Chapter 1 #3
She entered the tower and stopped to admire the great hall.
Two long trestle tables flanked a central hearth.
At the head of the two tables was another table set upon a dais.
The king’s table. All the seats were benches save two high-backed chairs on the dais where she imagined the king and queen would sit tonight.
A servant, observing her looking around the hall, told her the ladies’ chambers were on the second floor as were the chambers of the king and queen and offered to show her the one assigned to her and Fia.
Catrìona climbed the stairs behind the servant, who stopped on the second story where a long corridor with a window at the end contained many doors. When she asked, the servant told her the corridor wrapped around the square tower.
The servant stopped in front of one chamber midway down the corridor and gestured to the door. Catrìona thanked her and entered to find Fia bent over her chest, digging through garments.
Lifting one of her gowns, Fia looked over her shoulder to where Catrìona stood appraising the room. “They brought your chest,” Fia said, pointing to the end of the other bed. “There are pegs for our cloaks, too.”
The chamber was sparsely appointed but more than adequate to Catrìona’s mind.
Two narrow beds took up most of the space.
Atop them were well-stuffed bed cushions lain with blue woolen covers.
The only other furniture was a small table between the beds, a brazier for warmth, a side table and a stool.
Catrìona walked to the one window. Its shutters open, she looked down on the burn that flowed around the king’s tower on three sides like a moat.
“ ’Tis not as large as your bedchamber in Atholl,” she said, “but will serve us well.”
“Aye,” Fia agreed. “ ’Tis clean and at least we are alone.”
Catrìona sat upon the bed that would be hers, the one closest to the window. “ ’Tis comfortable.”
“Mine, as well. Oh, a servant brought us water to wash.” Fia pointed to a pitcher and a bowl sitting on the side table.
“I passed quite a few servants speaking English to each other on my way here,” Catrìona remarked. “I wonder why there are so many.”
“Some English fled the Normans,” said Fia, “and thankfully, the ones I spoke with can speak a bit of Gaelic as well as the Saxon tongue.”
Feeling quite gritty from the day’s ride, Catrìona walked to the side table and proceeded to wash the dust from her face. “I would love a bath but I suppose ’twill have to wait.”
Fia refolded her gowns into the chest. “Even with a great number of servants it must be difficult to provide baths for all.”
“Mayhap there is a stream that affords privacy.” Catrìona spoke her thought aloud. The water would be cold but at least she would be clean.
“With so many men around, only you would think of bathing in a stream.”
Catrìona opened her chest, mumbling to herself about preferring to be clean even if she had to wash in the woods surrounded by men.
Soon they were both somewhat refreshed and had helped each other to don proper gowns.
“We do not really need a servant to help us dress,” observed Catrìona, “and I doubt one will be provided. Here, I will help you do your plaits and you can help me with mine.”
By the time they arrived in the hall, the cavernous room was filling with those attending the evening meal. Torches set in sconces, a fire in the stone hearth and candles provided ample light.
Catrìona and Fia stood to one side watching those assembled.
Boisterous conversations erupted in laughter, some in Gaelic but others in the Saxon tongue.
Most of those in attendance were men but some women mingled among them, which was a comfort to Catrìona.
Spotting the queen surrounded by several other women, Catrìona tugged on Fia’s sleeve.
“ ’Tis the queen and her ladies. Let us join them.”
They launched forth, passing clusters of men and drawing interested stares.
Catrìona attributed their curious gazes to the fact she and Fia were new.
Or, it could be her bright auburn hair. Her father had once told her, “Anyone would know you are mine by that thick head of dark red hair, little cat.” She felt, but did not return, the men’s stares as she guided Fia through the throng to where the queen stood.
Margaret had changed into another beautiful gown, this one azure silk embroidered in golden thread at the neck and sleeves. Seeing Catrìona approach, the queen raised her head to greet them. “My new ladies… did you find all you needed in your chamber?”
“Yea,” said Catrìona, “and we thank you, My Lady, for your kindness.”
Margaret gestured toward the women standing with her. “These are your fellow ladies. I will allow them to introduce themselves.”
First came Audra with light brown hair and hazel eyes. “I am the daughter of Duff, Mormaer of Fife. I bid you welcome.”
The woman’s pleasant face and unassuming air contrasted with what Catrìona knew of the Mormaer of Fife, the warrior who led the king’s army. Since Dunfermline was in Fife, to make conversation, Catrìona said, “You did not have far to travel.”
“Nay, not far,” Audra said with a smile.
Next in the circle of women was Davina. “I come from Lothian to the south.” Her sweet smile was set in a round face with brown eyes framed by honey-colored hair. By her expression, Catrìona judged her to have a genial nature. “Welcome,” was all Davina said.
Mayhap she is shy.
Isobel, darker in both hair and skin than the others, was quick to inform them she had served Margaret since she became queen two years ago. Catrìona thought she heard Isobel say she was from Ross in the north.
Lastly, there was Elspeth. “I am from west of Fife near Loch Tay.” To Catrìona’s mind, by her giddy demeanor, Elspeth appeared to be the youngest of the ladies, especially after seeing the flirtatious looks she flung at the men with her large brown eyes that were the same color as her hair. A charming imp.
“We passed Loch Tay as we traveled to Dunkeld a year ago,” said Catrìona. “ ’Tis very beautiful.” She resisted the urge to say Loch Lomond was far more resplendent. She was very proud of the beauty of the vale.
“Aye, Loch Tay is grand,” said Elspeth, stretching out the word “grand”.
Catrìona thanked the women for their welcome. She could scarce recall their names, much less which one came from where. In time I will know them well.
Fia had told her the queen’s ladies were rumored to be pious to a woman, making Catrìona wonder if she would be accepted into their company.
Pious was not a word she would have used to describe herself.
What little faith she had possessed had been shaken by the attack on the vale and the deaths of her parents.
“We lose ladies from time to time,” offered Audra once they were all acquainted.
“Lose them?” Fia repeated, startled.
“Yes. Lose them to their new husbands,” she said in a teasing manner, “as one of us is married off by the king. You two replace ones we lost in such a way.”
The others laughed but the queen remained quiet, leaving Catrìona curious as to whether Margaret considered herself one of those who had been “married off”.
Catrìona was inwardly relieved that her own betrothal was soon to be secured, sparing her from such a fate. She had no desire to be bartered to one of the king’s men she did not even know.
When those gathered in the hall began to take their seats, the queen bid Catrìona and Fia to follow her to the dais, explaining as special guests, along with Matad and Niall, they were invited to dine with the king and his family.
The queen introduced them to her younger sister, Cristina, whose fair coloring was like Margaret’s, and then seated Catrìona beside Edgar, Margaret’s brother, with Fia on Catrìona’s other side.
Niall took his place beyond Fia, while Matad sat on the king’s left with the queen’s sister.
The queen then joined the king in the place of honor on his right.
Smells of roast game and spiced vegetables filled the air as servants set platters and bowls before them laden with food. Bread, smelling fresh from the oven, was added to the table along with goblets filled with red wine.
Casting an indifferent glance at the trencher she shared with Edgar, Catrìona tried to muster an appetite and found she was more weary than hungry.
Voices rose around her but her mind wandered and she did not attend the conversations.
She was relieved to see Edgar conversing with his sister, the queen, and Fia occupied with her meal.
Niall, on Fia’s other side, was staring into the hall.
Catrìona’s gaze drifted over the men and women conversing in low voices as they ate.
The variety of those in attendance surprised her.
Some, who must be the king’s warriors, had a rough appearance, their long hair and beards unkempt.
Powerfully built with swords dangling from their belts, their arms displayed bulging muscles.
Their tunics were in shades of brown, dark blue and green, more suitable to hiding from their enemies than for a king’s court.
Other men stood out like brightly plumed birds in fine velvets and woolens of rich colors.
Among them she spotted Domnall, her intended, and her heart sped.
She tried to catch his eye but was not successful.
It was clear he had not changed much in the months since he’d last come to Dunkeld.
Always richly attired, tonight he looked the part of the successful trader with a noble lineage.
One with like apparel sat next to him: a man of middle years with sun-streaked hair to his broad shoulders.
When they had first taken their seats, she had heard the king address him as Maerleswein and wondered if he was a Dane as his name suggested.