by Fiona Faris
“How wicked people are! Oh, my God! Who could have come here tae steal my life savings! How do I survive the coming winter?” she lamented, fumed, and suddenly felt ill. She closed the box, wrapped it, and placed it back in the hole. Collecting the key, she wandered out of the forest and hurried down the trail. As she left the bush, a man who was dressed in tattered trousers and cambric shirt smiled wickedly at her and walked away, clutching a weather-beaten box in his hands. He was a mite of a man, nothing but skin and bones, his scarred, freckled face covered in a mortar of grime and dust, his clothes unspeakably dirty, and what she could see of his flesh was covered with bruises and cuts.
As Gretchen hurried out, she followed the path south to the footpath crossing a farm in the direction of Glenbogle Village. She climbed a fence and was now on an open road. For a few moments, she leaned against the brown brick fence, then she turned and looked back the way she came. It dawned on her that whoever had stolen her money must have known her enough to discern her habits and must have followed her. She had deliberately hidden the box in the bush so that she wouldn’t spend the money witlessly and lead herself and her daughter into the cold hands of hunger. But now, this happened, and she couldn’t think of another way to survive in the coming winter. When she thought of how she appeared, she leaned more heavily against the fence. She thought of going back to her home with her shattered thoughts, but she remembered Ava and how inappropriate it would be to worry her. She set her teeth firmly and walked hastily toward the market.
Gretchen stood at the gate of the market and stared into the throng of people wandering from stall to stall, inspecting goods and haggling with the merchants. The merchants, for their part, called out to passing customers, urging them to come see what they had for sale. She bought some bread from the baker and moved deeper into the market.
A grim-faced man followed some distance behind her so that she wouldn’t notice him. When he saw that Gretchen might catch him trailing her, he turned to the fruit seller, pretending to negotiate. As he watched her gather her purchases to leave, he quickly dropped the fruit he was pretending to buy and resumed tailing her, keeping his distance.
An hour later, Gretchen was on her way home. She had had enough for the day. Although she still worried about her stolen money, she made sure that her expression was bright as she came within sight of her house. She intended to prepare lunch for herself and Ava, and then decide whether she would have to return to the farm to check the soil and the state of her remaining crops.
The unknown man who had been trailing Gretchen smiled when he saw her enter her home and turned down the path leading to the river. At the bridge, he approached a man dressed in an elegant, gold-threaded tunic and leggings of the smoothest, unblemished leather. Holding his velvet-lined cloak closed around his neck was an exquisite brooch, and a golden sword rested at his hip.
“Ah! Owen! What took ye so long? The sun has blackened my skin!” the rich man whined as he waited for Owen to draw closer.
“My laird! I am sorry!” Owen said, crying out as the rich man grabbed him pushed him down, forcing his head and shoulders over the railing as if he meant to toss him to the river below.
“Nae one keeps me waiting, ye skinny bug! I could have been a laird if that bastard had never been suggested to the Council and have yer head on a spike without no one digging for reasons!” the rich man cursed, still pinning Owen against the bridge’s rail.
“I beseech ye, Sir Dunkin, my laird! I have the information about the lady.” Owens’s voice came out in quavering whimpers as he gazed fearfully at the river. Dunkin wrestled with the thought of tossing Owen into the river and ending his life. It would take him only a few hours to hire a new hound, but he decided against it and released the repugnant man.
“Next time, you will nae have this mercy.” Dunkin paused, pressing his hand against the rail. “So, what news have ye of the lass and Callum?” He glanced down at the river.
“I found out they are but old friends. She couldnae have a laird as a lover and rot in her tiny abode. I took her savings, and she was worried. She has nae one help her now,” Owen said, rising to his feet and dusting off the dirt that clung to his trousers and shirt.
“Do well tae keep yer eyes on her and her daughter. Do nae harm her. Ye heard that, fool? I’ll be traveling tae the village of MacGregor; I will return in six months. Never lose trail of the lady. I expect news in anything changes between her and the stupid laird,” Dunkin said, throwing some coins at Owen and walking away to a neighing horse tied to a tree. After mounting, Dunkin threw him a look of disdain and rode off.
Owen wasn’t fazed about the attitude of the man. He knew that was the least he could do to people who are below his class. He glanced in the direction Dunkin had taken, dust swirling in the air from his horse’s hooves and just one word slipped out of his mouth.
“Hoodlum!” he hissed and walked away.
Chapter Four
The day dawned cold and damp. The clouds were dark with the promise of rain. The keep gardeners had been working tirelessly, and as a result, the keep gardens had never looked more beautiful, with vines climbing the trellises and seasonal flowers adorning the greenery.
It would be difficult to describe how happy Callum was that morning as he hurried through his duties. He’d had a nice bath and then put on an elegant tunic and leggings, over which he wore a pair of smooth, calfskin boots. He had to struggle a bit with his hair. It fell in soft, golden curls around his shoulders, and he could not avoid seeing the becoming frame it made around his face. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and satisfied with the way he looked, he left the keep. He found his horse in the stables and rode to Gretchen’s home, an ebullient smile on his handsome face.
It had been long while since he’d seen Gretchen. Not that he hadn’t wanted to see her, but his duties as laird had been so overwhelming for his juvenile head that he’d hardly had time even to eat.
“How miserable am I to have not checked on my friend’s widow,” Callum said under his breath and dug his heels into his horse’s sides. The horse neighed in response and picked up speed. Before long, Callum found himself outside Gretchen’s house.
Dismounting his horse, he led the beast to the water trough and tied it to a post. He looked around the small yard and frowned in puzzlement. All around him was silent as the grave, even though it was midmorning and there should have been some activity if only the sounds of Gretchen’s daughter at play. It did not appear like there was anyone at home. All Callum could hear was a small raven calling from the rooftop and the rustling of the wind through the tree branches.
Callum sauntered toward the house, his frown deepening. It then dawned on him that there could be trouble somewhere. He slowly drew his sword and crept toward the door. As he touched the doorknob, a loud scream suddenly burst out behind him. He whirled around, and there was Ava, screaming and running toward him with her hands stretched out for an embrace.
“Laird Callum!” she howled as she fell into his waiting arms. Callum smiled and lifted her to his shoulder.
“Ava! How grown ye’ve become! What does yer mama feed ye?” Callum asked, sliding his sword into his scabbard. He threw the girl up in the air, and she laughed as she landed in his arms again.
“Mama had been feeding me potatoes, apple tarts, roast beef, horseradish, and lamb sauce. See my skin,” Ava said, clinging onto Callum’s shoulder, showing him her hand to examine her skin.
“Tis so beautiful of Mama! So where is Mama that I can thank her fer the feeding?” Callum asked with a big smile on his face.
“There, in her room, maybe resting from the day’s work,” Ava said, pointing to the house. Callum’s face was gleaming with a huge smile as he slowly turned toward the house, and his breathing resumed to normal. Nothing terrible had happened after all, and he was glad. He wouldn’t have forgiven himself should Gretchen and her daughter be subjected to any harm.
As this was happening, Gretchen stood looking fro
m the window with a surprised smile on her face. She wasn’t expecting anyone like Callum to come for a visit. It couldn’t be Callum she was seeing. Callum, the Laird of Clan Glenbogle, was the busiest man in the clan, so he couldn’t even consider visiting her, much less actually do it. And even if he did, it wouldn’t be any time soon.
She noticed that Callum was about to enter the house. She quickly slipped into a once-brilliant lemon gown and ran the short distance from her room to the front door. She had known that according to their culture, no matter how close you are to the laird, the person the laird had come to visit must be outside the house to welcome the laird into the home.
As Callum approached the door, Gretchen smiled at him and quickly gave a bow. Callum laughed and beckoned to her to raise her head.
“Ye are my friend and my best friend’s widow, quit the formalities, I am still but a friend of yours. How dae ye fare?” Callum asked, maintaining a straight gaze at Gretchen. She looked leaner and older, although she still had the slim gracious body, green eyes, and brown hair that always fell in curls over her shoulders. Still, she looked much different than the last time he had seen her. Then he noticed that while the house was arranged neatly, there were signs of noticeable wear and disrepair. Some chairs that had been broken rested against the walls, and the walls themselves seemed to be cracking.
He realized he had been too far from her and immediately regretted it. He would make sure he brought her out of the house today and kept her close to him. The last time he had visited her, he had contemplated bringing her with him to the keep, but today, he wouldn’t compromise. He’d just make it seem like a job offer since his aging mother had been falling sick and would need a new maid to care for her. All these he put into thought and walked with her to the house.
A leathered chair was brought for him, and he sat. Gretchen also sat by his side with an unusual smile touching the corners of her lips. She was still fazed by Callum’s sudden reappearance. She wondered what was so important that might have brought him. It had been long since she last saw him, and if there was nothing more to be happy about, the fact that the Laird still cared about her existence was a good thing.
“My laird, allow me to offer you something to eat. Have a taste of what magic my fingers can do,” Gretchen said and laughed as she rose to her feet.
“I’d be damned tae think yer fingers had stopped doing magic. But let’s save that for another day. I have brought some important request for ye,” Callum said with a smile on his face, tucking back a strand of Ava’s hair who was sitting on his lap.
“All requests should wait until after the food. I’d be sad should the Laird not taste my cooking,” Gretchen said, drawing up her chin and feigning anger.
“Well, my lady, I shall be delighted tae taste from yer magic hands,” Callum said, throwing his hands in the air. He knew he couldn’t get past Gretchen’s persuasions. She hadn’t changed, after all. She was still the sort of woman who would phrase a demand like a request.
Gretchen went into the kitchen, knelt before a low chest and hunted through its contents until she found a neat cooking pot. She tended the fire and glanced through the kitchen door. Callum still sat where she’d left him — she could scarce believe he was here in her house. She sawed the end from a fragrant, juicy, sugar-cured ham and put it to the fire. Then, she set a couple of eggs to boiling, and after a long hesitation, she began creaming butter and sugar in a crock.
A few minutes later, the odor of the ham mingled with the scent of rich spices crept up to Ava and Callum so strongly that they both lifted their heads and sniffed amazedly. He would have gone and thrown his arms around Gretchen’s neck, but he felt obligated not to and kept to his seat.
Meanwhile, Gretchen continued to putter away in the kitchen, placing items on a large tray. When she was satisfied that she’d included everything, she picked it up and carried it to the table in the front room. She placed it in front of Callum and Ava, who were trying their best to hide their eagerness.
“Here you go, yer lairdship,” Gretchen said, laughing after she was done setting up the food on the table.
“Bravo, my lady! I cannae wait tae devour the food,” Callum said and eased himself forward. The odor he had perceived some minutes ago had in a measure prepared him for what he would see. He scarcely could believe his senses.
There were sweet sandwiches of bread and butter sprinkled with yolks of egg and three large slices of the most fragrant spice cake. The meat dish contained hot slices of shaved ham, which he knew was high-quality. There were also slices of tomato and celery, two tissue-wrapped cucumber pickles, and bowls of preserved pear, clear as amber. To drink, there was milk in large glasses and neatly folded napkins to clean up with after the meal.
He stared at all of this and knew he’d never eaten such a bountiful and palatable lunch before. He was sure, as well, that it was not the usual lunch she prepared for herself and her daughter but made especially for him.
How much I love this woman for her hard work.
He lifted Ava off his lap and tilted his head toward Gretchen. “This lunch must have cost a fortune. Why go the length for me? Such a graceful lady ye are!” he said.
“Not such a task for a laird. I do hope you’d find it tasteful for yer holy mouth.”
“Haha! Nae one gets much holier than with this expensive food. Ava! Let’s eat together while Mama joins us, too,” Callum replied and smiled at the food as if it was a living thing.
As he moved forward, a breath of air swept by, lifting the covering from the cake. It was like a beautiful invitation. He picked up a piece and ate it. The cake tasted better than it looked, and then he tried the sandwich. How did she even think of making them this way? The cook at his keep couldn’t make such a fine one despite their experience and skills. He dipped his fork, into the salad for some sampling and tried a quarter of the pear.
Before long, nothing was left on the plates, and he leaned back in his seat. He felt full to bursting; the food had been so good! He was almost dozing off when he remembered what had brought him in the first place. He cleared his throat as he made to speak
“My lady! In all honesty, I have never had a better lunch. Should I take this into my system every day? I’d barely be able to move, I’d so be fat,” he paused to laugh, and Gretchen laughed too, the sound like chimes in his ears. “Well, the purpose of my coming was tae check on yer well-being. I’m most glad to see you and Ava do so finely. I have a request, too, I’d be glad if ye will grant it. My mother is aging and ill also. Ye can do well as her nurse at the keep. I feel like ye are the only one who can take good care of her. I’d be glad, my lady, if you would give me yer answer now so we may ride for the keep right away.” Callum fixed his gaze on her, his heart hammering in his chest.
Gretchen smiled as Callum finished tabling his request. She could sense how important this was for him and thought carefully about the issue. She and her daughter would prosper at the keep; her worries about surviving the coming winter would be over. But there would also be the memories of her husband everywhere she looked. After all, Glenbogle Keep was the home she’d made with him. She took her time to think about it again and looked at Callum’s expectant face, the hope shining in eyes as blue as the summer sky. She would be damned to stay back, even Ava wouldn’t be happy with her were she to do so. She sat in silence for a minute longer, then made to speak.
“I’m most grateful for the offer. If yer aging mother needs care, and ye think me worthy enough tae tend tae her, I have no objections,” she said and smiled.
Callum couldn’t think of a better word to describe his happiness. His ecstasy knew no bounds as his face lit up. He jumped to his feet and embraced Gretchen unthinkingly. “Let’s ride before the sun sets. Ye have no worries about clothes and food. All these shall be cared for,” Callum stated as he whirled her toward the door.
“I shall change tae a fine dress,” Gretchen said and called to Ava who had gone to the neighbors’ home to play. Some
minutes later, both had changed clothes, and when they came out, Callum couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
“Only God knows how many stares we’d receive from the clan members when we get tae the keep,” Callum said and laughed as he helped them climb upon his white horse. He swung up behind them, and they and rode slowly toward the keep.
As Ava and Gretchen rode with Callum upon his horse, Owen stared from afar, gazing at them until he could see nothing except the dust swirling in the air behind them. A wicked smile formed on his face as he walked out of his hiding place and rested his hands on his waist. Now that he had enough evidence that the Laird might have a significant concern for Ava and Gretchen, he laughed dolefully. Once Dunkin was back, he would tell him his findings, and then he could be free for a while. He glanced at the door of Gretchen’s home and thought about stealing some things, but he decided against it and headed home.
“Hoodlums!” he said and disappeared into the bush.
The keep was noisy with people coming there every day. Village people came to seek an audience with the Laird while female servants bustled about, carrying brooms and buckets, scrubbing the walls and floors. Farmers also flooded the courtyard with their wagons full of crops gathered in baskets and warriors were not left behind with intensive training organized as if a war was coming. Overseeing it all was part of Callum’s daily duties.