Again Gavin resumed his fidgeting motion, making Sarra wonder if the lad had gotten into some itching potion belonging to Charism. “Aye, my lady. Sir Henry requires—that is requests—your presence. It seems to be of some urgency.”
“Oh, very well.” Gathering up her skirts, Sarra headed to the stairs leading to the small walkway around the castle walls.
As Sarra approached the top step, she spotted Sir Henry staring fixedly toward one of the distant hills beyond the wall. Sarra hesitated to look in the direction Sir Henry’s eyes indicated for fear of losing her footing on the stairs and plunging to an untimely death.
With great delicacy, she approached the captain. Sir Henry was still concentrating on something outside the walls. Knuckles had turned white from his grip, and sweat rolled down his sun-weathered face. He had taken off his helmet, revealing a mass of black hair dappled with gray.
“Sir Henry, you requested my presence.” Sarra’s insides did a flip flop as she continued to focus on the knight in charge and tried not to look down from the dizzying heights.
Slowly, but not loosening his grip a fraction, Sir Henry faced her. “My lady, are you expecting more, umm, company?”
“Company? Sir Henry, whatever are you talking about?”
Removing one hand from the wall, he gestured with it toward the opposing hill.
Sarra turned and spotted the object of Sir Henry’s fascination. A sudden intake of breath slammed her lungs and was followed by a small step backward; if not for Sir Henry’s quick reactions she would have plummeted to the ground in a broken heap. As Sir Henry steadied her once more, Sarra studied the figure lingering on the hill beyond.
From this distance, the trees behind the fellow gave him the appearance of great height. He stood with his feet slightly apart, staring directly at the castle walls. His shoulder-length brown hair lifted slightly off his shoulders as the wind blew over him, mimicking a caress. His clothing did little to hide the shape of his muscular body. A sword hilt could be seen peeping from over his left shoulder. A certain air of authority seemed to exude from his person. Sarra imagined his jaw muscles clenching as he thought of his next move.
A sense of sarcasm invaded her thoughts. No doubt he was planning his siege at this very moment.
“My lady, do you think he has come to raid the castle? Looking for sheep perhaps? Or maybe come for a few wenches?” When Sir Henry spoke, his tone was one of jesting instead of the sincerity she expected.
Leave it to Sir Henry to try to lighten the mood after scaring her so with his tenseness. Sarra restrained herself from giving him a playful slap on the arm. One false move and she wouldn’t be the only one on the ground.
After a moment, Sarra decided to respond to the serious part of his question. “Nay, I think not. You see, he has no army about. It is just him. I believe we have another suitor from King Edward come to stake his claim as Lord. In truth, he probably comes not only for the castle but for the hand of the lady in charge as well.”
“Should I inform Charism there is another pest about who might need, hmm, squashing?” Sir Henry asked in a gleeful tone.
“Aye, I suppose so.” Exhaling, Sarra continued, “I had hoped for a reprieve from the suitors, but I guess it is not to be. The last one was extremely trying. Sir Henry, please inform Charism to be prepared to take action. This one looks to have more spirit than the others.”
She considered the newcomer while descending the battlements. What kind of man was confident enough to travel completely alone in this part of the country? Where were his knights and attendants? What kind of man would travel without a horse or a trunk full of fine and dandy clothing? Where was he hiding his pointed shoes?
Gnawing at her lip, Sarra began to worry. No, this one didn’t seem like the other suitors who had come to the keep. Something about him was different. Indeed, this did not portend well for her future.
Chapter Two
After descending the battlement steps, Sarra hurried to her room quickly grabbing and donning her hooded cloak. Pulling back the shutters, she looked for Charism. Sarra spotted Charism’s aged form ambling forward toward the gate with Sir Henry following close behind. They both knew the routine by now.
How many times would she have to do this? In frustration Sarra slammed the wooden panels back against the window casing. By now the hulk of a man must be close to the castle walls. Sarra hurried down the stairs of the keep, once more dodging animals and humans alike. She skidded to a standstill as the newest suitor arrived.
Sarra watched from behind Charism with a bowed head, peeking cautiously out from under her woolen hood. A frown wrinkled her brow. Up close, the man was nothing like she’d expected. In height, he was barely above her own five-foot–six inch frame. What Sarra had originally thought was brown shoulder length hair was actually more of a blond, held together by a dingy string, and lying halfway down a hunched back. How could she have been so wrong?
With mouth stretched open, a row of missing teeth was shown. What does the stranger have to smile about? Sarra wondered. He is in a completely foreign location among unknown people. Surely the rumors about the estate and its reputation had been heard. Didn’t he know the place was haunted? Didn’t he know the place was in disarray and falling apart? It was in this moment Sarra realized since there had been no advance warning of this newest conqueror’s coming, she and those who helped her had no time to set things around the village awry. Therefore what the visitor saw was indeed a pleasant surprise.
People were scattered about the grounds doing work. The garden was well-tended. Children frolicked happily. Everything was in perfect order. Sarra could see the cogs turning in his mind.
But as she watched the man his expression shifted to a frown, then deepening into a scowl, which caused her own happy nature to resurface.
The stranger was so focused on the castle and its orderly surroundings, he’d almost bowled over Charism who was standing directly in his path. Sarra covered her mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape.
“Excuse me, miss. I didna’ see ye there.”
Charism waved a bony hand at the newcomer. “Never ye mind, Sonny. What can we do for ye?”
With a beefy paw, the man pulled a letter out of the leather pouch hanging on his side. Pointing with the parchment, he spoke with an authoritative tone. “I’m Barney. I have a missive from the King. I would ‘ave speech with the mistress of the castle, if ye please.”
“Aye?” asked Charism, one eyebrow arched upward.
A stuttering, “Aye?” was said. Pausing, he took a deep breath and added, “My lady, if ye will just point me to the mistress.”
“Ye are looking at the lady of the castle,” replied Charism.
Sarra watched the myriad of emotions play across the heavily-jowled face. Shock seemed to be the current emotion displayed. If the situation had not been so dire, she might have laughed out loud. But as it stood, she kept her laughter in check and continued to follow the drama as it unfolded.
“Ye, my lady?” Barney’s face registered a stunned look. Sarra found herself wondering just what he’d expected of the mistress. Charism continued to stare at him with birdlike eyes, playing her part to perfection.
“Well, Sonny, I might not be what ye expect, but I am lady of this keep, and ye will refrain from insulting me.”
“I meant no disrespect, me lady. I am just a wee bit confused. Ye see, I was led to believe the lord, well, I mean the lady of the keep was younger.”
Sarra loved this part. It was always the same. They all knew Charism was too old to be the lord’s daughter. At least, they thought they knew. But they were all scared to say she was too old. They would cover their confusion with some kind of nonsensical rambling. Sarra enjoyed Charism’s different explanations, never once saying it was just because she was old.
“Well, ye see deary, I am younger than I look. It was the pox, ye know. And then there was the famine. It did terrible things to me bones and left me bent over and humpe
d and such. And, well, the sun, ye know is bad for a body. Causes lines on the face....”
Sarra watched the newest suitor as he listened to Charism ramble on and on about the ailments which had caused her to appear seventy instead of the score of years which was expected. The visitor must have realized certain issues mentioned had nothing to do with her aged form. Perhaps he even considered she was just old or maybe the previous lord had had children at a young age. Whatever the case, the stranger didn’t seem ready to leave just yet.
Sarra noticed the man had quit listening. Charism must have noticed it as well because she changed the subject. “Ye have to be a mite hungry after all ye travels.”
“Well, nay. Not at the moment.”
“Rubbish. Maid? Maid? Where are ye deary?”
Sarra stepped out from behind Charism. “Here I am, my lady.” Sarra made a deep curtsy, keeping veiled eyes glued on the guest at all times.
“Maid, go inside and have Cook arrange an assortment of delicacies for our new visitor. And remember, only the finest for this one.”
Sarra stood from the curtsey and nodded. “Of course, my lady.”
“All right, young man grab my arm, and let's head to the great hall. It might take us some time to get there, though. These bones don’t move like they used to after the famine ye know.”
“Aye, of course, the famine. But mistress, I insist I am not hungry.”
“Of course, ye are hungry. Ye are practically wastin’ away to nuthin’. Besides, Cook sets the finest table in all the land and trust me ye will want to enjoy the fruits of his labors.”
Sarra had left the two of them and rushed inside. She could still hear the arguing going on outside the hall walls. Perhaps the gentleman had heard tell of the disease of the bowels which was rampant in these parts. He seemed desperate to get out of eating. But Charism, true to form, was overwhelming him in her subtle way and keeping him right on track toward the keep doors.
With her slow gait, Sarra knew it would take Charism several minutes to reach the great hall. She would have to act quickly. They might not have had time to “tear down” the outside walls and create some decent hovels, but Sarra did have time to “spruce” up the inside of the keep.
As Sarra ran toward the kitchen she passed by the maids giving them instructions. “The usual, ladies, and be quick about it!” Knowing exactly her meaning, they went to the slop buckets in the corner, and liberally scattered the contents around the fresh rushes in the room. When Sarra reached the kitchen, Cook was given his directions for what the current guest might require. After dealing with Cook, she located James, the stable boy, and told him he was needed at the keep. Then there was only one other individual to commandeer and all would be ready. This suitor seemed to be headstrong and might need a little extra to be sent on his way. As Sarra worked the plan over in her mind, she couldn’t help but smile.
****
“My lady, I think I would rather have some fresh food from the garden.”
“Rubbish! Ye will do no such thing. A man of your girth needs his sustenance. Besides I wouldn’t touch food from the garden. Give ye the pox, it will.” Charism hid her grin at the man’s doubtful expression. He wasn’t suitable for the young lady. Until Sarra told her otherwise, the old lady would continue to help her keep the hounds at bay.
“Indeed?”
“Aye, indeed! Are ye doubting my word, boy? That food there has the blight and the pox as well, I tell ye. Ye will come to the high table and sup with me. And that is the end of it!”
When they arrived at the great doors, Charism placed her hands upon them and pushed with all her might. But they wouldn’t budge. She grunted and groaned with the effort. Finally she glanced back at the visitor. “Well, are ye going to just stand there and let a little woman strain herself with all this effort? Get the door, will ye?”
Barney pushed open the doors with little effort and stepped back. He bowed and extended his arm to Charism, respectfully allowing the “mistress” to go in first. The visitor followed closely behind but as he stepped over the threshold, Charism watched him reel back.
The rushes were fairly clean but upon further inspection they appeared to be liberally scattered with something resembling slop, causing a noxious odor. Charism looked around with satisfaction. The girl was up to her old tricks again. This one would never find a man she was satisfied with. Besides this one wasn’t suitable for the young lady. Until Sarra told her otherwise, the old lady would continue to help her keep the hounds at bay.
The man jerked at the sound of the kitchen door slapping shut and the cook entering. Cook’s long, stringy hair looked to have been slathered in pig fat. Mud caked his clothing and his nose dripped, as he came forward to drop the tray laden with food items on the huge rectangular table. Looking up at Charism, he gave a toothless grin and sneered. Before he left, a hand was swabbed across his nose, collecting a wad of the runny substance which was slung in the direction of the food placed on the table. Charism hid her mouth behind her hand and coughed, the sound mingling with her distinctive giggle.
As she studied the bread on the table, she saw spots. At first thought, the white spots were flour, until they were noticed moving. The bread appeared to be in the process of wiggling right off the table. She bit her lip as the visitor’s eyes went wide.
Next the smell of the meat assailed her nostrils. Cook had taken special care with his “delicacy”, making certain it was rotten.
Charism’s face surely showed delight as she ambled forward, pretending not to notice the disgusting habits of the keep’s hash slinger or the disgusting nature of the food. “It seems Cook has prepared the pig intestines today. What luck! My betrothed will be able to share in this fine meal.”
Barney helped her into a chair and pushed her up to the table. She noticed his trembling hands as the fare was studied more closely.
As she watched, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Sarra’s next plan.
Clank, rattle, stomp, clank, rattle, stomp.
“Ooooh.” A low moan filled the air.
“Wh...wh...what was that noise?”
Charism twisted in her chair and covered a hand with her own gnarled one. “What noise, my child?”
Clank, rattle, stomp, clank, rattle, stomp.
“Ooooohhh.” The moans became louder, closer.
“That noise.”
“Well deary, I don’t know what ye are referring to. My hearing taint like it oughta be, but I am certain I don’t hear a thing.”
Crash.
“Ooohhhh!”
The last sounds floated down the stairwell as the visitor’s hand twisted out from under Charism’s. Barney stood up and gradually backed away. “Perhaps ye could direct me to the garderobe?”
“Aye, just meander across the hall, past the stairs and ye will find the door. Hurry back soon, my love. Pig intestines aren’t as good when they chill.” A slow, sadistic grin spread across her wrinkled face.
“Aye, sure. I promise to return quickly.” Barney backed up; turning around in mid-flight and fairly flew to the garderobe. The door was flung wide as the stranger stepped inside.
Charism held up her bony fingers and ticked off the time. Before reaching her middle finger, the door flung open with enough force to rip it off its hinges. The suitor’s legs and arms pumped furiously as he ran out through the keep doors.
“Why, I didn’t even get to eat!” exclaimed Charism, a smile wreathing her face.
Chapter Three
Barney moved his legs as fast as he could until he was past the castle gates and into the surrounding wood. A shallow creek loomed in the distance. Running until his lungs felt as if they would explode, he reached the water’s edge and stopped. He fell beside the cool stream, taking deep gulping breaths and trying to regain his composure. He splashed water on his face and allowed it to trickle down over his neck and into the deep V of his tunic.
After a moment, Barney lifted his head from the icy cold stream. The s
ound of a deep, resonant voice took him off guard, almost sending him headlong into the rushing liquid.
“Well? How did ye fare?”
Gaining his composure, Barney shook out his hair and leaned back on his haunches. His water-coated eyes struggled to focus on the man in front of him. Cedric MacNeil was not a Scot to be trifled with. At over six feet tall, with fierce blue eyes and a daunting demeanor, he was rarely challenged. A sword hilt peeked above his shoulder, drawing Barney’s attention.
To avoid his master’s wrath, Barney said, “Laird Cedric, the mistress, she met me at the gate, ye see. And those rumors ye mentioned from England, well, they were correct. At least on the physical side of things. The woman is so old and bent over, she favors a witch to be sure.”
“Aye. What happened after she met ye?”
Barney scratched his head. “She did just like ye said. She offered me something to eat. I suggested the garden but the lady told me some story about the pox. She led me toward the keep doors, and I ’ave to tell ye, I was gettin’ mighty frustrated with her pace. She was going at the pace of a turtle on a winter morning, she was. I thought about hoisting her over me shoulder and to the door, but I was in no hurry to enter the hall. I was kinda pleased with the outside workings, but I had a feeling the inside would leave a very bad taste in me mouth—and perhaps in me bowels too. When I saw the food, I knew I was right. And it explained why ye mistress looks a hundred, when she is supposed to be twenty!” Barney paused, and then added, “But like I was sayin’, if I was pleased for ye with the outside, the inside changed them feelins real quick. There was wormy bread, which I don’t mind eaten when I’m in a pinch, ye understand. There was some kind of rotten meat. And I can’t begin to describe the smell of the rushes on the floor. Why I think they must’ve thrown buckets of animal excrement about.”
There Your Heart Will Be Also Page 2
