“There you are,” I said as I took my own plate and put it in front of my chair before sitting down.
“You do not wish for any wine?” he inquired, clearly noting that I had neglected to bring out a goblet for myself.
“Oh,” I faltered. Truly, I would have liked some wine, but at the same time, I did not wish to get up again. “No,” I went on, “for I shall have a long day tomorrow, and I do not wish to tire myself today, which is what I fear a glass of wine would do to me.”
Corin seemed to accept this explanation, for he shrugged and picked up his fork, then helped himself to a large mouthful of pie. I did the same, although I was not very hungry. Strange, because with all the running back and forth I had done in the castle’s kitchen earlier that day, one would think I should have worked up quite the appetite. Oh, well. I would eat enough to help me recover something of my strength, and no more.
“We were preparing as well,” Corin said then as he set down his fork and reached for his goblet. “It is Lord Sorthannic’s custom at the harvest ball to bring out some bottles from the harvest of three years earlier, and to share them with his guests. He was there today, consulting with Master Brinsell as to which ones would work best with this year’s menu.”
So the great man had deigned to visit the cellars? I supposed he must, for this was a matter that directly reflected upon his hospitality. “That must be a somewhat difficult task, given the number of courses Brynna has planned for the feast.”
Corin shot me a sideways look at that remark, as though he had detected the bitterness which underlaid my words. However, when he spoke, his tone was mild enough. “His Grace has more than a hundred guests coming. I would assume that such a number would require a veritable mountain of food.”
All prepared by the drudges in the kitchen…myself among them. Quarreling over such an obvious fact seemed like a foolish waste of time, though, so I merely nodded and said, “Yes, it is a great deal more than what we are used to, but Brynna has it all well in hand. I am sure it will all go well, and his lordship’s guests will have another magnificent feast to talk about until next year’s ball comes ’round.”
“I do get the impression that Brynna tries to outdo herself each year. Master Brinsell says that those of us working in the cellars will get trays of food brought to us, and so I will have a chance to sample some of that magnificence.”
Favored treatment, indeed. True, Lynnis had said that the leftovers would be sent to the settlement for all of us to enjoy, but that was not quite the same thing as being able to partake of such delicacies while they were still fresh and hot. But I supposed that Lord Sorthannic viewed his workers in the cellar as more valuable than the rest of us, since without the contributions of those who helped to make his wines, he would have no reason to even host a harvest ball.
Once again I decided to keep my trenchant observations to myself. “That sounds lovely,” I said, my tone neutral. “After my clumsy efforts in the kitchen, I have no doubt that being able to sample Brynna’s offerings will be a veritable treat.”
My comment caused Corin to raise an eyebrow, then set down his fork. “I do not think they are clumsy,” he said. “Perhaps not as elaborate as what Brynna serves at the castle, but I could not expect that of you, for I am only a simple laborer, and not a peer of the realm like Lord Sorthannic.”
Once I could have been counted as such, as the daughter of a wealthy baron. I inwardly scolded myself for such a thought, because my father had given me the opportunity to reclaim that part of myself, and I had turned him down. And all for love of the man who sat across the table from me, the man who seemed now more of a stranger than when I had known him barely at all. I could not help but get the sense that he made conversation with me only because it would have been awkward to sit there in silence while we ate.
Because I could not think of how else to respond, I offered him a wan smile and said, “Thank you, Corin. I want to do what I can to make things pleasant for you.”
“And you do.” He paused then, goblet still in his hand, the flickers of the candle flame picking up warm gleams in the biscuit-colored glaze of the stoneware. “Please never think that I don’t know everything you have had to sacrifice to be here with me.”
The words were innocent enough…indeed, were warmer than any of his most recent utterances had been. Even so, I could not help but experience a small pang of worry. Had he somehow caught wind of my father’s visit here? Of course I had not said anything, and the weather had been so foul that evening, I did not think any of my neighbors had been out and about to witness his arrival. Still, I could not be certain that someone had not seen him come to our little hamlet, especially since the arrival of a man on horseback would have been worthy of note.
Perhaps it would have been better to tell Corin the truth, but I found I could not bring myself to do so. Cowardly, yes, but an impulse that sprang from wishing to avoid a confrontation, rather than because I was attempting to hide something shameful.
“I do not think it any great sacrifice,” I murmured, and then popped a bite of chicken pie in my mouth so I would not have to say anything further.
For a long moment, my husband watched me, eyes slightly narrowed. Anything he had intended to say, however, it seemed he decided to keep to himself, for after taking another sip of wine, he set down his goblet and returned to the food on his plate.
And I — I could not allow myself a sigh of relief, but I felt the way my body relaxed as I ate another mouthful of pie. We continued our meal in silence, and I thanked the gods that Corin had granted me that small measure of peace. I would need it, to fortify myself against the hectic day to come.
CHAPTER 14
I slept better than I had any right to expect, which was good, for when I arrived at the kitchen the next morning, I was immediately flung into chaos. A veritable mountain of vegetables waited for me to chop them, and Brynna was running to and fro, less a woman than a blur in a brown dress.
But at least I knew what was expected of me and set to at once, glad I had been given a task that, while tedious, was simple enough to manage and not terribly taxing. Poor Alyse was getting quite the scolding, for she had not yet set out the bread to rise, and Nerys also received a tongue-lashing when she nearly upset the pot that held the wild berry sauce for the roast boar, which even now was turning on a spit longer than I was tall.
Somehow, though, we managed to avoid utter catastrophe, and as the day wore on, a bewildering number of dishes began to pile up on the long wooden counters in the kitchen. Tubers in honey sauce, and the roast boar, and a venison ragout, and platters of roasted pheasant and quail, along with a dizzying array of vegetables, either roasted or in sauces rich with herbs and butter. Mountains of bread and rolls, and flavored butters to accompany them, and off to one side, the desserts as well, pies and cakes and custards and creams. Yes, I knew that Lord Sorthannic had more than a hundred guests coming to the feast, and yet it seemed to me that here was food enough to feed five times that number. The banquets my father used to host appeared as simple picnic lunches compared to all this splendor.
Toward the late afternoon, there was a bit of a lull, just enough for me to slip away from the kitchen and hurry toward the entrance of the great hall. At that hour, no guests would yet have arrived, and so I thought it safe enough to peek around the corner and catch a glimpse of the chamber where all the food we had prepared would be consumed.
And oh, my boldness was rewarded, for I saw a great room with tall arched windows of stained glass, and heavy chandeliers of cunningly wrought iron, all swagged with autumn leaves in hues of red and gold and umber. More garlands of brightly colored leaves marched down the centers of the long tables, already set with gleaming pewter plates and expensive glass goblets. Through a tall, arched doorway flanked by pillars of carved rosy marble, I caught just a glimpse of what must be the ballroom, with yet more chandeliers, and more autumn leaves decorating the light fixtures and the tops of the windows. No tables, of
course, for that expansive floor must be left open for the dancers.
At that thought, a pang went through me. I did love to dance, and although I had enjoyed the celebration at the settlement to commemorate the crush, taking a few turns on hard-packed earth was not quite the same thing as being able to dance on a polished oak floor, with hundreds of candles flickering overhead to light the way. Why, I could almost imagine the feel of the fine silk gowns I used to wear, the way they would whisper across the wooden floor as my partner turned me under his arm.
Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked them away. It was foolish of me to long for something I would never have again. I reminded myself that I had enjoyed the dancing at the crush very well, for I had been able to hold Corin’s hand, to have his arm around my waist. Was that not better than a hundred grand ballrooms, a thousand silken gowns?
“Enough with the peeking,” came a crisp voice at my shoulder, and I started, then turned to see Nerys standing before me, hands planted on her broad hips. “Brynna was asking for you — she needs you to wash and hull the berries for the custard.”
“I’ll be right there,” I said, worry and guilt flooding through me. It had been foolish to sneak off like this. I could not afford to anger Brynna so much that she dismissed me. If such a thing were to come to pass, how would Corin and I make it through the winter?
“Yes, you’d better,” Nerys replied. Her expression softened somewhat, and she added, “Don’t look so stricken, girl. Just get back to work. Brynna is so beside herself, I doubt she has any idea how long you’ve been gone.”
I nodded and went scampering back to the kitchen, where indeed the cook was so preoccupied with adding precise measures of salt to a sauce that she did not even look up when I appeared. As Nerys had said, there was now a large pile of blackberries and raspberries that needed to be cleaned and any bits of stalks and husks removed. I wondered where on earth Brynna had procured the berries, as we were far past their season here in Marric’s Rest. Perhaps she had sent for them from some farm far in the south, where the nights had not yet become chilly, and a false summer still lay over the land.
Time wore on, and once I was done with the berries, I was dispatched to help with whipping enough cream to garnish all the desserts we had created. Indeed, I whipped so much cream that it began to feel as though my arm intended to fall right off, but I kept at it doggedly, knowing I dare not stop until Brynna told me I had made enough.
At last, though, she took the bowl away, and I blinked and glanced around the kitchen, realizing that the mountains of food we had prepared had slowly begun to disappear. Indeed, the daylight coming through the clerestory windows high up in the wall had also disappeared, and candles and lanterns had taken their place, and I had not even noticed.
Clearly, the feast was about to begin.
I knew better than to ask if I might go home, however. While the bulk of my work was done, there were always small details that might need my attention. I doubted I would be allowed to leave until the last cake, pie, or custard had been brought into the ballroom — if, of course, Lord Sorthannic followed the usual customs and had his guests adjourn for a set of dancing before they began to consume their dessert.
Brynna had taken some pity on her kitchen staff, and had set aside several platters of roasted chicken, and bowls of rice and potatoes, which Nerys and Alyse were already beginning to dole out onto some plates that had been provided. I was just about to get in line behind them for my own turn when Brynna appeared. Standing behind her was Master Lewyn, Lord Sorthannic’s steward. My eyes widened in shock at the sight of such an august personage deigning to visit the kitchen, especially when he must have duties at the feast that should have claimed his attention.
The two of them both wore grim expressions, and my heart sank. Had I done something wrong? As much as I wracked my brains, I could not think of any transgressions I might have committed that would have warranted the presence of Master Lewyn.
All the same, I dropped a quick curtsey, for the steward warranted even more respect than the cook, who usually received a bob of the head and not much more.
“She will do,” he said to Brynna, barely looking at me. “See that she is tidied up a bit before you send her out.”
“Of course, Master Lewyn,” Brynna said, also giving a curtsey, albeit not quite as deep as mine. But perhaps that had more to do with her older knees not being able to manage the task than any lack of respect.
He gave her an offhand nod and went back down the corridor that led to the banquet hall. I sent Brynna a puzzled glance, although a certain suspicion had already begun to grow in me, one that quite made my stomach twist up in knots.
“Take off that apron,” Brynna commanded. “Do you have a comb?”
My fingers began to fumble with the strings of the apron at the back of my neck, even as I inquired, “A comb, mistress?”
“Never mind.” She hurried away from me, going to the little cubbyhole at the back of the kitchen that she used as a sort of impromptu office. After digging around in a box on the table there, she produced a wooden comb and came back to where I stood. “Tidy your hair as best you can.”
I reached up and felt how a few stray strands had escaped from the knot at the back of my neck. Knowing I could not argue, I took the comb from her and smoothed them away from my face, and rearranged the pins that held the heavy braided bun in place. “May I ask why all this primping is necessary?”
Her mouth, bracketed by a series of fine lines, pinched itself even smaller, making her look like one of those dolls that village women sometimes fashioned out of dried apples. “Lysanne has fallen and twisted her ankle. All of the castle’s chambermaids have already been assigned to assist the footmen with the feast, and so Master Lewyn came to me and requested the comeliest of my kitchen helpers to take her place.” Brynna’s mouth tightened even further, as if she did not much like admitting that I was the prettiest of the kitchen servants. Not that it was an accolade I could take too much pride in, for the other women I worked with were not the sort to turn a man’s head. “You will go out and help the other maids — the guests are still just arriving, so there is time before the feast begins for you to get your bearings.”
Now that the situation I had been dreading had been articulated so clearly, I could feel the terror awake somewhere in my midsection, seeming almost like a wild thing. “Please — is there no one else?”
That question elicited a quite fearsome frown. Brynna crossed her arms and looked at me as though she had never seen me before. “I have already told you that there is no one else. Really, it is lighter work than what you have been doing in the kitchen all day. You will only need to make sure that the guests’ plates and glasses are kept filled to their satisfaction, and after the feast is over, you will help to clear everything away. Do you understand?”
Oh, yes, I understood all too well. I would have to go and mingle with the guests — and possibly catch the eye of Lord Sorthannic himself. So far I had been able to avoid him, buried in the kitchen as I had been, but I could not hope that my luck would hold if I was forced to go out in public, so to speak. I tried to tell myself that I was being overly dramatic, that in a room filled with more than a hundred guests, and probably a score of maidservants and footmen, it would take a stroke of spectacularly bad luck for the duke to notice me at all.
Besides, I knew I had no choice. If I defied Brynna in this, I would most surely lose my post.
“Yes, I understand,” I said meekly.
“Then go, and do as you’ve been instructed.”
I nodded, then turned and went down the same corridor I had traversed a few hours earlier. Then, I had been filled with anticipation, glad of the opportunity to steal a peek at the splendor of the banquet hall, but now cold dread curdled my stomach, making me glad that I had not eaten anything lately. My hands shook, and I knotted them in the heavy linen of my skirt, even as I told myself not to be such a dramatic fool, that no one was going to pay the slightest b
it of attention to another maidservant in drab clothing. I supposed I should be glad that I hadn’t managed to spill anything on myself during that long day, so at least I appeared somewhat presentable…if anyone would even notice. To my shame, I realized that the servants in the houses where I had visited had often seemed almost invisible to me. They were there only to see to my comfort, and the comfort of the other guests, and I had never paid very much attention to their appearance. I was not proud of such an attitude, and yet I hoped that Lord Sorthannic’s guests would behave much the same way, and pay no attention to me. It was the only way I thought I might survive the evening.
When I entered the great hall where the feast was to be held, it seemed that the attendees had not yet come here, that they must still be in his Grace’s audience chamber. Lord Sorthannic was nowhere to be seen, which of course made complete sense. He would be with his guests, not here where the last of the platters of food were still being arranged on the long tables set up against the far wall. At an event with this many attendees, it did not make sense to bring out the dishes one by one, as was generally the custom at smaller dinner parties.
“Here,” said one of the maidservants, a pretty girl with curly black hair who looked to be a few years younger than I. She handed a platter of tiny stuffed quail to me. “See if you can make room for this on the last table to the right — Alinda has managed to spill some of the wine she was just bringing out, and I must help her with cleaning it up before anyone notices.”
“Of course,” I replied, then took the tray of quail from her and made haste to the table in question, which fairly groaned with food. How on earth could I ever make room for the platter I held amongst all that extravagance?
But then I spied a small opening between a platter piled high with slices of smoked ham, and a large bowl of what appeared to be jellied rhubarb. If I were very careful, I should be able to slide the platter I held in between the two of them. No doubt if she were present, Brynna would scold me for such a haphazard arrangement, for I was certain there was supposed to be an order in which the dishes were presented on the tables. However, she was busy elsewhere, and I knew I needed to relieve myself of the burden I carried so I would be available to fill plates and wine goblets once the guests began to enter the hall. The quail were identifiable enough; the other servers should be able to locate them without too much difficulty.
The Song of the Thrush Page 18
