Author’s Note:
Okay, so here’s the scoop. I started writing this a few years ago, and got a ways and then ran flat out of ideas. So I’ll post it in pieces, and see what reaction I get...to see where it should go, and so on. A few notes– this is a theoretical (and made-up) Scotland, mid-thirteenth century. I'm sorry for any glaring anachronisms, but some of them are intentional. If there are any that just don’t work, please feel free to point them out.
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We bumped into another town, this one–at least, it seemed so by the time it took to reach its centre–larger than most of the others, and drove along for a while. It was fairly windy; it had been cold and wet for the fortnight previous, but it was sunny and warmer on that particular day.

Eventually we came to a stop, and we all waited for Mareem to come round to the rear of the wagon and further direct us. The cloth was pulled aside and Mareem’s face appeared; he gestured outside, and all of us stood up and got down from the wagon–without any help from him, of course. We found ourselves next another marketplace, like all the rest, except it, like the town it was in, was somewhat larger. Along the wall the wagon had been pulled by stood long benches, upon which the sixteen of us sat while Mareem and Noret went to get food. They came back with two large trays, and handed out to us the dishes upon them; they contained thin stew, with small pieces of bread in them.

When we had hastened through the meagre meal, Noret took back the dishes and stacked them on the trays, taking them away again into the house against which the benches were placed, and Mareem herded us toward the centre of the market. Mareem lined us up against a stone piling at the centre of the square, set up a cry, and the sale began. I think I can safely say that we all of us felt the same way. We were uninterested in a process we had gone through so many times before, but still apprehensive; who (if any) would return with Mareem, and who would leave to a different life in this seemingly cold, hard country?

At this point we were at the last stop but one, and of the sixteen of us remaining, only four others with skin as was mine were there of the original twelve. I rather thought that as many of us with pale skin had been brought as was possible, as the Northerners were more likely to buy us out of compassion.

By late afternoon ten of our number had been sold, including the four who were like to me. Mareem seemed pleased; it was always hard to tell with him, though, as he was so rarely pleased by anything. Only six left and a few hours remaining before sundown. I was expecting to continue on with the rest when a group of men on horses rode through the square, and one of the men, who was more finely dressed than the others, looked at us and held up his hand, calling out to the men, who stopped. A rider moved up to him and the man spoke to him for a short while, while we looked on interestedly, then the rider dismounted and came over to our little group. He spoke slowly in his language to Mareem, gesturing broadly towards us. Mareem surprised and, I deem, discomfited him by responding fluently in the rider’s tongue. The language was familiar and I recognised a few words, but only their sounds, not their meanings. After a few minutes Mareem spoke quietly to Noret, then said some words to the man. The man gave Mareem some money and remounted his horse, after speaking to the finely dressed rider.

Shortly after the train had ridden away, the rider appeared again, and Mareem gestured to Noret and spoke with the man again. Noret came over to me and told me to get my bag; I had been sold. I hurried to the wagon, Noret following, and he jumped in and pulled me up after him. I retrieved my small bag of belongings from the corner where it lay and looked at Noret. He told me that I had been bought by the man in the fine clothes, and that the rider would take me to the place where the man lived. I felt some slight sorrow when he told me this, for he was young and kind, and did not much love the Trade; he had had no other job open to him when he began to work for Mareem a few months before.

We said our parting words and he helped me out of the wagon, and led me back to the square where another girl had just been sold. Mareem took me up to the rider and said more strange words to him, gesturing to me a little. The rider nodded, beckoned to me, turned his horse around and left the square. I hastily followed, not wanting to be left behind in a not small town, especially with so many people milling around, who occasionally directed curious glances at me. Though the day was not cold I was glad of my scarf wrapped around my shoulders, which made me feel slightly less conspicuous. After nearly a quarter league in a relatively straight direction, we came to a hill with a large stone building on top of it. The road made its way up the hill, along which I was led by the rider. He looked at me at intervals but did not speak, I suppose because he lacked knowledge of my tongue, and figured that I knew not his. At the foot of the stone structure we came to a large gate, both tall and wide, through which we passed. Through the gate was a tunnel-like section (of the road), and beyond that a large yard which was open to the sky, yet surrounded on all sides by stone walls. I wondered what sort of place we had entered, so box-like and protected, yet large and spacious at the same time.

The rider moved toward a high wall on the left that was built out from the rest, and dismounted. He glanced at me and beckoned, then disappeared into a doorway. I followed him and found not him, but a short woman with a deeply lined, but not harsh, face. She took my hand–the left one, as my right was clutching my bag (the only familiar thing I had)–and led me along a series of passages and rooms, some filled with people, others not. Eventually we came to a stop in a large warm room, with several busy-looking people in it, many pots, dishes, and baskets, and a sense of comfort, if a rather disquieted one at that. My guide led me to a stool near a fireplace occupying most of that wall and sat me down upon it. She gave me a full bowl and a spoon, and then seated herself at a long table with many of the other people there. As they ate, so did I.

I found the stew thick and tasty, very unlike the stuff we had had that morning. To my surprise there were large chunks of meat in it, something that I naturally did not get very often. As well there were solid pieces of vegetables, and thick pieces of dark bread. After that small meal I felt fuller than I had in a long time. When everyone had finished and all was put away–I insisted on their allowing me to help to clean up, which, by the way, was not too easy, since I spoke not the language–the short woman took my hand again and led me off to a door across from the fireplace (the door we had entered by was to its left). On the other side of the door was a tiny room with one other door, and through it bustled a large, comfortable-looking woman. She talked to my guide for a space while I looked anxiously from one to the other as either spoke. The large woman saw me looking at them and laughed, saying something to the short woman, at which she also looked at me and laughed–but I knew they were not being unkind. The large woman said something to me and took my hand; by now I held it slightly away from my side, so whoever decided to grab it next would not have to dig it out of my skirts. As we walked down halls and through rooms and up stairs she chatted to me, although I was sure that she knew I could not understand. Although the speech was sounding more familiar all the time.

At long last, when I was beginning to tire of wandering through such a confusing mass of long, stone corridors and her face was turning red and she was fairly gasping for breath, we came to a group of doors that were fancier than the rest. The woman led me through a door into what looked like a receiving room, and through that into a smaller, undecorated room, though it was by no means bare. She waved a hand around the room and said something, took my bag from me and laid it firmly on the bed, as if to say, ‘You stay here.’ Then she smiled at me, and left.

Having been shown to a room and told to stay, I stayed. It did not take me too long to realise the reason for there being only one bed; this chamber was my own! It seemed that the Northerners who lived in this cold, wet country were not as cruel as the land they inhabited. I had been given meat and thick bread for my evening meal, smiles and amiability, and then the finale: a room to myself! It seemed almost too good to be true, but I wouldn’t waste time gloating over it. There was a window in the room that let in bits of the breeze that the morning’s gusts had turned to; it was open and begging to be taken notice of.

So I complied, crossing the stone floor, and looking out, leaning my hands against the sill. A puff of warm air blew in, caressing my face and swirling the light scarf around my bare arms, as if welcoming me; I was comforted. Perhaps being a slave in the North Country would not be nearly so awful as we had all thought.

I heard the outer door slam, and footsteps came to my door and it was opened before I could turn. I spun around, waiting for a scolding of my idleness. But I was facing a girl, a little younger than I, with round, pink cheeks. She laughed, and said something as she came over to me where I still stood at the window. She smiled sunnily at me, as inviting me to do likewise; so I did, but tentatively, so I could pull back quickly if I had been mistaken. It was apparently the right response, for the girl’s smile grew wider, and she laughed again, a merry laugh, which, like her smile, called for me to join in. Her laugh was irresistible, so I had to laugh as well, without really knowing why, and while we were laughing she took my hand and led me over to the bed, where she sat down, tugging me after her.

I removed my scarf, for I did not need it, and the girl picked it up gently, regarding the delicate fabric with awe, her mouth making an O of wonder as she rubbed it softly with a finger. Then her gaze moved to my jacket, and from there to my skirt, her eyes wide. I sat quietly as she touched my clothes, wondering what she found so fascinating about a slave’s dress, but then, most of the Northerners I had seen today were clothed in coarse, dull cloth, very unlike my light, colourful scarf and skirt.

As the girl investigated my clothing I had time to get a good look at her without her noticing, or meeting her eyes. She had pale gold-brown hair, and very white skin. Her hands were not small, being slightly large for one of her age, but then, mine were quite large also. She wore a heavy red gown, one that looked well fit to the weather of the days previous. Her eyes were the colour of the sky, and she had fine features. Her clothing, although not very fancy, was much nicer than that of the people in the town, and that of the small woman and the one had brought me to my chamber. I wondered then if this girl was to be my new mistress, and if so, why she was sitting next to me on my bed in my chamber, admiring my clothes? It simply didn’t make sense! After a bit she pointed to herself and said I-lihz-eh-bet’. I repeated her word, then pointed to myself and said Farina, which she repeated–Fuh-reen-uh. We smiled at each other. She folded my scarf and put it and my bag into a small drawer under a table nigh the bed. A forgotten word pushed its way to the front of my mind and I said it slowly: T’angk-iu. I said it again, thank-you, and she smiled at me: iur uelkum. My mind remembered ‘you’re welcome’, too. The girl–Elisabeth–grinned and left, leaving me not quite sure of what my future was to be like.

Soon it was dark. I turned to get into bed and found a creamy robe laid upon it that I had not noticed before. I slipped into it, then under the heavy bed coverings, which seemed stuffy at the time, but as the night drew on I was glad of them.
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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think! Am anxiously awaiting feedback...(wink wink nudge nudge)

A/N: Well, here it is, sorry it took so long. Many thanks to those who reviewed, and to my wonderful beta Drusilla, who is a bottomless well of yummy info.
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Chapter Two: Learning the Ropes

I awoke well after daybreak, to my horror, and rushed into my clothes, slopping my face and hands with the water I found in a jar on the table. I prayed that Elisabeth would not yet have risen to witness my tardiness. As I sped out the door, I stopped dead in my tracks, for there was Elisabeth! She rose from a chair and came toward me; I awaited the inevitable slap, but it did not come! Instead, she clucked at me, like a hen, and pushed me back into my chamber and went to a chest against the wall the door stood in. She opened it, and pulled out a grey gown which she handed to me. She said, accompanying her words with quick gestures, “Try this on. It was meant for me, but it was a bit too big, so it ought to fit you. Here!”

So I took the dress, saying ‘thank-you’–now not with so much hesitation, and pulled the dress over my head. It was rather coarse and dull compared to the fine Eastern cotton I was used to, but it looked like what I had seen everyone else in this place wearing, and I wouldn’t turn down anything that made me fit in a bit better. Elisabeth came around behind me and pulled tight the strings in the back, then laughed with satisfaction–at least I think it was satisfaction. Elisabeth led me to a small piece of glass hung on the wall in the sitting-room and gestured to it. I looked, and saw myself! All of the mirrors I had ever seen were polished metal, with handles, or stood on the floor: never on a wall. A glass mirror was wholly new to me, and I eyed it–and myself–curiously; I had not seen myself, except in streams and the shadowed, rippling surfaces of water in buckets, for many years.

I saw a tall girl, her hair paled by sunshine, with blue-grey eyes under straight brows. A few freckles marched across an unremarkable nose, which, like her face and neck and hands, was very much browned by long exposure to the Eastern sun. Against my darkened skin, the grey of the gown did not look too good, but it was warm, for which I was thankful, as the morning was chill. The room was chill as well, despite the crackling fire in the wall to our right; across from the fire was the door to my room, and in the mirror-wall was another door. The door leading to this room from the hallway was behind us.

When I had looked about me for a moment or two, I returned to my chamber and took down my hair. I carefully replaited it so it would stay out of my way, looping it up and tying it with a bit of cloth I used as a riband. Elisabeth watched me from the doorway; when she saw I had finished, she came in and promptly started touching things in the room, saying words which I repeated carefully. The sounds were coming back to me from I knew not where, assumedly my life before I became a slave. Had I come from this strange northern land? It seemed quite possible, I thought as I repeated her words with growing ease. Other words nudged their way out of the dark corners of my memory, but I did not try to grasp hold of them yet.

By this time we had moved around the large room and, through the door to the left of mine, into another large room. This one had a big bed in it, almost as wide as Elisabeth was tall, and several hands longer. It had a frame above it, supported by posts, and on this frame, though pushed up near to the head of the bed (against the wall) were heavy drapes of a rich red, similar in colour to Elisabeth’s gown, though deeper in hue. This bed stood against the wall to the left of the door, and on the far side of it was a wide window, about five hands across, and nearly seven high. In this window were small panes of glass, many of them, to my surprise, coloured. At one side of the window hung more red cloth. Against the wall across from the door was a fire-space–which my mistress had pointed out to me as a ‘hearth’–and above it was a long shelf with something that looked like a book and some cloth and, to the left, a large table. Against the right wall was a tall wooden cupboard, and next to it a low chest, with a carven front and metal handles. Against the wall with the door in it was a plain wooden chair, and a small table.

Elisabeth named everything in the room, from the latch on the door to the colours in the window. As she was pointing out the different panes (and I was repeating), the door opened and someone came into the room. After starting ‘round in surprise I quickly dropped my eyes. Elisabeth seemed more to want me to make eye contact with her than not, but I wasn’t sure how many people here shared such a strange policy. Elisabeth greeted the person with what sounded like pleasure, so I unstiffened a little, thinking that such a sunnily-natured girl would not be likely to have a fondness for an unpleasant person. I must have relaxed visibly, for the person who had just entered snorted and made an ironic comment; though I did not know the words, his tone was unmistakable. Elisabeth nudged me and I looked up, feeling a shock go through me as I met the eyes of the person who stood there–I saw him start, as well. A tall young man, perhaps of sixteen or seventeen years of age, with a shock of pure black hair, tanned skin, and startling eyes. Very dark, like his hair, but with specks of what seemed like…light--like flashes of sunlight in a bubbling spring. After what seemed like an age he put out his hand, and I slowly put mine into it, and we shook hands–something which I had observed the Northerners did when greeting each other–and he stepped back. The youth’s left arm was wrapped about a bundle of cloth, and this he placed on a shelf in the tall cupboard. As he did this, he talked to Elisabeth, and she responded briefly, and then he left. Elisabeth and I had, for the most part, completed her tour of her rooms, so we returned to the large, centre room–which she called a ‘waiting-room’–and sat down. A few minutes later the youth came in with a tray of food and set it down upon the table in the middle of the room, about two paces from the fireplace. As he left, Elisabeth beckoned me toward the table and set a platter in front of me, then proceeded to put food on it as I watched; she would not allow me to do aught but that.

Eggs she placed on the plate, and thick dark bread, and a cool brown mush, and a hot white mush, and a cup of milk. She pointed out that the brown was ap-el-saus, and the white por-itch. They were both good. I ate slowly, but without much hesitation; I relished this turn of fate that had so improved my diet, and allowed my mistress and me to hold conversation–at least, she talked. When all of the dishes were empty, I set them neatly back on the tray and moved over to the fireplace to sit in front of it. Elisabeth, however, pulled at my sleeve and gestured to a lovely embroidered chair. I think I must have looked shocked as I pulled away, for she laughed and shook her head, then pushed me into the seat. She sat down across from me, and talked quickly until, after a space of about five minutes, the youth came in to take the tray. Elisabeth spoke to him; he nodded and left. He returned shortly, and Elisabeth touched my arm and waved toward him. The youth stood at the door, holding it open, so I thought Elisabeth meant to imply that she was leaving, but she made no move to go. Then the young man met my eyes and waved his hand out the door, so I rose and went toward him.

He followed me out the door, and led me a brief way down the corridor, to the left, then through a smaller, unadorned door. He ushered me in, something I had never had done for me before. Inside there was a small fireplace in the left-hand wall, and some chairs and a table in front of it, a pace or two away. He pointed to one of the chairs at the table, and said something, so I sat down as he sat in the other one and turned to face me across the table. Upon the table were some rectangular pieces of slate and two narrow pieces of white stone. The youth picked up a piece of the white stone and handed it to me, along with one of the pieces of slate. He pulled the other grey square toward himself and took the other white stick. He wrote something on his slate, turned it toward me, and said ei. I repeated the sound and copied the letter onto my slate. The youth wrote a second familiar-looking letter, and called it bi, and I copied the mark and its name. He proceeded to write out their whole alpha-beta, and with each letter it got easier for me, as more and more came back to me from a dim past.

When we had written the alpha-beta and said it a few times, the youth wiped away the letter and, in their place, wrote down words and drew pictures of them, some with articles, some without. Several times, as soon as he finished writing a word, I would say it, and he would look at me in surprise, for he had not yet told me how to pronounce the letters in that sequence. Later he wrote sentences, the words written from left to right, oddly enough, with pictures above them. He spoke not except to read what he had written, and to correct my pronunciation; no gestures or signals did he make to aid me. At the end of what must have been two hours, when we had covered and cleared the slates four times with writing, he wrote a question. Above the first word was a questioning mark, above the second, an arrow pointing to me, above the third, a face with a pleased look–the youth had a talent for capturing expressions–above the fourth and fifth, someone walking, and above the sixth, an arrow pointing through a picture of a door toward a picture-field with picture-trees in it. I figured out his meaning as I read the words aloud to him; he was asking, did I wish to go out-of-doors? I smiled at this strange way of communicating, looked up, and nodded, punctuating it with an ‘aye’.

The youth looked pleased that I should so soon use their words of my own accord, and opened the door for me. He closed it behind us, then led the way down a different hallway, down another stair, to a door that opened into the large yard. He did not stop here, however, but continued across it to a door in the outer wall and unlocked that with a key at his belt. He swung it open about halfway, then followed me through the gap, closing the door carefully behind him. I turned around to face the place we had come to and laughed aloud. It was an exact image of the youth’s drawing depicting ‘out-of-doors’, as far as scenery went. We were in a meadow of thick green grass, scattered with white flowers, and, here and there, tall, bushy trees.

I was given words to repeat here (the trees he named mai-pels, the flowers, dais-is,) and dutifully repeated them, although my mind was almost fully occupied in remembering–remembering those flowers, thick grass, wet leaves shining after rain, wind-blown branches, and stone walls; though not those of this castle–for such had the youth called the large stone building. We walked into a wood where there was a stream and a small lake. Beside the lake was a long, flat stone and upon this stone was a cloth-covered basket, upon seeing which I gave a small cry. The youth grinned at me and sat down on the rock next the basket, and pulled off the cloth. I sat down a few hands away and he handed me a bowl, then a cup, and furnished himself likewise. After this he pulled food and drink (in a leathern bottle) out of the basket. He waved to the food arrayed on the rock and started filling his plate; I immediately followed his example. By the way he ate he appeared to have had no breakfast. I do not remember what was supplied for our noon meal. For my mind was still spinning—bewildered over the things which I had been rapidly remembering more and more of–not concentrating on what found its way to my stomach.

The youth must have noticed my absent-minded state, for during our meal I caught him watching me several times, and when it was completed, he looked at me anxiously at me with his head to one side, his lifted eyebrows denoting a question. I smiled and said that all was well, but of course he did not understand me. I concentrated for a moment, then said the same thing in his tongue. His eyes widened momentarily; he soon recovered from his surprise and laughed, saying something as he turned to face the lake. Afraid I had erred, I slowly asked him if I had said the words correctly, and he gave a short nod, his lips forming a half smile. I packed the basket and tucked the cloth in over the top. I touched the youth’s sleeve to get his attention, but he made no response; I, too, turned toward the lake and sat with my legs crossed and my chin in hands, my elbows propped on my knees.

We sat there for a while, and the youth never moved. After about a half of an hour he sighed and rose; I followed his example. He made a move toward the basket, but I was nearer to it and promptly seized it. The youth grinned at me and made a grab for the basket, but I stepped out of reach and he gave in. We began our walk back to the castle. The youth spoke not a word, so I made an attempt to start conversation, but again forgetting and speaking in my tongue—winning a puzzled look from the young man. So I switched to his language, again surprising him, as I asked what people called him. After a moment he responded that a few people called him ‘Jem’, but that his ‘full name’ was James. He apparently had not been told my name, for he asked me the same question, looking sideways at me as we walked out of the wood. I told that my name was Farina, and he shook his head! He said that my name sounded like one in his tongue, and that he hoped I didn’t mind if he called me ‘Fiona’, instead? I smiled and said no, I didn’t mind.

A whole forgotten language had unearthed itself in my mind, and I was eager to put it to use, so all the way back to the castle I talked to James, he sometimes correcting me, but not very often. At one point, he remarked to me that the way I spoke his language (and the speed with which I picked it up) was strange; I didn’t speak it with an Eastern accent, but the same way in which the Northerners. It appeared, he said, that I had come from somewhere in that region, which was a slightly—disturbing—thought for me. James at that point declared his intention of helping me to hunt out my birthplace, and if possible, my family. I laughingly, though somewhat slowly, told him that he was very kind, but there was no need as they had probably forgotten about me by now. James just shrugged, so I changed the subject, to ask him what my duties would be. He told me that I would be a maid to Elisabeth, and also help in other places. He was to be my guide until I was accustomed to both my way around the castle and my work.

And so he was, for the next couple of weeks. He showed me around Entley Castle, as I learnt it was called, and led me through my work in the kitchen, where he also worked, and the laundry, where he didn’t. He also coached me in English (his language) for my knowledge of it was slight, as I had only known it for a few years, before I was taught another. He did most of this in the wee room of the table and chairs, where he kept a large supply of slates and, when they wore out, new sticks of chalk. I learned much of daily life in the North during my hours spent working, and much of their tongue, and its irregularities as well. The three of us–James, Elisabeth, and I–went on pick-nicks in the woods, and went swimming in the lake in the woods, and we grew to be firm friends—at least, I became friends with both of them; they were friends already.

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A/N: PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!! It lets me know that someone is interested (if that’s so), and gives me pointers.

A/N: I finally got it up, having edited and re-edited it, and adding big chunks. Heaps of thanks to my splendiferous beta Drusilla, without whom this story could not survive. Please R&R!

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James seemed to be a sort of unofficial bodyguard to Elisabeth, as well as a regular servant. If he accompanied her, her nurse – the large woman who first shew me to my chamber – did not. I was permitted to attend a few of Elisabeth’s classes with her, which completely astounded me; even though it seemed I was there in the case that she had want of something, I still absorbed as much of the information I heard being relayed between Elizabeth and her educator, and was amazed at the things which I began to quietly learn.

I had not all that much work to do, as I had been bought more out of compassion than need, so I also found myself with several hours of unoccupied time frequently – something else which was entirely new to me. On some days I went to classes with Elisabeth in my free time, and on others I picknicked in the woods and fields with James – and with other friends whom I made among the servants, when they had a bit of free time.

Once Elisabeth’s mother was sent a gown from a neighbouring castle as a pattern for a garment being made for Elisabeth. Consequently, Elisabeth had to try it on to see how well it fit, but it was too large for her. As she removed it, she kept eying me, and finally burst out a question to Nurse. She asked if couldn’t I try it on, please, it looked as though it might fit me better, oh please, Nurse, please!?

Nurse shook her head and muttered to herself, but finally she agreed. I had been backing away, realising the impropriety of Elisabeth’s plan, but she dashed toward me and pulled me forward before I backed out the door of her room where I had been helping her. She insisted that I try it on, and I knew my duty to obey her, so I complied. The change did not take long, and to our surprise (Nurse left just as Elisabeth finished adjusting the back, still muttering and shaking her head), it fit as perfectly as though it had been made for me, fitted within the hour. Elisabeth crowed with delight and clapped her hands as I looked at myself in her mirror, which was longer than the one in her sitting room.

She drew the attention of James, who had just entered the sitting room to add wood to the fire. He completed his task and came to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame, surveying me with a funny look on his face. I noticed it and asked him what was the matter, but he shook his head and the look vanished. He twirled his finger commandingly, so I slowly turned ‘round until I stood facing him, taking care not to drag the skirt on the floor. He applauded and I curtseyed – another thing I had remembered how to do – winning another funny look from James; I seemed to have a talent for that. Soon Elisabeth shooed him out and shut the door, and helped me to pull the gown over my head. I expressed my astonishment at the fit of the gown, but Elisabeth stated that it was a very conceivable coincidence: that I should be the same size as the owner of the gown.

It was a simple dress, yet lovely: of a deep rose colour, it had a rounded neckline and fell comfortably from the shoulders to the floor, but the upper part was fitted to the waist and ribs, and matched mine perfectly. It was also just right for my height and shoulder width; Elisabeth was thinner and a few inches shorter than I. She wrapped up the gown and placed it in its wrappings on her bed; I put on my grey gown again and opened the door to leave. James had left with the wood basket; the room was empty. It was nearly time for one of Elisabeth’s lessons, so we set out for the room in which she was taught.

At the end of Elisabeth’s lesson in French we walked back to her sitting room (lacking anything better to do) and she had me interrogate her on the new things she had learned. After a short while James came in with a chess board and offered to teach us how to play the game. Although the people here had been very kind to me, I still knew my place. Chess was not a game for slaves to learn, let alone actually play; I refused the offer, and went into my chamber and closed the door.

I was tired from a late retire the previous evening, so I lay down to rest, fiddling with my chain as I waited for sleep to come. It was a pretty thing of a very bright, silvery metal, and of cunning design. I had had it for as long as I could remember, some token from my first home, I supposed, and I often took it out and played with it when I was unsettled; although my life in the East had hardly been easy, it was what I knew and called home, at least until I had been uprooted. The North was no longer strange to me, but it was not yet my home. I fell asleep with my fingers wrapped around the chain.

I slept deeply and long, awakening to the sound of the outer door closing. I rose and put my chain away; it had slipped out of my hand as I slept, and lay a few hands from me. I opened my door and entered the sitting room. Elisabeth had departed for the noon meal; James still sat at the table, and appeared to be playing chess with himself. He looked up as I stood in front of my door.

“Would y’ like t’ play a game o’ chess?”

I searched for an excuse to refuse him.

“I know not the game.”

“I’ll teach ye, then.”

I shook my head so vehemently that he laughed softly, but he only returned to his game. He patted the chair next to him, so I tentatively crossed the room and sat in the chair, staring at the fire. I was careful not to watch James at his game, as it would likely seem an impertinence.

After a time James casually asked me, “Where did ye get th’ chain?”

I jumped and spun around. He had turned to face me and was leaning his elbow on the table, chin in hand. My tongue stumbled over itself in my effort to respond, berate, and accuse all at once – my small knowledge of the language did not help. James smiled and put out a hand to check me. I took a breath, then proceeded at a slower pace.

“It truly was not proper for ye t’ come into ma chamber wi’oot…permission, for one thing. An’ while I was sleepin’!” I did not need to add that it was worse for my being a girl.

“I had permission,” James responded smoothly.

“What?!” I demanded. “What permission?”

“Ma oon,” he shot back at me with an ill-concealed smile.

“Weel, then…what right had ye to search ma…possessions? An’, an’ wherefore should I answer yer question? Ye dinna’ deserve an answer!

James looked as though he were considering my demands, even while he contemplated the chess board. Finally, he spoke, in a suspiciously guilt-laden tone.

“I apologise fer havin’ gone in an’ investigated. I am in sooth an ungrateful, undeservin’ wretch.” He paused to move a piece across the board. “But Fiona, will ye no’ please satisfy ma curiosity? Else I feel sure I should die o’ dissatisfaction!”

I snorted at this obvious sarcasm and finally agreed; after all, what was there that needed concealment? So I told him its brief, uninteresting history.

“Weel, I have always had the chain – or as long as I can recall to mind. But I dinna’ ken where I got it.” James gave me a look that made it clear he was waiting for the rest of the story.

"That’s all," I added. "Was it intriguin’? An’ did ye learn aught from it?"

James merely shrugged, a look of arrant disinterest on his face, and turned back to the board.

“Are ye sure ye dinna’ want t’ learn?” he asked me after a minute or so.

I snapped “Nay!” and left the room.

I went down to the kitchen to see if I could be of use; although my work had ended about an hour before, I had naught to do for the rest of the afternoon (which was, of course, a fairly rare occurrence), and thought I might as well work. As I expected, there was room and to spare in the kitchen, and I was quickly pulled into the hubbub.

Much was talked of in the kitchen, as it was the hub of servant life in the castle; I opened my ears, as did everyone: the talk made the work go faster.

“Ma Thom was gang t’ gae tae the smith th’ dee, t’ hav’ the iron fixed, but then he fell doon upon th’ door sill an’ hurt his ankle, an’ he willna’ gae unless I help him. So I told him I might as weel take it maself, instead o’ both of us goin’ fer one wee iron.” So Thom, who usually came every few days to bring goods from town, would not be seen for a while. That meant either a temporary shortage of greens, or a new man who would not know what to bring or where to put it when he did. Whichever happened, we would have more work to do, either doing the purchasing ourselves or overseeing the unloading.

“Mairi brought oop th’ new basin this morn,” I heard one of the kitchen lads say loudly, so people could hear him. This was clearly a bit of more interesting talk.

“An’ she said there was a calf took right oot o’ someone’s pen. Right oot, in th’ wee hours! No one saw aught, but there was talk that someone heard bawlin’ doon a back road. There ‘re thoughts o’ thievin’, or e’en the outlaws y’ hear tell of. An’ th’ wool merchant was missin’ a whole bittie sack o’ coin, locked oop, he said.”

“Locked oop in his window!” someone interjected, and there was a shout of laughter.

“Aye, but did he lock it wi’ a key, or his threats? That man’s relieved me o’ a pretty penny ‘fore this, an’ I tell ye nae lie.”

“Aye. He’s doon sae, i’ truth.”

“Perchance we’ll get our right money, then. Y’ ween?”

A chorus of good-natured ‘ayes’ followed the suggestion. I could not help but notice that the staff seemed more than usually excited, so I asked Kirsty, my especial friend, what the cause of the commotion was.

“Weel, sure, a bittie of a visit’s bein’ planned,” she informed me. “T’ th’ largest town ‘round, y’ ken. They call it a city, ‘t is sae large!”

“Wherefore are they goin’?” I had heard nothing of such a trip. Neither Elisabeth nor James had said anything, either to me or in my hearing, of an intended journey away.

“Weel, ‘t is the capitol o’ th’ land. ‘t is where th’ king lives!” Her face was almost comically dramatic, but the subject certes fit her excitement.

“A few servants are t’ gae along,” she continued. “An’ every soul here must ken who! Everyone is arguin’ fit t’ burst.” I must have looked confused, for she returned to her explanation of why the MacCoinneachs were to make the trip.

“They’re gang on account o’ th’ king. Y’ ken, th’ lord an’ th’ family are related t’ th’ king himself, sae they’re all family. I ween th’ queen an’ our Lady are cousins i’ some manner. I dinna’ ken exactly. But I’m sure our oon Master James will gae, fer he’s seen as keepin’ th’ Lady Elisabeth oot o’ trouble. She was a one fer makin’ her nurse sweat, th’ lass, afore James came an’ she took a likin’ t’ him. I ween he scolds her, e’en, an’ she says not a word! I ken he’s ne’er been rebuked fer it. An’ th’ Lady’s women will gae wi’ her, an’ Lady Catherine’s, an’ milord’s men. An’ almost certes men-at-arms, t’ guard them on th’ road, in th’ event o’ any bad folk comin’ along. Och! Noo I’ve t’ leave t’ get th’ dishes from the Hall! I’ll likely see ye later, F’nara,” she said as she hurried away across through the kitchen.

Left more or less alone, I finished my task, then collected my dinner portion and a rag and slipped out of the kitchen. I stopped in the wee hall outside to tie my meal up in the rag, and then I left the building and crossed the courtyard to the door in the wall. I slipped through and walked into the meadow.

I had to do some extensive exploring, as I was by myself and had a full six hours until the evening meal. I sat under a nearby tree to hastily eat my lunch, then tucked the cloth beneath a bush at its foot and made for the wood.

Having so much time, I stopped to look at anything that caught my eye; it took me nearly a half of an hour to reach the wood, instead of the usual five minutes. The field of tall grass stretched far out to the hills, almost as far as I could see. There it faded into a low purple plant whose name I did not know, as James had never told me. Large bright-green-leaved maple trees stood here and there in the meadow, and short dark thorny bushes grew clustered around the trunks of several of them. They had stopped blooming a while ago, and I took this opportunity to inspect them, to discover what fruit might be growing on them; both James and Elisabeth had mentioned something about eating from them.

I found that I had timed my exploring perfectly. All along the spiny stems were plump, lumpy black berries. When I tasted one I found that it was very sweet as well as juicy, and I greedily ate quite a few more before turning away from the plant. I was tempted to visit the other thorny plants to see whether they also had berries, but I did not; would not James and Elisabeth want some as well? My mouth tasting pleasantly sweet and my fingers darkly stained, I wandered on toward the trees.

Once at the lake, (to decide in which direction to go) I closed my eyes, turned ‘round a few times, then stopped, opened my eyes, and laughed out loud. I had turned to face the lake; I could spin again, or cross the stream at a narrower point and come back, or go straight. The day was sunny and warm to the point of being hot – I had gotten quite damp on my way down and was still feeling uncomfortably heated, so I decided to ‘be firm’ with myself and not sway.

I had chosen (or my feet had chosen for me) the way across the lake; that way I would go. I kilted up my skirts into my girdle, took off my shoes (and tucked them into my girdle as well) and stepped forward. The water was cold but pleasant after my long walk down to the wood. After a few steps the cold water was to my waist, then to my chest, and, finally, to my neck, and I started to swim. I was not dressed in a bathing costume, but my dress was light and did not really tire me. By the time I reached the other side of the lake – it only took a few minutes – I was completely cooled off, but a bit out of breath, so I sat down on the bank to rest; although I had swum several times in that lake, I had almost never been in water before James taught me to swim, and certainly not in so much, so cold water.

I did not tarry long, but shortly rose and set off. Though realising the impropriety of leaving my dress tucked up, no one would see it, and it would be awkward and heavier if it were down, so I left it up. I took down my hair to give it a chance to dry, and struck into the woods.

After hours of meandering and exploration I came upon the stream a ways upstream of the lake, and decided to follow it back to the lake, and, from there, return to the castle, as it wanted only a bit over an hour until sundown. As I walked I became of a growing feeling of being watched – it had happened a few times earlier, but was much stronger now, and began to be truly disconcerting. As before, I turned to see if aught – or anyone – was there. I thought I saw bushes move, but, as I told myself, there was no scarcity of animals in the wood; ‘moving bushes’ were not a rare occurrence. It was only a rabbit, or a badger. I knew it could not be one of the wild men there had been talk of; why would they follow me, of all people? I was of no importance. I continued on, but I moved faster as the feeling grew steadily stronger and I grew steadily more unnerved, and I thought I heard noises, as of footfalls. I ran hard for a few minutes to lose my tracker, my heart pounding in my chest and my breaths coming hard and fast, and then scaled a tree to await him.

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A/N: You know perfectly well you want to leave a review in the nice box. Go ahead. Give in to your craving. It’s the right thing to do.