The Key (Deed 2)

Iliana supposed the money had been placed there long ago, when she and her mother had first started the chests. Finding the gift and letter had brought tears to her eyes. The thought that her father and mother had done such a thing while her father still lived had made her unbearably sad. Now her thoughts when she pictured the sack in her mind were far more practical. If her husband refused to pay for the spices, she would do so herself. She would have her spices.

She also intended to use some of those coins to pay for a couple of women from the village to come up to the keep and help her start work on the garden. The extra help was needed. There was much to get done and Iliana was loath to pull any of the other women away from cleaning the keep itself. Hiring some extra help seemed the best option. Once she had those two necessities taken care of, she would turn her attention to clothing for her people. They would not look like paupers for any longer than necessary, but just now, due to the time of year, spices and a garden were the more important issues.

Half an hour later Iliana returned, well pleased with herself and the four women she had in tow. All of them were strong, able, and more than willing to work for a few coins. Entering the keep, she cast a glance and an approving nod at the women reworking the whitewashing. It seemed this time they were willing to listen to Ebba's instructions. Though, judging from her maid's expression of grim satisfaction, it had taken some work to impress upon them the need to redo the wall properly.

Leading the four new women, Iliana continued on into the kitchens. "Elgin?"

"Aye? Oh! Good morn, me lady." Wiping the sweat from his brow, the cook smiled at her anxiously and gave a nod and a bow. "Did ye wish to break fast, me lady?"

The difference in his attitude from when she had first approached him was both noticeable and appreciated and Iliana showed it by beaming at him. "Nay. Thank you. Actually, I hoped you might show me where Lady Muireall had her garden?"

"Her garden?" He blinked.

"Aye. Yester morn ye said she had had a garden that had gone to rot and ruin--"

"Oh, aye. Well..." He glanced toward the pot he'd been working over, then nodded. "Aye, me lady. I'll show ye." Setting down the cloth he'd been holding, he started to lead the way, then paused to glance back at her. "Ebba said the spice man was acomin' today."

"Aye."

"I was a wonderin' what ye planned to purchase?"

Iliana smiled reassuringly at him. "Actually, I thought to discuss it with you after you showed me where the gardens were, so that I could get these ladies working on it. In fact, I thought you might have a thought or two on what to plant as well."

"Oh." The worry disappeared from his face at once, a smile replacing it. "Oh, that'd be fine, me lady. Just fine." Hurrying now, he turned and ushered them out of the kitchen.

Iliana had thought that if they placed the garden where Lady Muireall had hers, there would be less work involved in renewing it. One look at the spot where the garden used to be told her how wrong she had been. Twenty years was more than enough time for the garden to be reclaimed by nature.

"'Tis a muckle mess."

"Aye." Iliana sighed, her gaze moving over the women looking dubiously at the "garden." "I fear we shall be needing a man or two to help with the heavy work."

"Aye." Elgin nodded his balding head.

"I have a brother, me lady. He's fair braugh." It was the youngest of the women who spoke, a girl of perhaps fourteen.

Iliana peered at her uncertainly. "Braugh?"

"Strong," the cook explained from behind her, saying the word under his breath so that none of the women heard.

Touched by his attempt to help her save face, Iliana smiled at him slightly, then nodded. "Is there anyone else who knows of a strong man in need of a few extra coins?"

The oldest of the women stepped forward. "My boy's sixteen and strong, me lady."

Nodding again, Iliana glanced at the younger girl. "Go fetch both boys, please." She waited until the girl hurried off, then turned to the older woman again. "I shall leave you in charge while I see to the spices we need. I wish the garden to be from that tree"--she gestured toward a gnarled old tree on the far side of the garden, then turned to point to another on the other side--"to that one. We shall have to clear the space first and turn the dirt." She paused to frown as she peered at the would-be garden. "You shall need tools. Some spades."

"I can fetch those, me lady. The laird will have what we need."

Iliana glanced at the dark-haired woman now and inclined her head. "Ask Laird Angus then. My husband would be annoyed to be bothered with such a trifling issue."

The woman nodded and hurried off.

"All right, then. You know what to do. Should you have a question, I shall be inside with the cook." Iliana waited for their nods, then turned and led the cook back inside to discuss what spices he would need.

As it turned out there was very little discussion necessary. Elgin had been thinking hard on the subject. He knew exactly what he wanted. Iliana considered the amount and variety he requested, then gave her approval. He asked for nothing that was too generous or unusual. If anything, she wondered whether he would have enough spices until the merchant returned again and decided to purchase a little more than he asked for. Leaving him to his work, she returned to the garden once more.

The spades and the two boys had been fetched and everyone was hard at work when she reached the garden. Picking up one of the spades herself, Iliana bent to the task of digging out weeds and old herbs and turning the earth, ignoring the surprised glances of the other women as she did. Her mother had taught her to respect clothing, but she had also taught her the importance of hard work. How could you expect servants to perform a chore were you not willing to join them in it? Digging a garden had never hurt anyone.

"Son!"

Duncan turned at his father's shout, the irritation on his face sending the older man's eyebrows up in surprise.

"Well, donna ye look a mite unhappy. What be the matter, lad?"

Duncan grimaced at the term lad, his irritation deepening. His father did not usually refer to him in such a manner in front of the men. But then, it had been one of those days so far. Duncan had awoken that morning to find his wife wrapped around him like English ivy clinging to a castle wall. He'd had trouble sleeping the night before and had still been awake when Iliana had started snoring from her spot in the corner. Slipping from the bed, he'd lifted her carefully into his arms and shifted her to the bed. Not that she didn't deserve to sleep on the floor, but the stone floors in the old keep were fair cold, and she would most like have caught a chill sleeping there.

'Twas the only reason he'd done it, he'd assured himself then and did so again now. At any rate, it had been a sublime experience, awakening this morning to find her cuddled against him. Until she had shifted and that damn contraption she wore had rammed him in the side. It was then, when so close and yet so impossibly far from all her body had to offer, that he had determined to find a lock just like hers and take it to Gilley to learn how to pick it.

But there was not a damn lock anywhere within the keep walls or the village with a similar design. All he could think was that the Italians--for he was sure 'twas an Italian name she had mentioned as the maker of the thing--used some odd Italian sort of lock. At this point, he was beginning to think he would have to take her to Italy to get it off her...or take a bath, some part of his brain whispered, and he grimaced at the thought. Damned if he was going to do that! A man had to start out as he intended to go on. He would not bow to her whims.

"Nothing be the matter," he muttered. "'Tis just that I slept little last night."

Angus grinned. "All this houghmagandie is catchin' up to ye. Ye need more stamina."

Duncan's only answer was a grunt. He was damned if he was going to correct his father's beliefs regarding his lack of sleep. But taking in his father's teasing expression, he wished wistfully that he deserved it. "What do ye be needin', Da?"