arm. “First, you will go to the kitchens. The cook will give you bread, water, and whatever meat is available.” Kaireen’s mouth faded into a frown. “She has received instructions not to give you anything different. Nor set your tasks above anyone else. You will labor for her until after dinner is served and cleaned.” Her mouth twitched on the sides. “You will assist the cook, and do everything she asks.”
An annoyed gasp broke from Kaireen before she blinked. Her mother raised an eyebrow and Kaireen dipped into a quick curtsy.
“Work the kitchens until this same time two days hence. Then with Rhiannon on the dyes for three days.”
Kaireen felt her skin pale.
“After which you will do penitence with Friar Connell for your sins. If he feels you have learned humility, then we will welcome you with open arms, and prepare you for your wedding feast.”
At her punishment Kaireen’s stomach flip-flopped, relieved for she would not see Bram while at the monastery. Friar Connell thought repentance mingled with strictness and labor did better than sorrowful words.
She squared her shoulders. So much the better, perhaps time and distance would rid Bram of this ridiculous notion that she would marry him. Perhaps he would fall for someone else more willing and suitable while she was gone. Or perhaps he would be discovered as the alleged spy.
In acquiesce, she stretched her skirts wide and curtsied. As she rose her father spoke.
“Break any of these rules, and your sentence triples.”
As though seeing a devious glint in Kaireen’s emerald eyes, her father chuckled. “No ideas now. You will marry Bram on the day agreed upon, regardless if you are covered in soot and grease.” He laughed, as if the thought of her marrying looking like she lived in a pigsty was too vivid for him. He pulled his wife’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle. “Now off with you, my patience leaves me.”
Kaireen scuttled into the kitchens.
The cook was a plump lady whose jowls shook when she laughed. Her round face resembled dough with coals pressed in for eyes.
Her dark eyes did not flitter when Kaireen stood in front of her. She grunted, bending to remove a quarter of a loaf of bread from the ovens using her floured grey skirts.
She slapped the loaf on the wooden counter and then handed Kaireen a slab of pork.
“The meat is cold, and the old bread hard enough to break teeth.” She poured Kaireen a goblet full of wine. “Get to eating with you; don’t like slackers in my kitchens.”
Kaireen thanked her for the food and bit a piece of the tough pork. The salted meat puckered her mouth, but she forced each bite. She gulped the wine and ate most of the bread and then threw the rest to the dogs.
This was not the quality of meal she was used to, but it was better than starving. After she drank another goblet of wine, she curtsied to the cook. “I am ready now.”
The cook waddled to a mound of wooden trenchers.
“Scrub and rinse all of these. I do not want any stains or food left on them.” Her coal eyes narrowed, examining Kaireen. “Not a mouthful for an ant.”
Kaireen nodded, glaring at the stack.
The cook slapped her on the shoulder. “Wait ’til tonight. Me and the others already cleaned the rest of the dishes from the morning meal afore you stepped foot in the great hall.” She toddled away on her spindle legs and shook her head. “When you finish, wash and peel the potatoes.” She pointed to a sack in the corner. The mound looked huge to Kaireen.
“All of them?” she asked. The potatoes look as though they would feed half of Ireland.
“Should be enough for supper tonight. Now hurry girl. Still hands are lazy hands.” Her laughter radiated through the kitchens.
After further instructions from the cook, Kaireen drew a fresh bucket of well water.
She scrubbed each trencher with lye soap until her eyes watered and her fingers burned, but she persisted. This was punishment enough. She worried that
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