Cailean gave her a quick approving look. "And what will ye do instead? Here in the camp, we dinnae stand for idleness."
"Well, I'm gonnae bathe first and try tae do somethin' about me battered body," Maeve said honestly. "I dinnae ken how ye're still movin' with such ease."
Cailean laughed, so loudly and suddenly that it startled one of the ducks, which took flight. They both watched it go, then Cailean said, "Ye'll get used tae it, Mary. It might take some time, but soon ye'll be so fit that a day's trainin' will feel effortless."
Maeve wasn't sure that she believed that, but she didn't argue. "I think I'll get tae ken everyone around camp," she said. "Ferda and the scouts, Patty and the healers, and the others as well. Everyone has their place, and I think I need tae get tae ken those places and help out where I can."
"Good," Cailean replied. "Excellent. I want everyone in me camp tae ken we're all part of the same team, nae separate factions who just happen tae be together."
"Yercamp?" Maeve asked.
Cailean tilted his head, frowning. "Thecamp, I said."
Maeve was almost certain that he hadn't, but she was also sure that now was not the time to push it. They sat there together in silence for a few more moments, then Maeve pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the ache in her legs that burned when she did so.
"Thank ye," she said awkwardly as Cailean looked up. "For today. For this."
Cailean shrugged. "I said I'd train ye. Now I'm trainin' ye. Dinnae let me down."
"I willnae," she swore. "Not ye, not Senan." And not herself, either.
* * *
The camp kitchens operated out of an old inn in the village, and Maeve found herself there helping to prepare lunch. She was comfortable in that kind of work, peeling and dicing vegetables with the practiced air that her time working for Bill had given her. She'd worried that it would trigger fear in her to be back in that environment, but the atmosphere was so warm and cozy and utterly different from Bill's inn that her heart didn't feel any negativity at all, only eagerness that she could do something useful to help.
The young man, Ben, whom she was working with was about twenty years old, and he walked with a limp from one leg that was slightly shorter than the other. He directed the kitchen like an old kitchen maid, and all the women and the few men who were also there to work obeyed him without question despite his gender and age. The girl from before who had been a cook, Lillian, was not around – apparently it was her rest day. Even that impressed Maeve; when she'd worked for Bill, he hadn't given her any such thing.
"How long have ye been a cook?" Maeve asked him as he handed her a sharp knife to help with her work. "Ye dinnae often see men doin' this kind of work in this kind of environment. Maybe in the halls of kings."
"This is the hall of a king, even if he's yet tae show himself, remember," he replied with a smile. "And I've been a cook since Cailean convinced me da I wasnae useless thanks tae this leg."
Maeve glanced at it, then quickly looked away.
"It's all right," Ben laughed. "Ye can ask. I was born this way. Me da is one of the soldiers here, me mam a healer. When they realized I came out like this, they kent I'd never be able tae fight for the rebellion, but thought I might become one of its scholars. As I got older, it became plain that wasnae the case. Even though I've had tutorin', I can barely write me own name."
Fascinated, Maeve said, "And so? Ye decided tae be a cook?"
"Me da wanted tae leave me at one of the villages when I turned thirteen," Ben explained. "He found a monastery that would have taken care of me well, and me mam agreed it might be good for me. I didnae want that, though. I wanted tae be part of the rebellion, tae fight for our future, even if I didnae ken how I could do it."
Maeve carefully began to clean the ingredients before her, allowing Ben to go on in his own time.
"It was Cailean who changed their mind. He heard us arguin' about it one night and he asked me da, well, if the lad cannae do the things ye think he's supposed tae be good at, why dinnae ye put a different kind of weapon in his hand? If not a sword nor a pen, what other options are there?" Ben laughed. "And me mam turned tae him and said, 'what's left? A spoon?' And the rest is history. Cailean convinced the council tae let me try out me skills in the kitchen, and it turned out I had a natural flare for it. I'd have never kent it if it wasnae for him."
Marvelling at the story, Maeve counted quickly in her mind. Cailean must have only been around eighteen then, stepping in to stand up for a young boy against a group of adults who no doubt were not so receptive to being told what to do with their own son. "But what made him interfere?" she asked, curious. She'd never in her life had anyone who would interfere like that for her, not until Ann and Eoin had saved her, anyway, or Senan later on.
"It's what he does," Ben said, shrugging. "As long as I've kent him, since I was a wee lad and he was just a wee bit older of a bairn. He comes across as gruff and harsh, but he wants us all tae be together. Honesty, togetherness, dedication, and respect: that's how he says we've managed tae stay afloat all these years."
* * *
Maeve was still thinking about Ben's story when she returned to her sleeping hut that night. The whole rest of the afternoon had been a whirlwind of activity; washing and mending clothes with some of the women — or trying to, as she mostly stabbed herself with the needle by mistake — aiding the stablemasters with feeding the horses, and even sitting in and trying to understand the high-level discussions of some of the scholars to the point that her mind was now as tired as her body.
It was a good tiredness, though. The kind of warm, welcome tiredness that she'd rarely experienced in her life, the kind that promised a good, deep sleep. The communal spirit of the camp was inspiring her, filling her with a new kind of hope and joy that she hadn't even known existed until now.
She lay down in her bed, gasping as her muscles groaned from finally being released from their strain. She winced, knowing it was only going to hurt more in the morning, but she couldn't bring herself to be too upset about it right now.
Neither Ferda nor Patty was back in the hut yet, so Maeve had the place to herself. She stared at the ceiling, reflecting on the last twenty-four hours of her life, scarcely able to believe the things that she'd seen and done. Only a few months before, she'd thought her life was over, but now it felt like it might just be beginning.
But through all the day, through all of her activities, she'd noticed an unbroken thread that followed no matter where she went. It was Cailean, of course; he'd been endlessly on her mind since the moment she'd seen him the day before, and the morning's training and the way they'd spoken afterward had only solidified it. She kept thinking back to the things he'd done and said; the way he'd challenged her then helped her, the way he'd looked with his scars glistening in the sun, the way he'd sounded when he'd given her advice, the way he'd felt when he held her hand…
