Page 26 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)
Chapter Ten
W alking through the passages of Dun Talamh gave Ava a preview of the household staff’s finery for the night’s festivities.
Every maid had abandoned their lace caps to go bare-headed, and wove colored ribbons through their braids, which they had folded and pinned into odd shapes against their heads in some sort of medieval-era trendiness.
She had to swallow a few laughs as she greeted girls that looked as if they’d grown sheep or cow horns.
Everyone wore their best clothes, naturally, and adorned them with garters, ribbons and brooches.
The staff’s mood seemed happier than she’d ever before seen.
“Fair night, my lady,” two kitchen maids greeted her as they stopped and bobbed, and then rushed off, giggling .
No one yet knew that two stable hands had gone missing, and Ava intended to keep it that way.
A team of their best patrollers had been searching the stronghold discreetly all afternoon for the men, and were also on alert for any signs of some new menace.
Since giant caterpillars and ice beetles had already been sent in to attack them, anything could be responsible; the tiny marks she and Rory had found in the stable seemed to indicate something with many legs or claws.
Tasgall had Alec alert the garrison to be on the lookout, but at this point they would probably have to wait until another attack happened.
Keeping everyone calm and happy was Ava’s job for tonight. The ceremony had already been delayed once, and her husband was determined not to put it off again.
All of the vassals who had decided to stay in their current marriage or didn’t want to participate wore a red ribbon tied around one wrist; so far Ava had only spotted two of those.
The clansmen didn’t have to wear red ribbons, as they were permanently off the market.
From the stoic looks on the guards’ faces she guessed the ceremony was an annual reminder of what they could never have, but they seemed to be accepting of their wallflower status.
Ava knew as laird her husband had to preside over the binding ceremony, but earlier Tasgall assured her she would not be required to stay at his side.
Since Olivia and Alec had yet to show, she went into the kitchens to assure Doon didn’t need any help.
It startled her to find the cook working all alone on the final preparations for the food.
“I sent all the lassies to primp, my lady,” Doon told her as she finished piling a platter with sliced apples, berries, and pears, and laced them with honey.
“My scullery lads, they’d burn everything if I kept them, so they’ve gone with Darro to collect blooms from the garden. Never fret, I manage fine every year.”
Ava realized she had no idea if the cook was in a relationship with anyone. “Are you joining in tonight?”
“I vowed never to marry, my lady, and ’twas the smartest pledge I ever made.” Doon handed her the platter of fruit. “Put this with the others there on the serving table, if you would.”
“Did you leave behind a husband in the twelfth century?” she couldn’t help asking.
“Towering over most men with this plain face of mine? Why, if I’d stayed back in my time no doubt they’d wind me in my shroud a maiden crone,” the cook said without a trace of embarrassment.
“The McKeran men need lovers as sorely as do I. ’Tis why I’ve had my pick of the garrison’s biggest and best for nigh on a thousand year now.
After centuries of sharing their beds, why should I settle for a scrawny carpenter or a stableman? ”
Ava chuckled. “Can’t blame you there.”
“The pitiful part of this night, ’tis that the clan must stand by and watch the only females in this place pair with mortals instead of them.
” The cook sighed. “And ’tis ever some mortal males which no lass shall fancy as a husband.
Many of them shall choose to take their chances with the lottery, but often they regret such later when they must bed down with a silver-haired crone, or a peckish hen like Una. ”
Tasgall had explained the lottery system, which randomly paired unmatched men and women from the vassals who had not been chosen or accepted.
As conservative and picky as she was, Ava certainly wouldn’t have been able to take her chances, but she supposed to a lonely vassal someone was better than no one.
“No matter who it is, they have to accept them?” she asked the cook.
“Aye, ’tis our custom. When one abides with the same folk century after century, such matters grow sacred. I tell my scullery lads to swive in the dark, and ’ twillnae matter how aged their lover looks. Doubtless the clan say the same of me.” Doon laughed at herself.
“Everyone admires and respects you,” Ava assured her.
“Eh, no’ when I’m in a mood. Even your man avoids me then.
” The cook winked at her and untied her apron, revealing the pretty bodice and skirt she wore under it.
“If you’ll summon a few guards, my lady, we’ll bring the last of the food out to the feasting tables in the lists.
Seneschal had better not kept all of them for his repairs. ”
After calling some men to help, she went with the cook to the outdoor area where the garrison drilled every day, which had been transformed into an open-air dining room with dozens of tables and benches festooned with ivy vines.
Torches and candles provided plenty of glowing light over the platters of food, bread, fruit and cheese that covered the tabletops.
A makeshift bar had been built from some wide planks and several tall tree stumps, which held hundreds of empty goblets and mugs.
Next to the bar, barrels of whisky and perry stood ready to be tapped.
“You folks sure know how to throw a party,” Ava said, grinning as the sight brought back happy memories of her own wedding feast.
“They’ll eat and drink themselves senseless,” Doon told her as she stood inspecting everything.
“But ’tis only once a year, and truth be told, a happier day we dinnae ken.
Och, Archie, no.” She went to chase after one of the castle’s dogs, which was trying to filch a piece of chicken from one of the platters.
Ava left the cook in the lists to watch over the food, and made her way to the great hall, where every vassal that served the clan had gathered outside in the passages.
Men lined one wall, and women the other, and murmured to each other as they looked across the room.
Inside the hall the clan had decorated for the event, with huge bouquets of flowers flanking every hearth, and candles and torches tied with pretty ribbons to provide more glowing light.
A small stage had been set up on one side of the hall, and bench seats arranged for the audience.
On the dais Tasgall stood speaking with his senior men around a long trench of soil that had been mounded over dozens of green cords for the lottery.
Since her husband was busy, she went over to Darro, who was setting out more benches in front of the dais.
“Does the lottery happen first, or last?” she asked as she took down a bench from the wall hooks and handed it to him.
“Last, my lady. First Eachann, our head gardener and the eldest of our vassals, shall offer a prayer to the gods before the laird presides over the choosing. Those left single after may join in the lottery at the last moment.” He straightened and glanced at her.
“’Tis opportunity for all to find a spouse. ”
She noted the extra guards entering the hall. “Are there usually some sore losers?”
The chieftain nodded. “We’ve had some brawls after two lads who desire the same lass arenae chosen by her.
With Mistress Johansen here, a few tussles ’twill likely happen this year.
The year our chatelaine Inga came to us I wondered if all the men would fight over her.
In truth, she did well to refuse to choose any husband. ”
That reminded Ava that she didn’t know exactly when Inga had fallen for Tasgall, or if the chatelaine still loved him. Since thinking about it gave her a bit of a headache she tried to regard it as something that was over and done with.
“I checked with Grace, and she wants to be with Farlan,” she said to Darro.
“Our lasses cannae wed any clansman.” He paused to look around at the benches and then went to take down two more. “Tasgall shall ask Mistress Johansen if she wishes to choose a husband from our vassals. ’Tis when she must refuse. Och, I told the maids to quench these.”
Ava saw the low-burning fire in the nearest hearth starting to flare up, the flames curling toward Darro, who backed away from the hearth. According to her husband the chieftain’s mortal weakness made him a magnet for fire of any size.
“If we need more benches, I’ll have Rory set them out,” she told him.
“My thanks, my lady.” He watched the flames die down again.
The ceremony would begin as soon as night fell, so Ava went in search of Grace, whom she encountered coming down the stairs.
She had pinned up her golden hair in a French twist, and dressed in a gown that made her skin glow with a lovely rosiness.
While her physical perfection seemed as impressive as ever, her flushed face and slightly swollen lips suggested Farlan had just paid her a visit.
“Why, you look as pretty as a peach in June,” Ava said, and glanced behind her. “Didn’t our seneschal come to show you downstairs?”
“He did, but, ah, things didn’t work out that way.” Grace’s expression grew shuttered. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. Maybe I should skip the ceremony.”
“You can just watch from the sidelines.” She took a red ribbon from her pocket and held it up. “Let me tie this around your wrist and everyone will get the message. ”
“It’s not that, it’s the other women.” She sighed as she extended her arm. “Anyway if I say this I come off sounding conceited, but I’m not. Being beautiful was my job.”