The Handfasting (20 page)

Of
course he was going. He had to go. That’s who he was, what he was, why she
loved him. And she did love him. How could she ever have thought she didn’t. She
was no cuckoo in the nest. She needed a man like those in her family. She knew
that now, perhaps had known it all along. He wouldn’t have been such a threat
otherwise.

Seonaid
picked that moment to enter the hall. Sun peaked through the only openings to
the outside, slim slits high on the wall. Meager rays caught on the haze caused
by fire and torch light. They highlighted her, tall and aloof, as she scanned
the room. She drew Talorc’s gaze. He called her over, took her arm and led her
to a quiet place, away from the others.

Did
he trust the woman that much? Did he confide in her when he couldn’t even tell
Maggie of his plans for trade? Whatever he said angered Seonaid. She yanked her
arm from his grasp, backed away, her head shaking back and forth in denial. His
response was lost in the distance, but it fueled Seonaid to turn her back on
him and run to the kitchen.

Had
he accused her of something? Was Seonaid connected to the renegades? Is that
where she went when she left the keep?

Trouble
usually looked for trouble. At least now there was something Maggie could do.
She set out after Seonaid.

CHAPTER 7 – TROUBLE FINDS HER

The
kitchen was a bustle of women filling sacks, preparing for the men to ride out.
Maggie wasn’t certain how the word had gotten to them, but it had. Judging by
the concise way they worked, they knew exactly how many were going and that
they were leaving quickly.

How
was it then, from this experienced kitchen, Talorc and his men had ridden out
with tainted food and lost supplies, as they had only a few months before?
Could that have been an accident?

Maggie
fiddled with the talisman in her pocket. Love him or no, she had to return to
the MacBedes one more time. First, though, she had work to do.

A
shout came from the back of the kitchen, a dark corner. Seonaid held Deidre’s
arms as they quarreled. Other than the one shout, their voices were low, urgent
hushed whispers. Still, there was no mistaking the sharp hand movements, the
deep frowns, the bits of strident argument.

Busy
as the kitchen was, the women gave the quarrelers a wide berth, though no one
shied from glancing their way. Eyes rolled when they took their fight to the
outdoors.

Maggie
wove through the bustle of preparation, down the stairs and out a far door to a
courtyard. It was empty.

 At
a tug of her skirt, she found Eba pointing toward a small mound. “The guard is
following her.” The lass whispered. “In the cellars. They go all the way to the
center of the earth, where great hungry monsters live.”

following her
 Of course,
she meant them or her mother but a child doesn’t always know which words to
choose.

In
the caves? Maggie shuddered. Diedre told her about the caves beneath the
castle. “Great monsters?” She asked, as they circled to the mound to find a
short flight of stairs down to a small door. She could wait for the guard to
return.

If
that’s who he was following. There’d been no time for the two women to move out
of sight in any other direction.

She
had to find out. Maggie took a step down. Eba held back. “I don’t like it in
there.”

“No
need for you to come, Eba. Go on back into the kitchens.” She directed,
doubting she would like the place herself. Cellars were dark places and Maggie
did not like the dark.

Prepared
for the worst, she was surprised to find the space lit. A lantern fitted into
the wall beside the door, which meant someone was in there.

She
stood for a moment, becoming familiar with the chamber, listening.

Caves
they may be, but much the same as the storehouses at home. Built below the
surface of the ground, they held a steady temperature, perfect for keeping
foods fresh.

Like
the ones at home, from the outside  no more than small mound. Unlike home, this
storage area was cavernous with endless rows of goods on shelves, huge barrels
lined a rack as sacks, bulging with grain, hung from the ceiling. More food
than her clan could eat in years carried on beyond the meager light of the lamp.

Maggie
saw a halo of light at the end of the first row of shelves. It illuminated a
second doorway.

“Mother
of God,” she whispered. “Do I really need to go there?” A wasted prayer, for
she knew she had to, knew she had to see who moved beyond this great store
room.

Caves,
dark places, bats and rodents and deep crevices. Nightmares were tamer than
this adventure.

Baskets
of root vegetables on her left, the wall to her right, Maggie edged through the
room, scanned the shadows and the looming dark deeper in the yawning cavity.
This was a foolish venture, for sure. The women were merely on an errand and
would return soon. Or the guard would bring them back.

On
the verge of convincing herself of this, the light that drew her flickered and
shifted, dimming as it moved beyond the dark mouth of the second door. Maggie
hurried to catch-up.

One
step over the threshold of the second room, smacked her with the scent of
smoke. It had been there all along, she realized, only now it enveloped her.
Some great ox of a person stood between her and the glow of the lamp.

Heart
beating a vicious tattoo in her chest, she reached out and grabbed the shadowy
figure. Not an ox nor a man, or even a woman. It was a ham. She had moved into
a smoke house or, at the least, the chamber where the meats were stored.

“Oh
Lord,” she prayed to herself. “What have I gotten myself into?” She was too far
to turn back. What little light remained was moving swiftly away.

Between
either, the light at the entrance and the one carried further on, a hole of
blackness threatened. Maggie shouted for Deidre, certain she would help, just
as the torch light in front, went out. Her call echoed back, shuddering through
the silence.

This
was no mere storehouse. These were caves that ran forever beneath the keep.

 “Seonaid?”
Maggie called for help once more, but even to her own ears it was a weak
attempt. There was nothing for it but to head back, use the same grounding
touch she had used to get this far. Except she had left the wall when she raced
after the dimming light. With relief, she saw the way back was still
illuminated.

As
quickly as the thought flickered through her mind, hairs rose on the back of
her neck.

The
door to the smoke room slammed shut.

She
didn’t like the dark.

An
icy stream of fear ran down her back. Rigid, she searched the black before her.
There were no shadows to run from, no sounds to alarm, but still, she conjured
a million ways to die a horrible death in this place.

These
caves were the pride of Glen Toric, a perfect defense against thieves. Ideal
for storing foods but dangerous for the uninitiated. Deep crevasses, soft ground,
endless tunnels to get lost in, threats enough when one had light.

“Don’t
be foolish.” She admonished herself. “There’s naught to fear.” That door would
have been weighted to swing shut just as the great door had been. Focused on
the only thing she had to do, which was get back to the first chamber, she used
the cured meat as a guide.

Despite
the self-chastisement, her hand shook, as she reached for the first haunch of
meat, calmed as she realized the wall was next to it. She followed that,
sliding a foot in front to ensure solid ground would meet her step.

Progress
was far slower on the return, but at least it was progress and she did reach
the doorway. It was long and narrow. It was also lodged firmly into place. Hard
as she tried, the latch refused to lift.

Holding
panic at bay, despite a dark heavy as pitch, she felt around the rough opening
to see which side the hinges were on, whether the door needed a push or pull to
open. They were on the other side. It was easier to push at a door than to pull
on a lever that was no more than a simple wooden doll.

That
great ham, she had once thought an ox, was too close to give her any room to
maneuver. Still, she tried to push, tried to force the door by slamming her
weight against it. If only the ham hadn’t been in the way. She jiggled and
cajoled the latch, but it didn’t give. Exhausted, she slid down the wall of
wood, used her feet to push at the offending meat.

The
ham swung right back, knocking her head against the oak planes of the door,
nearly breaking her nose with the mass of it. She could swear she heard Ian’s
laughter with the ringing of her head.

“It’s
not funny!” She snapped.

Aye, it’s funny, but not so funny as you not seeing what’s in front of
you!

Maggie
stilled, no longer aware of the darkness, no longer frantic to escape, or too
exhausted to do anything about it. This time, when she shoved at the huge hunk
of meat, she moved out of its way. Certain enough, she felt the air move as it
countered the swing, coming back. The door creaked, the hinges rattled.

With
no thought but freedom, Maggie moved down the line of hams, setting them
swinging on their hooks, one after another until she reached the last one. This
one she pulled back, held it as high as she could, then let it go to ram into
the already moving line, forcing them to careen hard against the door.

The
first effort echoed a thundering shake of the portal but not enough to break
through. Determined, she tried again and again, willing the wood to weaken, to
crack, to break the hardware locked in place. To do anything to offer hope.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His
men were mounted, the horses restless. At the very least, Talorc thought Maggie
would see him off. He had expected that much, especially now that she knew what
he was about. But something had her running off to the kitchens and he had a
good idea what it was.

Talking
to Seonaid had seemed right at the time. Would have been if Maggie knew the
full situation, but Maggie didn’t. Nobody knew and he couldn’t tell them, even
though it had so much to do with what was happening.

He
needed Maggie to trust him. If she didn’t, then he would have to live with the
consequences. If she didn’t want to be there for his departure, he wouldn’t
lower himself to ask where she was.

 One
more time he would check their supplies and then, Maggie or not, he would be
gone.

She
still hadn’t come by the time he was astride, too much time wasted. Everyone
was ready, waiting on him. He raised his arm in a final wave, opened his mouth
to signal their departure, when another shout stopped him.

He
reared his horse in the effort to turn toward the caller who ran toward him,
her clothes askew, her hair a tangle.

“Stop
Bold.” She shouted. “You just wait now.”

He
couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. She was coming to him, all mussed from
some adventure, but she was coming and of her own free will.

When
she reached his horse, she bent over, hands on her knees, heaving for breath. Some
kind of dust covered her from top to tail. An aroma of cured meats rose from
her.

“What
is it, lass?” He dismounted, alarmed now that he realized she wasn’t disheveled
from play.

“Got
myself locked in the meat room.” There was a hiccup of fear in her laughter. Hand
shaking, she pulled tangled hair from her face. “And I wasn’t afraid of the
dark.” She tried to chuckle despite the edge of tears he was certain she
fought.

“Who
let you out?”

She
stilled at that, turning as though searching the crowd gathered. There was no
hint of humor left when she looked back at him. “I got myself out, but I’m
afraid I’ve broken the door.”

William
joined them. “You had to break the door? It’s stout for a lass.”

“I
swung the meat. The weight of it pushed the moorings out.”

“Wait,”
Talorc held up his hand. “You were locked in the caves? And just how did that
happen?”

“A
prank, that’s all. But I got out. That’s all that matters.”

He
put a finger to her cheek and brushed off the dirt, meat cure. A prank, she’d
said. Locking her in the caves, in the dark which she hated. A prank. Fury rose
in his throat, capped by William’s hand on his arm and a quiet, “steady now.”

That
stopped him from reacting too swiftly, except for pulling Maggie into him. She
was safe. That was the most important thing. He bent his head to hers, smelled
sulfur in her hair. She was safe.

And
William was right. If this was not a prank, Maggie was in danger. It would be
better to convince the culprit that they had no worries.

Reluctantly,
Talorc let her go, holding up a warning finger. “Don’t you move anywhere. Do
you hear? You stay right there.”

He
took William’s arm as they moved aside, where no one could overhear their
lowered voices.

“No,
Bold,” Maggie argued, and reached out to stop him.

“I’m
not leaving you Maggie. Just give us a moment.”

“No,”
she shook her head, a bit frantic. She looked more frightened now than when
she’d spoken of the dark. “Here,” she thrust something at him. Startled he took
it as she said. “You have to go. It’s who you are, what you are. But I’m
wishing you a safe return.

She
adjusted her skewed kirtle. “I just want to make sure you know what you go
for.”

That’s
when he looked down and realized what she had placed in his hand. “For the
land, for the name, and for the wild glory of both.” It was a hoarse whisper. He
knew how much this little square of plaid meant to her. He had seen the tears
in her eyes when her people gave it to her. He saw how she pulled it out and
rubbed it when she fretted over something.

By
the time he gathered himself together, to give her thanks, she was running to
the keep, away from him.

Would
he ever understand this woman?