The Border Vixen Read online

  She thought there might be, but perhaps he needed to be more certain of her before he would tell her. Had the king investigated his kinsman, or had he just accepted the suggestion and the word of his mistress, who would, of course, want to aid her cousin?

  “So,” Grizel said when Maggie had closed her bedchamber door behind her, “yer grandfather is pressing ye again, or so says the gossip from the hall.”

  Maggie smiled. “First we fill the larder for winter,” she replied.

  “And after that?” Grizel asked, her brown eyes curious.

  “I’ve given my word to set the date then for the contest between us,” Maggie said.

  “I know yer word is good.” Grizel nodded. “Well, perhaps we’ll have an early snow, and ye won’t be able to settle the matter till spring.”

  Maggie laughed as she stripped off her garments. “I’m afraid Grandsire won’t wait that long. I’ve been told he would hold his great-grandson in his arms by next autumn. And the priest concurred.”

  “I’ll wager ye didn’t like being told that,” Grizel said as she shook out her young mistress’s gown, and hung it in the wardrobe.

  Maggie sighed. “They’re right, Grizel, although I will deny it, should you repeat my words. Lord Stewart seems to be a strong man, and he will hold the Aisir nam Breug as well as any Kerr before him. I can advise him until he is more certain of himself, but the truth is, other than keeping the accounts, my duty is to give Brae Aisir an heir.”

  “There is bound to be trouble when the Netherdale Kerrs learn ye’ve wed,” Grizel said. “Lord Edmund has not been unhappy that ye’ve turned away all possible suitors.”

  “Edmund Kerr cannot believe that the English could manage the Aisir nam Breug alone. They control but eight miles of it to our fifteen. Those fifteen are Scots soil, not English. This cannot be Berwick all over again with the two sides wrangling over it. The pass would be useless then,” Maggie pointed out.

  “I think Lord Edmund hoped to wed ye himself,” Grizel put forth. “He’s put two wives in the ground already, but has been slow to seek another.”

  “He has nine sons, which should be enough for any man, and half a dozen are already wed with bairns of their own. Not to mention the bastards he sired on both sides of the border. The Netherdale Kerrs have no lack of heirs,” Maggie remarked. “Besides, he’s my uncle and close to fifty if he is a day. The rumors say he has a very devoted and jealous mistress. There is even speculation that she hurried his last wife to her death in order to become Lord Edmund’s third wife. He can’t seriously have any expectations of wedding me, and if he does, it is simply to get his hands on the entire Aisir nam Breug. I honestly doubt he could outrun, outride, and outfight me, Grizel.” Now in her nightgown, Maggie undid her plait and began brushing out her long chestnut brown hair.

  “Will ye hunt tomorrow?” Grizel asked her mistress as she finished putting away all of her garments. She picked up the girl’s boots and polished the dust from them with a cloth she pulled from her skirt pocket.

  “Aye, I want the larder filled by Martinmas,” Maggie said. “I’ll take us to that wee loch near the pass entrance tomorrow early. There have been geese overnight there.

  “We’ll catch them as they rise from the water to begin their southward flight. If everyone’s arrow rings true, we will come back with a dozen or more.”

  “Lord Stewart’s Archie says the villagers have seen a boar in the wood lately,” Grizel told her mistress.

  “I had heard,” Maggie answered. “Aye, I’d like to get that boar. If he’s young, he’ll be tender and make a fine feast on Christ’s Mass day.” She climbed into her bed, drawing the down coverlet up and settling back into her pillows. “I love hunting in the autumn the best,” she said. “Good night, Grizel.”

  “Good night, my lady,” the tiring woman answered as she departed her mistress’s bedchamber.

  As the door clicked shut behind Grizel, Maggie closed her eyes. Tomorrow would be a wonderful day, she decided. She would show Fingal Stewart that she was more than just a female upon whom he would breed up sons. She would take more game than he did, if only to irritate him. He said his patience had limits. She wondered whether that patience would come to an end if she pricked his pride hard enough. With a smile upon her face, Mad Maggie Kerr fell into a sound and most contented sleep.

  Chapter 4

  She was up before Grizel even came to awaken her the following morning. She could see the dark sky with a narrow shaft of waning moon through the half-open wood shutter. Maggie lay briefly enjoying a few last minutes of warmth before throwing her coverlet back and getting up from the bed. Pulling the night jar from beneath the bed she peed, leaving it for Grizel to empty. Then, going to her small hearth, she added some bits of kindling, coaxing her fire up from the dark red coals. As it lit, she added more wood, then pulled the ceramic pitcher from the coals where it had sat the night long keeping the water in it warm.

  Maggie stripped off her simple white cotton nightgown. Pouring some water into a pewter basin, she picked up the washing rag, soaped it with a sliver of soap that had the fragrance of woodbine, and washed herself thoroughly. Then, using her most prized possession, a small brush with short, hard boar’s bristles set into a piece of carved horn, Maggie scrubbed her teeth. Her ablutions concluded, she opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and drew out a cotton chemise that came only to her midthighs. It was lined in rabbit’s fur. Putting it on, she added a white linen shirt over it, lacing it up. Next she pulled on a pair of woolen stockings and dark woolen breeks, which she secured with a wide belt. Next came a fur-lined soft doeskin jerkin and her leather boots.

  As Maggie sat back down upon her bed to brush out her long hair and braid it into its single plait, Grizel came into the chamber. “Good morrow,” Maggie said cheerfully, affixing a small bit of scarlet ribbon to hold her braid.

  “Ye should have waited,” Grizel said.

  “I awoke and couldn’t lie there. Besides, I’ll want to eat before we go.”

  “I’ll go fetch something,” Grizel said.

  “Nay, I’ll go to the kitchens,” Maggie said as she hurried from her bedchamber. She ran down the stairs to the hall and from there down another short flight of steps to the warm kitchens, where the cook and her helpers were busy at work. To her surprise Lord Stewart was already there, seated at the table where the cook and her staff usually sat.

  “Good morrow, my lord,” Maggie greeted him as she sat down. Immediately a bowl of oat porridge was put before her. Maggie spooned a bit of honey into it and poured in some heavy golden cream before she began to eat enthusiastically.

  “Yer up early,” he remarked.

  “We’re hunting,” she said matter-of-factly. “The beasties are up too, my lord.”

  The cook plunked a hot cottage loaf on a wooden board between them with a knife and a tub of butter. She cut two wedges, handing them each one.

  “Have ye some hard-boiled eggs and bread for us to take?” Maggie asked the cook.

  “Aye, my lady, and a bit of cheese and apples as well,” the cook answered her. “Iver took it to pack up in the saddlebags.”

  “Iver?” Maggie looked confused.

  “My captain,” Lord Stewart said as he smeared butter across his bread with his big thumb.

  “Oh, aye,” Maggie said, remembering. “We’ve got to do something more to integrate your men with our men, my lord. They have kept apart from each other since ye arrived.”

  “Aye,” he agreed. “ ’Tis a knotty situation, madam, but it must be corrected. The captain of this keep’s men-at-arms is not a young man, but I have already seen he has earned his position by being good at what he does. Would he consider accepting Iver as his second in command? Or does he have a man in that position already?”

  “Nay, he does not,” Maggie said. “The problem for Clennon Kerr is that he is related to almost every family in Brae Aisir. He has several nephews among his men. They are his two sisters’ sons. How can he choose f
rom between not just them but the rest of the men without offending someone among his kinsmen? So he has kept the authority to himself. I will speak with my grandfather when we have returned from the hunt today. If it pleases him to do so, he will appoint your man, Iver, to be Clennon Kerr’s second in command. Will that suit you, my lord?”

  “It will,” Lord Stewart replied. Then he turned and looked sternly at the cook and her helpers. “There will be no gossip should you have overheard our conversation. If word gets out before the laird is consulted, and Clennon Kerr is consulted, I will know where to lay the blame. My justice will be harsh and swift. Do ye all understand me?”

  The cook nodded. “I’ll keep all here as silent as the grave,” she promised.

  He nodded, satisfied, and gave her a smile of approval.

  They had finished their meal and now walked upstairs to the hall where those accompanying them were gathering. Some of the men were eating oatcakes and drinking from their flasks. It was the kind of meal they could finish a-horse. Seeing Lord Stewart and his companion, Iver signaled the men to move out into the courtyard.

  It was still dark outside, but the edges of the sky were showing signs of light as they mounted up. With Maggie and Fingal Stewart leading them, they exited forth from the keep’s courtyard. The horses’ hooves made a soft clop clop as they went. A pack of dogs ran by their side, yapping softly.

  “Where are we going?” he asked her.

  “There’s a small water near the pass entrance. The geese overnight there on their way south this time of year. They fly at dawn. We’ll be there in time,” Maggie assured him. “And there’s a boar that has been seen in the the nearby wood.”

  They reached their destination. The sky above them was considerably lighter than it had been when they left the keep. Tethering their horses, they crept through the underbrush to see a large flock of birds floating upon the placid water. They could hear the soft cackle of bird talk as they prepared their bows, carefully notching their arrows, and then waiting patiently for the moment when the birds would instinctively fly.

  The horizon began to show signs of blazing color. The scarlet and gold spread out along the edges of the sky. And then as the sun burst forth over the purview of the blue, the flock of geese rose up from the water, their cackling and the sound of their flapping wings making a great noise. The hunters stood up, and the arrows from their bows being loosed flew towards the birds. Some quicker than others rearmed and shot a second time. A rain of geese fell into the water while the birds that had escaped flew up and southward.

  “Loose the dogs!” Maggie cried.

  The water dogs among the pack dashed into the small pond, swimming towards the dead geese. Finally when all the birds had been gathered up and brought ashore, Maggie instructed one of the younger men among them to take them immediately back to the keep, where they would be hung head down in the winter larder until they would be needed for a meal. They counted twenty-seven geese among their kill.

  “ ’Twas nicely done,” Fingal Stewart said to Maggie.

  “If I couldn’t outthink a goose, what kind of a chatelaine would I be?” she asked him, grinning broadly.

  “Still a beautiful one,” he told her, grinning back as she colored prettily.

  “Now we have a boar to find,” Maggie replied, quickly changing the subject. “He’ll be more difficult, but if he’s young, not so wily as an older boar.”

  They rode away from the little water now devoid of birds, directing their horses’ steps towards a woodland bordering the village. But though they hunted the morning long, they could find no game at all. Just before dark, they took a young stag. Maggie was not at all satisfied. She wanted that boar.

  “We’ll hunt every day until we find him,” she said to Lord Stewart.

  They returned to the keep where the stag was butchered and hung in the winter larder, which was a little more than half full. If the weather remained decent, they should be able to fill it by month’s end, for there was plenty of game in the vicinity, Fingal Stewart thought to himself. Though they had missed the main meal of the day, the cook had provided them with trenchers filled with hot lamb stew that they consumed immediately. Afterwards Maggie spoke with her grandfather, Lord Stewart by her side.

  She explained to the laird the necessity of combining the keep’s men-at-arms with the men who had come with Fingal Stewart. “The two groups should be blended into one underneath the command of Clennon Kerr, Grandsire. But since our captain has never been able to choose a second in command, I would suggest that Lord Stewart’s captain, Iver Leslie, fill that position. Clennon Kerr must be consulted, of course, but it needs to be done sooner than later,” Maggie told her grandfather.

  “Aye,” the old man agreed. “It will also help my new grandson to be accepted by all here if we make the two groups one.”

  “Your new grandson?” Maggie said sharply.

  “He’s yer legal husband, lassie, which makes him my grandson,” the laird answered her pleasantly. He signaled to Busby, and when he had come to his master’s side, the laird said, “Fetch Clennon Kerr to me.”

  “Aye, my lord,” the majordomo said, hurrying off.

  Several minutes passed in silence, and then Clennon Kerr came bowing to the laird, to Lord Stewart, and to Maggie. “Ye wish to see me, my lord?”

  The laird explained, and when he had finished, his captain nodded in agreement.

  “Aye, my lord, ’twill suit me well. I have watched Iver Leslie in the weeks he has been here. He is a disciplined soldier,” Clennon Kerr replied. “And now that ye have made this decision, my sisters will have to cease nagging at me to promote this relation or that,” he chuckled. “And no one can claim I have favored my close kin over any other.”

  “Busby!” the laird called, and when Busby came, he was sent for Iver Leslie.

  Iver, who had been dicing with his Edinburgh companions at the end of the hall, gathered up his small winnings and hurried to the side of the laird of Brae Aisir. “Ye wished to see me, my lord?” he asked, bowing politely and casting a quick look at Lord Stewart.

  “With yer master’s permission, and that of my own captain, Clennon Kerr, I have decided to make ye second in command of the keep’s men-at-arms.”

  Iver’s face showed genuine surprise. “My lord, surely one of yer own could fill this position better than I,” he said. “I am honored, and will of course accept, but I should not take another’s legitimate place.”

  “I am related to everyone in Brae Aisir,” Clennon Kerr told Iver. “How can I pick one of my relations over another without causing offense? The laird has made his decision, and I am frankly relieved.” He held out his big hand to Iver Leslie, whose equally large hand clasped it in friendship.

  “Busby!” the laird called. “Drams of whiskey all around.” Then he looked at the two soldiers. “ ’Tis settled then. The decision was mine, Clennon Kerr. Yer sisters cannot blame ye, and the rest of yer kin will be relieved, I’m thinking.”

  Busby himself brought the tray with the dram cups of whiskey. A health was drunk to the laird’s wisdom. The matter was settled but for one thing.

  Going to stand at his place at the high board, the laird called out, “Hear me all within this hall and the sound of my voice. I have appointed Iver Leslie to be the keep’s second in command after Captain Clennon Kerr. Now let’s have a round of ale to celebrate, laddies.”

  And the serving men were at the trestles filling the tankards. A health was drunk to the two captains. Then the hall settled back down into its usual evening routine. The laird questioned his granddaughter as to the hunt that day and the state of the larder.

  “The larder is filling nicely. A few more weeks and we’ll have it done,” Maggie said. “By the beginning of December for certain, Grandsire.”

  “Set the date for yer contest, then, for December,” Dugald Kerr said. “The sooner, the better, my lass.”

  “And if it snows?” she asked him mischievously.

  “We
’ll clear the road for ye, lass,” he promised her.

  There was no point in arguing with him any longer, Maggie thought. Fingal Stewart was already her husband under the laws of Scotland. To put him off any longer was to put Brae Aisir in danger. She already suspected this was the man who could beat her fairly. He was neither afraid of her nor intimidated by her. But she would do her very best, and he would not find it easy to overcome her.

  “December fifth,” she said.

  The laird’s face was immediately wreathed in smiles. “Done!” he replied. “Ye heard her, David. She said December fifth.”

  “I heard her, Dugald,” the priest responded.

  “I agree,” Lord Stewart said.

  Maggie laughed aloud. “You always seem to agree with me, my lord. You would, it appears, be a most reasonable man. I hope it continues after we are fully wed.”

  “I cannot promise, madam, for you are not always a biddable woman,” he said.

  Maggie nodded. “That is indeed true, my lord,” she agreed. “I am not always easy, but I am usually right.” She smiled sweetly at him.

  Now Lord Stewart laughed.

  Dugald Kerr was pleased by what he saw. His granddaughter seemed to be accepting of this marriage of the king’s will. It all boded well but for one small detail.

  Maggie and Fingal were rarely alone, if ever. They needed more time together, but how was he to accomplish it? And then he knew, and the solution was simple. “Maggie, lass,” he said to her, “take Fingal to my library, and show him yer accounts. She’s a clever girl, my lord, as you’ll see when ye look at her books. No one can manage the accounts like my granddaughter.”

  “Och, Grandsire, I doubt Lord Stewart is interested in numbers,” Maggie responded, but she was smiling at her elder.

  “Nay, nay, I am quite interested,” Fingal Stewart assured her. He understood what the old laird was about. He and Maggie did need some time alone, and it was unlikely they would get it in the hall filled with Brae Aisir’s men-at-arms not yet gone to their barracks for the night. Ordering them out of the hall would but give rise to talk.