Page 76
Story: Knights, Knaves, and Kilts
“Artus,” she said quietly. “I know what happened here. I was told how someone sold children and how some of the children died. I swear to you that it will never happen again. I am here now and I will take very good care of you. In fact, you will have the protection of these big Sassenach knights and you need not be afraid, not ever again. No one will hurt you.”
Artus lifted his head, looking at her with big, if not suspicious, eyes.
Then, he began to back away, taking his stick and Queenie with him, dragging the raggedy old woman backwards as he lifted his stick, silently threatening Maitland not to follow him.
She stood there, watching him sadly, as he stumbled back into the outbuilding and disappeared.
Perhaps it was just too much for the boy to absorb– a change in his life, and a very big change, following the horrors that he’d endured.
Maitland truly didn’t blame him for his mistrust. She wasn’t sure what she could do to earn it other than what she was already doing– preparing food and repairing what they could of the place would be a start.
She could only earn his trust by her actions and not her words.
Sometimes, words were simply useless.
The day began to deepen and as the children remained hidden, progress was made in several areas– the keep door was rehung, but it didn’t fit particularly well and Desmond promised to send a smithy and a carpenter from Wark to set it properly.
The same could be said for the gates of the complex, which had been secured for the most part but were badly in need of solid repairs.
Lastly, the pork side was roasting beautifully over the open flame, sending the smell of roast meat into the air, that heavy and lovely scent.
To eat with the pork, Tibelda had managed to find a big iron pot in the scattered kitchen yard behind the outbuildings.
She put the dried beans and enough water to cover them, and they soon began to bubble over the same fire that was roasting the pork.
Maitland and Tibelda both went over what provisions they’d brought from Wark, carefully planning daily meals with what they had.
Tibelda was excellent at managing provisions, so Maitland left her with them.
While Tibelda watched over the simmering beans, Maitland went back to the tower to inspect it.
The tower had the unusual ground-floor entry and the door Desmond had rehung was heavy and fortified with iron, certainly sturdy enough to protect the ground-level entry.
Immediately to her right was a stairwell, with steep spiral stairs that not only went up, but went down.
She discovered that there was a vault below, which didn’t have much in it by way of supplies or anything of use, but it did have a well, and the ground-level floor above it had one large room, which looked as if it had been used as a hall because there was a long table, two long benches, and a hearth that had an old bucket in it.
The spiral stairs led to a second floor above the ground level, and this floor contained two chambers with various broken beds, a broken trunk, and other items that could have been chairs or tables at one time.
It was difficult to tell because everything was smashed and broken, but there were fortified chamber doors on this level.
Even if the enemy made it into the tower, it would be very difficult to get past those doors.
Unlike the entry door, they were intact and solid.
Finally, the stairwell led up to a roof that contained a very tiny wall walk around the tower, and there was a great iron basket, raised from the roof itself, that was for signal fires along the borders.
All pele towers had them, only it appeared as if it had been many years since the signal fire of this particular iron basket had been used.
For a moment, Maitland simply stood there, looking out over the green countryside, thinking that Edenside was really no more than a ruined tower and a few outbuildings.
Nothing grand, nothing honorable, where foundlings were tended and prepared for the world.
This wasn’t the noble venture she had expected or hoped for.
In fact, the entire trip had been completely unexpected once she and Tibelda had reached Wark Castle, but there was one redeeming quality about this place–
It was hers.
Looking around, Maitland felt like a queen ruling over her people.
All of this belonged to her and she was going to do the very best that she could, but that meant the children, wherever they were, were no longer going to sleep in that sod outbuilding.
She wanted them in the keep where it was safe and warm, so she left the roof to go to the level below where there was broken furniture spread out in two chambers.
Each chamber had a large hearth, and this was where they were all going to spend the night.
She intended to clean it up, and warm it up, as best she could.
It was time to take action.
As the hours of the afternoon continued to trickle on into dusk, and the smell of meat continued to fill the air, Maitland took Tibelda with her as they moved their meager belongings into the tower.
The men were still milling around outside, fixing gates and doors and inspecting the grounds, while Maitland and Tibelda turned their attention to the keep. They would now do what women did best.
Out came the lye soap and rags.
They had carried them with them from Newcastle and it was a good thing they did.
The tower needed to be scrubbed, and scrubbed it was.
Using the old bucket they’d found in the hearth on the ground level, they took the rags and soap and began to clean the floors of the dust, cobwebs, and bird droppings.
Tibelda, a woman of very few words, was a hard worker and while she scrubbed floors, Maitland cleaned out the hearths on this level and eventually started a fire in one of them with a flint and stone she carried in her satchel and some of the broken pieces of furniture that could surely not be repaired.
Soon, the old tower began to show signs of life again.
And that was how Thomas found her when he came hunting.
Maitland’s head stuck into the chimney of the hearth on the upper level of the tower, her hair was pulled away from her face and a sooty kerchief around her head.
He just stood there a moment, watching her and realizing that when it came time to leave, he didn’t want to go.
He simply didn’t want to leave her.
“Do you see anything interesting up there?” he asked.
Maitland pulled her head out of the chimney, grinning when she saw the amused twinkle in his eyes. “Not really,” she said. “Bird’s nests, mostly. I was trying to clean it out a little before lighting a fire. I do not want to set the entire tower on fire.”
Thomas looked across the landing to the second door, which was open. He could see the flickers from a flame inside as well as Tibelda as the woman vigorously scrubbed the floor.
“You managed to clean out that hearth,” he said, gesturing. “It looks as if you will soon have this place cleaned and ready.”
Maitland stood up, brushing off her hands. “I hope so,” she said. “I do not want the children to sleep in the outbuildings tonight. Has Artus come out, by the way?”
Thomas shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “He remains inside, which is where I suspect the rest of the children, if any, are hiding.”
Maitland nodded, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “Those are my thoughts, too,” she said. “And what about that old woman? Queenie? Who do you suppose she is?”
He snorted. “Who can say?” he said. “But that belch she delivered was impressive.”
Maitland lifted an eyebrow. “And that’s another thing,” he said. “Where do you suppose she got the money to buy ale? If she was a servant here, which I am assuming she must have been, then surely there is not any money left in this place. Clearly, there is nothing at all.”
Thomas lifted his big shoulders. “If Edenside is supported by Kelso Abbey, then mayhap they have given them some money or provisions.”
“I hope that is true,” Maitland said. “But that lad looks as if he hasn’t eaten in a month, yet the old woman has money enough to buy ale?”
“Mayhap she took the only money they had. But the lad seems quite protective over her.”
It was all a perplexing mystery to be sure, one that Maitland could only shake her head at. “I suppose the only way to know the truth is to lure the children out of their hiding places,” she said. “The pork should be ready to eat, as should the beans. Tibby?”
She called into the other chamber and the silent Tibelda set aside her scrubbing rags, wiping off her hands on her coarse skirt as she stood in the doorway. She lifted her chin at Maitland as if to answer the summons, and Maitland replied.
“It is time to see these children we have come to help,” she said. “Should you check to see if the beans are ready to eat? I am getting hungry, too.”
Tibelda simply nodded her head and quickly made her way to the spiral staircase, which swallowed her up as she descended. Thomas turned to Maitland with his eyebrows lifted.
“She does not say much, does she?”
Maitland shook her head. “She has a rather severe speech impediment,” she said. “A very heavy stutter at times, so she does not like to speak. But she is an excellent worker and a kind friend.”
“You have known her long?”
“We were in Newcastle together for at least two years. We became friends when I saw some nuns harassing her for not saying her prayers properly. I defended her and now she is my shadow. Shall I tell you a secret?”
“Please do.”
“She carries a big dirk beneath her skirts. And she is not afraid to use it.”
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