Tangled (Handfasting) (10 page)

Despite
the self-chastisement, her hand shook as she reached for the first haunch of
meat, calmed as she realized the wall was next to it. She followed that,
sliding a foot in front to ensure solid ground would meet her step.

Progress
was far slower on the return, but at least it was progress and she did reach the
doorway. It was long and narrow. It was also lodged firmly into place. Hard as
she tried, the latch refused to lift.

Holding
panic at bay, despite a dark heavy as pitch, she felt around the rough opening
to see which side the hinges were on, whether the door needed a push or pull to
open.  They were on the other side. It was easier to push at a door than to
pull on a lever that was no more than a simple wooden doll.

That
great ham, she had once thought an ox, was too close to give her any room to
maneuver. Still she tried to push, tried to force the door by slamming her
weight against it. If only the ham hadn’t been in the way. She jiggled and
cajoled the latch, but it didn’t give. Exhausted she slid down the wall of
wood, used her feet to push at the offending meat.

The
ham swung right back, knocking her head against the oak planes of the door,
nearly breaking her nose with the mass of it. She could swear she heard Ian’s
laughter with the ringing of her head.

“It’s
not funny!”  She snapped.

Aye it’s funny but not so funny as you not seeing what’s in front of
you!

Maggie
stilled, no longer aware of the darkness, no longer frantic to escape or too
exhausted to do anything about it. This time, when she shoved at the huge hunk
of meat, she moved out of its way. Certain enough, she felt the air move as it
countered the swing, coming back. The door creaked, the hinges rattled.

With
no thought but freedom Maggie moved down the line of hams, setting them
swinging on their hooks, one after another until she reached the last one. This
one she pulled back, held it as high as she could then let it go to ram into
the already moving line, forcing them to careen hard against the door.

The
first effort echoed a thundering shake of the portal but not enough to break
through. Determined, she tried again and again, willing the wood to weaken, to
crack, to break the hardware locked in place. To do anything to offer hope. Something
she could use to get free of the caves.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His
men were mounted, the horses restless. At the very least, Talorc thought Maggie
would see him off. He had expected that much, especially now that she knew what
he was about. But something had her running off to the kitchens and he had a
good idea what it was.

Talking
to Seonaid had seemed right at the time. Would have been if Maggie knew the
full situation, but Maggie didn’t. Nobody knew and he couldn’t tell them, even
though it had so much to do with what was happening.

He
needed Maggie to trust him. If she didn’t, then he would have to live with the
consequences. If she didn’t want to be there for his departure, he wouldn’t
lower himself to ask where she was.

 One
more time he would check their supplies and then, Maggie or not, he would be
gone.

She
still hadn’t come by the time he was astride, too much time wasted. Everyone
was ready, waiting on him. He raised his arm in a final wave, opened his mouth
to signal their departure when another shout stopped him.

He
reared his horse in the effort to turn toward the caller who ran toward him,
her clothes askew, her hair a tangle.

“Stop
Bold.”  She shouted. “You just wait now.”

He
couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. She was coming to him, all mussed from
some adventure, but she was coming and of her own free will.

When
she reached his horse she bent over, hands on her knees, heaving for breath. Some
kind of dust covered her from top to tail. An aroma of cured meats rose from
her.

“What
is it lass?”  He dismounted, alarmed now that he realized she wasn’t disheveled
from play.

“Got
myself locked in the meat room.”  There was a hiccup of fear in her laughter. Her
hand was shaking as she pulled tangled hair from her face. “And I wasn’t afraid
of the dark.”  She tried to chuckle despite the edge of tears he was certain
she fought.

“Who
let you out?”

She
stilled at that, turning as though searching the crowd gathered. There was no hint
of humor left when she looked back at him. “I got myself out, but I’m afraid
I’ve broken the door.”

William
joined them. “You had to break the door?  It’s stout for a lass.”

“I
swung the meat. The weight of it pushed the moorings out.”

“Wait,”
Talorc held up his hand. “You were locked in the caves?  And just how did that
happen?”

“A
prank, that’s all. But I got out. That’s all that matters.”

He
put a finger to her cheek and brushed off the dirt, meat cure. A prank, she’d
said. Locking her in the caves, in the dark which she hated. A prank. Fury rose
in his throat, capped by William’s hand on his arm and a quiet, “steady now.”

That
stopped him from reacting too swiftly, except for pulling Maggie into him. She
was safe. That was the most important thing. He bent his head to hers, smelled sulfur
in her hair. She was safe.

And
William was right. If this was not a prank, Maggie was in danger. It would be
better to convince the culprit that they had no worries.   

Reluctantly,
Talorc let her go holding up a warning finger. “Don’t you move anywhere. Do you
hear?  You stay right there.”

He
took William’s arm as they moved aside, where no one could overhear their
lowered voices.

“No,
Bold,” Maggie argued, and reached out to stop him.

“I’m
not leaving you Maggie. Just give us a moment.”

“No,”
she shook her head, a bit frantic. She looked more frightened now than when
she’d spoken of the dark. “Here,” she thrust something at him. Startled he took
it as she said. “You have to go. It’s who you are, what you are. But I’m
wishing you a safe return.

She
adjusted her skewed kirtle. “I just want to make sure you know what you go for.”

That’s
when he looked down and realized what she had placed in his hand. “For the
land, for the name, and for the wild glory of both.”  It was a hoarse whisper. He
knew how much this little square of plaid meant to her. He had seen the tears
in her eyes when her people gave it to her. He saw how she pulled it out and
rubbed it when she fretted over something.

By
the time he gathered himself together, to give her thanks, she was running to
the keep, away from him.

Would
he ever understand this woman?

“Bold,”
William pulled him aside. “We’ve no’ much time, but no one locks anyone in the
caves.” 

“Where
was the guard?”

William
shook his head.  Not yet, but they would.

Maggie
had been alone when she had come to him. Where were the friends she had made? 
Where was Deidre?

William
continued. “You need to put a guard on her. Put extra patrols on the comings
and goings of the keep.”

It
was worse than that. Talorc rubbed at his side, the injury that had only just
healed. “It’s not someone from the outside William. Do you not get that?  It
has to be someone who’s close to us, calls the keep their home. It’s a friend,
William, it’s family.”

Bruce
joined them. “Bold, there’s something you should know.  This morning, when she
looked for Eba, your handfasted tripped on the stairs from the castle.”

“The
outer stairs?”

“Aye,
only now I believe her, where before I couldn’t. It didn’t seem possible, but she
didn’t trip, she was pushed.” 

The
dark loomed, the fireplace banked to barely a glow and Brutus, that great beast
of a dog, made the most horrid of sounds. Maggie was not frightened. She had
her two protectors, Gerta and Caitrina. The whisky man’s wife and daughter who
had come to the keep for safety. They had arrived as Talorc and his men were
setting out.

She
wished he hadn’t, but Talorc explained to the mother and daughter that Maggie
did not like the night. Not only had they insisted on sleeping with her, they
made sure she had the middle. Talorc would owe her for this, having her squashed
between an old woman who made noises Brutus could be proud of, and her
daughter, who continuously puffed the covers with hot wind.

There
would be no cabbage in tomorrow's dinner. Not that it wasn't too late already. The
bed would never be the same.

Maggie
scowled and rolled to face Gerta only to be poked by straw coming through the
mattress. She shifted, fidgeted and tried to focus on something other than her
sleeping companions.

There
certainly was enough on her mind for, thanks to the Bold’s belief in her, she
had found her calling. What she hadn’t known, though she realized now her
mother had always known, she had been prepared for this moment from the day she
had been born.

Maggie
knew how to organize, dictate and turn ideas into reality and she was doing
just that with all but one plan. Not that she had time to do any more then had
already been set in motion, but her one scheme was essential to the clan’s
benefit. It was a gift she could give to The Bold.

Unfortunately,
he banned anyone from leaving the castle and set a guard on Maggie herself; so,
her most important task would have to wait.

In
the meantime, she had an army of MacKays to accomplish an almost overwhelming
load of work.  In that case, Talorc’s ban worked in her favor. Just as he forbade
anyone to leave the castle, he had ordered crofters to move inside the grounds.
There were some who would have preferred the risk of attack rather than face
Maggie’s demands.

The
first project, inspired when she found huge sacks of fleece confiscated in the
last raids.

“Whisky
isn’t the only thing you can trade.”  Maggie told the women, “But you’ll need
more spun wool than you can produce with hand spindles.”

She
rounded up the woodworkers and a few young lads to help and set them to building
spinning wheels to be followed by enough looms to fill the long shed behind the
castle. “If you do several of each piece, as you go, then you don’t have to
stop and change tools as often.”  She explained and left them with the promise
that the Bold would be well pleased if they had accomplished their work before
his return.

If
he returned. The fear haunted but it was a familiar fear. She knew how to live
with the nag of it.

 While
the men were busy with sawing and sanding, she set the women to work in the
weaving sheds. Those best at spinning spent their days there. The dyers worked
in another out building, coloring the wool as quickly as those who had an eye
for design could come up with patterns, for they didn’t care to have others
wear the MacKay plaid.

She’d
set a batch of women to string what looms were available. Everyone took turns
between everyday chores and working in the weaving, spinning and dying sheds
while the older children kept an eye on the younger babes.

The
castle bustled with happy excitement and purpose. But it was not enough.

Talorc
had warned her that his household had been without a personal care for too long.
He had spoken true. One snap of a tapestry corner, produced a cloud that had
her coughing for the rest of the day.

Fair
enough, the women were busy so she went to the men, surprising their wives and
mothers in her ability to get men to clear the floor of thrushes, gather more,
remove the tapestries from the walls. “Far too high for a lass, one man
explained. And used their might to swat the dirt from them “Sturdy lasses as we
have in the MacKay’s they’ve no arm for this.”

They
didn’t scrub the floors, but once Maggie was down on her knees, bucket and
scrub brush in hand, women came to join her.
With the help of dozens of children,
on a lone adventure beyond the walls of the
castle, Maggie managed to gather of fresh flooring.

She
took account of the furniture, noted what needed fixing and made a list of new
pieces to be made. Once the woodworkers were done with the spinning wheels and
looms, they would get to that.

It
seemed as though the men were gone forever as there was even time to brush out
the fireplaces and free the chimneys of soot. Outbuilding roofs where checked
for leaks and a passel of boys were hard at work mending what they could. It was
too late in the season to thatch but they would be prepared for spring.

But
what, of the numerous tasks, should she attack next?  Clearing out the kitchen
storage?  She was determined to return to those caves except Talorc had them
closed off. No one could enter without a guarded escort. Not that the area was
quiet. She had seen soldiers going in with torches. Searching, she figured,
looking to see if an attack could come from there.