Tangled (Handfasting) by Becca St. John Page A

companions.
    There
certainly was enough on her mind for, thanks to the Bold’s belief in her, she
had found her calling. What she hadn’t known, though she realized now her
mother had always known, she had been prepared for this moment from the day she
had been born.
    Maggie
knew how to organize, dictate and turn ideas into reality and she was doing
just that with all but one plan. Not that she had time to do any more then had
already been set in motion, but her one scheme was essential to the clan’s
benefit. It was a gift she could give to The Bold.
    Unfortunately,
he banned anyone from leaving the castle and set a guard on Maggie herself; so,
her most important task would have to wait.
    In
the meantime, she had an army of MacKays to accomplish an almost overwhelming
load of work.  In that case, Talorc’s ban worked in her favor. Just as he forbade
anyone to leave the castle, he had ordered crofters to move inside the grounds.
There were some who would have preferred the risk of attack rather than face
Maggie’s demands.
    The
first project, inspired when she found huge sacks of fleece confiscated in the
last raids.
    “Whisky
isn’t the only thing you can trade.”  Maggie told the women, “But you’ll need
more spun wool than you can produce with hand spindles.”
    She
rounded up the woodworkers and a few young lads to help and set them to building
spinning wheels to be followed by enough looms to fill the long shed behind the
castle. “If you do several of each piece, as you go, then you don’t have to
stop and change tools as often.”  She explained and left them with the promise
that the Bold would be well pleased if they had accomplished their work before
his return.
    If
he returned. The fear haunted but it was a familiar fear. She knew how to live
with the nag of it.
     While
the men were busy with sawing and sanding, she set the women to work in the
weaving sheds. Those best at spinning spent their days there. The dyers worked
in another out building, coloring the wool as quickly as those who had an eye
for design could come up with patterns, for they didn’t care to have others
wear the MacKay plaid.
    She’d
set a batch of women to string what looms were available. Everyone took turns
between everyday chores and working in the weaving, spinning and dying sheds
while the older children kept an eye on the younger babes.
    The
castle bustled with happy excitement and purpose. But it was not enough.
    Talorc
had warned her that his household had been without a personal care for too long.
He had spoken true. One snap of a tapestry corner, produced a cloud that had
her coughing for the rest of the day.
    Fair
enough, the women were busy so she went to the men, surprising their wives and
mothers in her ability to get men to clear the floor of thrushes, gather more,
remove the tapestries from the walls. “Far too high for a lass, one man
explained. And used their might to swat the dirt from them “Sturdy lasses as we
have in the MacKay’s they’ve no arm for this.”
    They
didn’t scrub the floors, but once Maggie was down on her knees, bucket and
scrub brush in hand, women came to join her. With the help of dozens of children, on a lone adventure beyond the walls of the
castle, Maggie managed to gather of fresh flooring.
    She
took account of the furniture, noted what needed fixing and made a list of new
pieces to be made. Once the woodworkers were done with the spinning wheels and
looms, they would get to that.
    It
seemed as though the men were gone forever as there was even time to brush out
the fireplaces and free the chimneys of soot. Outbuilding roofs where checked
for leaks and a passel of boys were hard at work mending what they could. It was
too late in the season to thatch but they would be prepared for spring.
    But
what, of the numerous tasks, should she attack next?  Clearing out the kitchen
storage?  She was determined to return to those caves except Talorc had them
closed off. No one could