When she released him, he hugged her tightly. “Ye delight me, lass.” He stepped back, took her hand firmly in his, and said, “Lady Matheson, may I escort ye to breakfast?”
“Anything ye wish, Laird Matheson,” she answered. The heat in his gaze warmed her to her very soul.
They descended to the great hall where Mairead’s mother and sisters did indeed meet them. In her hand, her mother held a linen
brèid
or kertch. Made from a square of pure white linen and folded into a triangle, it was a headdress worn by every married woman in the Highlands and was as important as a wedding band. It was a symbol of the Holy Trinity under whose guidance the bride would walk. Traditionally, the bride’s mother tied it on her head the morning after the wedding.
Her mother hugged her. “May the blessings of the Holy Trinity be on ye, and protect ye from all evil. May ye have health and strength and peace and may ye live a life that is pleasing to God. As ye began your married life blessed by God’s Holy Church, may ye continue to trust in Him and may He always hear the prayers ye hold in your heart.”
Then her mother tied the kertch on Mairead’s head. “As ye go forward now under this sign of the Trinity, may the Holy Spirit bless ye with wisdom, understanding, courage, right judgment, knowledge, reverence, and piety.”
Annag stepped forward and, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Through His grace may the Lord help ye to be virtuous, and gracious.”
Then each sister and sister-in-law followed suit.
“May He help ye to be pure in word and deed,” said Rhona.
“May He help ye to be hospitable and generous,” said Marjean.
“May He help ye to be kind and compassionate,” said Naveen.
“May He help ye to be strong and honorable,” said Lily.
“May He bless ye richly with children,” said Rose.
Then her mother ended the prayer with, “May the sacrifice which Christ made on the Holy Cross keep ye humble and help your faith never waiver. In the name of the Holy Trinity may more than a hundred thousand blessings go with ye under this kertch. Amen.”
Then she hugged her daughter. The great hall had fallen silent, but as her sisters also hugged her, the noise level returned to normal. Eventually extricating herself from them, she walked with Tadhg to the head table to break their fast. Niall and Katherine MacIan sat there and Katherine’s eyes looked misty as she cuddled her baby daughter in her arms.
“Is aught amiss?” asked Mairead with concern.
“I think those are happy tears,” said the MacIan’s foster son, Tomas, in a loud whisper.
“Aye, they are, Tomas.” Katherine laughed and brushed the tears away. “I was just thinking back to the morning when I received
my
kertch.”
Mairead smiled politely and nodded. According to the stories, Lady Katherine was from the lowlands, and while Katherine wore a kertch, Mairead was fairly certain it wasn’t a practice in the lowlands. Also, the story of how the MacIans were married had spread to the farthest reaches of the Highlands. Mairead couldn’t imagine who gave Katherine her kertch, but she was not comfortable asking her about it. She was pleased when Katherine told the story anyway.
“It was my first morning at Duncurra and my wonderful new clanswomen presented it to me and said the blessing. I was so touched by the way they immediately accepted me.”
“I remember that day too,” said Tomas, “because it was the day ye became my mama.”
“Aye, it was,” she hugged him tightly with one arm until he wiggled away from her, causing her to chuckle.
~ * ~
As was traditional, the wedding festivities continued for two more days. It was all a bit overwhelming, but Mairead found she became more relaxed and less reserved as the days passed. She assumed it might have something to do with the wonderful nights with her new husband that followed each day of feasting. He loved her well, and her shyness fled when she was alone with him. It felt comfortable and right simply being with him. It was as if she found a piece of herself she didn’t even know she had been missing.
Most guests began leaving the morning after the third day of feasting, particularly those who had a great distance to travel. Winter snows could begin to fall in November and travel through the Highlands became treacherous. A few stayed one or two more nights. It was finally time to say goodbye to her family, and she had been dreading it. At dawn, five days after the wedding, the great procession of MacKenzies left in the same way they arrived less than a fortnight earlier, minus one daughter. She and Flan waved and watched until they were out of sight. Tadhg stood silently beside her with a slightly worried expression. Mairead thought perhaps he was expecting tears. After she had sobbed all over him the evening they met, Mairead couldn’t blame him. Frankly, although seeing them leave made her heart ache, she would not allow herself to give in to tears.
As they walked back to the keep together, Mairead said, “This seems so odd. I have always been ‘the sister,’ or ‘the daughter’ or ‘the aunt,’ but here I won’t be those things.”
“Ye’ll still be my sister,” said Flan.
“Aye, she will,” said Tadhg, “but now she will be your lady as well, just as I am your brother-in-law, but I am your laird, too.”
“Laird MacBain is also my brother-in-law.”
“Aye, but ye aren’t Laird MacBain’s squire; ye are mine. Ye must never forget that now.”
He nodded solemnly. “Aye, Laird, I won’t forget it.”
“Lady Matheson,” said Mairead, as if trying to become accustomed to the sound of it. “It’s a little daunting. I mean—I know what is expected and how to manage a laird’s household. Mama made sure we all did. But still, I never really thought...” Truthfully, she was more than well equipped to manage his household. As the last unmarried daughter at home, she had taken on many responsibilities to help her mother.
“What, lass?” he prodded.
“I guess I just never imagined being married to the laird of a clan. I assumed the only home I would ever manage would be the one I was raised in.” She considered everything for a moment before adding, “I guess the rest of my life starts now.”
“Aye, little bride, it does. And if I haven’t told ye yet, I’m glad it will be with me.”
Seven
To her dismay, the rest of Mairead’s life started like a dive into an icy mountain loch.
She and Flan may have been forlorn to watch their family leave that morning, but it didn’t take her long to realize most of the staff at Cnocreidh were ecstatic, and they didn’t hide it well.
When her family arrived, Tadhg had asked Lady MacKenzie if she wished to oversee the final wedding preparations and had given instructions for his staff to give her their full support. Mairead’s protective family met all of her needs and gave orders to the staff on her behalf. It was traditional for a bride to be pampered in the days before the wedding, and Mairead most certainly was. Tadhg himself barely let her out of his sight and didn’t allow her to lift a finger. She wasn’t too proud to admit she had needed their attention. She suspected every bride entering a new clan would want to feel the same kind of love and support. Therefore, with the attention of her family and groom, as well as having so many other things about which to worry, the only member of the household staff with whom Mairead had interacted significantly was Elspet.
So after her family departed and Tadhg had gone to train with his men, Mairead sought out Elspet. She believed the best way to start managing her new household was to get an idea of the established routine. Elspet was very helpful. She explained the division of labor between herself and Tadhg’s steward Oren. “When Lady Matheson died there were no daughters or close female relatives to run the household. I was in charge of the staff at the time, and old Laird Matheson entrusted the running of the castle jointly to me and Oren.”
“So ye shared the responsibilities? Ye were equals?”
“Not exactly. Although it may have been what the old laird intended, Oren continued his duties as steward but also assumed responsibility for the craftsmen and the planning of the meals. I handle the management of the keep.”
“The steward plans meals?” Mairead was more than a little surprised by this news.
Elspet laughed. “Aye, he does. At the time, he made the argument that since he was the most familiar with our resources he was, therefore, the person best able to do it. Frankly, the truth is much simpler. Oren loves to eat better than any man I know and, as fate would have it, his wife is a terrible cook. She is a truly gifted weaver but hopeless in the kitchen. Oren takes most of his meals in the keep, and he is well satisfied with the meals he plans. Nevertheless, I’m sure ye can begin to assume the responsibility. It certainly is your right as Lady Matheson.”
“Well, I don’t want to intrude, but yes, I would prefer to make those decisions.”
Elspet also explained the daily routine of the household staff. “Normally the day would begin with Mass, just after dawn. However, with Father Keenan away and Father Colm having returned to Duncurra with the MacIans, there is no one to say Mass for a spell. So after breakfast I guide the women in the work that needs to be accomplished. I try to see the things that must be done on a daily basis completed before the midday meal. In the afternoon, I address whatever else is needed.”
“Aye, it was much the same at ho—at Carraigile. Usually after breakfast, my mother also met with the baker and the head cook to finalize plans for the day’s meals. Then either she or I would meet with the steward in order to have a general idea of our inventories on a daily basis.”
“Since Oren took over, he meets with our cook, Ide, in the evenings. However, I can’t imagine meeting with her in the morning would be a problem. We can go see her now if ye would like.”
“I do want to meet her, but I don’t want to insult Oren. Perhaps it would be best if I spoke with him first, maybe after a nice meal.” Mairead smiled shyly.
Elspeth grinned. “Ye’re a smart lass, Lady Matheson. It is much easier to handle a well-sated man. Here you’ve only been married a few days, how did ye learn so much?”
“Elspeth, surely it didn’t pass your notice that I have six brothers and three married sisters, not to mention a very wise mother.”
“Aye, so ye do.” She laughed. “Maybe ye would like me to show ye around the keep then? After ye’ve seen a bit more, ye can meet with Oren.”
“That would be perfect. Cnocreidh keep appears to be huge, and I have seen very little of it.”
“Well, ye have certainly seen the great hall here in the center of the keep.” She motioned around her. “The towers ascend from each of the four corners of the hall. We’ll go up the stairs in the east tower first.” On the second floor, there were some rooms within each tower, but open galleries overlooking the great hall connected the towers. On the third level, in addition to the tower rooms, there were rooms built over the galleries and great hall. Corridors connected the west, north, and east towers, but not the south tower.
Mairead found this perplexing. “That is odd, there doesn’t appear to be any entrance to the south tower.”
“Nay, there isn’t. Above the second floor, ye can only access the south tower rooms from the south tower stairs or where the tower opens onto the battlements. Because this is where the laird’s chambers are, it provides more security for the laird and his family. If necessary, a guard can be posted at the entrance to the south tower on the second floor and another on the battlements, thus securing the entire tower. All of the towers are connected again by the battlements on the fifth floor. There are always sentries posted there. Above the battlements, the towers are not connected.”
When they reached the battlements, Mairead was surprised to see each tower had three more levels. She was awestruck by the sheer size of the keep. “Cnocreidh is truly massive. How many people live here?”
“The unmarried guardsmen have rooms. Some of the unmarried men-at-arms sleep in the great hall, but there are also rooms in the barbican towers where some of them live. Most of the others who serve in the keep live with their families in the village.”
“Do ye live in the village?”
“Nay, my husband, Loman, and I used to live in the village. He is a fletcher and a bow-maker. When Lady Matheson died, the old laird wanted me to be more easily accessible. He asked us to take rooms within the keep. We live on the fifth level of the south tower. He also asked Ide to live within the keep. She is a widow so it suited her well. Her chamber is also in the south tower.”
“And Oren? Does he live in the keep?”
“Nay, I’m not sure whether the old laird asked him to or not. He and his wife have always lived in the village. They have a lovely daughter, but while his wife is respected as a very talented weaver, she has a sharp tongue. She can rub people the wrong way. It is probably for the best they don’t live within the keep.”
“I suppose I understand that. But are ye telling me the rest of the south tower is empty?”
“Hamish, Laird Matheson’s commander, has rooms on the fourth level of the south tower as does his squire. Normally the laird’s squire would sleep in the antechamber to his chambers, but the laird moved Flan into a room directly across the hall just before the wedding.”
Mairead blushed, feeling a bit silly. Of course, the antechamber was for his squire.
“I can see ye think it was a good idea. I wouldn’t have wanted my little brother just outside my bedroom when I was newly married, either,” teased Elspet.
Mairead nodded her agreement. “Aye, ‘twas a very good idea.” Once again she realized how careful Tadhg was of her feelings. He didn’t overlook the smallest detail. As Elspet showed her around, she introduced her to the various servants they met along the way. Mairead tried to be friendly to the staff she met, but she sensed coolness from them. Being rather reserved herself, she did not take offense.
When they returned to the great hall after the tour of the keep, Mairead asked, “Elspet, do ye know where all the things I brought from Carraigile were put? I am sure everyone is very busy returning the keep to normal after the wedding, and this can wait until someone is available, but my harp was packed in a crate in order to transport it. I’m not sure where it was stored when we arrived, but I would like for it to be brought to the great hall and removed from its crate.”