Moon Craving by Lucy Monroe

Author:Lucy Monroe
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2011-03-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The redheaded soldier Abigail had noticed earlier stepped forward. "I will show our lady to your quarters so she can rest from her journey, my laird."

Talorc nodded. He turned to Abigail. "Wife, this is Guaire, seneschal to the Sinclair holding."

"Seneschal? I don't know this word."

"It is similar to a steward," Guaire replied in English, earning himself a glare from the other warriors around him.

Except for a slight tightening of his shoulders, he ignored the reaction, showing he was used to such from the others. For some reason that bothered Abigail. She knew she was going to like this soldier. He had been happy when Niall laughed and that pleased Abigail.

Niall was one of the few people in the world she counted as friend.

As they walked away, Talorc must have said something because Guaire stopped and looked back at his laird. Abigail swiveled her head so she could read her husband's lips as well.

"You will give her your arm on the stairs and assure her safety."

"Aye, my laird."

"I'm no bumbler, Talorc." She was deaf, not lacking in grace. "I'm not about to go tumbling down the stairs."

"Nevertheless you will allow a soldier to aid you whenever you use them."

She gave him one of his famous shrugs, refusing to agree to such a ridiculous instruction and unwilling to lie either.

As she and Guaire left, Abigail was actually grateful for her inability to hear the many whispers and comments that had to be going on behind them.

They stepped into the hall and Abigail sucked in a breath.

The interior was every bit as imposing as the exterior and far more austere. No colorful silks adorned the stone walls to give the hall a more cheerful aspect. No chairs surrounded the huge fireplace, conspicuously unlit despite the late-afternoon chill in the cavernous room. The sun might shine outside, but it had not penetrated the thick stone walls of Talorc's tower home. The only furnishings in the great hall were two long tables with backless benches down each side.

"How many of the soldiers dine in the hall?" she asked Guaire, rather than commenting on the cheerless aspect of the huge room.

"Ten of the elite soldiers live here in the hall as well as Talorc's advisor, Osgard, and myself. Another ten to fifteen of the unmarried soldiers will join us for the midday or evening meal."

"The married soldiers never share a meal with their laird?" That surprised her.

Talorc struck her as a leader who would prefer to stay connected to all his people.

"It would be considered rude to leave their wives and families for such. Is it not the same in England?"

"Well, I know that all Sir Hamilton's soldiers were on rotation to eat in the great hall once a month. It was considered an honor."

"As it should be."

"Of course, their families were welcome to join them. Some did and some preferred not to. My mother liked to lord her position over the other women living in my stepfather's barony."

"Interesting." Guaire did not appear as if the comment was merely a polite one.

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