. Havin’ to do his work as well as our own.”
“Would it surprise ye to learn that I suffered a similar injury as a lad?” Fergus said, taking a step toward her.
“Ye did?” Mariam said in wide-eyed amazement.
“Aye, I did. I got kicked by a verra angry horse when I was ten. Broke my arm just below my elbow,” he said, pointing to his right arm. “I healed and it has never bothered me since.”
They all looked at him in awe.
Wanting to put an end to this, Lachlan raised his voice. He wanted to make certain those gathered out of doors heard him as well. “From this day forward, no one, and I do mean no one will be sent away for any reason. Nae for a broken bone or an illness or for their age.” He shook his head once again. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
There were a few who nodded with understanding. The vast majority appeared as though they thought him completely mad. Including the little lad’s mum.
“I will nae be held responsible for my son being a burden to anyone.”
Realizing there would be no arguing with the woman and worried she might take matters into her own hands and harm the lad, Lachlan went to the bed and scooped the boy up into his arms. “Then ye no longer have a son.”
And with that, he stormed out of the cottage and back to the keep.
“There is naught to be done for him, I am afraid.” The healer, or a man who claimed that position, was looking down at little Gylbeart as if the boy had an arrow lodged in his heart. “He is quite doomed.”
Lachlan lowered his head and rubbed the space between his eyes with his finger and thumb. “Ye cannae be serious?” He was growing weary of asking that question.
The healer, a short, squat man named Albert, who Lachlan estimated to be near to forty, grabbed up his basket of supplies and tucked it under his arm. “I am. ’Tis broken, just as his mum told ye it was.”
“But ye can mend a broken arm,” Jamie said.
“To what end?” Albert asked with a scrunched brow. “He will be a burden if it doesn’t heal proper.”
Thoroughly disgusted, Lachlan looked to Jamie and Fergus. “Remove him from my presence before I gut him.”
They were all too happy to do his bidding. Forcefully, they grabbed the man by his upper arms and all but dragged him from the keep.
He was left alone, in a small bedchamber above stairs. Gylbeart appeared both baffled and sad. He lay in the center