Neither Tavish nor his father were present at the midday meal so Boyd rushed to take the seat beside Cassie.
He kept up a running chatter through the meal.
“Lady Claire, Mam said ye like to paint.”
“Aye, I do.”
“Where did ye learn that?”
“At the abbey.” Surely that was the only place Claire could have developed her talent if she’d lived there since she was eight.
“What else did ye learn at the abbey?”
Claire laughed. “Well, I suspect practically everything I know since I’ve lived there for so long.”
“But what kinds of things do ye know, other than painting I mean?”
“I can read and write in several languages.”
“I can read Gaelic. And Father Paul is teaching me to read Latin.”
“That’s very impressive.” Cassie suppressed a smile when Boyd’s face split into a huge grin at her compliment.
“Can ye do sums? I can do sums,” he said proudly.
“Aye, I can.” And algebra, and geometry, and calculus. “And do ye enjoy learning all those things?”
He looked as if he were considering his answer. “Sometimes I’d rather be learning how to use a sword, but I do like knowing stuff. And the only way to know stuff is to learn how to read and do sums and everything else.”
“That’s very true,” she agreed. “And as long as ye have a book to read, ye’re never alone. It’s like ye have a friend with ye.”
Boyd frowned. “Were ye lonely at the abbey?”
Cassie blinked, not certain what to say. She had certainly been lonely much of her life, but was Claire? Then, almost as if Claire were whispering in her ear, she heard, Aye. And deep within, she knew the answer. “Boyd, I love the sisters at the abbey and they love me. But, aye, there were times, especially when I was younger, when I was very lonely. I missed my family.” She grinned as a thought popped into her head. “I missed noise.”
His eyebrows went up. “Noise?”
Noise? She wasn’t sure where that had come from, but she knew it was true. “Aye, noise. Sacred silence is very much a part of life in an abbey.”
“And ye don’t like it?”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t say that. There is peace to be found in sacred silence. But sometimes, when ye’re just a lassie, ye want to run and squeal and have fun.”
“But ye couldn’t?”
“Not anytime I wanted to.”
He nodded sagely, as if he understood completely. “So, aside from being quiet, what was living in the abbey like?”
Cassie frowned. What could she tell him? She had been confident about the sacred silence. It had been a part of monastic life from the earliest times. She wasn’t sure she could fake this. All she knew was what she had seen in the few hours she had been there. But she realized that wasn’t her only source. From studying medieval social history she knew about the different kinds of abbeys there were, how they were structured and the roles they played in the lives of these people. Then too, she was fairly certain Boyd wouldn’t know if she got the details wrong.
“Saint Avoca’s is a contemplative abbey. The sisters there spend much of their time in prayer.”
“For who?”
“All of us, really.”
“And they don’t do anything else?”
Cassie chuckled. “Not exactly. There is work to be done to maintain the abbey and the people in it. Gardening, cooking, cleaning, laundry. If ye think about all the things yer mam makes certain are accomplished here, most of that had to be done in the abbey too.”
“But all of the other time was spent praying.”
“A lot of it was.”
“And did ye have to pray all of that time too?”
“I prayed some, but I spent time—how did ye put it? Learning stuff? Well, I spent time learning stuff, and then enjoying the things I had learned.”
“Like reading and painting?”
“Exactly.”
“Will ye teach me how to paint? I don’t think Father Paul knows that.”
Cassie knew she wouldn’t be here long enough to teach him much. Then again, when she left—after she went back to her own time—Claire wouldn’t need her art supplies. It would be nice to know that someone would use them. “Aye, of course I will, as long as yer parents approve.”
He leaned forward to look around Cassie and catch his mother’s eye. “Mam, can I learn how to paint?”
His mother’s brow drew together. “Claire, this may be quite a challenge. Boyd is…well…a typical lad. They are energetic and rambunctious. I have three of them—I should know.”
“Three? I thought it was just Tavish and Boyd.”
“Oh, nay, we have another son too, Hugh. He’s twenty-one and training with Laird MacLean.”
“That must be hard.”
“It’s a little easier than it was with Tavish. He was so very far away. The MacLean’s territory is just on the other side of the inlet. We see Hugh occasionally.” Her voice sounded overly bright and she gave Cassie a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Cassie suspected Lady Ranald didn’t see her son as often as she would like to.
“But enough about Hugh,” the older woman continued. “Are ye absolutely certain ye want to do this? I can’t imagine Boyd maintaining the kind of focus ye do when ye paint.”
Cassie grinned. “I suspect at the age of ten, I didn’t have the same ability to concentrate as I do now. And truly, I don’t mind.”
Boyd was practically bouncing up and down on his seat. “Mam, pleeeeease.”
His mother canted her head. “I don’t see why not, I’m sure yer da won’t mind as long as ye don’t let it interfere with yer other lessons.”
“Thank ye, Mam. Lady Claire, can I start today?”
His mother frowned. “Boyd—”
Cassie smiled, a bit excited by the prospect of sharing her knowledge too. “Lady Ranald, it’s fine by me as long as ye don’t mind. All of my things are out anyway.”
Lady Ranald smiled at her over-excited son and said, “Very well. Ye can come to my solar after we’ve finished our meal.”
He jumped up from his seat. “I’m finished, now.”
“But we aren’t,” said his mother. “Sit back down and exercise a little patience.”
When the meal was finished, Boyd practically ran to his mother’s solar, causing that good woman to laugh. “I can honestly say, I’ve never seen one of my sons so excited to spend the afternoon inside.”
“My lady, are ye certain ye don’t mind me doing this?”
“Not at all, lass. I must confess something. When ye were talking about being lonely at the abbey and filling yer time with reading and painting, I understood what that was like.”
“But, my lady, ye’re surrounded by yer family and clan.”
She smiled sadly, “Aye, but believe it or not, it is possible to feel lonely even in the midst of people ye love.”
Dear God. Cassie knew that was absolutely true.
“Ye see, Claire, like ye, my marriage to Laird Ranald was arranged by my father. I came here as Lady Ranald. The Ranald clanswomen were kind and welcoming, but the fact remained that I was their lady. It’s harder to grow close to people who must call ye ‘my lady’.”
Cassie furrowed her brow. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I care very deeply for my clanswomen. Still, there is distance. I always imagined I’d have daughters and would spend my days raising them to be fine women. And then helping them raise their families.” Tears welled in her eyes. “And I did have daughters. Four of them. My first daughter was born three years after Tavish, only she came much too early and never drew breath. The second lassie was terribly small and frail. She only lived a few days. Tavish was almost eight and Hugh was three and a half when our third daughter, Margaret, was born in the springtime. She was a fine, healthy wee lass.” Lady Ranald gave her a small sad smile. “But she took ill in November th
at year when a terrible sickness swept through the village. Many of the very old and the very young died.” She appeared to blink back tears. “Margaret was among them. I feared for Hugh, too. He was barely four and fell ill, but recovered.” She looked away for a moment, then sighed heavily and continued. “After that I lost several other pregnancies. My last daughter was born two years before Boyd. But like the second wee lassie, she was frail and didn’t live beyond a few weeks.”
“Oh, my lady, I am so sorry.”
“Thank ye, dear. I love my sons, but I won’t lie. I have looked forward to them marrying and finally having daughters even if only by marriage, and of course, grandchildren. It positively thrilled me when I learned ye were coming here.”
Oh, God. The hope and longing Cassie felt from Lady Ranald gripped her heart. At that moment, she knew that no matter what else happened, she could not possibly return to her own time while she was here at Castle Ranald. It would be terrible for Lady Ranald to lose yet another daughter to death.
Lady Ranald’s brow furrowed. “Oh my, I didn’t mean to push ye. I know ye haven’t made a decision yet. It’s enough that ye’re here and willing to consider a betrothal. And that Tavish too seems to be a bit more open to the idea. I just wanted ye to know how much I like having ye here.”
“Thank ye, my lady. That’s very kind of ye.” Cassie decided the safest course was the simplest. Change the subject. “Well, if I’m going to begin teaching Boyd about painting, I need to fetch something from my chamber. Shall I meet ye in yer solar?”
“Aye, lass. That will be fine.”
Cassie hurried to her chamber. Among the art supplies had been several pieces of wood that had been prepared for painting with gesso and varnish. Claire had probably prepared multiple surfaces at one time when she made a batch of gesso. If Boyd remained interested in painting, she would teach him how to do that at another time. If she were teaching a kid to draw or paint in her own time, she’d have started with pencil, heavy paper and watercolors. But Claire didn’t have much parchment and Cassie thought it might be hard to come by. Wood was plentiful.
When she returned to Lady Ranald’s solar, she found Boyd standing, and staring at Claire’s unfinished painting with a frown on his face.
“What vexes ye, Boyd?” she asked.
“I can’t do this. I could never paint like that.”
Cassie smiled at him. “Can ye use a bow and arrow?”
“Aye, certainly I can.”
“Can ye hunt game with one?”
“Aye. Small game.”
“And yer da and Tavish? Can they hunt larger game?”
He frowned. “Aye, but I don’t see what that has to do with this.”
“Do ye not? Was there ever a time ye couldn’t use a bow?”
“Of course. My da started teaching me a few years ago.”
“And do ye suppose there was a time when Tavish could only hunt small game, or couldn’t shoot a bow at all?”
Boyd appeared impatient. “Aye. He had to learn just like I did. Why are ye asking me all of this? Do ye want to learn to use a bow?”
Cassie gave him a huge smile. “Well, now that ye mention it, aye, I’d like that. But I was asking ye the questions to remind ye that ye have to spend time learning to do everything. There was a time when I didn’t know the first thing about painting. Someone had to teach me, just as yer da taught ye to use a bow. I can help ye learn how to paint, but just as ye had to work at using a bow to improve yer skills, ye have to practice to become skilled at this too. And ye probably can’t start out painting the Blessed Mother, any more than yer da started by teaching ye how to hunt deer. Ye’ll start learning the basics then with practice ye’ll build more complex skills.”
Cassie glanced at Lady Ranald who smiled broadly.
Boyd looked confused. “But painting isn’t the same as shooting a bow and arrow.”
“Nay, still, as I said, ye must go through the same steps to learn anything new. So do ye want to try?”
Boyd glanced at his mother before looking back at Cassie. “Aye, I do.”
“Well then, let’s get started.”
She showed him the smaller piece of wood she’d brought him and explained how it was prepared to receive paint. “If ye find ye like painting, I’ll teach ye how to do that.”
He paid rapt attention to everything she said.
“There is a lot to learn about the many things that ye must do before ye can start to paint. But just like yer da didn’t start teaching ye to shoot a bow by showing ye how to fashion the bow or fletch the arrows, those aren’t things ye need to master right away. What ye do need to do first is learn how to look at things.”
“How to look at things?” Boyd looked incredulous.
She chuckled. “Aye. I mean really look at them. For example, come here to the window with me.”
He followed her and she pointed out towards a grove of trees in the distance. “What is the first thing ye notice when ye look at a tree?”
“The leaves.”
“Aye, very good. But an artist needs to understand what’s under the leaves to be able to capture more than just the surface. What is under the leaves?”
“The trunk and branches.”
“Exactly. Now look at the tree in my painting. Do ye see the trunk and branches?”
“Just bits of them.”
“That’s right. But to create that tree, it was necessary to create the trunk and branches first then add the leaves and fruit.”
He grinned. “I see.”
“Good. Now look at my face. What do you see?”
“Skin, but underneath that are yer bones.” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself that he caught the direction she was going.
“That’s right. And while ye can’t see them anymore, the Blessed Virgin’s face was painted over the basic bone structure of her head. However, understanding how to do that, is like hunting deer. Ye’ll learn it later. Now, take another look at the tree. What’s behind the branches?”
He stared intently at the painting before giving her a confused look. “Nothing is behind the branches.”
“Really? If ye were standing outside, under a tree, looking up, ye wouldn’t see anything beyond the branches?”
“Just the sky.”
“Well, the sky isn’t nothing. It’s the sky. And if ye look at my painting, although ye can’t see much of it, there are bits of sky showing here and there.”
“So, I start with the sky?”
“Aye, creating the background is the first step. What color is the sky?”
“Blue.”
“I don’t have any blue mixed, so I’ll show ye how to do that.” She removed the small container of azurite from Claire’s box of supplies and walked him through the steps.
“What’s the egg for?” asked Hugh.
“It helps bind the color to the surface of yer painting after the water evaporates.”
When he looked at the finished paint he frowned. “There isn’t much of it and it’s awfully dark. It isn’t the color of the sky at all.”
“Ye’re right. The next step in creating paint is to mix other colors to get exactly what ye want. To make a hue lighter, ye add white. To make it darker ye add black.”
Together they mixed in enough white paint to get a much lighter shade of blue. Then they added a tiny bit of black umber to make it a little gray. She warned him to be careful not to get the white paint on his hands. “The sister’s said sometimes it can make you sick. Besides, the pigments are expensive, so you don’t want waste them.” Finally she gave him a brush and the bowl of paint and showed him how to fill the brush and create the sky.
When he’d painted blue down to an imaginary horizon, he stared at his work. “It isn’t dark enough. You can still see the surface through the paint. Should I put more on?”
“Aye, but not yet. If ye put this paint on too thick it will crack as it dries. So ye have to put in on in layers, giving it time to dry between each layer. Ye can cr
eate the ground to the horizon now. We’ll keep it simple with some green mixed with ochre. When that’s done, ye can add another layer to both the sky and the ground tomorrow morning. And perhaps ye’ll be able to add another layer tomorrow afternoon. That should be enough for the background.”
“I didn’t realize it took so much time to paint a picture.”
She smiled at him. He would have loved playing with modern acrylic paints or even colored pencils. But medieval painting techniques took patience. “It can take quite a while, even to create something fairly simple. The next step will be the trunk and branches. And finally the leaves. For now, wash the paint from yer brush, so the bristles don’t dry caked with paint and ye can use it again.”
When he had completed his task and left, Lady Ranald smiled broadly at her. “Ye have a lovely way with him. Ye’re a good teacher and I’m sure ye’ll be a wonderful mother.”
“Thank ye, my lady.” Cassie had enjoyed the afternoon, sharing her skills with him. She wasn’t sure about motherhood, but she had considered teaching before. Maybe that was where she needed to put her focus when she returned to her own time.
“Still, I’m not sure he’ll have the patience to learn how to paint as well as ye do,” the older woman said gently.
Cassie shrugged. “That doesn’t really matter. It’s just nice that he wants to try. Then too, when he sees artwork in the future, he’ll understand a bit more about what went into creating it.”
“Aye. And I suppose learning to look deeper into something to understand it better applies to many things. There is much more to building a castle than the outer stones.”
Cassie nodded. “And much more to building a marriage than standing two people before a priest.” Jesus did I actually just say that aloud to a medieval woman whose marriage was arranged? “Uh…what I mean is…”
Lady Ranald looked at her thoughtfully. “I know exactly what ye meant and ye’re absolutely correct.”
Chapter 9
Tavish was unexpectedly pleased when Sunday dawned hot and fair. After his discussion with Claire two days earlier, he’d been able to set aside the worry that he’d hurt her if he gave her any indication that he might be open to a betrothal. And once set aside, he realized he quite enjoyed her company. He admired her decision to fully embrace the taste of life outside the abbey she’d been given. And to his surprise, experiencing it with her was delightful.
The Gift: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 8