The Key

by Lynsay Sands

  She paused then to lick her lips nervously before continuing. "At Wildwood, my childhood home, my mother insisted that everyone bathe at least once a month. Some even bathed as often as once a week." She sighed at the gasps her words elicited but pushed on. "While I do not insist that you bathe that often, I would see you bathe before accepting the gift of a plaid. I see little sense in putting a lovely clean plaid on a filthy body."

  Iliana waited for their murmurs to die down before continuing, "I will make my tub available to anyone who wishes to use it." Smiling uncertainly, she gave a faint nod, then sank into her seat and silence enveloped the room. She did not think that was a good sign, and very much feared she had purchased four hundred plaids that would sit collecting dust until their next communal bath time.

  Iliana peered down at the cheese and bread before her and sighed unhappily. It did seem nothing was going to come easy here. Not the garden. Not the cleaning. Not even the gathering of herbs had been easy.

  "Me lady?"

  Iliana glanced up with a start, a smile on her lips as she recognized Janna, one of the women who had been aiding her in the gardens.

  A tentative smile on her face, the woman murmured, "I should like a plaid and would be pleased to use yer tub, if I might?"

  "Really?" Iliana's smile stretched clear across her face; then she glanced toward the kitchen anxiously and stood. "You may be first then," she assured her. "I'll just go make sure there is some water over the fire." She moved toward the kitchen as she spoke, aware that Elgin was rising and hurrying to follow her. He had become very proprietary of his kitchen since rediscovering his cooking abilities.

  Iliana was stopped by six more women before reaching the kitchen. Three of them were the women from the garden and two were servants from the keep itself. The last was Eda, the plaid man's wife. Iliana assured them all of an opportunity to get at her tub, then burst into the kitchen to find that Elgin already had the water on to heat. He also requested an opportunity in her tub, and Iliana assured him she was pleased to offer him its use.

  She was smiling widely when she returned to the great hall. That smile disappeared, her mouth dropping open in surprise as she saw the women all lined up to have a word with her about her tub.

  The men were conspicuously absent, but Iliana could only think it a good thing. 'Twould most like take two or three days to put everyone through the tub as it was.

  "What think you?" Iliana held up the hat she had been working on for the other women to inspect. She had tried to fashion the item in the manner of her mother's cook's hat, one he had brought from Paris with him. But this one did not seem to stand up as his did, merely flopping about the wide band that sat on the head.

  "Mayhap some starch would do the trick," Ebba suggested from her seat a few feet away, the makings of the apron in her lap.

  Iliana perked up at once. "Aye. That may do it," she agreed, then paused as Janna walked into the room, her hair still damp from its washing and a lovely new plaid fastened around her body. Janna had decided to wait till the end of the day to take her turn in the tub, thinking it made more sense to bathe after work than to bathe and return to the gardens in her new plaid. Iliana'd had to agree with her, but promised she would place her at the start of a fresh batch of bathwater. They had been changing the water after every third bather.

  The bathers had been waiting in line patiently as one person after another rushed through the tub, then donned their new plaids. Now, almost all were through. Iliana's original fear that it would take days to bathe everyone had been quite wrong. It had helped that Elgin had suggested they set up the tub in a corner of the kitchen, with dirty linens used as curtains to partition off the section. That had sped up the changing of the water somewhat, speeding up the whole process altogether. Now there were two or three dozen children chasing each other about in fresh plaids, their hair shiny and clean and their cheeks pink. Their mothers, meantime, were assisting in the cleaning of the hall tapestries as they chatted by the fire, their hair drying as they worked.

  That had been a pleasant surprise for Iliana. Her morning had been taken up with arranging for the plaids and tending to her husband's injury, but she had intended on returning to her work in the gardens that afternoon. In fact, after the nooning meal, she had checked with Elgin to see that all went well with arranging the baths, then headed for the door that led from the kitchens out into the garden. Elgin had immediately hurtled past her, throwing his round little body in front of the door, his arms and legs spread wide to bar the way as he shook his head frantically. He would not see her return to her labor of the day before. She was to rest.

  Iliana might have argued with the little man over his obstinate behavior, but his stance had quickly been backed up by Ebba, the women she had hired to work the garden, and even Giorsal and the other servants from the castle itself. Under such unanimous insistence, Iliana had been forced to give in gracefully and retire to the great hall.

  Ebba had then suggested she relax by the fire and start work upon the apron she had promised Elgin. The idea of sitting about, plying her needle, had not truly appealed to her. She was eager to finish with the great hall and move her cleaning efforts on to the bedchambers. For that reason, Iliana had decided that finishing cleaning the wall tapestries was a more attractive endeavor.

  Unfortunately, the moment she had started to work on the tapestries, several women hurried over. Taking over the task from her, they had claimed they would be "well pleased" to fill their time while waiting for their turn in the tub by helping her with "sech and the like." And why did she not go fix up that apron for Elgin?

  Iliana had seemed to have little choice but to turn to that task, but had been less than pleased with the knowledge. It was not that she minded needlework, and she truly wished to see Elgin with an apron to protect his plaid, but she was feeling oddly restless and would have preferred to do something a bit more physical. While she had collapsed from exhaustion the day before, and had still been a bit tired that morning, she found herself oddly energized now. She suspected that it had something to do with the episode in the bedroom but did not wish to ponder the idea too closely.

  "All done?" she asked Janna, and the other woman nodded.

  "Cook said sup would be ready as soon as he finishes his bath."

  "Which should not be long; he was in the tub almost ere ye were out o' it," Giorsal commented dryly.

  "Aye." Janna laughed. "I have never seen a man so eager to bathe."

  "'Tis not the bath he is eager fer," one of the women said with amusement.

  "Aye," another agreed. "He's gone on all afternoon about his new apron and hat."

  Biting her lip, Iliana glanced anxiously at Ebba. Once she and the other women had finished whitewashing the walls, Ebba had offered to assist with the making of the apron. Iliana had handed over the nearly done item, leaving her maid to merely finish the hem, as she herself turned her attention to making the hat. Unfortunately, Ebba had a tendency to chat as she worked and she did seem to find it difficult to concentrate on the two things at the same time. Her work on the apron had gone much slower than it should have. "How much more is there for you to do, Ebba? Mayhap I could help."

  "No need, my lady. This is the very...last...stitch. There. 'Tis done." Breaking the thread, she set it aside and stood, holding up the apron for inspection. "What think you?"

  "Perfect."

  "He shall love it."

  "Cook will be so happy."

  Iliana smiled at the excited murmurings of the others and nodded her agreement.

  "Oh!"

  They all turned toward the kitchen at that excited exclamation. Elgin had finished his bath--surely the fastest in history--and now stood in the doorway of the kitchen in his new plaid, his gaze fixed on the apron Ebba was still holding up.

  "'Tis magnificent!" Charging across the great hall, he ripped the apron from Ebba's hands and held it up as if it was a priceless golden necklace.

  "Put it on," Janna suggested
when he merely stood staring at it.

  "Oh." His smile faded under uncertainty. "But it might get dirty."

  Iliana laughed at that. "'Tis what 'tis for, Elgin. To keep your lovely plaid lovely."

  "Oh. Aye." Smiling crookedly, he donned the apron, quickly tying the straps around his waist. Once he was done, Iliana stepped forward and set his hat on his head, fussing with it until it lay in a way she thought suitable. Then the women crowded close, inspecting and complimenting him until he was red in the face.

  "What the devil is going on here!"

  Everyone in the room turned to stare at Duncan when he bellowed that question. Except Iliana. She took a moment to compose herself first, then started to turn toward him, her expression calm. That calm fled when she found her arm caught up in her husband's hand and herself being dragged toward the stairs. Again.

  Chapter Ten

  "What do you mean, you bought them?"

  Iliana shook her head helplessly. She had explained twice now about the coins in her trunk, and how she had used some to purchase the plaids. Twice now Duncan had demanded she repeat herself. She doubted whether explaining again would help.

  "Ye bought those spices!" he accused suddenly. "When the food got better, I jest thought that ye had come across a few in the garden. But 'tis not what happened. Ye expressly went against me orders and bought some spices, too, didn't ye?"

  "Aye," she admitted on a sigh. "But I did not go against your orders."

  "I told ye--"

  "Not to purchase them with your money," she said triumphantly. "I used the money my mother and father put in my trunks."

  Rather than become angrier at her words, Duncan seemed to grow suddenly calm, and that made Iliana extremely wary.

  "Being an uneducated woman, ye could be forgiven yer lack when it comes to the law, wife--"

  "I am not uneducated," Iliana snapped indignantly.

  "Ye must be," he snapped back. "Else ye would ken that from the minute we were married, everything ye own became mine. Everything."

  "I--" Flushing, Iliana looked away. She had known of that rather annoying little law. "You said yourself that the food is better," she said in self-defense.

  "Aye." He nodded solemnly. "Elgin's fare is much improved."

  "And your people were wearing rags. 'Tis shameful."

  "Shameful to who? They have never said 'twas so."

  "Mayhap not, but just look how eagerly they bathed to get to wear the plaids."

  "You made them bathe ere ye would give them these 'gifts'?" he sneered, and Iliana found herself blushing again, then frowned at her own reaction and lifted her chin. It had been the proper thing to do. It made no sense to put a clean plaid on a dirty body.

  "The only ones who bathed to gain their plaids were the women," he said quietly, as if to himself. "And women like to look pretty."

  "What is wrong with that?" she asked.

  "Nothing. So long as they dinna forget 'tis what's inside that is most important. I would stand next to any one o' me 'filthy' men, ere I would a clean but shallow coward."

  Iliana's gaze narrowed. She got the distinct impression he was referring to her. She was no coward. Had she not tried to escape Greenweld three times? Had she not risked a brutal beating, perhaps even death, repeatedly to save her mother? But when she said as much to her husband, he seemed unimpressed.

  "Mayhap ye should consider what ye were really risking so much fer," was all he said.

  "What do you mean by that?" Iliana asked warily.

  "I mean I suspect ye did all that fer yerself as much as yer mother. Ye don't appear to take well to change."

  "That is the biggest load of cow chips I have ever heard!" Iliana snapped, incensed.

  "Is it?" he asked quietly. "Every time ye've done something here, ye've used Wildwood as the excuse. Ye want Dunbar and its people as clean as Wildwood. Ye want spices and herbs like at Wildwood. Ye even have Elgin all got up like yer mother's chef."

  Iliana frowned at his words, uncertainty plucking at her; then she smiled triumphantly. "What of you? I did not--"

  "Have anyone in yer bed at Wildwood either, much as it is now. Yer nearly as pure now as when ye came to me." Walking to the door, he paused to glance back. "When ye've decided to grow up and accept change as a part o' life, ye can come ask me why a clean plaid is not healthy, or why we bathe so little, mayhap even why we have had few spices in our food. There are reasons. Just as there is a reason ye willna share me bed as a proper wife. There are always reasons, and most often they have little to do with the obvious."

  Iliana watched the door close behind him, then dropped onto the bed with a sigh.

  Iliana peered at the sewing in her hands and sighed. Often the activity soothed her. Not tonight. Nothing seemed to be able to settle her tonight. She kept hearing Duncan's words in her head. Was he right? Did she fear change? It was true that she had been trying to make this place and its people more like Wildwood, but it was because...Well, because it was better to be clean. And better to wear clean clothes...wasn't it? And surely there was nothing wrong with tasty food?

  She glanced at the woman seated in the chair across from her. Seonaid. Angus had announced at dinner that the girl was to stay after the meal so that Iliana could teach her some wifery...or else. She'd spent the past hour trying to teach the girl how to make a simple stitch, but Seonaid seemed to have no concept of what a small stitch was, no matter how many times Iliana showed her. She suspected the girl was being deliberately obtuse.

  Her gaze slid to the tattered old plaid her sister-in-law wore and she sighed. Iliana had offered her a bath and a new plaid, but Seonaid had refused, claiming hers would do quite nicely for a while longer. Now Iliana couldn't help recalling her husband's words. "Why is a clean plaid unhealthy?"

  Seonaid glanced up from her sewing blankly. "What?"

  "Duncan said clean plaids are not healthy. Why is that?"

  "Why do ye not ask Duncan?"

  Iliana's lips tightened at that. "Because I am asking you."

  Seonaid shrugged and glanced back at the needle in her hand; then, seeming to decide that this was a good way to get out of the fussy task, set it on her lap and turned her attention to Iliana. "'Tis not that they are unhealthy, 'tis just that a dirty plaid can be more healthy. Ye see, while a plaid is muckle warm, 'tis not waterproof. 'Less it's dirty enough."

  Iliana blinked at that. "Dirty plaids are waterproof?"

  "Sometimes. It depends on what they're dirty with or how dirty they are. Some men grease their plaids soon as they get 'em, to make 'em waterproof."

  "I see." Iliana nodded her head at that, then just as quickly shook it. "But why would one need a waterproof plaid? Why not simply stay indoors when 'tis raining?"

  Seonaid laughed. "That is fine if ye've nothing to do, but if ye've to watch the sheep, or stand guard, or if yer marching to a war, or on a hunting trip..." She shook her head. "There is not always shelter. Sometimes yer plaid is yer only shelter. We even sleep in them at times."

  A memory of Duncan wrapping himself in his plaid the night she had taken the bed linens from the bed suddenly filled Iliana's mind.

  "O' course, that is only true fer the men. The women rarely need their plaids to shelter them from the wind and rain. Most oft they're at home warm and dry."

  Iliana considered that, then said, "But the McInnes men wear clean plaids. Surely--?"

  "The McInnes are'na warriors."

  Iliana blinked at that. "They aren't?"

  "Nay. They have muckle money, but few men trained fer battle. They hire Duncan and his men if they have need o' warriors."

  Iliana accepted that, then asked, "Why do the men hate to bathe?"

  "'Tis cold."

  Iliana frowned at the simple explanation. "It may be cold in the loch and out of doors, but 'tis warm inside, and water can be heated for a bath--"

  "And then ye'd have to get back into yer dirty plaid," Seonaid pointed out.

  Iliana grimaced, then asked, "Wh
y does yer brother not wish the food spiced? It tastes better."

  "Aye, and makes oat cakes rather bland in comparison."

  When Iliana stared at her blankly, Seonaid sighed. "Duncan has always planned to build an addition onto the keep, and to make the walls extend farther to offer protection to more o' our people. The only way fer him to gain those ends was to earn and save a lot o' coin. To do that, he sold every stitch o' plaid the women weave here, and he and the men hired out fer other people's wars, or to stand guard over other people's flocks. 'Tis hard work. It gets cold at night and the men must put up with bugs, foul weather, and naught but oatcakes fer food. 'Tis not so bad when the alternative is a drafty old keep, with bland food. But next to a warm great hall with clean rushes and tasty food the outdoors can seem unbearable."

  "He's afraid they'll go soft," Iliana realized, and Seonaid nodded. "But, now that he has my dowry, he can afford all that. There is no need to hire out the men or--"

  "The dowry will be enough to pay for the renovations he wishes, 'tis true. But we must continue to make money somehow to feed our people. No doubt he will still have to hire out the men and sell plaid. Just not as often." Shrugging, she turned grimly back to her sewing.

  Iliana sat back with a sigh, her gaze far off as she considered what she had just learned. After what Seonaid had said, she could well understand her husband's annoyance with her over the changes she had made, but had no idea what to do about it. She could hardly tell Elgin to stop spicing the food. He would pitch a fit at the suggestion, as would everyone else now that they had sampled the tastier fare. She supposed she could stop insisting that the men must take a bath to gain their plaids.

  A frustrated mutter drew her gaze back to her sister-in-law. The girl had her thread in a terrible knot. Before she could comment or offer help, Seonaid slapped it down onto her lap and peered at her solemnly. "Ye ken that I'm useless at this stuff."

  "Nay," Iliana protested at once. "You are simply unpracticed at it."

  She rolled her eyes, then sighed. "Is it very important for a wife to ken how to do this?"