Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A listair watched the children disperse to their families and their games with a sigh of frustration. He’d learned a little, but not much, and nothing that would prove that Fergus had been involved with the attempt on Niamh’s life.
All of the children - or anyone else for that matter - could tell him was that a little girl that somewhat matched Niamh’s description had arrived well after the feast had begun. No one recalled if she’d been accompanied by any older individuals. She’d eaten, spent some time watching the dancing and the people in the hall, and then disappeared. No one could recall having spoken to her, aside from Niamh, and she’d never removed her cloak.
No one could say if she’d brought tainted cake with her or poisoned a slice from the platters on the tables. She’d vanished, presumably out the door, during the hue and cry surrounding his realization that something was wrong.
Even the guards at the gates weren’t sure if they’d seen her. All of them would swear that no one had gone out after he’d given orders to seal off the castle - at least, not until Ewan had been forced to allow the villagers to return home. But there were plenty of places for a small child to hide in the castle, and such a cautious youngling might easily evade notice. That was probably why a child had been sent to deliver the poison.
With the limited information they had, there was nothing else Alistair could do. He would have to wait for Fergus’s next move. It galled him, but Fergus MacTavish was a wily opponent.
In the meantime, there were Samhain preparations to complete, the last of the harvests to oversee, and arrangements to be made for winter. Stables had to be prepared to house the animals through the times of bitter, icy cold, and supplies had to be stockpiled for castle and villages alike. That meant gathering plenty of meat, wood, herbs, medicines among other things.
As laird, his duty was to oversee hunting, harvesting, and last-minute trading. He had to make sure his people were supplied with necessities for the winter and hear the petitions of anyone who might need extra aid from their laird. Some needed extra food, others guards against brigands, or extra hands to repair homes. There was always more work to be done than there were hands to complete it, and it was his job to decide what was a priority, and who could be spared to deal with it.
Niamh would do well in the care of his cousin. Catriona had taken a liking to his bonny bride, and Alistair knew he could count on the healer to see that Niamh received whatever assistance she needed in regard to settling in as the Lady MacDuff.
It was astonishing, how quickly castle life swung from one state to the other. Within two days of her wedding, Niamh found herself immersed in preparations for Samhain. The day itself was more than a fortnight away, but the castle was a bustling hive of activity as everyone made preparations.
The children were given large onions, with which to make neep lanterns - a thing Niamh had never seen done before - and access to the castle stores to make preparations for ‘guising’. Adults, however, congregated to bring in the last of the harvests and prepare food for the Samhain feasting and the winter to follow.
Three days after her wedding, Niamh found herself joining a group of women, including Catriona, who were preparing meat for smoking. Animals set to be slaughtered, and those taken in a hunt, were butchered, and the women were responsible for trimming them and rubbing the meat with salt, and a blend of herbs that would add flavor to the food when it was eaten later, as well as help preserve it.
Niamh would have gone to help with the butchering, as she often had in her own clan, but Catriona explained that it was traditionally a task left solely to the men, who had more practice, and would often butcher hunted game in the fields before bringing it home. Instead, the women spent the butchering and hunting days gathering herbs - both those that would be rubbed into the meat, and those that would be used for other purposes.
Some of the herbs would be supplied by the kitchen herb garden, but more needed to be gathered from the wild moor lands.
Niamh took up a basket along with the rest of the women. “What sort o’ herbs will we be gathering?”
Catriona smiled. “’Twill be whatever we can find, tae be divided into separate groups. One group will pick herbs for sachets, teas, candles and soaps, like lavender, mint, wild rosemary and sage. Others will gather those needed for medicines, like willow bark. The rest of us will gather the herbs for the meat, like coriander, wild garlic, fennel, marsh sage, thyme and wild rosemary. And chives if we can find them.”
Niamh nodded, intrigued by the list. “I’m not sure I’m familiar with what all those look like in the wild.” She’d gathered healing herbs for her clan, but she didn’t do much with the culinary ones.
“Tis all right. We’ll show ye everything ye need tae ken.” Catriona smiled gently at her, and Niamh felt a little better.
Then Catriona stepped away to collect some extra tools, and Niamh’s newfound peace of mind was shattered by a shrill, harsh voice. “Imagine, bein’ lady o’ the clan and nae even kenning what herbs tae pick for Samhain. And ye didnae even ken about neep lanterns or that butcherin’ ‘tis a man’s role. A poor sort o’ lady ye be fer our clan when ye dinnae ken the first thing about yer duties.”
Niamh turned to face the speaker, an older woman with gray-streaked hair and a face that looked as if it had become permanently pinched from years of scowls and ill-temper. “’Tis true I dinnae ken everything. However, it doesnae mean I willnae learn.”
“A fine attitude fer a lady. Ye should ken the traditions o’ yer blood, let alone yer clan. Even if ye’re a Lowlander, ye should have made an effort tae ken the traditions o’ yer maither’s clan.” The woman sniffed derisively. “Ye’ll learn… a better attitude fer a child than a woman grown. At least Lady Constance kent her duties tae kith, kin and clan. Aye, and the traditions that belonged tae our people.”
Niamh blinked. “Lady… Constance?”
“Laird MacDuff’s first betrothed. She was a true lady o’ the Highlands, with nae any o’ yer Lowland folly clouding her thoughts. She was a far better choice o’ wife than…”
“’Tis quite enough out o’ ye, Guineveve.” Catriona stepped between them at that moment. “Ye’ve nae reason tae be so rude tae the lady.”
“Healer Catriona… the lass is…”
“Our lady. And kin tae the clan, fer her maither was one o’ ours. ‘Tis true she’s yet unskilled in all she needs tae ken, but there’s nae shame in that, and even the Witch o’ the Woods wouldnae be so crass as tae make her feel unwanted, especially when she’s nae even had a seven-night tae get used tae our ways.” Catriona’s voice was sharp and firm.
“She’s…”
“A lostling returned, nae an outsider, and even if she were Lowland pure, she’s still our lady, tae be welcomed intae our clan and our lives. She’s also willin’ tae learn, instead o’ clingin’ tae what she kens, and courage such as that should be respected, nae derided.” Catriona took a step forward toward the woman. “I think ‘tis best ye depart fer the day Guineveve. We dinnae need yer sour words and spiteful behavior troublin’ our preparations fer Samhain.”
Guineveve looked as if she wanted to protest, but several of the other women stepped forward to lend their support to Catriona’s words. With a final huff and a poisonous glare, the woman took her basket and stalked away.
Catriona turned to Niamh. “I’m sorry ye had tae enure that unpleasantness. I didnae ken Guineveve was still so bitter about Constance’s passing.”
“I… I… who is Constance? Ye said… she said… Alistair’s former betrothed?”
“Aye. She was. Constance MacBeth, she was. A pretty lass, smart and friendly, but a wee bit shy with most. Most o’ us kent her long afore she agreed tae be the laird’s betrothed. But she was killed by the same man who tried tae kill ye at the feast. Apparently, some have held harder tae her memory than others.”
“I understand.” And she did. It was similar to how she and her father clung to the memory of her mother, Niamh supposed. And yet, even understanding didn’t stop the sharp, unexpected blade of jealousy that stabbed through her.
Constance MacBeth. A woman who’d held Alistair’s heart before she came along. The woman whose ring she wore. Pretty and smart and friendly, and apparently a ‘proper Highland lady’. So many things that Niamh knew she herself was not.
The woman who had been chosen by Alistair, rather than being a convenience for him. And, from the sound of Guineveve’s words and the way no one save Catriona had moved to defend her, far more acceptable to the clan-folk than Niamh was.
The thought… hurt, and more than she would have expected it to. She had more or less resigned herself to the marriage and resolved to be the best lady she could be. It stung like the touch of a nettle to realize that the clan she’d sworn to stand with might not want her to do so.
“Och, dinnae look so forlorn, lass. Ye should ken how clan-folk are with newcomers. They’ll warm up tae ye soon enough.” Catriona wrapped an arm around her shoulders and embraced her gently, but firmly. “’Tis as new tae us as ‘tis tae ye, but that daesnae mean ye’re unwelcome nor unwanted. Only that we’re all havin’ tae learn a new way o’ things.”
Niamh nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis… true. I was just surprised, I suppose. I didnae think about such things.”
“And why should ye? A new bride has enough tae be thinkin’ about, and a new Clan Lady even more so. Ye cannae consider everything, and ye shouldnae be expected tae. Any more than ye should be expected tae ken everything.” Catriona scoffed. “Ye could have lived in the Highlands all yer life and still nae ken everything about our clan’s traditions. And nae matter what spiteful folk like Guineveve might say, Constance didnae ken everything either.”
“She didnae?”
Catriona nodded sharply. “She didnae.” She handed Niamh an herb-trimming implement. “But enough o’ that. The daylight fades far too fast this time o’ year, and we’ve herbs tae seek out and harvest. Come with me, and I’ll show ye where the best places fer fennel, wild sage and wood sorrel are - and mayhap wild garlic and the last o’ the autumn chives, if we’ve any luck.”
The healer’s words were so cheerful and matter-of-fact that Niamh couldn’t help but smile as she followed Catriona out onto the moors.
She wasn’t a perfect Lady for Clan MacDuff yet, and perhaps she never would be. However, she was determined to learn the things she needed to know, starting with herb lore and Samhain traditions. And even if she was never the woman the clan might think she should be, she would still be the best lady and wife she could.