“A verra many things, but I winna recount them in case the fae are listening. They might take it as an invitation.”
“At least we have a comfortable, dry?—”
The old man farted and woke himself up, exclaiming something that sounded like, “Oing…!”
He instantly fell back to sleep.
Torin and I giggled, as silently as we could. And then as the stench hit our noses we laughed even more.
He said, “Och nae, Princess, this is a fine castle I hae procured for ye.”
I said, “Only the best, I thank you, Torin.”
Then finally he said, “I am falling asleep.”
“Me too, good night, Torin.”
“Good night, Princess.”
20
LEXI
1558 - THE WAYSIDE
We woke with the dawn, the rain finally gone. The old man and his goat had slipped away, leaving us alone as we dressed. I was still fumbling with my plaid when the door banged open and an old woman swept in. Without asking she marched right up to me, plucked the plaid from my hands, and began wrapping it around me. Her eyes went wide.
“Where are yer skirts, m’lady?”
“Uh… I don’t have?—”
She whirled on Torin, scolding him in a stream of Scots too thick for me to catch.
I leaned toward him, whispering, “What’s happening?”
“Madame Elspeth’s furious ye arna properly dressed. She needs ye tae hae a skirt. She’s callin’ intae question m’abilities as yer husband.”
“Did you tell her that my skirts got washed away on the river?”
Madame Elspeth waved her arms, then stormed out, muttering, slamming the door.
“Where’s she going?”
“I think tae fetch ye a skirt. I daena think we are allowed tae leave until ye are wearin’ one.”
While Torin finished dressing and went to ready the horses, I sat and waited, bored out of my mind. About fifteen minutes later she bustled back in, a bundle of wool clutched in her arms. The skirt was the color of storm clouds — coarse, plain, and heavy enough to double as a blanket.
Madame Elspeth shook it out and held it up against my waist. “Twill do.”
I stepped into it and she tied the string tight at my middle, then tugged my shirt straight. “Better than yer legs bare tae the wind.”
“Yes, true.”
She cocked her head. “Where are ye from, Mistress?”
“The New World.”
“Och, tis verra far, even farther than France!”
