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"Aye. That's her, mending by the fire. Do no' look," Edith gasped when he turned to peer over his shoulder, and then just as quickly asked, "Is she looking this way?"
"Nay. She appears to be asleep," Niels said, eyeing the old woman in the chair by the fire. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head and her clothes were tattered, but clean. Her eyes though appeared to be closed and her hands lay unmoving in her lap on top of a shirt she'd apparently been mending.
"Thank God," Edith muttered. "Come on, Ronson. We'll go find Moibeal and the other maids, and then gather the children together and head out as soon as we can."
"Ye're no' letting her go out to collect the rushes by herself, are ye?" Tormod asked with a frown once Edith and Ronson had moved away to find servants to take with them.
Niels shook his head. "Nay. I'm going. And I'm taking some furs fer her to sit on, as well as some cherry pastries and me horse. She does no' realize it now, but she'll be exhausted within the hour."
"Aye, well, she's stubborn," Tormod warned him. "So do no' expect her to admit it when she tires. She'll work herself to the edge o' exhaustion and still force herself to press forward rather than admit defeat."
"Aye. I already suspected as much," Niels assured him. "She's a lot like me sister that way."
"Do ye have a plan?" Tormod asked with interest.
"Aye. I'll use the lad against her," Niels said simply.
The old man smiled and nodded. "That'll work. She frets about him enough ye'd think he was hers."
"Aye," Niels agreed and then asked, "Why is that?"
Tormod shook his head. "Lady Edith has always had a good heart . . . too good at times. Others take advantage." He sighed. "It breaks me heart to think what'll happen to her when Brodie returns. Most like she'll be on her way to the Abbey within an hour after he arrives. She deserves better."
"Aye," Niels murmured, wishing there was something he could do for her.
"Well, I guess I'd best go let the lads ken what they're doing today," Tormod said, getting to his feet.
"Will they mind?" he asked curiously.
Tormod snorted. "Not likely. Oh, they'll whine and complain about doing women's work while they drag the mats out, but once it comes time fer burning the rushes, they'll pull out the ale and drink and laugh around the fire."
Niels smiled faintly. It's what he and his brothers would have done too. Wishing the man a good day, he stood and headed above stairs to retrieve the items he wanted for this outing.
Chapter 4
"Mayhap ye should rest, m'lady."
Edith managed a smile for Moibeal at that suggestion, but merely shook her head. "I'm fine."
"Aye, but ye've been awful ill fer weeks," her maid said worriedly. "Ye do no' want to overdo it and fall ill again."
"I was poisoned, no' ill, Moibeal," Edith pointed out, bending to hack at the base of the next bunch of rushes with the sickle in her right hand.
Edith bit back a groan as she added the rushes to the bunch gathered in her left arm, and then glanced around in surprise when the whole stack was taken from her. Swallowing the "thank ye" that almost slipped out, she scowled at Niels instead and said, "I can manage, m'lord, ye--"
"Ronson's exhausted," Niels interrupted. "He did no' sleep well last night and is younger than most o' the other children here. He needs a break."
Pausing, Edith glanced around with a frown to see Ronson working wearily farther along the bank, the exhaustion clear on his pale face. "Aye," she murmured with concern and straightened. "I'll tell him to stop and rest now."
"I already did," Niels said with a shrug. "But he insists he'll work as long as ye do."
"Really?" She frowned.
"Aye. I was hoping to convince ye to take a wee break. Just long enough to get the boy to stop," he added quickly, and then tempted her with, "I brought some of those cherry pastries and furs to sit on. I already spread out the furs. I thought we could have a picnic. I suspect Ronson'll fall asleep soon as his belly is full and then ye can work some more or no' as ye wish."
Edith's mouth began to water at the thought of the cherry pastries, and her body was crying out for rest. Niels had been right. She had tired sooner than she'd expected, but she'd pushed on, determined not to give in.
Her gaze slid over the other children and maids working along the riverbank to collect the needed rushes and then lifted to the sky overhead. It was as blue as Niels's eyes. There wasn't even a hint of rain that she could see. They seemed to have plenty of time to accomplish their task. Her gaze moved next to the carts they'd brought down with them. One was full, the other just starting to be used and she nodded.
"Moibeal, have Sorcha lead the full cart back to the castle so that the older maids who stayed behind can start on weaving the mats. Have Bryce accompany her," she added, choosing the oldest boy. "Give them an apple each to take with them and then pass out the apples to the children and the rest o' the maids. Everyone can sit down and rest for a few minutes."
"Aye, m'lady," Moibeal grinned gratefully, not at her, Edith noticed, but at Niels. As if he'd accomplished a miracle in getting her to stop.
Shaking her head, Edith started to turn and nearly toppled over when she tried to move away from the shore. The mud was sucking at her feet, sapping her strength. If Niels hadn't caught her arm, she would have fallen over. Mumbling a "thank ye," she let him lead her toward the trees where he'd set out the furs.
"Ronson!" Niels called as he saw Edith seated. "Bring Laddie and come sit a spell."
"Aye, m'lord."
Edith grimaced at the relief in the boy's voice, and bit her lip when she saw him struggle out of the mud along the river and then drop his stack of rushes and head toward them. The boy was dragging his feet something awful until Laddie moved to his side. Throwing his arm over the dog, Ronson leaned on him and managed to pick up his pace a bit. The moment he reached the furs, though, he released the dog and collapsed to sit on them.
"This rush collecting is a buggering business," Ronson gasped, flopping onto his back on the furs.
Edith sighed and just shook her head, too exhausted to comment on his language. Honestly, Niels and his brothers had been at the castle for only ten days, most of that time spent in her room from what she could tell, and already had the lad sounding like a soldier. Only the soldiers tried not to swear so much in front of the women, or at least not in front of her.
"Muddy feet off the fur, lad. And make sure Laddie does no' get on them. He's soaked from trying to catch fish in the river," Niels said mildly as he sat down and opened the sack he'd brought to begin digging inside.
"Aye, m'lord." Ronson shifted to make sure his muddy feet were not on the fur, and then patted the grass next to his feet and said, "Come on, Laddie. Lay down."
The huge dog moved over to sniff Ronson's hand, obviously hoping for a treat. Wh
en he didn't find one, he huffed, and then gave himself a good shake, sending water flying everywhere.
Ronson squealed in surprise and covered his face, but Edith merely smiled and closed her eyes against the smattering of water drops spraying over her. She was too content to move, the sun felt fine on her face and lit up her eyelids so that all she saw was a bright red vista.
"Lass?"
Edith opened her eyes to see Niels holding out a cherry pastry and a skin of liquid.
"Thank ye," she murmured, accepting the offering. Taking them both, she sniffed at the liquid in the skin, relieved when it turned out to be cider.
"I did no' bring wine because ye mentioned ye did no' care fer it much," he murmured, handing Ronson a cherry pastry as well before taking one for himself.
"Thank ye," Edith said sincerely and sipped some of the sweet liquid before passing back the skin.
Raising her pastry, she bit into it and moaned softly with pleasure as the sweet center exploded in her mouth. No one made pastries like Jaimie did. Edith ate the first quickly, but took more time with her second, half-distracted as she watched Niels peel an apple in one long strand that dangled from the edge of his knife.
"How'd ye do that, m'lord?" Ronson asked, eyeing what Niels was doing with fascination.
"Just keep going round," Niels said and stopped to retrieve another apple. Handing it to the boy he said, "Get out yer sgian-dubh and I'll show ye."
"Ronson does no' have a sgian-dubh," Edith said gently.
Niels frowned and then handed him his own. "You can use mine then. I'll use me dirk."
Ronson accepted the black-handled, short knife, his eyes wide and reverent.
"Watch ye do no' cut yerself," Niels cautioned as he retrieved his dirk and slid it under the apple peel he'd started. "Now just start at the top by the stem and go around, but ye do no' want to cut too deep else ye waste the meat o' the apple. Do no' cut too thin though either, else it'll tear."
Edith watched silently as he instructed the boy, fascinated by how gentle and encouraging he was with him.
Lying down on her side to watch, she smiled as she noted how Ronson had his tongue out and curved to the side as he worked. His concentration was such that one would have thought he was learning the most important task in the world, she thought with amusement, and then glanced toward Laddie when he suddenly leapt to his feet and hurried off. The dog had rushed down to the water to join the others. They'd finished their apples and were returning to gathering rushes, she saw with a frown, and turned back to Ronson and Niels. Ronson was still near the top of his apple, working slowly and carefully to peel it in one long strand.
