by Mary Wine
“Well now. What’s all this standing about for?”
An older woman entered the room and paused for a moment to look between the four women and Brina. Her hair was streaked with gray, and a large ring of keys hung from her belt, announcing the fact that she was a woman of position at Birch Stone.
“The laird burned her church robe,” one of the women answered, but in a soft voice that betrayed just how uncertain she was of her laird’s actions. The other women waited to see what the woman with the keys would make of Connor’s actions.
“Well, I’ll say that’s a fine idea, for ye have no’ the temperament for a nun. I had to brush the mud out of the laird’s bonnet, and ye broke one of the feathers too.” The older woman clicked her tongue and snapped her fingers at the women. They instantly began to move, each of them apparently knowing what she was expected to do. “Ye are nae meek enough to be a bride of Christ at all. We all saw that clear as daylight.”
The girl who had spoken looked toward the older woman. “She threatened the laird with a stone too, threw it at him right in front of us all.”
Brina felt her cheeks heat, and the older woman was quick to notice. She smiled, and wrinkles appeared at the edges of her eyes. She propped her hands on her hips and surveyed Brina from head to toe with a gaze that was keen and sharp.
“I am called Maura, and the laird has set me as the head of the house here. I do hope that I can trust that ye will keep yer temper for the laird, since I’d hate to have to have men in here while ye’re bathing.”
Brina lowered herself without hesitation, bending her knees with one foot tucked in back of the other so that her head dipped in deference. The woman nodded approvingly.
“It seems that ye have good manners to go along with that temper; however, it is I who should be showing respect toward ye, mistress.”
Maura lowered herself, while Brina tried to keep her jaw from dropping open. The other women stopped what they were doing and turned to face her so that they might offer her the same courtesy.
“I am not yer mistress.”
“Well, I heard the laird clear enough, and it is nae in my nature to argue with what he set down as the way it will be. Only a wife might do that—in private, mind ye.”
There was an unmistakable ring of authority in her voice, and it sent sadness through her because Maura sounded very much like Newlyn, her father’s head of house. Brina was suddenly aware of how alone she was, and no amount of preparation through the years might have made the moment easier. Knowing something and feeling it were vastly different. Brina realized that her arms were wrapped around herself in an attempt to find solace, which was childish, and still she couldn’t quite force her hands in front of her.
“A bath will make ye see things with a clear mind.”
“A bath?” Brina heard her voice quiver with anticipation. She hadn’t dared to long for a bath, for many a fortress did not consider bathing a necessity.
“Aye, we’ve a fine bathhouse here, and I find that there are fewer fleas when there is more bathing and washing.”
Brina looked over to see that there were several tubs in the room, but they were all tipped up on their sides and facing the hearth so that the heat would dry them. Each was quite large and made of copper, which made sense because the metal was too soft for making weapons and therefore the least expensive of all metals.
“The air here is moist and filled with salt from the sea. We tip the tubs up to keep them from rusting.”
A pair of the women pushed on the raised side of one tub, and it fell toward the floor. Brina expected a crash, but there only a dull thud because the stone floor was covered with wooden slats that absorbed much of the noise. Only half the floor was covered with wood, and as she looked closer, she could see that it was a sort of mat made from young tree limbs that had all been stripped smooth of their bark.
“A woman from the Prussias told the last laird about doing that to the floor, and I must say that it is a fine improvement.”
“The Prussias?”
Maura nodded while she fitted one of her keys into a locked chest sitting on a table at the far side of the room. The lock clicked before it opened, and she lifted the lid to peer inside.
“Birch Stone gets a good many visitors because we’re so far north that the ships coming around from the frozen waters up there stop here for provisions.”
“I’ve never seen the ocean.” The only ships she had ever seen outside a book were small boats made for traveling on the lakes.
“Ye’ll see it clear enough on the morrow, and hear it too.” Maura lifted several things from the chest and brought them over to a small stool that one of the other women brought toward the tub. She placed a chunk of soap on top of the stool along with a square of linen for washing.
It became clear to Brina that they were intent on treating her like their mistress. All five of them working to prepare her bath as though she deserved such service. She fingered the fabric of her underrobe, unsettled because she had never been waited upon. In fact, she had often assisted her sister and other female relatives at their baths because her future was to be one of service and devotion. She bathed last, after everyone else.
“I will haul water.”
Maura shook her head. “There is no need of that.”
“Yes, there is. I have never been waited upon. I do nae know what else to do except for my share of the work.”
There were several looks shot between the maids, but a click from Maura’s tongue sent their attention back to their tasks. “Aye, well, it will surely be a blessing to have a mistress who knows the duties of running a house from personal experience.”
“But I will nae be running this house.”
The head of house looked at her again, a deep frown marring her face. “I think we should nae be discussing what is a matter for the laird to decide, because he has said ye are the mistress, so ye shall be attended.”
The woman was obviously slightly ill at ease with the fact that Brina had been promised to the church. Two of the other women looked nervous as well, but they all continued to prepare a bath for her without hesitation, because their laird had set her above them with his words.
Brina chewed on her lower lip, forcing herself to remain silent while she watched to see who might be receptive to helping her escape Birch Stone. She should have thought of it before fighting with Connor where all might see. The fox trapped its prey by creeping unseen through the dense portions of the thicket. If it ran through the open, it often ended up caught. She would be wise to recall what Bran had taught her and have patience until the time was right.
She was so deep in thought, a splash of water startled her.
The splashing sound continued, drawing a short gasp from her lips when she looked at the tub. One of the women had fit a trough against what looked to be the back wall of the tower. But there was a thick slab of wood that had been held in place by iron bars set into the stone. The trough fit beneath the iron on another curved piece that supported the trough. The wood was slid upward, and water was now flowing through the hole in the wall. The water traveled along the trough and into the tub, where it splashed down just like a river had been diverted.
Maura chuckled softly at the look of wonder on her face.
“Right clever, isn’t it? And feel how warm it is.”
Brina couldn’t resist the invitation. She could feel every bit of grime clinging to her skin. She crossed the floor and trailed her fingers through the rising water inside the copper tub. Another little sound escaped her lips, only this was one of delight. The water wasn’t hot, but it was not as frigid as the night would have made her expect it to be.
“How can this be?”
She looked toward the wall, impatient to understand how the water system worked. The answer was as clear as the heat hitting her cheeks from the huge hearth. The water must have be
en stored behind the wall.
“That is genius.”
“And I’m pleased to see that ye have a quick mind.” Maura pointed up. “With the roof being slanted, the men built a second wall alongside the outer one and left a space between them for the water to collect. That hole there is near the bottom, and the weight of the water makes it simple to have it flow out. Even in the winter, the hearth melts the snow so that we have water every day.”
Her skin began to itch. Chattan Castle had no such clever contrivance, but that had not stopped her from bathing often. Even when it meant that she needed to haul snow inside.
“It would have been a shame to cut all this fine hair.”
Brina felt Maura behind her lifting her thick braid and working open the tie that held the ends tight.
“Ye’ll make a bonny sight with it brushed out and shimmering on yer shoulders.”
Would she?
Maura began to work the sections of her hair free from the plait that had kept it out of her way. It was true that if she had made it to the abbey, her hair would have been cut away at her nape by a pair of golden shears that would have been presented to her to kiss first. A custom designed to help a new nun banish all her vanities and embrace a future that did not include looking pretty or gaining attention.
But did that mean Connor might find her hair pleasing?
She frowned because she failed to understand why such a thought came so easily and quickly to her mind. She felt the loneliness wrapping around her again, worse now because it seemed that even her mind was not her own anymore. It wasn’t that she longed for the life of a nun, but she was hungry to know she had a place, and Connor was a stranger. How did she place her trust in a man who had stolen her away from her own kin? The man was hunting for revenge, and it would be foolish of her to forget that fact. It was for certain that he was every inch a Highlander, and they were known for striking back at those they felt had wronged them.
She was but the tool for that vengeance.
There was a sputter as one of the women pulled a large kettle out of the hearth and water trickled from its spout. She grasped the handle with a handful of her skirt to protect her fingers and carried it to the tub. The wood was pushed down to stop the flow of water now, and the trough had been lifted away and set against the wall. It glistened in the candlelight that didn’t quite illuminate all the shadows in the corners. It was amazing how the darkness changed the way a room felt. Brina tried to remind herself that the prickle of sensation moving over her skin was nothing but foolish imagination. She knew there were many who would argue with her about that, for even the church preached of sinister specters that inhabited the night.
Bran had taught her to ignore such prattle as mindless mutterings of soothsayers and storytellers who needed to entertain those who listened to them. That was not to say that Bran didn’t believe in spirits; the old Highlander simply didn’t fear the ghost that walked with the mists after the sunset, and he’d taught her simply to be willing to share the nighttime with restless souls.
“Let’s get this robe off ye now.”
Brina jerked back to the present, shamed by the fact that she kept allowing her mind to wander. The two days without sleep were obviously taking more of a toll on her than she thought.
“I’ll manage myself, thank you…” She stumbled over her last few words.
Maura clicked her tongue in reprimand, but Brina stepped away from the hands that were intent on helping her to remove her last garment.
“I cannae recall the last time anyone was near… or in the room with me… when I was… bare… completely.” Brina turned so that she faced Maura. “I thank ye, all the same.”
The head of house nodded with understanding, but she did not turn to leave the room either.
“If ye had made it to the abbey, ye’d have discovered that there is no privacy for novices.”
“Well… yes, I was told to expect such.”
Maura smiled and reached out to grasp two handfuls of the loose undergown. “So ye’ll just be adjusting, the same as ye would have if the laird had nae brought ye to Birch Stone. There is no difference between this bathhouse and the one at the abbey.”
“There most certainly is a difference.”
Maura chuckled beneath her breath and gave a tug that was harder than Brina had expected from her small frame. The woman didn’t lack strength, and the undergown was soon in her grasp completely, leaving Brina in nothing except her bare skin. Her newly brushed hair floated down onto her back in a soft flutter.
“Now sit down and let us have those boots. They need attention, else they will turn hard, which would be a shame considering they look to be so well made.”
Maura even pointed toward a short stool while two of the women came forward to begin untying her boots.
“Best to learn no’ to be so modest. Ye have naught that any of us do nae have, and there will be no rumors about ye if there are a few of my trusted maids to testify that ye are sound and healthy beneath yer robes.”
Brina felt her mouth go dry. Maura’s words were softly spoken, like a mother did with her child, but there was no mistaking the hard truth in them. Gossip was a sin, but that didn’t stop the church from listening to it when it came to women. She might find herself being questioned if rumors began to circulate that she hid her body. What one person labeled modest, another would call suspicious. Several of the Lindsey maids were sneaking peeks at her while they worked, looking for marks that might be considered unnatural. Even if Connor had declared that she was to be his bride, no one wanted bad luck around, and a woman with a witch mark might bring a failed harvest. Superstition held just as much authority as the church did sometimes.
“The boots are new; my father had them made for me before I left for the abbey.”
“We’ll get them cleaned up.” Maura’s tone was tempered with authority both from her position in the house and her years. Brina sat, and two of the maids immediately attended her.
They loosened her boots and removed them, then dropped them first into pails of water to help remove some of the mud caked onto them.
“Now into the tub with ye before ye catch a chill.”
Brina sank into the water gratefully, her muscles enjoying the warm water. It was far hotter than she ever prepared for herself, because she was normally so tired that she simply wanted the task of cleaning herself finished. Two days on a horse had left her sore, and she arched her lower back with a soft groan.
“I suppose the laird was worried that yer clan would be close on yer heels if he lingered.”
“Of course he was, for he took me from my father on the road.”
There were a few stunned glances, but she didn’t temper her words. The tale was no doubt being repeated by Connor’s retainers in the hall where they broke bread.
“The early snow covered our tracks, though.”
“Aye, the snow is unusually early this year.” Maura spoke without thinking but frowned when she realized the wide eyes of several of her maids. The girls were clearly thinking that the snow was a sign from heaven, just as Brina had told Connor it was. The older woman shook her head and a thin finger at her staff.
“But no’ so early that I cannae recall years in the past when such has happened before. It is no’ unnatural,” the head of house declared in a firm tone.
The women came forward and began bathing her, no longer worried that she had brought misfortune to Birch Stone. Connor’s will was law here. She was his possession just as surely as if she were a fox he’d snared and put in a sack to bring home.
The women didn’t miss any part of her, and Maura washed her hair personally. Warm water was brought to rinse her hair, and her skin tingled from the soap, but it was a pleasant feeling.
“Come on out with ye now and stop holding yer breath. I suppose it’s to be appreciated that ye are so uncomfortable
with being touched, for it proves that ye are nothing like yer sister.”
“What do ye mean?”
Brina stood up and stepped over the edge of the copper tub. The wood was smooth beneath her bare feet, and she discovered that the space between the boards allowed for the water running down her legs not to puddle around her feet. It would surely make it less likely that she might slip on wet stone.
“I mean experienced.” Maura spoke plainly and firmly, drawing the attention of her helpers.“Ye sat there biting on yer lip the entire time, mistress. The look in yer eyes is nae something that anyone can fake. Even the most jaded of women fail to mask their experience completely from other women. Ye’ll understand better once ye share yer wedding bed with the laird. An experienced woman knows the look of another experienced woman.” Maura cast a quick look toward the two youngest maids.
They nodded and muttered “aye” immediately, but Brina was too busy listening to the last part of Maura’s statement echo inside her head.
Share a bed with Connor…
The idea was too large to break down into anything she might deal with. She suddenly felt every scrape and bruise on her body. The women tending to her were gentle, but it still felt as though they had burlap gloves covering their hands, for each touch brushed over someplace that the last two days had left painful marks on.
Brina lifted her arms to allow the women to slip a fresh gown over her head. She froze when it settled around her ankles, her eyes going to the soft color of it. In the meager light, it looked like some shade of green that was found only in spring. She fingered it and found it soft and clean feeling. One of the women knelt at her feet and offered her a pair of warm slippers to keep the winter chill from her toes. Two more of the women helped her ease a dressing robe over her shoulders. This garment was made of thick wool, and the inside was lined with fur. She had never worn such a thing, for it was a luxury even if she had brought home many a rabbit and then dried the pelt so that the fur might be used to line the dressing robes of her sisters. She had always made do with a wool cloak and arisaid. Her garments were always simple and undyed. She gently touched the blue fabric of the dressing gown.
