Authors: Bertrice Small
The carts began to rumble away from Stanton. Ahead of them was a great cloud of dust being kicked up by Adair’s herds, which were being driven off. The herds were followed by several carts carrying Stanton’s grain, stolen from her granaries. The raid had been well thought out and well planned. As they passed by the orchard a great cry went up from the women. The Stanton men had been slain, and lay among the trees where they had fallen.
Elsbeth stuffed her hand in her mouth to keep from shrieking when she saw Albert’s body lying by a basket of apples. She could not crumble. She must be strong now for Adair, who was finally doing what she should have done years ago—weeping for the loss of those she loved.
Elsbeth put a comforting arm about her mistress.
“There, now, lass, weep,” she said softly. “God only knows what is to become of us now.”
C
onal Bruce, the laird of Cleit, looked down at the trencher before him on the high board. “What
the hell is this?” he demanded to know. He pushed at the gray glutinous mass with his spoon.
“I think it’s porridge,” his older half brother, Duncan Armstrong, ventured.
“It’s burned too,” the laird’s younger brother, Murdoc, noted.
“Who is cooking today?” Conal asked.
“I think Sim,” Murdoc said.
“Conal, we need a cook,” Duncan told the laird. “We can’t go on like this just because you won’t put another woman in the kitchens.”
“Every time I bring a female into the keep, one of the men gets her with child, and then she’s gone with her bairn, and more often than not the man follows her. We can’t lose any more men at arms, damn it!” His gray eyes were stormy with his annoyance.
“There’s a simple answer to the problem,” Duncan said. “Find an older woman. One with some common sense, not looking for a man. Willie Douglas is offering a group of English slaves he recently acquired for sale at the Michaelmas fair tomorrow. If we get there early we’ll have our pick of the best he has to offer. Willie’s
a careful man. He only carries off the strong and healthy.”
The laird sighed. “Well, at least I can take a look,” he agreed. “I’m tired of always being hungry, and if I show up at Agnes Carr’s cottage for a meal one more time she’ll be trying to get me to handfast with her again.”
“She’s a fine and friendly woman is Agnes,” Duncan said.
“Aye, a bit too friendly,” the laird remarked. “When I marry I want a woman I know I can trust to be faithful.
A woman who is mine alone. Is there any man in the borders who hasn’t ridden a mile or two between Agnes’s pretty, plump thighs?”
His two companions laughed knowingly, nodding in agreement.
“Some cream might help the porridge,” Murdoc suggested. “At least it’s nourishing. And it’s all Sim cooked for our supper. I think the men are trying to tell us something, Conal.”
“Then they had best stop giving the cook a big belly,”
the laird said dourly.
“We’ve bread and butter, and a bit of our mam’s jam left too,” Duncan said cheerfully. “And there’s ale.”
“We’d best eat up before the porridge hardens into rock, and then get to bed if we plan to go early to the Michaelmas fair,” Conal Bruce said, and he poured a dollop of thick cream into the trencher. Tasting it, he said grimly, “It doesn’t help, I fear, but ’tis all we have.
Butter me a bit of that bread, Duncan. With luck tomorrow we’ll find a slave woman as ugly as a toad with warts, but who can cook like an angel. Don’t forget to say your prayers tonight before you sleep, brothers, that God will grant us that miracle.”
Duncan and Murdoc chuckled.
In the morning the three departed the laird’s stone keep for the fair, which was held each year in a sunny glen
near the village of Craigsmur. It was late September, and while the sun was a bit slower to rise than it had been a month ago, the day was still fair and warm. As they approached the glen they could see the pendants flying from the pavilions that had been set up. The Michaelmas fair was a time to socialize with one’s neighbors; buy and sell cattle, sheep, and other goods; eat and drink; and maybe even handfast with a lass for a year. The three brothers, known to all in the area, were hailed and welcomed as they arrived. They shared the same mother, now deceased. Duncan Armstrong was the youngest son from his mother’s first marriage. He had come to Cleit with her when she had married James Bruce, his stepfather. He was just two years older than his half brother, Conal Bruce, the laird of Cleit; and seven years older than Murdoc Bruce, their youngest brother. James Bruce had been killed in a border raid.
Their mother had died only the year before.
The three siblings tethered their horses and sought William Douglas. They found him in the middle of the fair with a group of slaves beneath an awning. “Conal Bruce, ’tis good to see you,” William Douglas greeted the laird effusively. He nodded to Duncan and Murdoc.
“Are you in the market for something? I’ve some fine stock today just brought from over the border. They’ll not last.”
“I need a cook, Willie,” the laird said. “A sensible older woman who won’t be spreading her legs for the men in my keep, and then finding herself with a full belly.”
“I have just what you need,” William Douglas said.
“Actually two such women. I’ll let you have one cheaply. I’m keeping the other to give my wife. I took them because they’re healthy and strong. Elsbeth, stand up so the laird can get a good look at you.”
Conal Bruce stepped over to the woman. She had a very angry look on her face.
“Can you cook without burning the porridge?” he asked her.
“I can,” Elsbeth said tersely.
“Where were you taken?”
“Stanton. I cared for its countess for her entire life,”
Elsbeth replied.
“Do you have a man?”
“Dead, thanks to yon borderer and his men,” Elsbeth said.
“Can you cook something other than porridge?” the laird wanted to know.
“I can cook anything you want, sir,” Elsbeth answered. This man looked decent, she thought. Pray God he was.
“There are no other women in my keep,” the laird said. “Our mother died, and since then every cook we have had has managed to get herself a big belly. Can you keep yourself from the men, Elsbeth?”
“I want no man but my Albert,” Elsbeth said harshly.
“I’d kill any who tried to have me, sir. I’ll work hard for you.”
“I’ll take her,” Conal Bruce said to William Douglas.
“What do you want for her, Willie? She seems a good woman who will do her duty and be obedient.”
“A silver groat would suffice,” came the reply.
“Half a groat, and you’re overcharging me. God knows how long the woman will live. She is a bit long in the tooth,” the laird remarked. “I’m doing you a favor.
Legally her term of servitude will only be a year. After that she could leave me.”
William Douglas closed his eyes a moment and sighed deeply. “Very well,” he finally agreed. “A half groat.”
“I can’t go with him,” Elsbeth said. She turned to the laird. “You seem a fair man, sir. I’m sure you would be a good master, but I can’t go with you without my lady.
I’ve hardly left her side since her birth, and I’ll not leave her now.” She stood straight, looking him in the eye, her hands on her hips. “Please, sir, buy my mistress.”
“Why would I need another woman in the keep?” the laird wanted to know.
“Well, sir,” Elsbeth said cannily, “if there’s no other woman in the keep, who has kept it clean for you . . . ?
Who has done your laundry? I can see from the color of your shirt ’tis not been washed properly in a long time.
Who makes your candles, your soap, your conserves?
Who makes the salves, the ointments, the syrups, and the other medicines necessary to keep you and your people healthy? And another woman would be company for me, sir. A lonely woman, no matter her resolve, can often fall prey to temptation.”
The laird and his brothers laughed at this none-too-subtle threat.
“She’s right, Conal,” Duncan Armstrong said. “The keep is a pigsty, and if Elsbeth is to spend her time in the kitchens cooking for us we could really use someone else to clean and wash and do all those other things she has mentioned.”
“Very well,” the laird said. “I’ll buy the other woman.
Willie, what do you want for her? And do not say three silver pennies, for I’ll not pay it, and if Elsbeth won’t come without her then I’ll take someone else, or seek elsewhere.”
William Douglas looked thoughtful for a long moment. Then he reached down among the seated captives and dragged a woman up. She was dirty like the others, her dark hair matted, but her face was swollen and bruised, and she was shackled at her ankles. She pulled back from him like a scalded cat, hissing imprecations at Douglas. “Her name is Adair, and I curse the day I took her,” he said. “She’s given me naught but trouble since that moment. If you take her you’ll not thank me, Conal Bruce.”
“Scurvy Scot!” Adair shrieked at him. “I’ll kill you if I can!”
“And she would too,” Douglas said. “She’s attempted to run away three times now, which is why she’s shackled.”
“What happened to her?” the laird asked. The girl
had bruises on her arms and her legs as well as her face.
She had been badly abused, yet she was still defiant.
“I had to beat her,” came the taciturn reply. “It was the only way I could control her. She’s as hot-tempered a wench as I have ever known.”
“He did not treat my lady with respect,” Elsbeth spoke up. “And he tried to bed her. Imagine! A border cur attempting to have my precious child, with her noble blood. Well, you did not, did you? His cock shriveled like a dried leaf. And he beat her for it, sir. I’d kill him myself, given the chance!”
Duncan Armstrong and Murdoc Bruce snickered at this.
“The old bitch lies!” William Douglas said angrily.
“Give me the half groat and a silver penny, Conal Bruce. You can have the pair of them, and good riddance, I say!”
“I am not a slave, sir,” Adair said, drawing herself up to her full height. “I am her ladyship the Countess of Stanton, half sister to the English queen. I wish to be returned to my home at Stanton as soon as possible.”
Conal Bruce reached out and, wrapping his hand in Adair’s long black hair, yanked her to him with a single sharp motion. “Be silent, madam,” he murmured against her lips. “Or Douglas will sell you into a stew where you would not last a week.” He turned and, digging into his purse, drew out the half-groat coin and the silver penny.
“Unshackle the wench, Willie. I’ll take the pair of them, and I suspect I’m paying you too much, but I need the damned cook, and if the girl makes her happy then so be it.” He handed the borderer his coins.
William Douglas bit each coin and tested the weight of them in his palm. He smiled and said, “You’ve got a bargain, Conal, and we both know it. The girl will warm your bed this winter, and the older woman will keep your belly full.” Pocketing the coins, he spit in his hand and held it out to the laird. “Done!” he said.
Conal Bruce spit in his own hand and clasped the
borderer’s hand with it. “Done!” he agreed. “Now un-shackle my property, Willie, and we’ll be on our way. I’ll be wanting a decent dinner this day, and the kitchen will have to be cleaned first.”
William Douglas took a key from his belt and, putting it in the padlock on the shackles binding Adair, un-locked it. The shackles fell away, and Douglas jumped back quickly, avoiding a kick that Adair aimed at him.
“Go on with your new master, bitch,” the borderer snarled at her.
Adair felt a hand clamp about her upper arm. She turned startled eyes to Conal Bruce. “I will not run, sir,”
she said. “My Elsbeth could not keep up with me, and to where would we flee? I have lost all sense of direction these past days.”
The laird loosened his grip slightly. “Given what Douglas has had to say about you I will take no chances. Elsbeth, come!”
Elsbeth hugged her sister, Margery, and then followed after Conal Bruce and his brothers to where they had tethered their horses. As they passed an awning beneath which were spread an array of ducks, geese, and chickens, Elsbeth pulled on the earl’s jacket. “Buy a goose, sir, and I’ll cook it for your supper tonight,” she said.
He did not answer her, but he did stop and purchase a large bird, already plucked and ready for roasting. He handed it to her. “What else?” he asked her.
“I’ll have to check your kitchen, sir,” Elsbeth said,
“but if you have no bread we might buy a few loaves, and some apples and pears.”
He nodded and bought the required items, again handing them to her, and more to Adair. By the time they had reached their horses they were well laden.
“Duncan, take Elsbeth up behind you. Murdoc, carry the foodstuffs.” He mounted his own horse, reaching down to pull Adair up behind him. “The ride is not long,” he told her. “Two hours, no more.”
Adair said nothing. She was already contemplating an escape for herself, and for Elsbeth. If she could escape England’s king, if she could ride all the way from Windsor to Stanton alone, she could surely escape this Scot’s captivity. But first she had to learn where she was—and it must be done quickly. It was already the twenty-ninth day of September. In another month the cold weather would have set in, and after that the snow. They had to go soon, but first she had to learn how far from England William Douglas had brought them. And how far Stanton was. Not everyone had been carried off. Surely all the men had not been killed. There had been one herd of cattle not yet down from the high meadows. She could—she would—begin again. She hardly noticed the passage of time as they rode, but she did notice the rugged hills around them, and few dwellings.
“There is Cleit,” Conal Bruce finally said.
Adair looked ahead of them. There stood a gray stone keep on a hill ahead. It was not a large structure, such as Middleham or Windsor, but it still had a very formidable look to it, and did not appear particularly welcoming.
“How do you live?” she asked him as they rode.