Chapter 32
‘Twas not long before something mattered to Glenna.
Getting to Lyall. She made seven unsuccessful attempts to sneak, lie, and scheme her way past the guards into the cellar, but had only managed to make the baron so red-faced and angry that the entire the castle was talking and its routine was turned upside down.
Failure did not stop Glenna, since she was mere staircases away from him. How difficult could it be? There had to be some way. Another way….
So she merely gave up that course, and instead, went on a new plan: a starvation fast.
Glenna set the third supper tray, untouched, outside the chamber door and with one more starved look at the food on it, she shut her eyes and the door, leaning against it.
Her belly rumbled and tried not to think of roasted duckling and root vegetables in a apple and wine sauce, the stewed cabbage with bacon and onions, and the hot crusty bread and butter that she had left on the tray.
The plum tart.
Was not long before she heard the baron bellow, ”This is her untouched supper again? By God thumbs, I swear she will eat something soon or--”
“Donnald,” Lady Beitris’ voice interrupted him. “Calm down. You cannot make her eat.”
“I could debate that wife,” he grumbled.
“She is the king’s daughter. You cannot force her to do anything.”
“But what if she never eats? I cannot present her to Sutherland, ‘Here my lord, is the king’s daughter…his eldest daughter, the half-starved one.’”
“Come with me, dear,” Lady Beitris said. “Let us retire to our chamber, where I will pour you some wine, and call the lute and flute players. The music will calm you down. You can put your feet up and forget about all.”
Glenna exhaled when she heard their footsteps wane, and she listlessly crossed the room, leaned against the small table, filled a goblet with watered wine and sipped it slowly to quiet her belly.
The baron’s mood grew increasingly foul the longer she refused to eat.
She had told him the first night she started her fast that she would eat when he released Lyall from the cell, but not until then.
He refused. The poor man had not butted heads with her yet.
Her brothers could have warned him. Oh, where we they?
If only Al and El would return with the proof of witnesses.
Her belly turned again. She stared down at it. How could something so empty make so much noise? She placed her hand on it and willed the idea of food away.
You can do this….
There was a slight and quiet tapping at the door and Glenna called to open. Mairi stuck her head inside, looked at Glenna, then quietly closed the door behind her. “Are you well?”
Glenna nodded.
Mairi pulled a bundle from her skirts and unwrapped it. “Come. Look here. I have bread and cheese and a little meat, not much but I saved you a duck leg, some cheese and a stewed apple from my own supper.”
The food called to her, as if meat and cheese and apples had soft and haunting voices singing, Come to me….Come to me….
Glenna spun around, eyes tightly closed, her hand up warding off the idea of eating, of even looking at the food. “I cannot!”
“Of course you can. No one need know.”
“I shall know,” Glenna said firmly. She could do anything for Lyall.
Mairi rolled her eyes. “Really, Glenna. From where comes this sudden need for valor?”
“You think I cannot starve Lyall free? I can,” Glenna insisted.
“Of course you can.” Mairi waved a hand as if to add ‘you silly goose.’ “But actually starving is not the point. The point is to make everyone think you are starving, in particular my stepfather Now come here and eat.”
“I cannot,” Glenna said, having eyes only for the food. “I must grow weak enough to swoon.”
“Lud!, Glenna, swooning is simple. You have done it once already.”
“Aye, but I did not know I was swooning.”
“Swooning is an art, not unlike your swift and thieving hand—which you still have promised to teach me, do not forget—now you will need some swooning practice. Here, watch me.” Mairi crossed over near the bed and flexed her knees.
“The most important thing to remember is to position yourself so you will not be hurt when you sink or to make certain you have something to fall back on depending upon which method you choose. Something soft like this mattress is always good.”
“There are methods?” Glenna repeated.
“Aye. I believe the most realistic is to let your knees kind of turn to water and just sink to the floor like this—“
One moment Mairi was standing and the next she was on the floor, half on her back, arms fallen by her head and her lower body turned slightly, her knees bent.
Glenna burst out laughing and ran over to her. “That was quite wonderful!”
Mairi sat upright, eyes wide and grinning. “You liked it? Good.” She scrambled up. “Stand here, and you try. Remember to keep your breathing very shallow.”
“Can I eat first?”
Mairi grabbed the duck leg and handed it to her.
“Eat this while I show you ‘the fall upon something’ method. This is for furniture or someone’s lap or a chair.
You will need a more exact position, since you want to land on a bed or chair or a nobleman.
As Glenna chewed on the duck leg, she watched Mairi who taught fall gracefully backwards on a chair, and then upon the bed.
Glenna stood beside her, half-eaten duck leg between her teeth.
Mairi said, “Go!” They both fell back on the bed at the same time. Mairi began giggling and Glenna sat up and chewed on another bite of duck, brandishing the bone, both of them laughing
And that was when they turned together and saw Lady Beitris standing in the room watching them.
The cellars at Rossi were built deep in the ground and held barrels of ale and mead made at the castle brewery, and an entire room of wines, many imported at great cost from Bordeaux, Bruges, Briones, and Crete.
The iron gates at the cellar’s entrance were locked, and the anteroom, before the barrel storage rooms, served as Lyall’s cell.
He lay sprawled on a straw pallet on a corner as he tilted to lips a clay jar of wine, Ramsey’s costliest from Malvasia, rattling the chains clamped onto his wrists and wincing as the manacle clamp caught and twisted the hairs on his arm.
He squinted inside the jar’s short neck. “Good stuff,” he muttered, since talking to himself was his only option. Then he drunkenly toasted his missing stepfather and took another swig.
Footsteps echoed in the dark recesses of the stairs. The guard had been gone for some time, since he took away Lyall’s supper.
Within moments of being locked behind the gates, he was bored almost senseless, and his remedy was to raid the wine coffers and drink himself to sleep.
Lyall called out the guard’s name, and his voice echoed in the stone rooms. Where was he? He had known the man for years.
More footsteps.
‘”Tis about time you came back here, you worthless bastard! I uncorked some Malvasian. I’m willing to share!”
Glenna stood at the base of the stone stairs, a beautiful dream in blue, her hair down and shining, her look all for him, the way he saw her every night, the way she haunted his mind so vividly there were moments when he actually believed she was there and his weak mind was not playing tricks on him.
This time she held a candle in her hand when she said, “Lyall!”
The dream speaks! For the maddest of moments he thought he heard her voice. He held up the wine jar. “Little wonder Ramsey pays dearly for this. ‘Tis powerful stuff.”
“Then pour me some,” she said clearly and used a large key to unlock the gates, stepped inside, closed and locked them behind her.
“Glenna? ‘Tis really you?”
She faced him, hands on the hips of her gown. “Nay, fool, ‘tis Mary Magdalene come to pray at the foot of your cross.”
“Glenna?” He stood up and had to steady himself with a hand to the wall. “Glenna….”
She threw her arms about him then he had her in his arms, really holding her. He staggered back against the wall, “My love…my love…” She was all he ever wanted.
Covering him with kisses she was real, her body soft and warm, her kisses—Glenna and her kisses, he almost laughed out loud, the feeling inside him bubbling up. She stopped and pulled back, looking up at him. “You’ve been drinking?”
“For three days,” he said brightly, then frowned. “Or at least three suppers.” He waved a hand behind him. “See there. I have access to all of my stepfather’s cellars.”
“What were you planning to do? Drink him dry?”
“The thought crossed my mind. How am I doing?”
She wrinkled her nose and waved a hand in front of her face. “Smells as if you are almost there.”
She had two noses. Beautiful noses, and her face was moving. Lyall staggered back against the wall, his head swimming, hugging the wine jar, and he ran a hand over his face. “What are you doing in here?”
“I wanted to see you.”
“And you managed to steal the key? I expect someone will come drag you away soon. The guard is missing but he will be back soon. The world is against us.”
“That’s not true. And the guard is gone for a reason. We have all night together, and your mother gave me the key.” She waved it under his nose.
“I am piss-drunk.” He shook his head and it almost felt as if it rattled. “I thought you said my mother gave you the key.”
“She did.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Perhaps she understands.”
He grew quiet, taking it all in, and he slid down the wall and landed hard onto the pallet, legs out in front of him. Back against the wall. He thought it might be holding him up. “I’m drunk. So very, very drunk.”