The Faithful Heart (20 page)

 

 

“There’s no point in spoiling our day sitting with long faces, when
the O’Donnells are here. We do have some loyal allies, despite
everything. So let’s make plans for our expedition tomorrow, and get
this dinner cooked before we all starve to death,” Morgana said in
her most cheerful tone, as she began to slice bread into trenchers.

 

 

The rabbit and squirrel stew was pronounced to be a great success by
all who sat at the table in the great hall. Morgana had served it up
with some great chunks of freshly baked bread, and large bowls of
parsnips and cabbage. Though it was simple, it was filling, and the
O’Donnells brothers elected to go out for another hunt with Ruairc
and their father while Niamh and Morgana sat down with a mountain of
sewing by the fire.

 

 

Morgan ventured out of his room for the first time in nearly a month
to join them, and admired Morgana’s handiwork.

 

 

“Where on earth did you learn how to do such fine stitches? Surely
Aofa’s mother didn’t teach you? I’ve never seen either of them ever
make anything half so fine,” he praised.

 

 

“I taught myself, Father, with some leftover threads and a bit of
guidance from Mary,” Morgana said proudly. She showed him the fine
leaf pattern she was finishing on one of his shirts.

 

 

“And you can cook as well! Not to mention sit a horse like a
champion, fight like the noblest warrior, and hunt like a man.”

 

 

“Father, really, your compliments are excessive, and embarrassing in
front of company,” Morgana blushed, though secretly she was very
pleased with her father’s words.

 

 

She waited until he had finished chatting to Niamh, and asked
quietly, “Father, would you have any objection to my going through
Conor’s room now? It has been over two years, and I am sure that
many of the men could use some of his clothes.”

 

 

“Morgana, really!” her father huffed.

 

 

But Morgana argued gently, “Surely it is better to remember him as
he was, full of life, than let his things moulder away until they
are fit for only the moths to eat?”

 

 

“You have a point, I suppose,” Morgan admitted grudgingly.

 

 

As soon as Morgana had finished her shirt, she left Niamh with her
father as she fetched some cleaning things, and made a start on the
room.

 

 

Conor’s room hadn’t been used for over two years, yet it looked
spotlessly clean, Morgana noted to herself as she ran her fingers
over one of the chests to check for dust.

 

 

All of the clothes were folded neatly inside the presses, and were
clean and in excellent repair. Morgana wondered who on earth would
have taken the trouble over a dead man’s things when there was so
much to do and all was in such disrepair. But with a shrug she began
to clear the room of all of its books and decorative objects. The
books she put in the study, while the objects which lay around the
room she made plans to sell the following day at the market in
Clogher. Then she took the clothes out of the presses, and stuffed
them into several pillowcases, which she brought down to the tailor
in the village.

 

 

“Good day to you, Matthew. I have many things here, shirts and so
on, which once belonged to my brother. I know there is much want in
the village, and so I wish you to send word to the men that they are
welcome to any of these items. Try to make sure the MacMahons who
are here get some things as well.”

 

 

“I tell you what, I will count up the number of things, calculate
the sizes for the tunics and so on, and distribute them from house
to house as fairly as I can.”

 

 

“I’ll have some clothes for the women as well,” Morgana said,
recalling Aofa’s wardrobe as she was about to leave.

 

 

“We will all be very grateful for anything you can spare, Morgana,”
Matthew reassured her.

 

 

Morgana returned to the castle, and with Niamh’s help, they left
Aofa with only four gowns, while the rest went into about a dozen
pillowcases.

 

 

“She will be out of her mind with fury when she finds out what
you’ve done,” Niamh remarked as she crammed the last of the day
gowns into a bag. .

 

 

“She's lucky I’ve left her as many as four. I only have two myself.
And aren’t you ashamed, with twelve for your wedding,” Morgana
teased.

 

 

“Most of these are fairly ordinary day gowns, though, Morgana. Now
are you sure about these dresses? The women in the village can
certainly use them, but they are very fine, and rather expensive.
Even worse, Aofa will be furious about the bejewelled ones.”

 

 

“They were never meant for her in the first place. Not to mention
the fact that her being in possession of you trousseau proves to me
that she and that slimy toad Fergus MacGee have in fact encouraged
our men to commit acts of piracy against Irish ships, and maybe even
Spanish and Dutch ones. We can’t afford to have bad relations with
either country, or else we won’t be able to get iron and alum and
spices, or trade our hides and fleeces with them.

 

 

"I have no way of returning the dresses, since I have no idea where
they came from, so the next best thing is to sell them, and use the
jewels to buy what we need. Will you come and help me pick them
out?”

 

 

Niamh nodded, though she remarked sadly, “It’s such a pity. They are
lovely.”

 

 

“Do not give in to temptation, friend!” Morgana scolded in her best
priest’s voice, and they fell to giggling.

 

 

After an hour of unpicking the jewels from the gowns, the O’Donnell
men and Ruairc returned with several foxes, a wild boar, three deer,
and dozens of rabbits, hares and game birds.

 

 

“The dogs certainly are in fine shape, even if the rest of this
place is falling apart,” Ronan complimented Morgan jovially.

 

 

“Sure, Ronan, it was only because the things were starving
themselves that we had such a good hunt! They’d have eaten most of
what they killed if we hadn’t stopped them,” Ruairc laughed.

 

 

“Well, make sure they get a good meal tonight, or they won’t be fit
for going out again for days,” Morgan advised.

 

 

“Morgana has the innards from dinner on to boil for them, so I’ll go
feed them now,” Ruairc offered, and disappeared down the stairs to
the kitchens.

 

 

Morgana went down to prepare the wild boar, which they would roast
on a spit over the fire for several days, and then began to skin the
hares to make into a pie.

 

 

“Make sure the rest are hung in the larder,” she called to the
servants as she went into the store to get flour and suet to make a
fine pastry crust.

 

 

The O’Donnells had followed her and Ruairc down into the kitchen,
and after proudly showing her the carcasses, hung them up for her.
Then they worked as a team to skin the foxes, and put the meat on to
boil for the hounds, and also threw in the rabbit and hare guts.

 

 

“Where do you want the skins?” Tomas asked.

 

 

“In that small storeroom there. We will get good money for them, and
thank you for all your efforts,” Morgana said gratefully.

 

 

“Anything else you’d like us to do to help?” Declan offered with a
broad smile, and Morgana could see he was thoroughly enjoying
himself.

 

 

“Have you ever milked a cow?” she asked.

 

 

“I have indeed, though please don’t tell Father. He would be
disgusted at my willingness to do manual labour,” Declan whispered.

 

 

“Well, there are the buckets, so go do the milking,” Morgana
indicated.

 

 

“And I’ll muck out the stables and feed the horses,“ Tomas offered.
After stripping off his fine tunic, he followed his brother out of
the room, whistling happily to himself.

 

 

As Morgana placed the huge steaming hare pie in front to her guests
that night, she reflected on the successful day she had had. She had
worked hard, but all her efforts haad been in the sure knowledge
that she could help the Maguire clan return to its former glory. The
O’Donnells had supported her, her father was on the mend, and
everyone had lent a hand willingly.

 

 

Morgana decided she would draw up a list of all the people in the
village able to work, and set them to various assigned tasks as soon
as she returned from her expedition to Clogher.

 

 

The conversation at the table sparkled, and Morgana raised her eyes
to glance at Ruairc who sat across from her at the table. Emerald
eyes mingled intimately with violet as Ruairc returned her gaze, and
Morgana felt the blood rush to her cheeks. His green eyes seemed to
penetrate into her soul, and she could hear the words almost as
though he had spoken them aloud.
I love you too, Ruairc,
Morgana longed to say aloud in front of the whole room.

 

 

But Declan broke the spell by standing to recite a satirical poem he
had heard.

 

 

Morgana decided that tomorrow she would make the most of her trip
with Ruairc. She loved him. What was the sense of pretending
otherwise any longer?

 

 

All the same, she had a grim sense of foreboding which even the
jollity of the O’Donnells could do nothing to dispel. When she
finally retired to her room that night, sleep was a long time
coming.

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

 

The day of Morgana’s shopping trip to Clogher dawned bright and
sunny. Morgana’s spirits lifted in spite of her worries of the
previous few days. She rose again at four, and began her baking,
then attended to the animals and made plans with one of the men to
stop feeding the pigs so they could be killed for meat the next day.
It would make the unpleasant job that much cleaner. She hated to do
it, but they all needed to eat, and nothing went to waste on a pig.
Even the bristles were used for scrubbing brushes.

 

 

Morgana brought in the milk and began to make porridge, and checked
her cheeses from the day before. She took more salt fish out of the
barrel andput the last of the bacon on to heat, and laid out the
last of yesterday’s bread. She made enough food for the family and
the carters who were going to accompany Ruairc and herself on their
trip.

 

 

They would also have to bring several herdsmen, so she took out a
dozen slabs of salt pork, and left them to soak to remove the
saltiness. Then she cut up the last of the remaining squirrel and
rabbits for her father’s and the rest of the household’s dinner that
afternoon.

 

 

Morgana basted the wild boar roasting on the fire, and then scrubbed
and sliced the vegetables for the stew. Finally she tested the
candles in the moulds to see if they had set overnight, and began to
removed them from the metal casings to sit in a big basket in one of
the stores. By then the entire household was up, and they discussed
their plans for the day around the table in the great hall.

 

 

The O’Donnells were going to stay one more day to hunt and fish, and
Niamh was going to look after Morgan in their absence. A timely
shriek from Aofa down in the dungeons reminded Morgana that she
should let her sister out. She gave that unenviable task to Mary to
perform once she was safely away from the castle.

 

 

After the large group’s hearty breakfast, the oxen and carts were
readied.

 

 

Morgana swung up into the saddle on the back of her favourite horse,
Darkie, a fine stallion whom she had trained as a foal. He had lost
some of his wildness with age and deprivation since she had been
gone, but he could still read his mistress’ moods easily. He trotted
along almost jauntily despite his obvious thinness as Morgana began
to sing a rousing tune at the top of her lungs, much to the
amusement of the rest of the company.

 

 

"You haven't lost your voice, my love," Ruairc commented with a
smile at one point when she fell back to talk with him for a moment.

 

 

"Of course not. All that hymn singing." She winked.

 

 

"Ah, yes."

 

 

"Well, it was one of the few times we didn't have to be silent."

 

 

"I'm sorry for what you suffered. I only wish—"

 

 

She shook her head. "I was far more fortunate than most. And if
wishes were horses, beggars would ride." She clapped her mount on
his mane, and promised him a good grooming very soon. "Just don't be
blaming yourself for anything that wasn't your fault." Then she
spurred her horse on to the head of the expedition once more.

 

 

They arrived in Clogher at midday, just as the main trading for
livestock was about to take place. Morgana relied upon the advice of
her herders, and bought every animal which they deemed suitable.
Then she turned her attention to the horses, and she and Ruairc and
Owen, the head of the stables, examined each carefully before
finally arriving at their decisions. Next were the sheep, and lambs,
and finally the pigs and chickens and geese were auctioned.

 

 

“But you haven’t got a poultry yard,” Ruairc reminded her.

 

 

“I know that, but it’s about time we kept chickens ourselves. We can
always make a run. The eggs will be useful, as will all the birds,
for food. They don’t take much looking after, and won’t eat very
much either.”

 

 

She bought thirty hens and a rooster, and ten geese and a gander.
The men finally managed to get them penned and onto the back of the
carts.