“If a saint or two looks kindly on you, blessing you with strength and skill. Mayhap.” Joyce kissed the top of his head, smiling with a mother’s joy. “We’ll have to place you in the captain’s path and see that he gets a good look at how tall and strong you are growing. You shall have to look him straight in the eye, though, so that he knows you have courage.”
Toby grinned, showing off the gap where his front teeth had fallen out.
“But that’s for later. The mistress will be having her comforts and there is supper to get on the tables. For now, you earn your keep in the kitchen like your mother.”
Joyce turned to apply her tongue to the hands that had begun working slowly as the morning faded away. Clapping her hands, she shook her long wooden spoon at her staff. Lazy wenches, they took advantage of her good will when Toby was in the kitchen. Aye, they slowed down knowing that she was soft toward her youngest child.
“Get that wine mulled before the mistress calls for it. I’ll see you bent over in the fields if you get me summoned to her chamber because you’re dreaming the day away.”
There was a clatter of copper pots as the coals were poked and the wine set to heating. Toby waited for it, carefully balancing the tray as his feet moved swiftly toward the mistress’s chamber. He lifted the heavy door knocker and let it fall onto the door. It seemed to take a long time for the heavy panel to open.
“Mulled wine, Mistress.”
“Yes, yes. Well don’t stand there while it cools.”
With wide eyes, Toby scurried into the room, trying not to stare at the opulent furnishings. To his young eyes, the decorative wood carvings on the bedpost looked like something from Chaucer.
“Don’t forget the soiled tray. Its scent is foul.”
Forcing his gaze onto his task, Toby gathered the soiled linens that were lying on the table. Dropping them on the soiled morning tray, he made sure to take the heavy silver goblet, too, so that it might be cleaned. He was just picking up the tray when he spied the small glass jar sitting near a book. It was full of spices and clearly belonged in the kitchen. He sat it among the used napkins.
A low moan drifted in from behind the tapestry curtain. He looked up with curiosity, wondering who was in the solar.
There was a crash from behind him. The mistress frowned as her mulled wine lay spilt on the floor. She glared at it for a long moment before waving her hand.
“Clean it up and bring me some more.”
Using the linens, Toby mopped up the wine before retreating from the chamber. He sucked in a deep breath, grateful to be on his way back to the kitchens. The mistress’s chamber might be full of beautiful things, but it sure made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
His mother was missing when he returned to the kitchen. Molly looked up as he brought her both silver goblets.
“The mistress wants more mulled wine.”
Molly shrugged, reaching for the wine. “Stay and wait for it to heat. You’ll have to take it back. I must mind the porridge.”
“Can I watch the knights practice while I wait?” Toby shifted from side to side as he waited to be granted permission.
“Aye.”
Toby skipped toward the window, a happy smile brightening his face.
While the wine heated, Molly cleaned the tray, pausing when she found the small glass jar. Pulling the stopper from it, she sniffed it. The odor wasn’t pleasing, but clearly the mistress had sent it with Toby to have it mulled in her wine. Why else would she want more wine so soon? Dumping it into a cloth, she gave it a twist and sat it in the warming wine. It was some manner of relief from the ache that had kept the mistress in her chamber for the last week. It must be nice to have the silver to pay for such comforts.
“Toby, the wine is ready.”
The boy shuffled his feet but left the window to take the tray to his mistress. She answered the door quickly this time, waving him in.
“Leave it and go.”
Toby did her bidding gladly, skipping down the hallway once the task was finished.
“Mother? Hurry. I think it’s time.” Mary sounded terrified, her voice echoing from the second chamber. She stood in the doorway, holding the heavy curtain up.
“Quiet down. If anyone sees you, this has all been for naught.” Philipa paused and took a long sip from the goblet. The warm wine soothed her nerves so she took a few more, draining most of it.
“Mother.”
“Do compose yourself, Mary. You aren’t doing any of the work. Try to have a bit of dignity.” She passed the silver goblet off to her daughter. “Have some wine. It will calm you.”
Mary frowned at her mother’s words but lifted the goblet to her lips. The wine was warm and she greedily drank every last drop.