by Mac Flynn
"If you will call me Andra, what shall I call you?" I asked him.
"Bruce will do," he replied.
"I do not know your face. You're not of the village?" I guessed.
He shook his head. "No, but I have passed through before. The laird has hosted me several times."
I bowed my head. "I understand."
He laughed. "You take me for a laird. An astute observation, but I don't wish for you to treat me as one. I am a traveler. Nothing more or less than that." He studied me. "But tell me about yourself. You have lived in this village your many years?"
"I have," I confirmed.
"And now you go to make your fortune?" he guessed.
"My mother is need of income," I explained.
"Then you are both brave and kind, Andra," he complimented me.
"My name is-"
"Andra to me, and to me it shall always be," he told me. "By-the-by, it has been many years since I last passed. Is the young laird still well?"
"He passed away seven years hence," I informed him.
A dark shadow passed over his face and his smile faltered. "Dead?"
"That is what they say."
He raised an eyebrow. "They do not know?"
"There was no funeral. We expect he died away from home," I explained.
His smile returned. "I see. That changes everything. But our interesting conversation is at an end. We have arrived."
We stood at the bottom of the road that led up to the old wooden gates of the castle some half mile hither. He released my arm and stepped back. I turned to him and gestured to the castle.
"Will you not at least find some solace in a warm kitchen?" I offered him.
Bruce looked up at the castle and a strange smile slipped onto his lips. "No. I don't believe I'd be welcomed there anymore."
I was curious , but remembered Mother's warning of my business and others. "Then I'll thank you again, and wish you a good journey, sir."
He bowed to me. "A good day, Andra, and may the light of the moon shine brightly on you."
"May God grant you a long life," I returned.
Bruce chuckled. "He has, but good day."
He turned and strode down the road. I was left with a great curiosity, and so watched him until he disappeared among the cottages.
"What a strange man. . ." I whispered.
But my curiosity would not feed me, and so I returned my attention to the castle. I walked up the slope and soon arrived at the border of my future. The stone keep of the ancient Campbell clan was a mountain of boulders hewed to fit one on top of the other. Tall, narrow windows were cut into the boulders and looked out on the great moorlands owned by the laird. The top of the high walls were wide battlements where archers could make their stand against a great force. The entirety of the castle would have swallowed half the village, and so great was the expanse that the castle could house such a number of servants and lairds with their entourage that they were a village unto themselves.
The entrance was two large wooden gates that opened the way to an expansive courtyard. Animals were kept in a stable on the left, and on the right at the far back was a pair of doors that led into the living and eating quarters of the laird and his guests. To my immediate right past the gates was a small, low stone barracks where the guards of the castle and a small contingency of soldiers were kept for the safekeeping of the village.
Two men with swords stood at attention on either side of the open gates. They looked askance at me.
"What brings you here?" one of them snapped.
"I am to be a servant in the kitchen," I announced.
He jerked his head towards a small door beyond the stables. "The kitchen is through there."
I bowed my head. "Much obliged."
The man sneered and they both returned to their duty of watching the road. I hoped other welcomes would not be so cold as my first.
CHAPTER 3
I walked past them and came to the door. It was unlocked and led to the kitchen and rear passages into the main portions of the castle. The kitchen was sturdy with a stone floor and walls. Brick ovens were set into the left-hand wall and a stove occupied the opposite wall. In the center was a large wooden table. Utensils and pans hung from the open-beamed ceiling, and the scent of herbs and spices flowed from the dried foodstuff that hung between the pans. A few small windows near where the wall met the ceiling vented the hot steam into the courtyard.
The kitchen bustled with work as a handful of women busied themselves over the large stove and at the table kneading dough. One of the women was a large sort with sharp eyes and a voice that shook the walls.
"Not done with the bread yet?" she barked at one of the women who kneaded the dough.
"Almost," was the reply.
"'Almost' will not feed my laird's guest Laird Graham," she bit back. "He and his own will arrive within the hour and we have little to show for his late breakfast." Her quick eyes fell on me and narrowed. "What's wanted?"
I curtsied. "I am Muira, daughter of Fenella, and I have come to serve my laird."
The woman's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes grew wide. "Why, so it is!" She rushed forward and enveloped me in a hug that left me breathless. Aili pulled me away and looked me over with a wide smile. "I should have known you anywhere! You look so much like your mother! What a beauty you are!"
I blushed and bowed my head. "Thank you."
"And what of your skills? Have you the hands of your mother?" she wondered.
"They are not so experienced, but I shall try," I promised.
She gave a nod. "Good. You will be put to work now. We are in need of stronger kneaders than God has granted me." I removed my cloak and Aili turned me to the small group of women. Many of them were my mother's age, but a few young faces shone through. "This is Muira. She's to be the new serving girl for our laird." The women curtsied and mumbled greetings. I returned the sentiment.
Then Aili led me to the large kneading table. She gave me a ball of dough and I was set to work. There was a great deal to be done with preparing food for a laird and any important followers he may bring. Ducks had to be roasted, bread cooked, and soup made. The women talked as they worked.
"I hear tell that the Laird Graham is to bring his daughter," one of them, a woman by the name of Mary, spoke up.
"What for? The laird's son is dead," another pointed out.
"Is he?" Mary wondered. "I don't recall seeing a coffin, and the laird would surely have set up a fine tomb in the crypt for his only son."
"Perhaps he isn't dead," a third chimed in.
Mary nodded. "That's what I think. There are enough queer tales from the north wing to chill anyone's blood."
"Queer tales?" the second wondered.
"Aye, of shadows in the passages and strange sounds from the top-most chambers," Mary explained.
"Don't go starting that talk again, Bean Finn, nor you, Mary," Aili scolded her as she punctuated their tales with stern orders. "There's no one in the north wing, and you know it. Now quicker to the stove with you all, and don't cheapen the soup with water. The laird doesn't mind such ways when he's without company, but not with."
A great shout came from the courtyard. The women dropped their bread and pots, and rushed to the windows and to the door which Aili opened. A handsome carriage with gilded doors rushed into the courtyard with an entourage of horsemen at the front and back. The gates were shut behind them. They had only been opened in anticipation of Laird Graham's arrival. The laird himself alighted from the carriage. He was a portly fellow of forty with red cheeks and food stains on the front of his broad breast. His eyes were small and set closely together.
Behind him emerged a fair lady of my age. She was very pale and thin, and had a cross look on her face. Her dress was of the smoothest velvet and her cloak of the softest wool, all dyed red.
The doors to the main wing of the castle swung open and Laird Campbell himself stepped out. He was a man of forty-five, a great age, and walked w
ith a limp received from battle in the protection of his lands land before I was born. His long beard was speckled with gray and his hands were gnarled from many years of battle with a sword. He wore a thick, flowing robe over his shoulders, and woolen clothes dyed purple beneath that.
Laird Graham noticed his host and opened his arms. "Good day to you, my laird!"
Laird Campbell shook hands with his portly guest. "Good day to you, Laird Graham. This is your daughter?"
Graham stepped to the side and smiled at his lovely child. "Aye, and never a finer picture of womanhood you'll find north of the Severn! Annabel, be honored to meet our host, my Laird Campbell."
Annabel smiled and curtsied low to the ground. "Good day, my laird."
Laird Campbell offered her his hand. "Good day to you, my lady, and welcome to my castle. Now let us inside for a repast. I imagine the trip has made you hungry."
"Starving!" Graham agreed.
"Then we shall see what can be done," Laird Campbell replied as he led them inside the castle.
Aili shut the door and pushed us back to our chores. "You heard the laird! Prepare the trays!"
We filled the trays with as much food as their sides would hold. I and another girl were given those with food, and another girl was given one with drink and so forth. We made for a long line of dishes, food and drink as Aili marched us from the kitchen.
The kitchen lay off the dining hall which was the centerpiece of the whole castle. Meals were taken at the grand wooden table that stretched twenty feet from end to end. At the far left wall was a great fireplace with a hearth that heated not only that great room but the others above it. The open-beam ceiling lay twenty feet above us. Their beams were blackened with countless fires and had witnessed centuries of feasts.
On the opposite wall from the kitchen was a door that led to the entrance hall from which came our laird and his guests.
"Wonderful timing!" Graham complimented as they took their seats at the head of the table. We set the table and placed the food and drink before them.
"They know my ways," was Campbell's response. He was a man of few words and had a brooding look on his brow, but he was gentlemanly in his manners.
"What a grand castle," the daughter commented.
Graham chuckled. "I forget this is your first time here, my daughter. You must learn the castle before the wedding."
My sinful curiosity was aroused by such a remark, and I was not the only one affected. Unfortunately, our work was done and Aili jerked her head towards the kitchen. We marched towards the door, but Aili grabbed my arm and pulled me aside. She handed me a pitcher and turned me back to the table.
"You stay and serve the lairds," she whispered to me. "And whatever you do don't spill on them!"
Aili gave me a push and I found myself behind the Lord Graham's tall chair.
"It remains to be seen if the lady will take me," Laird Campbell continued their conversation.
The lady cast her eyes downward. "If that is what my laird wishes."
Lord Graham let out a great guffaw and slapped his hand on the table. "A perfect answer for a perfect woman! She will make you a good wife, my laird!"
"I am a difficult man to please," Campbell warned him.
"Nonsense! We will drink to the successful union of our two houses." He took his large mug and placed it on his right side. "Filled to the brim, if you will, girl," he demanded of me.
I leaned forward and poured the mead into the large mug. Graham turned to me and looked me over. His eyes brightened and his smile widened.
"Well, well, it seems you have a new serving girl, my laird," Graham commented. I was glad to fill the mug and move away from his prying eyes to the others.
"So it seems," the laird replied, "but to the matter at hand."
"Ah, yes! The wedding! The dowry will not be as great as we planned. Poor harvest, you know, what with the English raids and such," Graham commented.
Laird Campbell frowned. "What is it to be then?"
Graham waved away his worries. "Merely a few head less and some bushels of barley fewer, but nothing of great consequence."
I poured a glass for my lady Annabel. She looked up at me and sneered. I bowed my head and held my tongue at such unearned disdain. We knew each other not and yet I had the feeling she disliked everything about me. My hair, my clothes, my chubby figure, and most especially my station.
I stepped back and listened to their conversation, for I had nothing else to do.
"We had agreed on that number," Lord Campbell insisted.
"I know, my laird, but the English will not be convinced to stop their raids any more than our people will stop theirs," Graham protested.
"I will take no excuses," Laird Campbell warned him.
Graham straightened and I saw a gleam of sweat glisten atop his forehead, though the room was a touch chilly. "Perhaps I might find enough bushels and meat to meet the dowry, but I will be hard put to do so."
Campbell's dark eyes flickered down to Graham's ample stomach. "I have faith that you can." He clapped his hands.
The women from the kitchen hurried out and removed the food. Aili gave me a gentle push towards the kitchen.
"My laird, we have hardly had repast," Graham protested.
"This is a reminder that you are still my vassal, Graham," Campbell tutored him.
We servants hurried our steps faster and swept into the kitchen. Aili closed the door behind the last of us and shooed us to the tables.
"Now off with the food and wash those plates now. There'll be more soon enough for the wedding," she warned us.
Mary shook her head. "An ill omen, this is. . ." she muttered.
"Why's that?" one of the girls spoke up.
Mary glared at her. "Don't you know there's to be no talk of dowry in the presence of the bride. Tis a curse on the wedding. It shall not come to pass."
"You've heard too many tales," Aili argued. "The deal's as good as sealed, and I'll not here another word about it."
"Mark my words, there'll be no marriage between them," she insisted.
"That's enough now," Aili ordered her.
Mary sulked over to the dishes and plates. We scrubbed and scalded the fine ware and stoked the fire that had the duck roasting. A woman with a bundle of fresh white linen slipped into the kitchen and over to Aili. She was over a great age, possibly sixty, and bore herself with the pride that was unbecoming even an old servant. They spoke a moment before Aili turned to me.
"Muira, you're wanted," she told me.
I walked over and glanced between the two women. Aili gestured to the other woman. "This is Bean Lyel. She's charged with the rooms. The chamber maids are shorthanded and are in need of you."
"I'm not to remain in the kitchen?" I asked her.
"You're to go where you're needed, and you're needed upstairs," she instructed me. She nodded at Bean Lyel. "Bean Lyel here will show you what to do."
Bean Lyel stiffly bowed her head. "A pleasure to meet you, miss."
"I am at your service," I replied as I bit my tongue. As one newly arrived I had no right to refuse work.
"This way," Bean Lyel commanded me.
CHAPTER 4
Bean Lyel led me from the kitchen and across the great dining hall into the entrance. To our right was the front doors that led to the courtyard, and to our left was a wide stone staircase that led to the higher floors. The top of the stairs ended in a landing that ran along the wall in front of us and disappeared into the depths of the castle. Another hall traveled straight in front of the stairs and into the west wing. The passage along the balcony faced the north.
Bean Lyel handed me the linen and turned to the stairs. "Follow me."
My stoic guide directed me up the stairs and to the west wing. I paused and glanced down the balcony to the north. Memories of the tales of the young laird came to mind, and I had the sinful desire to search the north wing to find what truths lay in the stories.
"Girl," Bean Lyel scolded me fr
om ten yards down the western hall.
"Coming," I replied as I hurriedly followed.
I caught up to Bean Lyel, but she didn't press on. She stood against one of the walls, and her eyes flickered between the northern hall and me.
"You're not to go into the north wing without my husband or myself accompanying you. Do you understand?" she questioned me.
I lowered my eyes and bowed my head. "I do."
"Good. Now don't let me catch you wasting time again," she warned me.
"Yes, Bean Lyel," I replied.
Bean Lyel guided me down the passage into the depths of the large castle. There were large wooden doors on either side of us that led into the rooms. At the end of the hall was a large window that garnered a rear view of the castle and the hill on which it had been built.
The silence between us was deafening. Only the sounds of our footsteps on the smoothed stones subdued the unease inside me.
"Have you served the Campbell family long?" I asked Bean Lyel.
She stiffly shook her head. "Nay."
"Did you serve the late Lady Campbell?" I guessed.
Bean Lyel's face grew strained and the corners of her lips turned down. "No. I came after her death, and to serve another purpose."
We came to an open door on our right, and Bean Lyel turned to face me. She gestured to the room. It was a large chamber with a hearth and a tall four-post bed. Two windows stood tall and thin on the opposite wall from the entrance and on either side of the bed. They each had plain glass panes in them to keep out the worst of the cold of the moors. The small hearth with its crackling fire lay to the left.
"I'll be needing you to fix up the bed. Can you do that?" she questioned me.
"The covers need turned out and new sheets?" I wondered.
"Aye, and the air needs some cleaning, so dust all that you see and open the windows," she ordered me. "Can you do all that?"
"Aye. It's no worse than spring cleaning with Mother," I told her.
"Good. I will be back to inspect your work in a short while," Bean Lyel warned me.
She strode past me and I was left alone in that wing of the castle. I slipped into the room and readied the space for one of the laird's two guests. The space was dusty, but not ill-kept. The laird had a great many visits from his vassals that required a great deal of space and expense. I wondered that he didn't return the favor by visiting them, for I never heard of him leaving the castle these last ten years since the Lady Campbell passed on.
