Luceo Non Uro || Outlander

Chapter 37

Fergus

I felt numb. Cold and numb as I sat amongst the snow-laden trees beyond out clearing. I could not even bring myself to bring angry with Germain. I had no love for the child, only pity for the difficult life ahead of him.

"Fergus." I straightened, but the redness around my eyes belied any attempt to appear strong.

"In the mountain villages of France, a dwarf would be left for the wolves."

"We wouldn't let that happen here. We'll surround Henri Christian with love and protect him, and make sure he gets treated live everyone else so he'll grow up happy." Milady sat beside me. She tried to reassure me, but her words were hollow. Empty promises. We had already seen the love and protection that surrounded him today.

"After he's grown, will he have a happy life? Marry? Provide for a family?"

"I don't see why he couldn't... or why he can't be educated, or learn a trade, or be able to work at something." These things she listed were not even possible for me, let alone someone like Henri-Christian.

"Something. With respect my lady, you have never seen the life of a dwarf."

"And you have?"

"Oui, in Paris. The house itself had girls of course, and even children. They were the bread and butter of the establishment. But there were always those who desired the exotic... and who will pay. And so every now and then, madame would send for those who dealt in such things. Les Chanterelles, we called them, the females. The males, they were les morilles. But they were not badly treated, they were of value. The master would buy such infants from their parents, or collect them from the streets. I knew one of them quite well, Luc, he was called. Sometimes we would work together, pickpocketing wealthy customers. I found him one day in the alley with his throat cut. So the madame sent the doorkeep to fetch the body and sold it to the physician to cut them up, to sell their parts for divination."

"I'm so sorry, Fergus," her eyes glistened with tears at my sad tale. 

"When I met you and Milord, I found a world beyond the brothel, and vowed to never return to such a place. That my son might find himself in such a life..." A whore, like his father, I wanted to say, but the words would not come.

"You can't think I or Jamie would allow such a thing to happen."

"No, you will not, Milady, but you will not live forever, nor will Milord, nor I. But the child will be a dwarf forever and that is my fault. I was not there to protect my wife and he was beaten in the womb."

"His condition has nothing to do with what happened. You have to believe me, Fergus. It wasn't your fault. I'm a physician, I know." I could listen to her excuses for my failures no longer. "Fergus! Fergus!" she called after me, but I was far away. 

I pushed down the thoughts of my son, and the tragedy that would be his life. There was no escaping it. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see his looking up at me. Accusing me of the harm that had befallen him before he even had the opportunity to take his first breath. The still was my only solace. I only returned home when Marsali fetched me to watch the children. She would see to Germain's punishment at the Big House. 

Then I turned to the cask hidden away in the cabinet to numb my pain. The hours slipped away. I could not be the father my girls needed.

"Papa, I'm so hungry. I'm really hungry," their cries fell on deaf ears. I could not carry myself into the kitchen. I could not provide for them.

"Sh, dinna fash, your ma's here now," Marsali came into the house, with Henri-Christian on her hip.

"Have ye been neglecting the bairns? How much drink have ye had?"

"If I'm still talking it's not enough. Maybe I need another." My words slurred together. I deserved everything that was coming and more.

"Ye promised me you wouldn't. You're so much better than this, my love." Why would she lie to me? "I've seen what drink can do to a man. I watched my mother put up with it, me and Joanie suffered because of it. And so help me God, I willna put up wi' it again. So please, Fergus... tell me how to help ye, please."

"You can't. I'm the one who's supposed to help you, to provide for you and the children, to protect you and the children."

"Then thank God Henri-Christian was with me this evening and that he drinks his mother's milk." 

"What does that mean? You think I'd let any harm come to him?" I slammed the cup on the table. I felt enraged, not at Marsali, but towards myself because I could not be certain oof the answer to my own question. What would I have done had it been I who found Henri-Christian floating down the river? Would I have fought to save him like Roger had?

"Well it's a fine job ye'd do in that state. Ye can't protect anyone when you're drunk."

"You're right. Only I wasn't drunk when I failed you before."

"I can fight for us too. The burden is not only on you, I can protect us as well."

"Not against men like Lionel Brown."

"Aye I can, and I did. Let this be a comfort to ye Fergus, for I mean it to be, Lionel didn't die. I killed him."

"What? What did you say?" 

"He threatened me. He threatened all of us, he said he'd burn the house down over our heads. So I filled a syringe with water hemlock and stabbed him in the neck."

"You killed him?" My blood ran cold.

"I was worried it would haunt me. But it doesn't. An evil man is gone, and no harm will come to us."

"I don't need a woman to protect me! But I do need a drink."

"Thirsty, are ye?" Marsali came around the table to where I paced in circles, unable to raise my head to meet her gaze. She raised a pitcher over my head, and doused me with water. What did not soak through my hair and clothes splashed at my feet. "I hope that's quenched it. Now leave. I said leave!" She shoved me. I wanted to plead, to beg her to let me stay, but my addled brain could not form the words.

"I am the man of this house!"

"Well, then ye can come back when yer acting like one.

"You promised me, Fergus Fraser! And I'll have a whole man, or none at all," I heard her say behind me as I shut the door to our home for what I knew would be the final time.