Claire Delacroix (14 page)

Though the servants clearly would have preferred her to eat in the hall, Aileen insisted upon remaining in the cheer of the kitchen. She was seated in a corner with a large piece of dark bread and a comb of honey, an ample napkin, a cup of ale and a knife. She murmured a prayer herself and was content indeed with her feast. Indeed, she was ravenous and ate every morsel, though normally the bread would have been too generous a cut.

A trio of women sat together near the fire, murmuring and giggling to each other. Their hair hung loose and their kirtles were not laced demurely at the neck. It appeared that they had used carmine upon their reddened lips and cheeks. They were pretty women, though their manner was less decorous than Aileen might have preferred.

She guessed what task they performed to earn their keep, and supposed she should not have been surprised to find harlots in a hall filled with warriors. The one with hair as dark as ebony watched Aileen openly, her eyes filled with malice and amusement. “I do not care how vexed Fernando becomes,” she told her companions gaily, one eye upon Aileen. “I shall oust him without regret each and every time the Hawk crooks his finger at me.”

The women giggled, sparing covert glances for Aileen, who ignored them.

“That is only Guinevere,” Nissa whispered. “Pay her no heed, my lady.”

Aileen realized that this was the whore who had challenged the Hawk the night before.

“She likes naught better than to set people at odds.” The girl wrinkled her nose. “She will have decided to dislike you already, my lady, for she greatly fancies the Hawk.”

Guinevere arched a brow, as if well aware of what the maid confided, then bared her teeth in a mock growl. Her companions laughed lustily at her antics, though Aileen concentrated upon her meal.

She was not surprised that the Hawk had a whore and had no intent of doing anything about the matter. He would need the woman’s consolation after Aileen was gone.

Had she been staying, or wed happily, Guinevere would have faced a much less tolerant Aileen.

The sole thing that troubled her in this kitchen, Aileen decided, was the floor. The rushes cast there were dark with grease, and she felt she could smell their filth. The matter was made worse by the dozen dogs that lingered underfoot: some kept their watchful gazes fixed on the meat being prepared while others burrowed in the old rushes. They found many a morsel and bone hidden there, their foraging too successful for Aileen’s taste.

Indeed, she would be hard-pressed to eat much that came from these kitchens, however savory the smell. She could not keep silent about the matter, and indeed, it gave her an idea. It could not hurt to prove herself so irksome that the Hawk might willingly discard her—or at least, might not pursue her when she escaped.

Aileen cleared her throat. “Are the dogs always in the kitchens, Nissa?”

The maid nodded and grimaced, her own opinion of this clear. “Aye, my lady.”

Aileen finished her ale, resolved to make at least one change in her new home. She was Lady of Inverfyre and the kitchens fell beneath her jurisdiction.

She would remind the Hawk as much if he was vexed.

A slender older man halted before Aileen and bowed his head. “Good morning, my lady. I am Gregory, the castellan of Inverfyre, and most delighted to welcome you to your new abode. I trust that all is suitable?”

It was intended to be a polite inquiry and Aileen knew as much, but she dared not lose the opportunity. “Indeed, Inverfyre is a marvelous keep, and I must salute you for its fine state.”

Gregory smiled and made to depart.

“But I wonder, Gregory, when the rushes in the kitchen and hall were last changed?” Aileen smiled with all the sweetness she could summon when he glanced at her. “Although many change them once a year, my mother always favored a monthly sweep to discourage vermin. I confess that I favor her scheme, perhaps because it is what I learned to expect.”

The castellan’s nostrils flared as he straightened, and Aileen was certain he did not appreciate her interference in what he perceived to be his domain. His very manner annoyed Aileen, for he should have made a token acknowledgement of Aileen’s status.

Unless the Hawk had forbidden his servants to show her any concession. Aileen straightened and returned the castellan’s regard unflinchingly.

“I shall ask my lord as to his preference,” he said coolly and she doubted he would do any such thing.

“You know mine,” Aileen said with resolve. “Please have the hall swept and the rushes replaced before the midday meal. I will not suffer vermin in my abode, and neither, I am certain, will my laird husband.”

Gregory smiled thinly. “With respect, my lady, Inverfyre is not Abernye. We have always managed matters thus and acknowledgement of custom is key to a well-administered keep.”

“With respect, Gregory, habit does not make a practice right. And indeed, Inverfyre is clearly bereft of noblewomen. One cannot expect a warrior to tend to the details of maintaining a gracious hall, though I have no doubt my husband intends for me to take such a responsibility. Why else would he have wed at all?” She smiled so that Gregory could not deny her without looking like a disobedient cur.

She heard Nissa hold her breath, and noted that girl’s eyes widen with awe. Aileen had no doubt that the castellan still would ask for the Hawk’s agreement and dared not imagine what might result from that.

Gregory cleared his throat and bowed. “As you wish, my lady,” he said tightly, then turned to depart.

Aileen resolved to finish what she had begun. If the Hawk was going to be furious with her, he might as well have good cause.

“And Gregory,” she called after the castellan. The man paused and glanced back warily, clearly anxious to be away from her demands. “Though I know this to be an abode of hunting and fighting men, I cannot suffer dogs in the kitchens. They too oft carry vermin, and their presence underfoot complicates the labor of those in the kitchens who already work overhard. In future, the dogs are welcome in the hall and in the stables only.” Aileen held the castellan’s gaze, letting him see her determination.

“My lord greatly indulges his hunting hounds,” he said with care.

Aileen let her smile broaden. “And he is welcome to do so in the stables. See to the matter immediately, if you please, Gregory.”

Gregory could not summon a word of either protest or agreement, so startled was he. He merely bowed and departed, his neck as red as a morning sky. Aileen doubted that he had ever been challenged by a woman before.

“My thanks to you, Lady Aileen,” the cook declared, waving his wooden spoon with a flourish. “I trip over these hungry hounds all the day long and fear to break my very neck.”

“Hounds have no place in the kitchens,” Aileen reiterated firmly.

The cook grinned. “Indeed, they do not. I will not wait for Gregory’s edict, for the Lady of Inverfyre has spoken.” He gestured to a pair of boys and waved to the dogs. “See the hounds out to the bailey, and say that it is by my lady’s command if any question your deeds.”

One boy took a bowl of scraps, another roused the dogs, and the hounds willingly followed the bowl, their noses in the air.

Nissa smiled and Aileen felt a certain satisfaction in improving the state of her husband’s holding, even if the three whores wrinkled their noses and left the kitchen in disdain.

Perhaps she would see the hall rid of them, too. The prospect made Aileen smile.

A
stout older woman, the sole female in the kitchen other than Nissa and Aileen, nodded with undisguised satisfaction. She seized a broom and began to clear the floor. She swept the rushes with such vigor that the stone floor was quickly visible.

“Time enough we had a lady in this hall,” she said with resolve. “Time enough these boys learned to be men.” She wielded her broom like a weapon, halting only to incline her head respectfully when she reached Aileen. “We shall see the rushes all replaced before midday, my lady, upon that you can rely.”

“I thank you.”

The woman hesitated before returning to her labor, her uncertain manner revealing that she had a request.

“What do you desire of me?” Aileen asked kindly. “And tell me first what is your name?”

“Gunna is my name, my lady. I saw you pray, meaning no disrespect, and I would ask you whether there is any scheme to bring a priest again to Inverfyre.”

“Of course we must have a priest,” Aileen said firmly. “How many souls make their homes in the village and keep proper?”

“A hundred in the village, my lady, fewer in the hall.”

“I shall speak to my laird husband about the matter, Gunna.” Aileen’s heart quivered at the prospect, but she forced a smile. “You might offer a prayer to my success. I may need such aid.”

“I will do so. I thank you, my lady.” Gunna took her broom to the floor with enthusiasm.

Her meal complete, Aileen rose to leave the kitchen, Nissa fast by her side. In that moment, the boys hefted the hind of meat over the fire, fitting the ends of the spit into the iron brace inside the fireplace. The cook bade them stoke the fire and the flames left high, licking the fat of the meat.

The smell of burning fat and the crackling sound of the meat braising made Aileen’s bile rise as always it did. She pivoted, sickened, and hastened from the kitchen, fearing she would be ill. The revulsion within her made her own flesh crawl and she could not be far enough from that cursed sound.

“My lady? Are you ill?” Nissa demanded, her footsteps quick behind her.

“It is nothing, Nissa. I simply cannot tolerate the sound and smell of browning meat.” Aileen shrugged and smiled. “It is folly, I know, but it sickens me and always had. I do not know why or how it might be changed.”

The maid regarded her with consideration. “How odd,” she said. “I never heard of a soul being troubled by that until I came to Inverfyre.”

“Indeed?” Aileen commented only to be polite, embarrassed as always by this ridiculous aversion.

“Indeed. My laird himself leaves the kitchens when the meat first sizzles over the fire. Though he grants no explanation, his expression is much as your own.”

Aileen glanced to the girl in surprise.

“All know of it, my lady, just as all will know that you share his dislike.” Nissa smiled. “Perhaps it is a portent that your match is particularly well-made.”

Aileen found herself somewhat cheered that her affliction might not be so uncommon as she had always believed. “Perhaps.”

The maid’s eyes glowed as she matched her steps to Aileen’s. “A priest would be most welcome, my lady. Gunna’s niece is two summers of age and still in need of a christening.”

Aileen halted in horror. “No!”

Nissa nodded sadly.

“This is appalling!” Aileen marched through the hall, outraged that the Hawk should show so little regard for his people. To her delight, the rushes in the hall were being swept out, as well. She waved cheerfully to a sullen Gregory, then continued on her way. “I must persuade him to summon a priest. Come, Nissa, you vowed to show me these trees.”

The maid’s smile faded immediately. “I think it a poor notion, my lady. Perhaps you speak aright and it is folly, after all.”

Aileen paused to glance at the girl. “But just moments ago, you insisted it to be true.”

The girl flushed and wrung her hands together. “Perhaps I spoke in haste. It is cold, my lady. Let me show you more of the keep instead.”

“The trees, Nissa. I will see the trees.” Aileen smiled encouragement. “I am from a more northern clime than this. A bitter wind will not deter me.” She turned and crossed the hall, waiting for the maid to follow.

Nissa did so, if hesitantly, and Aileen wondered what had so suddenly shaken the girl’s conviction.

* * *

The wind was bitter even in the bailey, and a late frost broke beneath their boots as we walked. Nissa had become remarkably quiet and Aileen wondered whether she had oft been rebuked for her garrulous tongue.

Perhaps she regretted recounting as much as she had.

They approached the gates and Aileen braced herself for a confrontation. Had the Hawk not decreed that she should remain in her chamber?

To her surprise, she and Nissa were permitted through the fates of the inner walls with nary a comment, though much watchfulness. From afar, Aileen could see that the sentries jested with each other, as men do, but they fell silent as the women drew near. Aileen heard not a word clearly and could not have said whether they spoke Gaelic, Norman French or another tongue.

She felt the weight of their gazes even long after they passed, especially when she glanced back to find that two of the Hawk’s companions had joined them. The villagers drew away from Aileen’s course, more than a few of them exchanging whispers as they observed her passing.

The watchful manner of all these souls did not explain Aileen’s sense that her every move was being closely observed. She felt beneath a possessive eye and her color rose slightly with each step, for she could guess whose eye followed her progress. For one accustomed to being unworthy of much interest, this sense made Aileen unnaturally aware of her every move.

There was a group of men with hooded and tethered hunting birds in the outer bailey. Curious, for this training was said to be the root of Inverfyre’s fortunes, Aileen paused to watch the older man who clearly was in charge.

Though he was tending to portliness, his every move was agile and experienced. His hair was silvered and he spoke with authority to the men working with him. He unhooded the bird upon his one fist, then cast a dead rabbit through the air with his other hand. Blood flew from the carcass, the rabbit obviously freshly killed.

Nissa grimaced and made a sound of distaste. The peregrine, though, watched avidly, its eyes gleaming. It seemed to Aileen that the man sang softly to it. The bird cried out as the man launched it from his fist with an inaudible command. The bird flew, pounced upon the meat, then took flight, heading away from its captor.

The tether upon the bird’s ankle could not be denied, though. The man pulled the defiant bird to him by the leash, his pace relentless and firm, his command echoing through the air. The bird was not anxious to surrender its prize, even when it flapped right above his fist.