The Fiery Cross - Diana Gabaldon [134]
“No. I’ve never had a cat before,” I admitted. “Frank was allergic to them—they made him sneeze. And what’s a good Scottish cat name, then—Diarmuid? McGillivray?”
He snorted, then laughed.
“Adso,” he said, positively. “Call him Adso.”
“What sort of name is that?” I demanded, twisting to look back at him in amazement. “I’ve heard a good many peculiar Scottish names, but that’s a new one.”
He rested his chin comfortably on my shoulder, watching the kitten sleep.
“My mother had a wee cat named Adso,” he said, surprisingly. “A gray cheetie, verra much like this one.”
“Did she?” I laid a hand on his leg. He rarely spoke of his mother, who had died when he was eight.
“Aye, she did. A rare mouser, and that fond of my mother; he didna have much use for us bairns.” He smiled in memory. “Possibly because Jenny dressed him in baby-gowns and fed him rusks, and I dropped him into the millpond, to see could he swim. He could, by the way,” he informed me, “but he didna like to.”
“I can’t say I blame him,” I said, amused. “Why was he called Adso, though? Is it a saint’s name?” I was used to the peculiar names of Celtic saints, from Aodh—pronounced OOH—to Dervorgilla, but hadn’t heard of Saint Adso before. Probably the patron saint of mice.
“Not a saint,” he corrected. “A monk. My mother was verra learned—she was educated at Leoch, ye ken, along with Colum and Dougal, and could read Greek and Latin, and a bit of the Hebrew as well as French and German. She didna have so much opportunity for reading at Lallybroch, of course, but my father would take pains to have books fetched for her, from Edinburgh and Paris.”
He reached across my body to touch a silky, translucent ear, and the kitten twitched its whiskers, screwing up its face as though about to sneeze, but didn’t open its eyes. The purr continued unabated.
“One of the books she liked was written by an Austrian, from the city of Melk, and so she thought it a verra suitable name for the kit.”
“Suitable . . .?”
“Aye,” he said, nodding toward the empty dish, without the slightest twitch of lip or eyelid. “Adso of Milk.”
A slit of green showed as one eye opened, as though in response to the name. Then it closed again, and the purring resumed.
“Well, if he doesn’t mind, I suppose I don’t,” I said, resigned. “Adso it is.”
19
THE DEVIL YE KEN
A WEEK LATER, we—that is, the women—were engaged in the backbreaking business of laundry when Clarence the mule let out his clarion announcement that company was coming. Little Mrs. Aberfeldy leaped as though she’d been stung by a bee, and dropped an armload of wet shirts in the dirt of the yard. I could see Mrs. Bug and Mrs. Chisholm opening their mouths in reproach, and took the opportunity to wipe my hands on my apron and hurry round to the front, to greet whatever visitor might be approaching.
Sure enough; a bay mule was coming out of the trees at the head of the trail, followed by a fat brown mare on a leading rein. The mule’s ears flicked forward and he brayed enthusiastically in reply to Clarence’s greeting. I stuck my fingers in my ears to block the ungodly racket, and squinted against the dazzle of the afternoon sun to make out the mule’s rider.
“Mr. Husband!” Pulling my fingers out of my ears, I hurried forward to greet him.
“Mrs. Fraser—good day to thee!”
Hermon Husband pulled off his black slouch hat and gave me a brief nod of greeting, then slid off the mule with a groan that spoke of a good many hours in the saddle. His lips moved soundlessly in the framework of his beard as he straightened stiffly; he was a Quaker, and didn’t use strong language. Not out loud, at least.
“Is thy husband at home, Mrs. Fraser?”
“I just saw him heading for the stable; I’ll go and find him!” I shouted, above the continued braying of the mules. I took the hat from him, and gestured toward the house. “I’ll see to your animals!”
He nodded thanks and limped slowly round the house, toward the kitchen door. From the back, I could see how painfully he moved; he could barely put weight on his left foot. The hat in my hand was covered with