I paused, uncertain what to do. I had no desire to spy on them, but was afraid the sound of my footsteps on the corridor stones would draw their attention. While I hesitated, Jamie broke from the embrace and looked up. His eyes met mine, and his face twitched from alarm to recognition. With a raised eyebrow and a faintly ironic shrug, he settled the girl more firmly on his knee and bent to his work. I shrugged back, and tiptoed away. Not my business. I had little doubt, however, that both Colum and the girl's father would consider this "consorting" highly improper. The next beating might well be on his own account, if they weren't more carefull in choosing a meeting place.
Finding him at supper that night with Alec, I sat down opposite them at the long table. Jamie greeted me pleasantly enough, but with a watchful expression in his eyes. Old Alec gave me his usual "Mmphm." Women, as he had explained to me at the paddock, have no natural appreciation for horses, and are therefore difficult to talk to.
"How's the horse-breaking coming along?" I asked, to interrupt the industrious chewing on the other side of the table.
"Well enough," answered Jamie cautiously.
I peered at him across a platter of boiled turnips. "Your mouth looks a bit swollen, Jamie. Get thumped by a horse, did you'" I asked wickedly.
"Aye," he answered, narrowing his eyes. "Swung its head when I wasna looking." He spoke placidly, but I felt a large foot come down on top of mine under the table. It rested lightly at the moment, but the threat was explicit.
"Too bad; those fillies can be dangerous," I said innocently.
The foot pressed down hard as Alec said, "Filly? Ye're no workin' fillies now, are ye, lad?" I used my other foot as a lever; that failing, I used it to kick his ankle sharply. Jamie jerked suddenly.
"What's wrong wi' ye?" Alec demanded.
"Bit my tongue," muttered Jamie, glaring at me over the hand he had clapped to his mouth.
"Clumsy young dolt. No more than I'd expect, though, from an idjit as canna even keep clear of a horse when… ." Alec went on for several minutes, accusing his assistant at length of clumsiness, idleness, stupidity, and general ineptitude. Jamie, possibly the least clumsy person I had ever seen in my life, kept his head down and ate stolidly through the diatribe, though his cheeks flushed hotly. I kept my eyes demurely on my plate for the rest of the meal.
Refusing a second helping of stew, Jamie left the table abruptly, putting an end to Alec's tirade. The old horsemaster and I munched silently for a few minutes. Wiping his plate with the last bite of bread, the old man pushed it into his mouth and leaned back, surveying me sardonically with his one blue eye.
"Ye shouldna devil the lad, ye ken," he said conversationally. "If her father or Colum comes to know about it, young Jamie could get summat more than a blackened eye."
'Like a wife?" I said, looking him squarely in the eye, nodded slowly.
"Could be. And that's not the wife he should have."
"No?" I was a bit surprised at this, after overhearing Alec's remarks in the paddock.
"Nay, he needs a woman, not a girl. And Laoghaire will be a girl when she's fifty." The grim old mouth twisted in something like a smile. "Ye may think I've lived in a stable all my life, but I had a wife as was a woman, and I ken the difference verra weel." The blue eye flashed as he made to get up. "So do you, lass."
I reached out a hand impulsively to stop him. "How did you know—" I began. Old Alec snorted derisively.
"I may ha' but one eye, lass; it doesna mean I'm blind." He creaked off, snorting as he went. I found the stairs and went up to my room, contemplating what, if anything, the old horsemaster had meant by his final remark.
* * *
9
The Gathering
My life seemed to be assuming some shape, if not yet a formal routine. Rising at dawn with the rest of the castle inhabitants, I breakfasted in the Great Hall, then, if Mrs. Fitz had no patients for me to see, I went to work in the huge castle gardens. Several other women worked there regularly, with an attending phalanx of lads in varying sizes, who came and went, hauling rubbish, tools, and loads of manure. I generally worked through the day there, sometimes going to the kitchens to help prepare a newly picked crop for eating or preserving, unless some medical emergency called me back to the Skulkery, as I called the late Beaton's closet of horrors.
Once in a while, I would take up Alec's invitation and visit the stables or paddock, enjoying the sight of the horses shedding their shaggy winter coats in clumps, growing strong and glossy with spring grass.