Luceo Non Uro || Outlander

Chapter 38

Marsali

Fergus was a stranger. Worse than that, I loathed the sight of him lurking around the Big House. No doubt he had only come to the gathering for the whiskey. The sight of the oak barrels made my stomach uneasy, but it was no longer my problem how many times Fergus filled his flask with the vile stuff. By noon, he was hardly able to stand on his own two feet. He paid Germain and Joan no mind as they sought his attention. 

I was trying my hardest to ignore him, but could not help but overhear, "Whatever you have to say to me, you might as well say it. you've been staring at me all morning. Staring at me like you stare at my son. Have you never seen a man with one hand before? Or a dwarf? Are we so hideous?"

"Hideously drunk. But as to your son, I thinkgrotesque may be the word. But you tell us, if you can bear to look at himyourself." I stepped onto the porch, and wished I could have prevented what came next. Fergus raised his flask and splashed it into the old crone's wrinkled face. She screamed and clutched at her eyes, no doubt burning from the alcohol. The husband made a move towards Fergus. He backhanded him across the face, and plunged his wooden hand into the soft flesh of his gut again and again. He let out a primal scream as arms wrapped around him, dragging him away from his victim who now kneeled in the dirt.

"This mad man attacked me!"

"It was her fault mostly. She shouldn't have said what she did about the bairn," Lizzie told Claire. I was torn. I wanted to go to Fergus' side, and hold him tight for defending our child. But I was still sickened by his drunken display.

"Surely its a curse from God for a child to look that way," the woman pressed under scrutiny. Fergus tried to free himself from the man who still restrained him. There was a mad and wild look in his eye.

"How dare you," Claire shouted. 

"Drink is the devil's juice, isn't that what you always say, Mr. Christie? Well, the lad's father is barely seen without a cup."

At this I made myself known and approached my husband. I would not let this woman cast such hatred upon an already broken man.

"The Frasers have opened their doors to us. We will respect them in the eyes of the Lord... with pity and kindness." Tom bellowed for all to hear. Fergus' head drooped, his hair hung loose around his gaunt face. Our weeks of separation had not done well to him.

He stumbled away when I tried to touch him. 

Claire wrapped an arm around me when I sought comfort. The distance between Fergus and I had never been greater, and now it seemed insurmountable.

"It'll be okay, give him time. I'll send Jamie to fetch him when he... cools down." Sobers up, I believe she meant.

"Germain, Joan, we're leaving!" I hoisted Fèlicité onto one hip, and carried Henri-Christian's basket in my other arm.

"Let me help you, cousin," Ian tried to take my child's basket, but I would let nobody touch him. He was mine and mine alone. The world had shown him no kindness in his short life.

"I can manage," I held my head high as we departed the Big House. But once we had made it to the safety of the forest, I allowed myself to grieve for all I had lost. 

I could not say it, but I worried what Fergus planned when he walked away from the Big House. I had never seen him look so utterly defeated. He couldn't... he wouldn't... I knelt before the cross above our bed, and prayed for a miracle. I prayed for Fergus to be delivered safely home as the man he once was.