The Faithful Heart (9 page)

 

 

Her father reluctantly nodded and then sighed. “If you have people
meeting you, then you had better go downstairs. Here are the keys
for all you need, and let no one escape investigation.”

 

 

“They won’t. You have lived in too much privilege in this castle,
while our people have starved, or gone elsewhere to earn a living.
People make a land strong, or else the land is worthless,” Morgana
sighed regretfully.

 

 

“You are right, daughter, but it is not too late to change things.
Now, go into your room, and at the bottom of your chest, you will
find all you need to get started, Morgana. And I know no matter what
you decide, it will be for the good of all, and I shall be proud of
you, if not in this life, then in the next,” Morgan vowed.

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

 

Eventually Morgan’s mind was eased after he and his daughter had
discussed the most pressing estate business, and the old man settled
himself down under the covers in the bed, and began to doze.

 

 

When she felt it was safe to leave him, Morgana went outside and
asked one of the guards who had been posted outside by Ruairc to sit
with her ailing father.

 

 

Then she went down the corridor to her room.

 

 

Ignoring the old gown on the bed, she dug into her trunk as her
father had commanded. Morgana found several leather pouches full of
gold coins, and her old hose, some shirts, and a doublet.

 

 

Lastly, at the very bottom of the trunk she found the greatest
treasure of all, her fine sword with the Toledo blade which she had
been given by her brother many years before.

 

 

For a moment Morgana hesitated, but then decided it would do no harm
to wear it, so long as she had no intention of using it. Stripping
off her habit, she re-dressed in no time, but the one quandary was
her long auburn hair, which hung down to her knees.

 

 

Searching a small coffer, she came across some black velvet ribbons,
and managed to coil the hair into a tight knot at the nape of her
neck. Then she donned some soft calfskin boots, and a long
sleeveless overgown. After concealing the money again and locking
the trunk, she clattered down the back stairs to the kitchens, where
she found the men waiting for her as she had requested.

 

 

Mary had already begun to take an inventory of all the food in the
meat pantry. After a quick query concerning the number of mouths
that needed to be fed, Morgana started to divide up the grain and
vegetable stores.

 

 

Morgana was just hauling out a large basket of vegetables concealed
in one corner, when she heard a shriek behind her. Her sister came
running into the pantry.

 

 

“What are you doing!” Aofa squealed.

 

 

Morgana tried to disguise her dislike of her half-sister as she
replied in an even tone, “In case it has escaped your notice, the
people outside are starving. I am merely sending out some food to
ease their sufferings.”

 

 

“But Father said...” Aofa began to protest.

 

 

But suddenly, with a smirk and pert toss of her head, she said,
“Fine, do whatever you like. You're the leader now, at least for the
moment.”

 

 

Aofa spun round and vanished as suddenly as she had come, though
Ruairc, observing her go, asked, “What was she doing here?”

 

 

“Worrying about her own affairs and well-being, as usual,” Morgana
said with a shrug, as she pulled out another concealed basket of
vegetables, and handed it to a worker.

 

 

“Morgana, those are too heavy for you.Let me help!” Ruairc
protested.

 

 

Morgana smiled wryly. “In that case, you can complain to the nuns
for me, since I’ve lifted far heavier baskets at the convent every
day for the past two years.”

 

 

“No wonder you're so thin and pale,” Ruairc remarked aloud, though
the light in his eyes proclaimed that he found her attractive no
matter what.

 

 

Morgana blushed at what he must have thought of the fact that she
had changed into her manly garb. But as she went through the kitchen
like a whirlwind, counting and organising, she had to acknowledge
that her old brown clothes were far more practical for the tasks at
hand than her white novice’s habit.

 

 

“I see some turnips in the vegetable patch up the back. I want you
to dig them up, and feed them to the sheep and cattle.”

 

 

Several eyebrows raised at this request, but Morgana said, “I've
seen them do it in Scotland. If we wish to have any chance of
breeding the animals successfully, we must fatten them up. They say
that the better you feed them, the more lambs you'll get. And
healthier calves. And yes, I know we need to secure a bull from
somewhere. I will attend to it.At least we have a good ram. Are
there any ewes in lamb at the moment?”

 

 

A few men nodded.

 

 

“Bring them close to the door here, make a sheltered pen for them,
and we will feed them on whatever vegetables we can. It may not be
too late for them to fare well.”

 

 

Once the kitchen chores were finished, Morgana turned her attention
to the other rooms in the house. As she walked through the main
living quarters, she noticed most of the tapestries had gone, as
well as the silver ornaments, and the room was bare of candles.

 

 

“Mary, come with me,” Morgana ordered, setting her mouth in a grim
line.

 

 

Morgana marched up the stairs, and without knocking she stormed into
Aofa’s room. There she found her half-sister eating from a bowl of
sweetmeats and doing her embroidery, in a chamber glowing as
brightly as a cathedral on a high holy day.

 

 

Morgana's eyes swept around the room, taking in the tapestries,
ornaments, rich furnishings, silver boxes and candelabras which
dripped with best-quality beeswax.

 

 

On a huge silver salver lay the remains of her recent repast.
Morgana detected venison, duck, quail and pheasant bones.

 

 

“Well, there is no need to ask where all the money and food have
been going, now is there?” Morgana hissed, before she bellowed down
the stairs to the servants.

 

 

“I can explain,” Aofa whined.

 

 

“Strip this chamber!” Morgana ordered, turning a deaf ear to her
sister’s pleas as she shoved Aofa back into her chair when she tried
to protest.

 

 

“Ow, that hurt,” the younger girl said with a pout.

 

 

“Mary, the jewel chests please!”Morgana commanded with a click of
her fingers.

 

 

She gaped as the contents were revealed.

 

 

“No, you can’t! yYu have no right!” Aofa screamed, as she struggled
to rise from the chair.

 

 

“You're the one with no right! Those are not yours, Aofa, they were
my mother’s, entrusted to me! How dare you try to take the little
left to me!” Morgana raged.

 

 

She turned out the large coffer onto the huge oaken table, and began
to sort through them hastily.

 

 

“And these jewels here, Aofa, how have you come by them?I recognise
these pieces as your mother’s, which I will let you keep for
sentimental reasons, but these? Diamonds, rubies, emeralds? And this
cross here?”Morgana gasped, as the box emptied to disclose the prize
of the collection.

 

 

The crucifix was made of red gold and jet black stones which Morgana
guessed were onyx. The workmanship was breathtaking, and Morgana
could not even begin to guess how her sister had come by the rare
piece.

 

 

An uneasy fear stirred in Morgana’s breast, though she could not
define it. All she knew was that the cross was not of Irish making,
more like Spanish, with the red gold coming from the New World. What
was it doing in Aofa’s jewel box?

 

 

“They are all mine, presents from admirers, but Father has not seen
fit to allow me to marry, yet,“ Aofa said with a wounded sniff, and
a sly glance at her sister to see if she were jealous.

 

 

Morgana did not believe her half-sister’s story for one moment, but
she was not about to waste her time arguing. “In that case, if they
are not of any sentimental value to you, they can be sold.   We
need food, Aofa, all of us, and there is only so much jewellery you
can wear at one time.”

 

 

Morgana slipped the Spanish crucifix into the pocket of her
overgown, along with an unusual ruby ring, and an amethyst brooch
she was sure was rare. She took the pieces her mother had left her,
and put them in her other pocket.

 

 

The rest of the jewels she scooped back into the boxes as if they
were no more important than a pile of stones.

 

 

“Mary, gather up all of these, and put them in my room. Lock the
door and bring me the key."

 

 

“It isn’t fair, I’ll tell Father!” Aofa screeched petulantly.

 

 

"Your mother and you have been nothing but a drain on the estate.
Since neither of you ever enriched it in any way, it's high time you
started earning your keep. And remembering where your gratitude
should be bestowed. You are nothing and no one without this clan,
Aofa. You will do well to remember that and be grateful for the
chance to repay our kindness and compassion with some of your own.
Your jewels will do for a start. Your gowns can be next."

 

 

"No!" She tried to bar Morgana’s path of devastation of her world
now by placing herself in front of the huge oaken wardrobe.

 

 

Morgana shoved the girl out of her way as though she were a fly. Her
stomach lurched when she opened the door and saw the array of gowns
hidden there.

 

 

Many of them had obviously never even been worn, and were in the
richest brocades, silks, and velvets.

 

 

As Morgana fingered the lace, her mind spun. The finest fabrics from
the Continent, all of the dresses new, and yet they had not been
trading? It made no sense. Even when they had been successful, they
had never kept such fabric for themselves, but sold it in Dublin.
And they certainly had not traded in ready-made clothes. Let alone
custom-made ones.

 

 

Morgana looked over to Mary to see if she could have possibly been
the dressmaker for any of the gowns.

 

 

One glance told her it was not the case. She looked just as stunned
as Morgana, and not a little envious.

 

 

Leaving aside the fabrics, the jewels which encrusted nearly every
gown were incredible. Morgana wondered if the new English queen Anne
Boleyn’s wardrobe were even half so lovely.

 

 

“Aofa, you have been squandering the entire estate for the sake of
dressing yourself in this finery. But surely you see that it can't
possibly continue. The way of life as you know it, queening it over
the rest of the clan, is over. All of this is to be sold. You may
keep three plain dresses for yourself, but the rest will be used to
get this clan back on its feet, and I will expect you to work right
along side the rest of us to rebuild.”

 

 

“You can’t make me. I’ll tell Father!”

 

 

“Father has put me in charge. Make no mistake, Sister. I shall not
hesitate to use that power to benefit everyone. If I feel you are
harming the clan, I will put you in a convent and forget you ever
existed.The choice is yours,” Morgana threatened.

 

 

Aofa threw herself on the bed in floods of tears. Morgana ignored
her as she she started to lay the gowns out at the foot away
fromAofa's petulant thrashings.

 

 

When Mary returned from depositing the jewels in her bedchamber,
Morgana said, “You always made all the clothes for the castle, along
with a few of the other village women. Have you ever seen these any
of these gowns or material before?”

 

 

Mary shook her head vehemently. “Good Lord, Morgana, that's far
richer than anything I've ever laid eyes or hans on, for all we were
once so prosperous here.

 

 

"Then where have they come from? I was told our trade had come to a
standstill.”

 

 

"Apart from Conn and Finn, no one's had much success for a long
time, and they certainly haven't been trading in fabrics or made to
order gowns fit for a queen."

 

 

Morgana nodded. “It's as I suspected. If you know nothing of them,
clearly there is much going on here besides my father being ill.
Mary, I need you to take the gowns to Dublin. Sell every one of them
for the best price you can.”

 

 

“Morgana, the jewels alone are worth a fortune, let alone the
fabrics!” Mary gasped.

 

 

“Right, then, unpick as many of the jewels as you can without
ruining the gowns, and bring them to me.Then sell the dresses.”

 

 

“It will take time,” she warned.

 

 

“That’s the one thing we haven’t got,” Morgana sighed.“Get some
women you trust to help you.”

 

 

"And strip this room down to the bare mimimum of furniture," Morgana
ordered with a sweep of her hand as she began to head for the
chamber door.

 

 

"No!" Aofa shrieked.

 

 

"And if Aofa takes issue with any of my orders, I'm sure a new
chamber in the cellars can be arranged for her," Morgana said with a
rapier-like look at the squawking girl.

 

 

"No, no, not the cellars!" she gasped, white-faced with horror at
the prospect of all that lurked down there.