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“I beg yer pardon, milady? Stairs is stairs.”
“No, not to me. Tell me, is it a spiral staircase, and does it curve to the right or the left?”
“‘Tis a spiral, and curves to the right.”
“How wide are the treads? Is there a handrail? How many steps are there?”
“The staircase is wide enough for one person, though two couldnae pass upon it. There is nae rail but ye may hold on tae the wall. I have ne’er counted the steps but I could do so if ye wish. Shall I go down first?” The serving wench appeared anxious to proceed, but Roselyn drew back.
“Please, might we take the other route? The one which uses the straight flight of stairs?”
Roselyn recalled that when Elspeth led her up to the laird’s solar that first day they had ascended a straight flight of stairs, with a rail to the right-hand side. She had anticipated she would encounter the same stairs on her way back down, not the hostile and dangerous obstacle she was now expected to negotiate.
“Aye, but it is a longer way tae go an’ the laird did particularly say that ye were to come immediately. He will be waitin’.”
“Please, Meggie, guide me along the other route. I… I had a fall once when I missed my footing on a curving staircase and I prefer to avoid narrow spiral stairs. I shall explain to The McGregor why we did not take the more direct way.”
The wench gave a heavy sigh, but seemingly knew when she was defeated. She turned to offer her arm again. “Aye, verra well if ye say so. We shall have tae go around by the main entrance hall and the outer stairs. Come, we should hurry…”
Conscious of the need not to delay the laird’s meal longer than necessary, Roselyn quickened her step alongside the hurrying servant. She managed the stairs without great difficulty and memorised the total number for the next time she might take this route. Twenty-seven steps, then five paces to cross the outer lobby, and she found herself at the main entrance to the great hall.
“The laird’s table is on a dais at the far end, maybe thirty paces.” The girl started forward.
“Wait, please.”
“Milady?”
“Is the way clear? Will I collide with furniture? Are there people moving about?”
“Aye, milady. There are servants, an’ a few hounds. I shall nae let ye crash into anything though. Have I no’ brought ye here safe enough?”
“You have, and I thank you for it. Very well, lead on.” Despite the girl’s assurances Roselyn was nervous as she progressed down the hall. The chatter which had assailed her ears as she entered subsided to just a few murmurings as she made her way past the assembled McGregors. She might only guess at what they thought of her, the English woman who had betrayed their precious Lady Joan and brought about that lady’s death. They would hate her, surely. How could they not?
“We are at the steps up onto the dais, milady. Eight of ‘em, straight ahead, then at the top we shall turn to the left.”
“Thank you, Meggie. You have been most helpful and competent.”
“Indeed she has, an’ I too thank ye for it, lass. I shall take over now.” The low tones of the laird greeted her as he took her hand and settled it in the crook of his elbow.
“Sir.” Meggie stepped away and Roselyn heard her light tread as she scampered back down the hall.
“Lady Roselyn, I am so pleased ye could join us, eventually. Did Meggie not explain that I wished ye tae make haste? Why are you coming through the public lobby rather than down my private staircase?”
Roselyn turned her face toward him.
“My apologies, sir. I confess I found the steps somewhat daunting. I had Meggie show me here by a different route. I hope I have not kept you waiting.”
The laird did not respond at once, instead he led her up the eight stairs and onto the dais. There was a scrape as a chair was shoved across the floor. “You are here now. Be seated, madam. ‘Tis the feast day for Saint Mungo and I wish ye tae join us for it.”
“Of course. Thank you for the invitation.” Roselyn was pleased to observe that she no longer found his dialect so difficult to follow though she was aware that he still made an effort to speak more clearly to her. His servants however did not, and her quick ear had served her well as she had learned to piece their lilting speech together. She reached for the chair and eased herself into it.
“We have meats, puddings, and Elspeth has outdone herself with the roasted sturgeon. You shall share my trencher, my lady?”
“That would be most kind of you, my lord.”
Delightful aromas wafted past her nostrils and Roselyn inhaled hungrily. The fare at Etal was poor in comparison, and at Kelso they had eaten plainly. She had already come to realise that the McGregors enjoyed good food and that none went hungry here, but this was better than anything she had enjoyed thus far.
“I have selected some fish for us, some baked apples which are my favourite, some plump breast of swan, and a slice or two of roast hare. Please, help yourself. Would you like a little mead, or wine perhaps?”
