The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (An Outlander Story)

Chapter 57: The Sounds Of Silence

Brian is gradually healing, physically that is. The bruises on Brian's face lessen, moving from reds and blues into an array of purple, green and yellow, as he physically returns to looking more normal. The fractures to his fingers were simple; with splints, and they healed with no trouble though the broken bones will take longer to mend. What his Mother is most happy about is that his throat has subsided enough that he can move air through his nose and mouth again. She has been able to remove the tube from his throat and stitch up the incision. He can swallow his food again, the first time being uncomfortable as Mama wiped his face, fed him like he is a baby again with little water mixed with brandy as a restorative and pressed her fingers lightly to his throat to try and best asses the damage.

Essentially, his vital signs have been improving significantly, and even his throat is on the mend; his vitality, however, is a different story.

Soon, both he and Isaiah Morton, have recovered sufficiently for travel. His parents and sister are ready to go home, filling the house with restless excitement and relief – except for Roger. Given the imminence of Morton's offspring and the danger to him in coming anywhere near either Granite Falls or Brownsville, Da had arranged for him and Alicia to lodge with the brewmaster of Mr Sherston's brewery, where Isaiah would be employed as a wagoner for the brewery, as soon as his strength permitted.

Tryon has released the Militia company from service. The governor has released all but twelve of the prisoners taken at Alamance, who will be held for trial in a month, on charges of rebellion. The spiteful part of Brian thinks of how they'll at least be able to speak before hanging – if they're found guilty.

On the journey back to the Ridge, Brian either sat or lay awkwardly (he would often have to lie down when his Mother felt particularly cautious about his injuries) on the back of a wagon, Ellen refusing to leave his side. He would gently stroke the rope scar still dark under his jaw along with the smaller, neater line of Mama's own incision.

He tried not to look at the other wagon that trailed after them that contained Murtagh's body, secretly secreted there amongst some of the luggage so as to not raise any suspicion. A few nights later, after they had arrived back on the ridge and after Murtagh had been properly buried. But, the funeral ceremony wouldn't be happening until later, so that Da would have more time to grieve on his own and try to make his head understand that his godfather is really, truly gone.

The revelation of William Buccleigh MacKenzie's identity hasn't altered Da's urgent desire to find the man, but it has changed his intention of murdering him immediately, once found. The man is family, he's Uncle Dougal's child, Da's own blood – Brian's too. A MacKenzie. A MacKenzie of Leoch. But the key to Da's frustration is that he hasn't been seen since Alamance despite Da seeking the man from one end of the county to the other in the immediate days after.

——

August 1771

"Here, have some tea." Ellen offers. She sets a cup of piping hot tea on the table in front of him, then touches Brian's back gently. He startles a little, not expecting to be touched. He was worse about it early on after coming back home, but now, he only startles a little if he is touched unexpectedly; he used to recoil away completely. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." She bends forward and kisses the top of his head, squeezing his arm affectionately before walking away.

He knows Ellen is very worried about him. Not for his scar or any outward wounds, but just for him in general. As his scar from the tracheotomy healed, Mama had told him that he should practice talking, but he kept refusing. Ellen has tried to make the best of it, referencing the silent movies she and Roger used to drag him to see with them and the importance of non-verbal communication.

Brian turns his head to look at his sister, wanting badly to say 'Thank you', but he can't bring the words to his lips. He fears them, afraid that the hanging took away his voice or changed it completely. If he doesn't speak, he doesn't have to know, and therefore won't be reminded of that terrifying event. It's been a dark and silent world since May, and Brian has found it hard to find light. Shadows creep into his peripheral vision, reminding him of the horrors he had endured.

Brian is no longer helping out everywhere around the Ridge, a change from the usual sight. Theo Frye's smithy still needs completing, but Brian cannot mentally face them all. At first, his excuse was that he was slowly building his strength back after weeks of bed rest at Mama's urging. That wasn't hard for him to do since he hadn't felt very up to being around people or taking part in events or activities on the Ridge. However, since then, he has hidden away in his room on the upper floor of the big house, getting lost in his own mind as he stares endlessly at the wall. He's haunted by the images of his hanging coming back to him in flashes.

The attitude of those at the Ridge has altered. In no way does the community ostracise him but there is an alteration at least to how Brian is perceived. His usual female followers have drifted away from him, unsure about how to talk to him now that he's mute – and not just verbally – or perhaps their families have advised them not to go near a man who may have betrayed King and country. He knows that Mama, Da, Ellen and Roger, who are there, along with Fergus, Marsali, Lizzie, and the Beardsley twins, would have all defended him to the Ridge as a person who was wrongly accused. It has all led to everyone feeling not entirely sure how to treat him, especially to a man who doesn't seem all there.

Suddenly, there is a knock at the door, and Brian turns back to his tea.

"Coming!" Ellen calls, answering the door. "Mama! Come in!"

Their mother steps into Brian's room. "I was on my way to visit Rabbie Cochrane, the poor man is having issues with his feet, but I thought I'd come and check on Brian."

"Ah, thank you," Ellen replies, embracing her mother and kissing her cheek. "Here he is. He still isn't speaking..."

"Still?" Mama asks, setting her medical bag on the table beside Brian. "Hey, Brian, how are you, lamb?" She asks him. Brian merely looks up at her and nods before looking away again. "Brian, I need you to tell me how you're feeling. Are you having any pain?" Brian shakes his head, looking down at the teacup in front of him. "Here, let me have a look."

She reaches into a bag and pulls out a glass rod. Brian sits up for her and opens his mouth, Mama depressing his tongue with the glass rod and looking into his throat, just to make sure that everything is continuing on the right path, physically at least. She doused a cloth in alcohol and wiped the rod clean.

"Everything looks good," Mama observes. "Your throat's healing nicely. Scar's faded." Next, she felt his throat externally, poking around his neck and chin and pressing down in places. "How do you feel? Does anything hurt?" Brian doesn't answer, but instead, shakes his head, shrugging. He feels broken and traumatised. Depressed. The reminder of Murtagh's death only intensifies his deep grief. "Hmm... well, your throat is healing nicely, your hyoid bone is intact, and your scar has faded almost entirely..."

Brian feels his hand go to his neck, feeling where the rope burns used to be. The scar might have faded, but it feels as if the rope is still there. He'll never touch rope again if he can help it.

Ellen puts her hands on her hips and lets out a quiet exhale, looking to the floor. Lizzie – when did she come in? – rubs her upper back. Ellen and Mama make eye contact, and Brian immediately knows they're going to try to encourage him again.

Brian can already feel himself starting to fade away, their words washing over him. His eyes have locked somewhere on the floor but he isn't looking at it. His mind is miles away. He dangles, kicking– feet pawing empty air– his sight goes black– he feels his body stretch and loosen, reaching, reaching for the earth—

Then Lizzie speaks, snapping his mind away from those thoughts. "Maybe I should bring Keziah in?"

Keziah. Recently, Brian has been finding comfort in the presence of the quieter Beardsley twin. Lizzie's been bringing around and Brian has found himself quite enjoying his company as the two of them have had many a silent conversation, an understanding.

Mama looks on at him in worry. "Maybe that's for the best."