by Alexa Aston
Cook showed her where the herbs were stored and Beatrice skimmed through the contents quickly. She found ample amounts of lavender and chamomile and smaller bits of fennel and rose petals that could be used to scent the fresh rushes she wanted placed in the great hall. Finding plenty of shave-grass delighted her since she’d noticed the trestle tables and benches had grown worn and rough in some spots. She even had to pick a splinter from her palm after she broke her fast this morning. If the head table was in such poor condition, she assumed the rest of the furniture in the great hall was the same. They could use the shave-grass to smooth out the oak benches and tables.
For rougher patches, they could apply the skin of a dogfish and smooth the wood using a plane and scraper to finish the job. Finding Cook again, Beatrice asked about the castle’s carpenter since she would need his tools and strength to do much of the work.
“Donaldus is our carpenter,” Cook informed her. “But he’s in the fields with the harvesters now, my lady.”
“I have need of his services. Send a servant to the fields to retrieve him.”
Returning to the great hall, Beatrice gathered all of the servants that worked inside the keep. There were eight women to help her, though Cook said some would need to return to the kitchens to help prepare food later in the day. Feeding the hungry workers, especially at harvest time, took top priority.
Beatrice told them, “There’ll be many tasks to carry out in order to return this room to its natural beauty. The tables and benches need smoothing. The tapestries must be removed from the walls so the dust can be beaten from them. But our first job is to clean the floor. The molding rushes. The dung. Anything you find lying on the floor must come out. Once it’s gone, we’ll scour the stones with soap and hot water multiple times and then wash the walls, as well.”
She asked each servant for her name and designated Hilda to help organize the women and keep things running. The servants joined Beatrice as they removed every despicable piece from the floor, while Hilda saw to massive amounts of water being put on to boil. As she swept together and lifted the rotting rushes, Beatrice found herself breathing from her mouth because of the stench. Moving the heavy trestle tables away from the walls in order to reach every corner proved to be the hardest challenge for the group of women. She chastised herself, wishing she’d thought to have the men remove the furniture from the room before they left for the fields.
With so many workers involved, the floor was soon bare and the real backbreaking work began. Hilda brought in pail after pail of hot water and carted back the empties. Each woman had received a brush for scrubbing and plenty of soap. Beatrice divided the room into sections. Once a section was completed, she inspected their work before they could move on to a new area.
“My lady? You have need of me?” A bow-legged man with a scraggly beard and kind smile had entered the great hall.
“Are you Donaldus, the carpenter?” she asked.
“I am.”
Beatrice explained her concern regarding the condition of the benches and trestle tables and how she wanted all bumps and ridges worked out.
“I found plenty of shave-grass. I placed it on that table in the west corner. You may use it and retrieve your plane and scraper to smooth the surfaces of every bit of furniture in the great hall.”
He nodded. “I’m happy to use it. If I run out, cattails also work on oak. Sometimes, I’ve used rotten stone as an abrasive before I scrape and smooth. Let me retrieve my tools and I’ll start at once.”
“Thank you, Donaldus. It will be a nice improvement to sit and not be rewarded with a splinter in my rump.”
The carpenter chuckled and excused himself.
After a few hours, more than a quarter of the stone floor had been given a thorough cleaning. Beatrice allowed the women to rest before they returned to their buckets and brushes. She sent them to the kitchens for something to eat but cautioned them to remain there. She wanted no food brought into the great hall until she was ready.
Hilda lingered after the others left. “My lady, it’s time to bring the meal to the fields and the training yard. It’s been the custom in the past to take the midday meal outside while the harvesting goes on. Sir Raynor has asked that we continue with this practice. Then, when dusk falls, the farm workers and soldiers will return to the great hall and dine. That’s when Cook will need to borrow some of the servants to help her prepare the food.”
“I’ll speak to Cook, Hilda. She’ll need to send the evening meal outside for the next few nights. The serfs and soldiers can eat in the bailey until the great hall has been cleaned thoroughly and the furniture completely restored. Once we’ve transformed the room, I think everyone will be pleased and take proper care in the future. In the meantime, while the women deliver the food to the fields, you and I can go to the herb garden so I may see what’s been planted and what should be picked. We can also check the supply of rushes.”
“I can show you where both are, my lady.”
After seeing both places, the two women ventured back to the great hall. Beatrice noted the servants had also returned. Once again, the group of women began scrubbing the grime from the floor. They worked diligently for the rest of the afternoon, only stopping to help with the evening meal, which Beatrice had served outside.
“The people are hungry. They have put in a full day of work in the fields and the training yard,” Raynor said when she joined him on the steps of the keep.
“The servants inside have done the same, my lord,” Beatrice told him as she surveyed the crowd gathered as they ate their meal without conversation. “Everyone has worked diligently. We should be able to dine in a much-improved great hall soon.”
She excused herself once she finished eating and returned to the bedchamber Gobert had assigned to her and fell into a dreamless sleep.
After a good night of rest, Beatrice was up and hard at work the next day, repeating the actions from the day before. It took a third day of backbreaking work before the women finished cleaning the floors and walls of the great hall to her satisfaction.
Beatrice instructed all but two of the servants to go with Hilda to retrieve fresh rushes and then assigned the two youngest girls to gather the specified herbs. Donaldus was working tirelessly. It seemed as though he’d finished with most of the furniture. If he continued at this pace, he would complete his task before night fell. The carpenter gave her a bright smile and continued scraping and whistling.
Beatrice supervised the laying of the rushes and sprinkling of the herbs atop them. It only took a few minutes with so many pitching in to spread the straw. Soon, a sweet scent filled the air. She thought to remind Raynor that no untrained dogs should be allowed in the room. She intended for these floors to remain in good condition. The people of Ashcroft would no longer live as animals.
After that, two women were sent to retrieve ladders. Once they returned, each of the four tapestries was lifted from the walls. It took the strength of every woman present to haul them outside.
“I want you to beat the life out of these tapestries,” she demanded. “They look as if they haven’t been cleaned in years. Hilda, please see to this and let me know when it’s done. I’ll be back to help you.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Before Beatrice turned to leave, she decided to watch as one girl lifted a stick. She gently tapped the tapestry and a small cloud of dust wafted from it.
“Nay, that won’t do,” she told the servant. “Give me your stick.”
The girl handed it over, a hesitant look on her face.
“Step aside. Let me show you what a true cleaning involves.”
Taking the stick in both hands, Beatrice whacked the tapestry as hard as she could. Dust flew from it. She struck it a few more times for good measure and stepped back, grinning in appreciation of her own work.
“That is what I ask of you. Layers of dust have settled upon the surface. These tapestries are thick and woven very tightly. I promise that you won’t hurt them
if you strike them hard.”
Beatrice returned the borrowed stick to the girl and brushed her hands together before she wiped them on her apron.
*
Raynor left the training yard, his muscles tired from the activity of the past few hours. He’d put off riding the perimeter and inspecting the various structures on the property in order to work with the soldiers during training exercises the past few days, and he still planned to do that later today. For now, he knew it was important to go to the fields next to see how the harvesting progressed. He’d left everything in the hands of John for the past three days, allowing the worker to report to him each evening after they supped. Raynor had been pleased with what John told him, but it was time to see for himself how much the workers had already accomplished.
He came closer and saw that harvesting had come to a halt. All the serfs sat on the ground, finishing their midday meal. Raynor snatched an apple from a nearby wooden basket and munched on it as he surveyed the fields.
John came up to him. “All goes well, my lord. Everyone is cooperative and in good spirits. Much has been accomplished in the last few days.”
“So, the teams are productive?”
“Aye, though I had to make an adjustment once we began. We lost Donaldus that first day.”
“Donaldus? Ah, the carpenter. I remember when he made a wooden sword for me when I was a boy.” Raynor smiled at the memory. “I watched every minute while he carved it. In fact, I made two myself for my cousin’s children recently.” He stopped. “Is Donaldus ill?”
“Nay, my lord. Lady Beatrice sent for him.”
He wondered why Beatrice would need a carpenter to aid in cleaning the keep. “I think it would be better if he spent his time in the fields. I’ll speak to her now and see that he returns at once.”
Raynor gave John a nod of dismissal and took the last bite of his apple. He tossed the core into a basket full of them. As he returned to the main gates, he noted a man sat in the gatekeeper’s perch and that two soldiers patrolled the wall-walk. It pleased him that Lucas had already implemented a schedule. He would speak with his new captain later regarding it and how the rest of the day’s training had gone. Raynor wanted to be fully involved in this aspect of Ashcroft.
He made quick time through the outer and inner baileys. Both were deserted, with every available hand now dedicated to the wheat harvest. As he approached the keep, he saw a small group of women outside. They surrounded one of the tapestries from the great hall. Drawing closer, he saw a servant beating it. Dust erupted in a dark cloud around her.
Raynor was aghast when he drew closer and recognized the woman was Beatrice. She stepped back and handed the stick to a servant. He rushed over to the group.
“Lady Beatrice!” he barked, drawing her attention—and that of every woman present.
She twirled around and he saw that she was filthy. The plain, unadorned clothing she wore was covered in dirt. Dark smudges stained her cheeks and chin. Even her hair had a covering of dust.
“Yes, my lord?” she said demurely, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
“You’re not meant to do menial tasks, my lady.”
Surprise crossed her face, and then she fisted her hands and brought them to her waist. “And how do you suppose things will get done, my lord? I wouldn’t ask any servant here to do something that I myself am not willing to do.”
Gritting his teeth, he said, “My lady, you should instruct them. They are the ones tasked with the activity.”
“What do you think I was doing?” she asked, looking at him as if he’d gone mad. “I was demonstrating how to beat the dirt from a tapestry. They were being far too kind to the dusty weavings.”
Raynor frowned. “You may tell them what they must do, but you’re not to get your hands dirty in the process.” He looked her up and down. “Or any of the rest of you, for that matter.”
She glared up at him. “I will get my hands—and the rest of me—as dirty as I must in order to see that your family’s home is brought back to a desired level of cleanliness. The job will get done better and faster if I participate.” She raised her chin a notch, daring him to contradict her.
His own anger rose. “And since it’s my family’s keep and I have been charged to bring it back to expected standards, I will tell you what you can and cannot do.”
Her nostrils flared. “Is that so?” She snorted in disgust. “I’m sorry to tell you, my lord, but you gave me authority over the domestic chores within the keep. And I shall do as I see fit. You told me you know nothing of these matters. Now let me get back to—”
Raynor locked his fingers around her upper arm and began leading her away from the group of servants who watched their verbal exchange with interest.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, trying to escape his grasp.
“Quit being so stubborn,” he whispered. “And quit causing a scene.”
Beatrice stopped. She bit her lip and frowned.
He took the opportunity. “Come with me,” he said softly, his tone calmer. “I would like to speak with you.”
“Yes, my lord.” Her words may have been compliant, but she tried to jerk her arm away again. His fingers did not budge. “Let me be.”
Raynor released his hold on her. “Follow me,” he ordered. He set off, not turning back to see if she followed. He only hoped she did.
As they entered the keep, he heard her footsteps on the stone floor behind him and sighed silently in relief. Leading her to the records room, he opened the door and ushered her inside.
Beatrice entered, her arms crossed over her chest. He shut the door behind him.
“Have a seat.”
“I prefer to stand.” She began nibbling on her bottom lip again.
Raynor refused to be driven to distraction by the gesture. He brought his hands behind him, locking his fingers together.
“You can’t go against me in public, my lady,” he said. “I am trying to make many changes at Ashcroft. Not everyone will be happy with what I’m doing.”
She remained silent, but her gaze fell to the ground.
“We should act in harmony and present a united front to everyone. You wouldn’t wish to be a bad example to the people, would you?”
Her eyes met his reluctantly. “I won’t disagree with you in public,” she said. “But I have a right to my opinions, you know.”
“You do. And I did tell you to take full charge of the changes inside the keep. I didn’t mean to question your ability in managing the servants.”
“I am sorry, my lord.” She sighed. “Grandfather always said I was the most stubborn person he’d ever come across. I simply want to have everything done correctly for you. If that means working alongside the others, then I must do so.” She gave him a contrite smile.
He ignored the dimple flashing in her cheek. “Then I agree that we may talk in private, especially if we have a difference of opinion or if either of us has any questions. And you’re right to state that you have full authority inside the keep.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I promise that you’ll begin to see a difference, especially in the great hall tonight.”
“But I would ask you to reconsider physical labor, Beatrice. Try to manage the servants instead.”
Anger sparked in her eyes. “See? There you go again, telling me what to do. Raynor, it won’t get done right unless I pitch in and become one of many hands at Ashcroft. I’m not some delicate flower. I may be small, but I’m strong.”
Beatrice stepped back and took a seat. He saw that she trembled.
“I am the one who cooked all the meals in our manor house and cleaned it from top to bottom. I gathered the eggs and fed the animals. Well, all but our horse,” she admitted. “I sewed our clothes and mended them when they needed repair and tended my ill mother, all with no servant to help me. I’m not a stranger to hard work because I’ve done it all my life.”
She flushed a deep red. She had gotten quite worked
up. He crossed to her chair and knelt beside her. He wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek with his thumb. Her fair skin was softer than the down on a newborn’s head.
Without thinking, he narrowed the distance between them and put his lips upon hers.
Chapter Eleven
The anger that coursed through Beatrice stopped as Raynor pressed his mouth to hers. His scent, a mix of leather and sweat, filled her senses. Her arms fell limply to her sides as his lips brushed softly against hers, calling out to her. She opened her mouth to reply and found his tongue slipping inside. It began running along her own tongue, teasing and drawing away and then returning in a game she hadn’t known existed.
But one she was more than ready to play.
Instinctively, her arms rose and locked around his neck, pulling him closer. He responded by wrapping his hands about her waist, lifting her from the chair as if she weighed no more than a feather.
Beatrice leaned into his hard, muscled chest, taking in his heat. His tongue continued to plunder her mouth until her mind was void of any thought but this moment. Tingles of pleasure rippled through her. Large hands splayed against her back, spanning it.
And still he kissed her.
’Twas almost more than she could bear. Her insides melted like snow did in spring. Her knees weakened. She held on to him tightly, afraid to let go, afraid he would stop. A low moan echoed in the room, and Beatrice realized that it came from her. An intense longing for something she didn’t understand but wished to lay claim to spread through her.
Suddenly, she found herself back in the chair from where she had started this journey. Raynor had put her there. He took a few steps away from her, looking confused.
Something had happened that baffled him. Had he felt the same intense feelings she’d experienced? What did they mean?
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Staring at her with hunger, he merely shook his head before he took another step back.
“My . . . my lady,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. “I . . . am . . .”