Chapter Five #2
She grinned, shaking her head at her wanton thoughts, swung her legs out of bed, and padded over to the breakfast tray.
It held a stack of flatbreads, a pot of honey, a crock of butter, cold sausages, and some kind of patty made from greens and other vegetables.
There was also a jug of what turned out to be very weak beer.
Elise realized she was famished. Seating herself by the fire, she tucked in, stuffing food into her mouth in a fashion that would have her sister Rose scowling at her in disapproval.
When she was finished, she crossed to the trunk at the bottom of the bed and began tossing clothes out, trying to find something half decent to wear.
But there was nothing she liked. It was all stockings, corsets, underskirts, and big, cumbersome dresses.
Bloody hell. She really should have insisted to Lir that she go home and pack before she agreed to come here.
But that was her problem, wasn’t it? Jumping in before she thought things through. Literally, in this case.
She selected the least horrible set of clothes and began pulling them on.
There was no mirror so she couldn’t see what she looked like, but the dark-blue dress fit her reasonably well and the undergarments were warm, dry, and surprisingly comfortable.
She found a bone comb on a shelf and hastily pulled it through her hair before tying the pink-tipped strands back into a rough plait.
This done, she crossed to the window, dragged back the drapes, and looked out. A glance at her watch—waterproof thankfully—said it was ten in the morning. Not late for Elise but late for the inhabitants of the keep, if the busyness of the courtyard below was anything to go by.
On the far side of the wide expanse, a white horse was being put through its paces by a groom. A group of women were drawing water from a well in the center of the courtyard, and three men stood by a cart near the gate, examining a broken axle and arguing loudly.
Real fifteenth century life was going on just outside her window. A tingle of…something…went through her. She wasn’t sure whether it was trepidation or excitement. Maybe a bit of both. She was really here. In the fifteenth century. It was insane but she found herself eager to begin experiencing it.
Spinning away from the window, she hurried to the door, yanked it open, and hurried down the corridor, trying to remember the route that Andrea had led her on yesterday.
She called out greetings to people as she passed, and they responded with flustered replies and surprised expressions.
Finally, she reached the big staircase and hurried down it to the main doors that led outside.
Once there, she stopped. The air was fresh and clean, carrying the salt-tang of the sea and ruffling Elise’s hair and clothes with gentle fingers. She breathed in deeply. She was breathing in the air of fifteenth century Scotland! It was crazy. But crazy was one of her strong points, wasn’t it?
Squaring her shoulders, she strode out into the courtyard, looking around for someone to talk to. She approached the women pulling buckets up from the well, but when they spotted her they straightened, gave her awkward-looking curtsies, and scurried away before she could say a word.
Oh. Okay then.
She turned towards the men putting the white horse through its paces, but as she drew closer to the flashing hooves and rolling, angry eyes of the beast, she thought better of it.
She turned towards the gates but the three men who’d been arguing over the broken cart saw her looking in their direction, promptly forgot their disagreement, and hurried off in different directions.
She stopped, putting her hands on her hips. Hmm. Was this how it was going to be? Would nobody talk to her? Was she really that scary?
From nearby she heard the clack of wood. Following the sound, she rounded a corner and came upon two youths having a very vigorous swordfight involving what looked suspiciously like broom handles.
Their rough-spun tunics and the straw in their hair suggested they were stable hands, but right now they were both clearly knights of the realm fiercely battling to defend their honor.
One of them, a skinny lad with a shock of blond hair, got in a whack on the other’s thigh and let out a bellow of triumph.
“Ha! Lord Martin wins again! The most fearsome warrior ever to walk the Isles!”
The other lad, shorter and squatter, with a barrel chest and thick arms, scowled at his companion. “That doesnae count! I slipped!”
Martin rolled his eyes. “Why is it that whenever I score a point, ye happen to have slipped, Bryn? Fine. Let’s go again.”
They set to with a vengeance, their wooden poles clacking against each other in a blur so fast that Elise could barely track the movements.
They moved back and forth, neither able to score a point against the other until Martin made a darting movement to the left, Bryn followed him and overbalanced, and Martin was able to land a blow on the other lad’s backside with a crack loud enough to make Elise wince.
“Do ye yield, oh evil villain?” Martin crowed.
Bryn rubbed his backside and scowled at his friend. “Aye. I yield.”
Elise broke out into a round of applause. “Bravo! That was amazing!”
Both lads spun. When they saw her standing there all the color drained from their faces and they went as pale as beached fish.
“Spellweaver,” Martin stammered. “We…I…we didnae see ye there.”
“Our apologies,” Bryn added. “We were only having some sport. We’ll get back to our duties right away.”
Elise rolled her eyes. Seriously? She was already getting tired of this.
“You will not,” she said in a stern voice.
“I’ve got a much more important task for you.
” She grinned to try and put them at ease.
“You are going to teach me to do what you’ve just been doing with those sticks.
Who better to teach me than two brave warriors from Laird Jamie’s personal guard? ”
They flushed at the compliment and stood up a little straighter.
“We aren’t warriors,” Martin said. “We work in the stables.”
“Not warriors?” Elise asked, flashing her most charming smile. “Then the Laird Jamie doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
The two lads puffed up with pride and broke into wide grins.
“Now, how about it?” she added. “Will you teach me?”
They glanced at each again and then Martin said, “It would be an honor.”
Bryn held out his stick. “Ye can use my staff.”
Elise took it with a nod of thanks and held it in a two-handed grip the way she’d seen them doing.
Martin came to face her. He still looked a little rattled to be facing the mighty MacFinnan spellweaver, but not as awed as a moment ago.
Good. One thing she did not need was being put on some sort of ridiculous pedestal.
Didn’t everyone realize she was just a normal person like them?
“Um…well…we’ll start with defense, aye?” Martin said.
For the next half hour or so, Elise lost herself in sparring with Martin and Bryn.
She picked it up more quickly than she’d expected and had soon mastered several defensive moves that had her blocking their attacks and then turning them into a counter that made them defend in turn.
The clack of wood on wood was extremely satisfying.
They were going easy on her no doubt, but that didn’t make it any less enjoyable.
She was soon sweating and her lungs beginning to burn, but when she finally managed to land a light blow to Martin’s upper arm, she let out a whoop of triumph.
“Yes! Got one!” she turned to Bryn who was watching the match. “High five!” She held up her hand which Bryn stared at blankly. She rolled her eyes, pulled his arm up and slapped his palm with her own. “Ha!”
From behind came the sound of someone clearing their throat. Elise turned to find Andrea standing behind her, one eyebrow raised and a faintly disapproving expression on her face.
Martin and Bryn snapped to attention at the sight of the housekeeper. “We were just um…”
“The lads were just putting me through my paces,” Elise cut in, determined to ensure they didn’t get into trouble on her account. “And helping me feel at home.”
Andrea raised an eyebrow. “I see. Well, I’ve come to tell ye that Laird Jamie has requested yer attendance at the council meeting.”
Elise blinked in surprise. “He has?”
“Aye. I will escort ye there if ye are ready?”
Elise glanced down at herself. She was sweaty and unkempt, with strands of hair coming free of the plait she’d tied it in.
Hardly the image she wanted to project at a council meeting.
Nor did she particularly want Jamie to see her looking like she’d been dragged through a hedge. But what choice did she have?
“Of course. Lead the way.” She tossed the stick back to Bryn. “Thanks. We’ll arrange a rematch later. For now, duty calls.” She gave them a wink and walked off with Andrea.
The housekeeper led her back into the keep.
She wove through a series of corridors and halls until they reached a set of stone steps.
These led to an upper level that seemed to house the administrative part of the keep.
Through open doors Elise spotted what looked like a countinghouse, and another room where two scribes were busy scribbling onto parchment.
Andrea stopped outside a narrow, arched door and knocked.
Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the door open and Elise followed her into a narrow high-ceilinged room that was dominated by a long table with chairs down both sides.
A group of men occupied the chairs, and all turned to stare at her as she entered.
The weight of their gazes was a little disconcerting. Elise gave a tiny wave. “Er. Hi.”
Having delivered her safely, Andrea left, and it was all Elise could do not to grab the housekeeper’s arm and beg her not to leave her alone with these gruff-looking men.