Page 36 of The Refuge

Margaret returned her a small laugh. “It has not slipped my notice that of all my ladies, you are the one who is not happy unless challenged.” Then with a smile, “Even if you have to wander far afield to find that challenge. You take on ventures no one else would. None of my other ladies owns a falcon or seeks out paths through the woods. ’Tis no wonder your father gave you one of his guards.”

Feeling heat rise in her cheeks, she dropped her gaze to her lap. “Aye.”

“I hoped this might take your mind from the events in the vale, even end the dreams you sometimes have.”

Catrìona raised her head. “You know about them?” She would not have wanted the queen to worry that the horrible day in the vale still haunted her.

“Your fellow ladies were concerned for you when they heard your screams in the night.”

Catrìona dropped her gaze to her hands. “They are less now, My Lady.”

The queen patted her hands. “That is good.” As Catrìona lifted her gaze to Margaret, the queen said, “I seem to recall you have befriended the king’s scribe, have you not?”

She nodded hesitantly, wondering what the queen had in mind.

“Assuming I can persuade the king to part with more of his gold, I will need to account for the expenditures and you can work with the scribe to see it done.”

Though she was delighted to have the chance to work with Steinar, Catrìona was dismayed at the prospect of spending the king’s gold, no matter what Steinar had told her.

Margaret appeared undaunted. “I would have a ferry built to take the pilgrims from Dun Edin across the Forth without cost. I know some shipbuilders who can do it. From Dunfermline to the shrine ’tis thirty miles, which means once they cross the Forth, they still have days of weary travel. I would build lodging for them on this side of the Forth. This, too, I would provide without charge.”

“So large a task…” Catrìona said, thinking aloud.

The queen laughed. “Aye, but one that would interest you more than embroidery, no?”

Catrìona nodded, looking at the tips of her fingers still scarred from the many needle pricks. Never had she imagined an undertaking like building a ferry and an inn, but she was quick to catch the queen’s enthusiasm. “There are many Saxons who do not yet have work, My Lady. Might they be called upon to serve in your inn? Some might even have building skills and others could take charge of it.”

“A splendid idea,” said Margaret. “Of course, I will have to appoint a steward, someone I trust to oversee the inn, but ’tis doable. Nechtan might be of assistance.” Then with a small smile, she added, “Using the Saxons to help run the inn and serve the pilgrims should appeal to my husband, assuming I can convince him his people will love him all the more for his generosity.”

With that, the queen stood, beckoning her ladies, urging them to return with her to the tower.

On the way back, Margaret filled Catrìona’s mind with ideas for the new ferry and the inn to serve the pilgrims. The enormity of the task excited her. Finally there was something for her to do of importance.

* * *

That evening, when Steinar came into the hall with Rhodri, his eyes were immediately drawn to the king standing near the door speaking with the family that had arrived earlier that day. Any newcomer was of interest, but especially a family whose presence suggested high rank and much wealth. The man was of middle years, stout and dark-haired. The women with him both had the same nut-brown hair, one older and one younger. The man’s blue cloak was trimmed in gilted leather and the women wore silk gowns trimmed in velvet.

Steinar nudged Rhodri in the ribs. “Do you know those who speak with the king? I missed their names when they arrived earlier and I spent the afternoon holed up writing the king’s missives.”

“By the way he is dressed, I would say he is one of the king’s mormaers, but I do not know either him or the women. I’ve been on the archery field most of the day.”

The king and the family walked to the dais and were joined by the queen.

Steinar noted the young woman on the dais was the same age as the queen’s ladies. “Might she be the replacement for Davina?”

“She is the right age and comely enough,” Rhodri observed without enthusiasm.

Having found her place at the high table, the young woman’s gaze drifted about the hall, but her look was disdainful, as if she found the people wanting. “Her manner suggests a haughty spirit.”

“Whether she is haughty or no matters little,” said Rhodri. “If she is to be one of the ladies who serve Margaret, she is likely here at her father’s bidding to make a good match. Lands and coin will produce a husband for her even if she is a witch.”

Rhodri had the right of it. Since Margaret had become queen, several of her ladies had left to marry one of the king’s favored men. As he watched Catrìona, standing with the queen’s ladies, he realized he did not want her to be given to anyone save him, and particularly not to a man such as Domnall. No doubt her powerful uncle, the Mormaer of Atholl, had a hand in the match. Steinar did not want to think of another man touching her, of taking her innocence. But there was little he could say to prevent it.

“Take care lest you become obsessed with the flame-haired one,” said Rhodri as they found seats at one of the trestle tables.

“No doubt you speak truth.” At one time Steinar might have searched the hall for a willing woman. Now he watched only Catrìona. Tonight her face was lit with excitement as she and her cousin took their seats farther down the table and spoke in lively conversation with the queen’s ladies. What had given rise to her impassioned mood?

“Her brother practices with the archers every day,” Rhodri remarked, distracting him from the women.