“Nae, I hae been travelin’ with men, they hae gone farther along while I am in search of m’wife.”
“Oh, yer wife?”
“Aye, she is missin’ tis why I hae—”
He considered his drawing while I spoke. “Dost ye prefer a wall tae a tower?”
“I do. The walls hae tae be strong for protection.”
“I daena agree, I think the tower tells the villagers that ye are above them. As a lord I would think ye would ken this.”
“Aye,” I shrugged. “Tis nae m’own villagers I am worried about attackin’ me.”
He chuckled.
I began again, “I am here tae—”
“My tower house will be four stories, the highest seen here in these parts of Scotland, have ye a higher tower, Lord Magnus?”
I did by a great deal more, but I lied and said my tallest was three stories, and that seemed tae make him comfortable enough tae ask, “What can I do for ye?”
“My wife and I were separated en route. I believe she asked for shelter here. I am lookin’ for her.”
“I haena heard of her ladyship sheltering within the walls, nae, tis nae possible.”
“Could it be she might be shelterin’ here without your knowledge? This is a verra large fortress, perhaps—”
“I would think a lady, your wife, would be brought tae m’attention, Lord Magnus. She would nae be ignored. I assure ye, she is nae here.”
“She is nae comfortable with the language. She might nae be—”
“I assure ye, if a lady was brought tae shelter within the walls of Balloch, I would ken of it. She has gone elsewhere.”
“Would it be possible tae ask in the kitchens? Tae ask of yer wife? She may ken. Ask her if she has seen the Lady Kaitlyn Campbell.”
He looked irritated. “My wife only kens what I allow her tae ken.”
“Of course.”
A knock at the door and a housemaid entered. “Sir Colin, there is a meal served in the hall.”
He turned tae me, “I need tae go converse with the mason. Then the morning meal has been served. Ye are welcome tae dine in my company.”
I said, “Might I inquire in the kitchens for the Lady Campbell?”
I caught a glimpse of the housemaid’s expression, her brow drawn down as she left the room and I grew emboldened. “I hae gold, I can reward ye handsomely for the trouble of allowin’ me tae search for her.” I withdrew a small bag of coins from my sporran and dropped them on the table before him.
“I daena see the point, Lord Magnus, she inna here.“ He pulled the bag towards himself greedily.
“I ask that ye give me time tae look, time tae speak tae the inhabitants of the fortress.”
“Ye may ask questions, but nae of m’wife or her women. They arna guards, they winna ken the comings and goings of the fortress and they arna allowed tae speak tae strangers unless I hae given them permission. They are pious women, Lord Magnus, interested only in womanly concerns.”
I nodded. “I ken. I will only speak with the men on it.”
I followed him down the steps tae the ground floor and out intae the middle of the courtyard. I took stock of the surrounding buildings, their doors closed tight, the windows shuttered from the cold. I might try yellin her name’, but I would only be allowed tae do it once afore bein’ stopped, and there was too much noise tae be sure of my voice being loudest.
He led me intae his Great Hall, nae much more than a tavern room. There I was offered a simple fare of cabbage soup with bread. I took some though I had already eaten. As I was handed m’bowl I lowered my voice and asked the young woman, “Have ye seen m’wife, Lady Kaitlyn? She is missin’ and has needed shelter—”
She shook her head and rushed away tae the kitchen.
I kent she was nervous about speakin’ tae strangers, but she had a look in her eyes as if she was afraid tae tell me somethin’.
Thirty-five - Kaitlyn
The night before
Mary returned. She abused me into the chair to nurse Duncan and then back to my corner to pray. I fell asleep sitting up and she hit me across the back with the rod. A loud thwack and blinding pain. I sat bolt upright and prayed again.
At nightfall I was given a small bit of bread and broth in the pewter cup. I ate and drank ravenously and then begged, “Please, more water. Please.”
She poured some water in the pewter cup and gave that to me to drink.
She was wearing my fucking wedding ring.
Her eyes followed mine to the ring and she smacked me in the face. I whimpered, “Ow.”
The children were all put into beds tae sleep, breaking my heart, because one of the boys was about Archie’s age. I couldn’t stop imagining him and Ben in a little sleeping puppy-pile of sweaty brows, onesie pjs and pink cheeks. So sweet. They could have beaten each other with sticks, screamed like banshees when they got in trouble for it, smeared food in their hair, temper tantrumed in exhaustion, but when they had fallen asleep — Emma and I would be all, “Aren’t they so cute?”
And they were. And I missed him so much.
I missed Isla so much.
The small oil lamps were blown out. Already I was losing track of my days. This was my second night, right? What day, what month, what year? No one to ask.
I knew it was before Balloch castle was built. If I wanted to chisel for help I had to wait for the walls to be built first. But still, even if they knew where I was, they couldn’t get to me. The fucking vessels wouldn’t go this far back. There was nothing to be done.
All I could think of — not planning, not revenging, not getting away, only how hungry I was, and how desperately, life-alteringly thirsty.
If I could have gone outside I would have lain in the snow and shoveled it into my mouth while I just allowed myself to go cold.
I needed to go to the bathroom again.
I was ashamed. These children barely looked at me. The babies just nursed from me. I was ringless, and peeing myself, completely devoid of dignity. The lady in the corner who got beaten for not praying well enough, for not listening, for not speaking, for being too dumb to understand... for being alone.
I wanted to die.
But that was the plan. They had another nurse. They didn’t need me, I was extra. They were going to use me until they were done with me. That was all. Nothing personal. I was an extra milk cow that had wandered onto their land. They didn’t need me enough to want the trouble of feeding me. They were like, whatever. They could milk me for a while. It was a bonus. It was free.
And there wasn’t a damn thing I could say.
That night was long, my bruises hurt. The floor was hard and the cold surrounded me, not an acute cold but a chronic, plus my skirts were wet. My scent — it was awful. I was dragged to the chair to nurse the older baby and then dragged to the ground to sleep. The second time I awoke to the newborn crying. I was dragged to the chair and the wee baby was put into my arms. A tiny little human that nursed piteously.
“Are they starving you too, sweetie? Where’s your mammy?” My heart broke for this being that had to grow up in this awful nursery with this bleak cold in this desolate century with the only nice person the lady from the corner. She wouldn’t even remember me after I died.