Page 70 of The Refuge

Chapter 13

Steinar’s first glimpse of the king’s manor at Ballingry reminded him of his home at Talisand. A two-story light-colored stone building with wooden roof and shuttered windows, it would serve well the king’s needs when traveling to St. Andrews if he did not lodge with Fife’s mormaer.

Reining in his horse in front of the manor, Steinar dismounted and went to help Catrìona to the ground, trying to ignore his body’s reaction to having his hands around her waist.

“You seem pleased to be off the horse,” he said, returning her brilliant smile.

“I am just happy to reach the first stop on our journey.”

He glanced behind him to see Colbán and the other guards assisting the queen and Audra from the cart just as a plump gray-haired man came striding from the manor to meet them. Attired in a brown tunic, he could have been the older brother of Nechtan, the king’s steward in Dunfermline.

“My Lady,” the man said in gracious manner, bowing before the queen, “welcome to Ballingry. The king sent a rider ahead with news of your coming. Your house stands ready to receive you.”

“Thank you, Gormal,” said Margaret. “I should have known Malcolm would do that. He worries for my travels, especially now that the child’s birth is but a few months away.”

Margaret introduced Catrìona and Audra to the steward, who knew Colbán. Steinar introduced himself. They followed the queen and her ladies while the rest of the guards went with the servants who were leading the horses to the stables.

As they reached the door, the queen said to the steward, “Your brother sends you his regards.”

The steward dipped his head. “Ah, Nechtan would remind me I owe him and my nephews a visit.”

“You had best hurry,” Margaret replied. “His sons grow ever taller. Soon, the king will have them joining the ranks of his men.”

Inside, the manor was laid out somewhat like the king’s tower in Dunfermline except it was not in the shape of a square and much smaller in size. Immediately before him were stairs leading to the floor above. The first story consisted of a large room containing a hearth and a long trestle table with benches on either side. At the far end, an open door led, he assumed, to the kitchen. The whitewashed walls were decorated with shields and armor, more a man’s domain than a woman’s.

The steward asked a servant to show the queen and her maidservant to the queen’s chamber. “There are refreshments waiting for you, My Lady.”

The queen thanked him and headed up the stairs with her maidservant.

The steward turned to Audra and Catrìona, informing them they would share a chamber on the same floor.

“There is room above for some of the guardsmen,” he said to Colbán, “but the others will have to bed down in the stables.”

Colbán shot a glance at Steinar. “You can share a chamber with me, Scribe.”

Steinar was glad he would not sleep in the stables, for he wanted to be close to Catrìona.

Not long after, they were all settled in and gathered around the long table for the evening meal. The air was filled with the aroma from the subtle spices in which the food had been cooked. The fare was simple but pleasing to the eyes. Platters of fish were served with vegetables, warm bread and butter, and bowls piled high with red berries.

Sitting halfway down the table, the queen took a bite of her fish. “’Tis very well cooked and most delicious.”

The steward beamed. “You are eating trout from Loch Leven, My Lady. The Keledei, or Culdees as you may know them, who live on the island in the middle of the lake brought us a fresh catch this morning. They are most grateful that you and the king have allowed them to retain the land.”

The queen seemed to ponder Gormal’s words. “My husband’s family has strong ties to the Culdees. Malcolm told me Crínán of Dunkeld, the Culdee abbot, was his grandfather.”

“Yea,” said the steward, “and a worthy man.”

“We worship the same God,” Margaret said to Catrìona, “but not always in the same way.” Then with a smile, she added, “I have enjoyed my debates with the Culdees concerning the observance of Easter.”

Steinar remembered the one meeting he had attended where the queen had, with Malcolm translating, forcefully argued her position that the Culdees should observe Lent differently. He could not see why the timing was so important, but he liked the debate. He had hoped there might be another such gathering for Catrìona to attend, but none had taken place since she had come to Dunfermline. Personally, he preferred the ways of the Culdees, who had fewer rituals and saw nothing wrong with their clergy taking a wife. Many of them were married.

Catrìona said naught about the queen’s remark but, instead, commented on the food. “’Tis even better fish than that served in Dunfermline.”

Others eating the trout nodded their agreement. Steinar had dined many a night on salmon from the River Lune at Talisand. The rosy flesh of that fish was very different from this trout with its subtler flavor. He missed the green valleys around Talisand, but lest the sadness for loss of his home overtake him, he forced himself to think of all he had gained since coming to Scotland, letting go of all he had lost. Had he remained in England, he would never have met Catrìona.

For a long while, the guests chatted amiably with the steward and neither Colbán nor Audra said anything. But Steinar had caught Audra stealing glances at the king’s captain, as if she were summoning the courage to address him.

Finally, Audra faced Colbán and said, “I have yet to thank you for your defense of my father in Alnwick, my lord. You risked your life for his. I am ever in your debt.”