CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It wasn’t.
Troy sat at one of the three big tables in the hall of Monteviot, looking at the meal that had been placed before him.
The food wasn’t any good.
The beef hadn’t been cooked long enough and the carrots were mushy and full of grit. The bread didn’t seem too bad, but that was the only thing edible that was put in front of him. Rhoswyn herself had put the trencher of food in front of him and even now, smiled bashfully as he looked up at her. Troy could see just how hopeful she was that he approved of the meal she prepared. God, he just couldn’t break her heart.
“You did this all yourself, did you?” he asked.
Rhoswyn shrugged. “The priest helped me,” she said. “I dunna even remember the man’s name, but he helped me a great deal.”
Troy looked down at his food again, a steaming mess of inedible slop. “Audric is his name,” he said, scratching his neck as a delaying tactic. He knew he had to eat it but he wasn’t eager to get started. “So… you did the cooking yourself, did you?”
He couldn’t think of anything else to ask, but Rhoswyn didn’t notice. She thought it was more of his flattery. She had another bowl in her hand, something she’d brought into the hall along with Troy’s trencher, and she set it on the table in front of him.
“I boiled the eggs meself,” she said. “There are not very many, so I thought ye could have yer fill of them before offerin’ the rest tae the men.”
Troy grabbed at the eggs immediately; he took at least six. They were still in their shells so he had to peel them, which was no great hardship. Thank God there was something edible at the meal! He cracked one on the table top and began to peel it.
“Could you bring me some salt for these eggs?” he asked politely.
Rhoswyn nodded eagerly and dashed from the hall. But it was a tactic, really, to get her out of there. Troy waited until she had fled the chamber before standing up with his trencher in hand. There were already a few dozen men in the hall, who hadn’t yet been served, and he emitted a piercing whistle between his teeth to get their attention. When they looked at him, expectantly, he held up the trencher.
“Listen, lads,” he hissed loudly, as loudly as he could without shouting. “You’ll not repeat what I’m about to tell you, do you hear me? You are about to be served inarguably one of the worst meals you will ever know, but if one of you makes a disparaging comment about it, I’ll cut your tongue out and heave you over the walls. Lady de Wolfe has tried very hard to make a good meal, so on her effort alone, we shall not be cruel. Eat what you can and give the rest to the dogs. I’m afraid you’ll go hungry this night.”
The men looked at him with a combination of confusion and apprehension, mumbling to each other.
“What’s wrong with it, my lord?” one of the men asked.
Troy tried not to roll his eyes; there were many answers to that simple question. “You will know when you see it,” he said. “But not a word, do you hear? Be polite.”
He was about to say something more when he could see movement by the hall entry and Audric entered, carrying two big trenchers of food. Quickly, Troy turned his back to the priest and dumped half of the meat and most of the carrots onto the edge of the fire pit. The dogs were hovering and, smelling the meat, raced to wolf it down. Troy then rushed back to his seat at the table just about the time Rhoswyn came back into the hall, carrying a small bowl of salt. Troy smiled pleasantly at her as she returned to the table, handing him the salt.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said, resuming cracking and peeling eggs as she hovered over him. “Will you not sit and eat with me?”
Rhoswyn nodded. “I will once yer men have been served,” she said. “We have no servants, ye see, and someone has tae serve them, and… well, I was hoping that we might have a few servants at some point soon. It would make me work easier. Do ye think ye can send for some?”
Troy nodded. “Indeed, I will,” he said. “I can send to Kale Water or even Questing and have a half-dozen sent over to help you, including a cook. Would… would you like to have a cook?”
A cook! The thought of having a real cook was terribly attractive and Rhoswyn tried not to respond too eagerly to the suggestion. She thought Troy might be disappointed in her willingness to work if she did.
“Aye,” she said. “I believe that would be very helpful. I am not a very good cook and yer men need someone who can make them a good meal. I am afraid I can do very little.”
Troy muttered a silent prayer – thank God she is willing to accept a cook! At least the woman was willing to admit she needed help. That made his life much, much easier because too many days of not eating what she was trying to feed them would leave him with starving men. The Scots could attack and they’d be too weak with hunger to fight them off. Or perhaps that had been Rhoswyn and Keith’s plan all along… had he been the suspicious type, he could believe that.
It would have been a brilliant plan.
Starve them all out with bad cooking!
“You have done a remarkable job for someone who has never worked in a kitchen before,” he praised her, watching her flush. “Go on, now; finish serving my men so that you may sit and enjoy your meal with me.”
Rhoswyn flashed him a grin and was off, seemingly happier than Troy had ever seen her. It was remarkable, really. He watched her as she quit the hall before turning back to the eggs that would undoubtedly be his only food that night. But in doing so, he happened to look at his men who had been served food.
Now, they understood what he’d meant.
The men were looking at their trenchers as if dead puppies were lying all over them, eyebrows lifted and fighting off expressions of disgust. Troy felt guilty that he was the only one with the eggs, but such were the privileges of command. He was going to stuff himself with the eggs and be thankful for them. He had just salted one liberally and shoved it into his mouth as Audric came by his table.
“M’lord,” he said, eyeing the room. “I dunna know if ye’ve noticed, but sup tonight is… is…”
“Inedible,” Troy said quietly. “I noticed.”
“She wouldna let me help with it after a certain point. I couldna do anythin’ for ye.”
Troy sighed faintly. “Do you know how to cook?”
“I do. I worked in the kitchens of Jedburgh as a lad.”
“Thank God. Is there anything else you can cook while I keep her away from the kitchens? My men need to eat something and I do not wish to upset her when she realizes we cannot eat what she’s prepared.”
Audric nodded. “I saw the cheese in the vault,” he said. “I’ll bring that out and I’ll make more bread. A couple of yer men are bringin’ out a barrel of wine, so the cheese and bread and wine should be enough tae get them through the night.”
It was better than nothing at all and Troy nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Do what you can. She is trying very hard to help and I do not want her hurt or offended, but we must do something for the sake of my men.”
“Agreed, m’lord.”
“See to it.”
Audric nodded and wandered off as Troy watched some of his men try to eat the gritty carrots, spitting them out back onto the trencher. The dogs were happy as the men fed them the poorly cooked beef but, to the credit of the men, they were doing it under the table so the lady wouldn’t see.
Troy had to admit that he was rather pleased to see that his men were following his command and unwilling to upset his new wife. Being that they’d been stationed on the borders for many years, at least most of them, many of them had lost friends and family to the Scots over the years. But it was also true that they served the House of de Wolfe and William’s wife, Lady Jordan, was a Scot.
As Troy had pointed out, there were many Scot wives, now including Rhoswyn, so his men were accustomed to treating the wives of their lords, Scots or not, with respect. Troy was pleased to see that Rhoswyn immediately fell into that category.
Troy was on his fourth egg when he heard a commotion from outside in the bailey. He could hear men shouting at each other, enough so that it captured his attention and he swallowed the food in his mouth, rising from the table and heading to the door about the time Rhoswyn was coming in with two more trenchers in hand.
Rhoswyn’s attention was on the bailey but she caught sight of her husband as he came to stand next to her.
“I think ye have visitors,” she said. “The gates are openin’.”
Troy nodded. “Hopefully, my people from Kale Water have arrived,” he said. “Remember? I told you I would send for my knight and his wife?”
Rhoswyn looked at him, full of uncertainty now. “They would come so soon?”
He shrugged. “It is not far from here, as I said. It will only take a man at a normal pace a couple of hours at most to arrive here, so I am sure these visitors have come from Kale.”
Rhoswyn’s attention returned to the riders and wagons that were coming in through the gate. It occurred to her that if there were any visitors at Monteviot, then it was her job, as chatelaine, to make them comfortable. That realization brought on a whole new set of worries.
“Then I… I suppose I must make sure they are welcome,” she said. “Where will they sleep? Never ye mind. I’ll find a place. And sup! Surely they must be hungry!”
With that, she quickly set the trenchers she was carrying on the nearest table and before Troy could stop her, she was rushing off to bring more bad food for his guests. But she was doing it so eagerly. Slightly mortified at the thought, Troy headed out into the bailey to see who, exactly, had arrived.
The bailey of Monteviot was lit by a dozens of brightly burning torches, staving off the dark Scottish night, as the party from Kale Water Castle entered. As Troy approached the first wagon, he could see Lady Sable de Shera sitting on the bench next to the driver while her husband, Cassius, was at the head of the column astride his big gray rouncey. Cassius caught sight of him and swung his horse around, calling to Troy and bringing the man to a halt.
“My lord!” he called, lifting a gloved hand. “C-Congratulations on your great victory over the Scots!”
Troy wasn’t surprised that it was the first thing out of Cassius’ mouth, because he knew the man would praise the victory over the reivers before even mentioning what else he’d been told, about the surprising marriage to a Kerr lass. Troy stood there, a smile playing on his lips, as Cassius reined his horse close to Troy and dismounted.
“It was not much of a battle, to be truthful,” he said as Cassius came close. “We managed to breach the walls easily but the tower was something of a challenge. That was what took the most effort.”
Cassius listened with envy; he’d very much wanted to go on the battle march to Monteviot but Troy had forced him to remain behind with Brodie in case there was trouble at Kale or the Lair as a result of the action down at Monteviot.
“What happened?” Cassius asked with great interest. “D-Did the reivers refuse to surrender it?”
Troy nodded. Then, he sniffed the air. “Smell it?”
Cassius sniffed, too. He could smell a hint of smoke. “I think so,” he said. “D-Did you burn it out?”
Troy glanced up at the big, block-shaped tower. “We burned the roof, which collapsed, but the interior is mostly made of stone, so smoke did most of the damage. However, we did have some burned bodies. It was not a pretty sight.”
Cassius looked up at the tower because Troy was. “I w-wish I had been here to see it,” he said. “It must have been a glorious sight.”
Cassius was young and still looked to battle as glorious and thrilling, something that the older knights had since gotten over. Troy lifted his eyebrows. “It was especially glorious when the Scots poured buckets of piss on Corbin, Case, and Kevin from the top of the tower because those three were verbally harassing them, shouting ridiculous demands. That was the best part of the entire battle.”
Cassius’ eyes widened. “Say it is not so!”
Troy started to grin at the mere memory of the enraged young English knights, covered in piss. “Believe me, Cass. The three of them deserved it.”
He chuckled as Cassius thought on the thoroughly un-glorious mental image. “K-Knowing them as I have come to, I must say that I do not doubt your word, but it must have been quite humiliating for them,” he said. Then, he eyed Troy. “Speaking of humiliation – the challenge Red Keith Kerr put upon you…”
Troy knew that subject would come as the focus of the conversation shifted. “It was interesting, to say the least,” he said, casual in his reply as if it were nothing to get worked up over. “He proposed a man-on-man battle, the winner of which would relay the terms for Monteviot. Assuming that Keith would ask for his fortress returned, my father pitted me against a warrior of Keith’s choice, who happened to be the man’s daughter. She was smart about it; she knew she could not best me in a fight, so she used the element of surprise. Damned if she didn’t catch me off-guard and, in that brief moment, she won the challenge. It was Keith who dictated that a warrior of my father’s choosing should marry his daughter.”
Cassius was looking at him with a good deal of chagrin. “Then you did marry the lass who bested you?”
“I did.”
Cassius shook his head, unsure what more to say. He didn’t want to make Troy feel badly about what had happened, but the truth was that Troy wasn’t behaving as if he felt badly at all. In fact, he didn’t seem upset in the least. That left Cassius somewhat confused.
“I brought Sable because you said your new wife required help,” he said. “Troy, your new wife isn’t… belligerent, is she? I do not want Sable exposed to a woman who wants to tear her hair out simply because she is English.”
Troy understood the man’s fear. “She is not belligerent, but she’s not a meek and submissive woman, either,” he said. “She is trying very hard to adapt to this marriage, as am I, but the truth is that Red Keith Kerr raised his only child as a warrior. Rhoswyn is a fighter, Cass. She has no idea how to do anything a woman should know how to do, and Sable is the best woman to teach her. Your wife is kind and patient, and I believe Rhoswyn will respond to that.”
Cassius was still dubious. From the corner of his eye, he could see Sable being lifted out of the wagon by one of the soldiers, so he went over to collect her. Troy followed, and soon it was the three of them standing next to the wagon as Sable smiled at her husband’s liege.
“My lord,” she said, bobbing a curtsy because it was protocol even though Troy was a dear friend to both her and Cassius. “Congratulations on your mighty victory.”
Troy dipped his head at the woman; he genuinely liked Sable, a very lovely and kind woman. “Thank you, Lady de Shera.”
“And your wife? Should I offer congratulations on that, as well?”
Troy broke into a wry smile at the very honest question. “I am not sure if congratulations are in order, but you can wish us well as we both embark on a marriage that was unplanned to say the least,” he said. “As I was telling your husband, my wife seems to be trying her best to become accustomed to what has occurred, but she desperately needs your help.”
Sable was very serious. “Of course, Troy,” she said. “Whatever you need, I am more than willing to help. What is it?”
Troy puffed out his cheeks, lending clue to Sable that she perhaps had a daunting task ahead of her. “Everything,” he said. “She needs help with everything. Her father had no sons and raised her as a warrior, so she does not even know where to start as chatelaine. She is genuinely at a loss, although she has been trying very hard today to accomplish something. But I cannot say it was all successful.”
Sable thought that sounded ominous. “Oh?” she asked. “Why would you say that?”
Troy sighed heavily, with some embarrassment on behalf of Rhoswyn, because he was about to confess her failings. He felt bad doing so.
“She tried to cook sup,” he said, lowering his voice. “Now, keep in mind that she tried very hard, but she has had absolutely no experience with this kind of thing and there are no servants here to help her. She made carrots and boiled beef, but they are inedible to say the least. My men are under instructions to not complain about the food. I do not want her to be upset. But just now, she ran off to prepare some of this terrible food for you, so I wanted to warn you off. I know it is terrible; everyone knows it is terrible. But she does not know it is terrible.”
Sable looked at him with big eyes, feeling a distinct amount of pity for Troy’s new wife. “God’s Bones,” she finally muttered, looking over Troy’s shoulder to the hall beyond, where men were milling about. “Then we shall be gracious with whatever she provides, but I brought two of my own servants and a good deal of food provisions, so mayhap we can set about a preparing a proper meal for the men while not hurting Lady de Wolfe’s feelings. I am not sure how we can do it, but we can try.”
Troy thought that sounded like an excellent solution. “Do not worry about tonight,” he said. “Beginning with the morning meal shall be sufficient. She knows you have come to help her and I am sure she would be more than willing to defer the food preparation to someone who knows more about it, so I would not worry. But thank you for being sensitive to the situation.”
Sable simply nodded, looking around the compound as if in search of the mysterious Lady de Wolfe. “And your wife?” she asked. “Where is she?”
He motioned towards the hall. “More than likely in the hall,” he said. “Meanwhile, settle your men and bring the provisions wagons over to the tower. There is a chamber there you can use but this entire place has been stripped by the reivers, so we really have very little by way of comfort.”
Cassius grunted. “I-I thought so,” he said, looking to his wife. “I told Sable to bring everything she could.”
Sable looped her arm through her husband’s elbow as they began to head across the darkened bailey. “I have a great deal packed in the wagons,” she confirmed. “Mattresses, linens, coverlets, pillows, stools, pitchers, wash basins, and a variety of other things. I brought everything I could think of but if we are missing anything, we can send to Kale for it. I thought I would decide what was needed first before bringing anything big like bed frames.”
They were approaching the hall. “We will need it all,” Troy said. “As I said, the tower has been stripped, so there is virtually nothing to use.”
Further conversation was cleaved as the open hall door yawned before them. They could feel the heat coming from the chamber, entering the large room that was crowded with men who were trying not to eat the slop they’d been served.
Several of the men greeted Cassius, who was well-liked by the de Wolfe men, but Sable wasn’t looking at the soldiers – she was looking at the food on the table in front of them. As they crossed over to the table where Troy had been sitting, Sable paused by one of the trenchers that had been discarded, one that had the bread half-eaten but the meat and carrots still intact. She peered at it closely and even stuck her finger into the carrots to taste them, immediately seeing what Troy was trying to tell her.
They were terrible.
That made her feel even worse for the new Lady de Wolfe. Following her husband and Troy to the table, she allowed Cassius to seat her on the bench before taking a seat next to her. Troy sat on the other side of Cassius, the three of them settling down when a woman blew into the hall with more trenchers in her hand. She headed straight for the table where Troy, Cassius, and Sable were sitting, seemingly very busy and out of breath. Troy stood up as she came near.
“This is my wife, Rhoswyn Whitton Kerr,” he said to Cassius and Sable. “Her father is Red Keith Kerr of Sibbald’s Hold. Rhoswyn, this is Sir Cassius de Shera and his wife, Lady Sable.”
While Rhoswyn smiled timidly, Sable took a good look at the woman, mostly out of shock; she was rather tall for a woman, with skin the color of cream and luscious auburn hair that looked as if it hadn’t been brushed properly in weeks. It was rather bushy, hanging all the way down to her hips, and she was dressed in a series of tunics with a pair of leather breeches covering her legs.
But her face… Sable could hardly believe how beautiful the woman was beneath the messy hair and grime on her face. When the woman looked at her with her wide brown eyes, reminiscent of doe’s eyes, Sable smiled graciously and stood up.
“I am very happy to meet you,” she said. “Troy has told us that it is you who have made this wonderful feast possible.”
Rhoswyn found herself looking at a young woman who looked like an angel. Everything about her was so perfect, from the top of her beautiful brown hair to her small hands, clasped primly in front of her. She wore a lovely cloak and beneath it, she could see a hint of a dark green traveling dress. Everything about her looked perfect and ladylike.
And Rhoswyn felt so very, very self-conscious.
“I… I did me best,” she said. “Ye must be hungry so I brought ye some food. I will fetch the wine now.”
She dashed off again, leaving Sable and Cassius looking to Troy as if uncertain of what they’d just seen. It was Sable who finally gathered her wits and sat down, pulling her husband down beside her.
“She is beautiful, Troy,” Sable said. “But she seems so… nervous.”
Troy sat down, feeling rather guilty in all of this. “Because she is,” he said quietly. “I fear it is too much for her. She has never done this before, so I fear it is overwhelming to her. I suppose I should not have expected so much.”
Sable looked at the man; he seemed genuinely remorseful, which surprised her. As if he was sympathetic to the woman he’d been forced to marry. Truthfully, he seemed to have had that attitude from the start – why else would he have sent for someone to assist his new wife? Sable was coming to think that there was more here than met the eye, at least as far as Troy was concerned. Was it possible that he actually had kindly feelings towards the woman who had bested him after only a day?
That wasn’t the Troy that Sable had come to know. The commander of Kale Water Castle, the second eldest son of the Wolfe of the Border, was a man who had never come across to her as being particularly compassionate. Fair, aye; the man was fair. Exceedingly fair. But he was also quick to temper and those at Kale lived in fear of rousing that temper. But compassion and gentleness? That was never the impression she’d ever received from Troy de Wolfe, which made her seriously wonder about the woman he’d married.
Perhaps the only compassion the man had ever shown was reserved for his new wife.
“Not to worry,” Sable said after a moment, looking at the food on her plate and put off by the sight. “Tomorrow, I shall do what I can to help her. All will be well, Troy. Do not be concerned.”
Troy knew he’d made the right decision by bringing Sable here. Already, he felt better about it. But he noticed that Cassius and Sable hadn’t yet touched their food and he knew why. Heaving a sigh, he took the bowl on the table that still had several hard boiled eggs in it and put the bowl between them.
“Eat these,” he said. “At least you will have something in your belly.”
As Sable and Cassius began to peel the eggs, across the hall at the entry, Rhoswyn had taken a pitcher from one of the soldiers who had brought forth the big wine barrel from Troy’s provisions. Most soldiers traveled with their own cups so there was no stash of drinking vessels to use. Rhoswyn had to hunt around in the kitchen yard and in the vault of the tower to find something to drink from, and she found a small collection of clay cups in the vault.
They were dusty but she blew at them, cleaning them of surface dirt, and prepared to provide them to her guests. She felt verily proud of herself for having found the cups at all. Topping off the pitcher of wine when she returned to the hall, she was just passing one of the tables when she heard the soldiers speaking on the meal.
“Slop,” one man hissed to the other as she passed behind them. “We’d be better eating what the horses are eating than trying to stomach this slop!”
His companion elbowed him. “You heard what de Wolfe said,” he muttered. “If anyone complains, he’ll throw them over the wall. And he will!”
The first man groaned. “But this isn’t fit for a man! The meat is like chewing on leather and the carrots are full of mud!”
His companion hushed him loudly and they both went back to drinking their wine while utterly ignoring the food. Having heard every word, Rhoswyn came to a halt behind them. Then, she looked around the hall to notice that no one else was eating the food she’d prepared but the dogs seemed to be quite well fed. They were moving from table to table, and men were taking their trenchers off the table for the dogs to eat on. As she realized no one was eating, reality dawned.
The food she’d served wasn’t fit to eat.
Mortified, Rhoswyn could only think of the fact that she had just served Troy’s knight and his lady wife a completely inedible meal that would surely embarrass her husband. And she’d worked so hard today; he’d even told her he was pleased with her. But now, with this terrible meal, surely he was anything but pleased. He was most certainly embarrassed about his inept wife.
Rhoswyn couldn’t face him.
Quickly, she spun on her heel and fled the hall, still carrying the cups and pitcher. She didn’t want to go to the kitchens because Audric was there, baking more bread, and she didn’t want to face the man, either. Certainly, he’d known the food was inedible but he hadn’t told her. He’d let her embarrass herself. Well, she didn’t want to see him at all. She’d made an utter fool of herself and she didn’t want to see anyone.
Verging on tears, Rhoswyn rushed into the tower and ran up the stairs, past the level that contained her bedchamber, and up to the top floor with its half-repaired roof. The English soldiers had been working on fixing the roof but it wasn’t finished yet, and the single big chamber was only half-covered. Rhoswyn could look up and see the stars above, with a cold wind whistling in, but that didn’t matter. She went over into the corner of the chamber and sat down, setting the wine pitcher and cups beside her. She was just so ashamed. The tears she’d been trying so hard to hold off were coming freely now.
She’d made a mess of everything.
Laying her forehead on her bent-up knees, she let the sobs come.
*
“I saw Rhoswyn by the entry but now she’s gone,” Troy said, standing up to get a better look over the smoke and crowd in the hall. “I wonder where she went?”
Cassius was on his seventh egg and Sable was on her third. When Troy made mention of his vanished wife, they, too, began to look around to see if they spied her somewhere in the smoky room, among the men, delivering more rotten meals.
“Where could she have gone?” Sable asked, bite in her mouth. “Should you go look for her, Troy?”
Troy thought it might be a good idea. Given that Rhoswyn was in a new environment, and not all that stable in it, he thought he might hunt her down just to make sure she hadn’t gotten into any trouble. As he moved away from the table, he realized that Sable was following him. When he looked at her curiously, she simply smiled.
“I would like to see this place a little more,” she said. “And when you find your new wife, I should like to speak with her. I was hardly able to say a word before she left.”
Troy didn’t see any harm in that so he let her come with him, but Sable couldn’t go anywhere without her husband, so Cassius brought up the rear. The three of them headed out into the dark autumn evening and Troy called to a couple of men within earshot, asking if they’d seen Lady de Wolfe. Both men pointed towards the tower, which Troy took to mean that she’d headed to the kitchen yard again.
It was, therefore, a little confusing, as well as concerning, to find Audric the only person in the kitchen yard. Troy introduced Cassius and Sable to the priest, but the man hadn’t seen Rhoswyn, so Troy took a chance and headed into the tower on his search.
She wasn’t in the vault where the food stores now were, so he continued up to the first floor small hall, the second floor where there were two sleeping chambers, but still no Rhoswyn. It was purely by chance that he headed up to the third floor even though the roof had collapsed on it, simply to say that he’d searched the entire tower, and he was surprised to hear sniffling when they came up the stairs to the doorway that opened on to that level.
Troy could see Rhoswyn sitting at the far end of the open-roofed chamber, huddled up in the shadows. He could hear her soft sobs. Holding out a hand to Sable and Cassius, silently asking that they remain in place, Troy emerged into the chamber that still smelled heavily of smoke and burned flesh. He was about halfway across the floor when he spoke softly.
“Rhoswyn?” he said quietly. “Are you well?
Rhoswyn’s head shot up when she heard his voice. Startled, and embarrassed, she quickly wiped at her face as if to erase all evidence that she’d been weeping but her eyes wouldn’t quit leaking. The more she wiped, the more she streaked dirt across her face.
“I… I’m well,” she insisted as Troy closed the gap between them and crouched down beside her. She refused to look at him. “I… I was simply weary from the day. It has been a busy day, ye know. And ’tis so noisy in the hall and there are so many men I dunna know, so I came here tae be alone. Just for a moment, ye understand. I wasna shirkin’ me duties.”
“You were weeping.”
“I wasna!”
Troy didn’t believe her for a moment. He moved from a crouched position to a sitting one, right next to her, leaning up against the wall of the chamber and effectively boxing her up against the corner. But his expression was full of concern.
“I would not imagine you would ever shirk your duties, no matter how difficult they were or how unfamiliar,” he said softly. “Are you sure you weren’t weeping? Mayhap because you have been doing something you have never done before? I am still pleased, you know. You worked very hard today.”
She snorted, wiping at her running nose and smearing it up her face. “I worked hard at a disaster,” she said. “I canna cook meat, I canna bake bread, and ’tis only by a sheer miracle that the men in the hall are able tae eat anythin’ at all. The meat is like leather and the carrots are cooked in mud!”
The tears were coming again. The more she talked, the more embarrassed she became. Troy had to fight off a smile; he felt so terribly sorry for her but it wasn’t in a critical sense. It was in the sense that she was a proud woman and she tried something that she’d failed at. He could see that Rhoswyn was much like he was; he didn’t like failure, either.
“’Tis only your first time doing such things,” he said. “You cannot expect to be perfect the very first time, with no one to really help you. I am sure you will do much better tomorrow.”
Rhoswyn shook her head vehemently. “I am not goin’ tae do this again tomorrow,” she insisted, sniffling. “The priest says he can cook. Let him! I’ve shamed ye enough with what I’ve done tonight.”
She was starting to sob angrily and Troy reached out, putting a hand on her back in a comforting gesture.
“Is that what has you upset?” he asked. “You feel as if you have shamed me? Lady, you have pleased me greatly with your attempts to learn. You tried something you had never done before and even if it did not come to fruition the first time, the fact remains that you tried. To refuse to try, or to quit, would have been to shame me. But I do not think you are a quitter.”
His words brought Rhoswyn a great deal of comfort. Wiping at her cheeks, she eyed him. “Not usually,” she said. “But I’d be a fool tae think yer men could take two nights of cookin’ like this. They’ll rebel and then where will ye be? With no army and a wife who canna cook! Ye’ll be the laughin’ stock!”
Troy burst into soft laughter. He liked the way she said it; quickly and self-depreciating. Rhoswyn scowled at him for a moment, as if insulted by his laughter, before breaking into a grin that she tried very hard to stave off. His hand, still on her back, moved to her shoulder and pulled her against him as he kissed her temple, a gesture that had Rhoswyn’s cheeks flaming deeply.
“Well,” he sighed. “At least you can hold a sword. If I have no army, then it will be you I send into battle. Surely there would be no fiercer warrior in all the north.”
Rhoswyn was coming to feel the slightest bit better. Troy was comforting and kind, exactly as he had been nearly the entire time she’d known him. He wasn’t angry that she’d destroyed the evening meal, nor was he shamed. In her estimation, that was an extremely patient man. She was coming to appreciate him more by the moment.
“Are ye sure ye’re not ashamed of me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. As I said, to shame me would have been not to have tried at all.”
Her tears were fading now, comforted by a husband who seemed to know the right thing to say. As she opened her mouth to respond, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and caught sight of Sable as she came into the chamber. Rhoswyn stiffened, embarrassed at what Sable might have heard, but Sable smiled gently at her as she approached.
“I am sorry to intrude, Lady de Wolfe,” she said, “but I wanted to thank you for inviting me here to Monteviot. I enjoyed the bread and the cooked eggs you made. And I also wanted to thank you for pulling me out of Kale Water Castle. I am hoping you can use me here, to help you with your duties. I have grown so bored at Kale that coming to Monteviot is a lovely change.”
Troy smiled faintly at Sable, a smile of thanks, before turning to look at Rhoswyn, his arm still around her shoulder. “Do you hear that?” he said. “Lady Sable is at your service. If you want her to show you how to cook a meal or sew a garment, then she can do that. You can learn a great deal from her.”
Rhoswyn looked at him, coming to understand that these English weren’t here to shame her. They were here to help her. She’d never had such help in her life, not from anyone, so it was a foreign concept. But she knew that, much as they were being kind to her, she must be kind in return. In truth, she was very grateful for their offer.
“I am thankful ye came when ye did,” she said to Sable. “Ye can save the English from one more night of me cookin’.”
Sable grinned. “I am very happy to help, my lady,” she said. “In fact, if you’d like, I can start helping tonight. Will you allow me?”
Rhoswyn was very interested in what she meant. “How?”
There was so much Sable could show her tonight, from preparing rooms for her visitors to preparing for the morning meal. So very much that she was happy to take charge of. Sable moved closer, holding out a hand. It was the hand of friendship, the hand of help. Rhoswyn looked at it dubiously, then looking to Troy for reassurance. He nodded his encouragement and she hesitantly reached out to take it. Sable pulled Rhoswyn to her feet but didn’t let go of her hand, looking her straight in the eye as she spoke.
“I’ll show you,” she said quietly. “Worry no more, Lady de Wolfe. Help has arrived.”