of brown hair. It was her one source of pride, besides her garden and my brother and I. We were her only children and reminders of a husband and father dead these two years. He had protected the village from a raid by a rival clan, and died for his bravery. The laird had given us some small compensation, but we were now in dire straights.
In her hands was a grass basket to pluck the garden's remaining food before the autumn frost swept his chilly hands over the food and left it rot. I hurried down the path and moved so fast that I was hardly able to stop when I reached my mother. I stumbled into her arms and turned my head to smile up at her.
"Good morning, Mother," I greeted her.
She sighed and shook her head. "Whatever am I going to do with such a wild lamb as you?" she teased.
I straightened and clasped her hands. "This lamb shall never be tamed."
"What an awful thing to say. You must marry some time," she scolded me.
I hardly dared imagine a husband willing to invest his wealth and life in me. There was ample meat on me when the garden was wrong, but that did not fetch me a husband. My frame was not the slight which was then in vogue. Though my face was pretty, my hips were a little too wide and my waist not quite as thin as many men preferred.
I laughed and spun us in a half circle so my back faced the cottage. "But not this day. This day I start my fortune."
This was the day when I would begin my work as a servant in the laird's kitchen, as my mother had done before me. The woman who commanded the kitchen was an old friend of my mother, and had promised to take me on and teach me her trade. The kitchen was great for many lairds and ladies occupied the great laird's time and supper table.
My mother's face fell and she squeezed my hands. "But I will miss you. And your brother with me," she reminded me.
There was a price for the position. I was required to reside at the castle. Visits to my mother and brother would be infrequent, but my coming would be a double boon when I brought my pay and presence to them.
I pecked a kiss on her cheek. "Absence makes the heart grow stronger, and I will be sure to visit so often you will wonder if I have truly left."
"You have not, and will not if you don't eat your breakfast and be off with you," she scolded me.
"Yes, Mother," I obeyed.
I hurried around the house and inside through the only door. Our cottage was small, but two rooms, but we were proud of the whole of it. My great-grandfather had built the cottage himself for his bride, and it held memories of many generations on my father's side. My mother was raised in another home nearby. Life was harsh, and we found ourselves without any relatives save our small group of three.
My brother, Aindreas, sat at the small wooden table with a bowl of porridge set in front of him. He was a lad of ten born eight years after me, and a loving nuisance to me that decade of years.
"You'll be late," he warned me as I sat before my own steaming bowl of porridge.
The gruel was all we could afford when my mother managed but a small service of cooking and washing for the inn and other neighbors of more wealth than ourselves.
"You sound like Mother," I teased him as I partook of the healthy but plain food.
"Is that so wicked?" my mother wondered as she followed me into the cottage with her basket full of food.
"I don't think so, Mother," Aindreas spoke up.
"Traitor. . ." I murmured.
He stuck his tongue at me and I returned the favor.
"Enough of that," Mother scolded us as she took our empty bowels. "Muira, it's time to go, and don't forget your cloak."
My cloak was of the coarsest make, but Mother had sewn a lining of wool between two slips of skin to ensure a warmth that the finest cloth could not give. The castle outside the kitchens was drafty, and a cold was a risk of illness or worse. I was glad for the warmth as I slipped on the cloak, for the castle was a half mile from the village, but only as the crow flew. It was a good
In her hands was a grass basket to pluck the garden's remaining food before the autumn frost swept his chilly hands over the food and left it rot. I hurried down the path and moved so fast that I was hardly able to stop when I reached my mother. I stumbled into her arms and turned my head to smile up at her.
"Good morning, Mother," I greeted her.
She sighed and shook her head. "Whatever am I going to do with such a wild lamb as you?" she teased.
I straightened and clasped her hands. "This lamb shall never be tamed."
"What an awful thing to say. You must marry some time," she scolded me.
I hardly dared imagine a husband willing to invest his wealth and life in me. There was ample meat on me when the garden was wrong, but that did not fetch me a husband. My frame was not the slight which was then in vogue. Though my face was pretty, my hips were a little too wide and my waist not quite as thin as many men preferred.
I laughed and spun us in a half circle so my back faced the cottage. "But not this day. This day I start my fortune."
This was the day when I would begin my work as a servant in the laird's kitchen, as my mother had done before me. The woman who commanded the kitchen was an old friend of my mother, and had promised to take me on and teach me her trade. The kitchen was great for many lairds and ladies occupied the great laird's time and supper table.
My mother's face fell and she squeezed my hands. "But I will miss you. And your brother with me," she reminded me.
There was a price for the position. I was required to reside at the castle. Visits to my mother and brother would be infrequent, but my coming would be a double boon when I brought my pay and presence to them.
I pecked a kiss on her cheek. "Absence makes the heart grow stronger, and I will be sure to visit so often you will wonder if I have truly left."
"You have not, and will not if you don't eat your breakfast and be off with you," she scolded me.
"Yes, Mother," I obeyed.
I hurried around the house and inside through the only door. Our cottage was small, but two rooms, but we were proud of the whole of it. My great-grandfather had built the cottage himself for his bride, and it held memories of many generations on my father's side. My mother was raised in another home nearby. Life was harsh, and we found ourselves without any relatives save our small group of three.
My brother, Aindreas, sat at the small wooden table with a bowl of porridge set in front of him. He was a lad of ten born eight years after me, and a loving nuisance to me that decade of years.
"You'll be late," he warned me as I sat before my own steaming bowl of porridge.
The gruel was all we could afford when my mother managed but a small service of cooking and washing for the inn and other neighbors of more wealth than ourselves.
"You sound like Mother," I teased him as I partook of the healthy but plain food.
"Is that so wicked?" my mother wondered as she followed me into the cottage with her basket full of food.
"I don't think so, Mother," Aindreas spoke up.
"Traitor. . ." I murmured.
He stuck his tongue at me and I returned the favor.
"Enough of that," Mother scolded us as she took our empty bowels. "Muira, it's time to go, and don't forget your cloak."
My cloak was of the coarsest make, but Mother had sewn a lining of wool between two slips of skin to ensure a warmth that the finest cloth could not give. The castle outside the kitchens was drafty, and a cold was a risk of illness or worse. I was glad for the warmth as I slipped on the cloak, for the castle was a half mile from the village, but only as the crow flew. It was a good
Similar Books
