The door opened at Marjorie’s back and Allie, her housekeeper, bustled in, muttering to herself as she always did and carrying the big wooden-handled woven bag that went everywhere with her. She and her husband, Murdo MacMurdo of Stranraer, who acted as factor, were the joint force that kept the entire world of Turnberry Castle functioning smoothly. The pair had done the same for the countess’s father, supervising the myriad details of the earl’s household affairs and the castle estate.
“Earl Robert’s late,” Allie announced, before her mistress could turn around. “But the way things are goin’ this day, that’s a blessin’. Kirsty was right—that young sheep boy Hector broke his leg fallin’ off that cart when the axle went frae underneath it, but the break wis clean and Brother Callum put splints on it, so the boy will no’ be runnin’ much for the nex—” Her eyes widened at the sight of her mistress’s face. “What’s the matter wi’ you? Is somethin’ wrong, lassie?”
Marjorie blinked in surprise, for she had not been aware of anything being wrong. “There’s nothing the matter,” she responded with what she imagined to be an impatient frown. “I was just thinking about all that’s to be done before the earl comes home and I drifted into a bit o’ a daydream. I didna hear ye come in and ye startled me, that’s all.”
Allie sniffed loudly and her expression softened. “Aye, well you’re right enough about a’ that’s to be done. The last thing we needed here this mornin’ was a bad accident. But the boy’s well enough, as I said, and we hae an extra lamb that we hadna counted on to feed the visitors tomorrow. The daft beast fell out o’ the cart when it tipped, an’ then juked back under the wheel just far enough to get itsel’ killed when the whole thing smashed down. Broke its neck and Cook has it now, cleaning it for the spit. Forbye that, Murdo’s had three men workin’ all mornin’, choppin’ logs and cartin’ dried peat, so there’s nae shortage o’ fuel, an’ the larder’s well stocked wi’ meat, baith beef and deer, forbye fowl and game, grouse an’ ducks an’ geese and hare. There’s a crew o’ men out fishin’ in the bay and anither nettin’ trout in the river. The bakery ovens are a’ well fired and we’ll hae enough bread to feed the multitude. Murdo’s ale kegs are full an’ ready to be tapped, but we hinna seen hide nor hair o’ that useless gowk o’ a wine merchant frae Ayr. He was supposed to be here last week and he’ll probably come by next month, but in the meantime, gin the King o’ Scots wants wine when he’s here, he’ll either hae to bring his own or whistle for it and mak do wi’ Brewster’s ale like the rest o’ us. Jessie said ye wanted me, to help ye. Wi’ what?”
“Wi’ the whole campaign, Allie, for a campaign it is. We’re to entertain MacDonald o’ Islay and the King himsel’ at the same time, and Earl Robert’s no’ here yet, so come wi’ me an’ help me get changed, and then we’ll set about seein’ how things are workin’. It sounds like Murdo’s well aware o’ what needs to be done on his side, so that will make it easier for us to see to what’s to do on ours. Here, help me fold these covers.”
Between them they gathered up the brightly coloured woollen blankets that were scattered over the chairs and couches—the nights were cold inside the stone-walled castle tower, even in the height of summer—and set about folding them and setting them on top of the long table against one wall.
“How many o’ them will there be, d’ye ken?” the housekeeper asked.
Marjorie shrugged as she set the last of the folded blankets down. “As many as come,” she said. “Nicol will bring Angus Mohr, and Angus will no doubt have a flock o’ his peacock chieftains in tow, anxious to set eyes on the King o’ Scots, though they’d never let on. An’ the King, of course, will bring who he brings, though I’m no’ expectin’ that many. A few o’ the elder earls, I’m thinkin’, probably MacDuff and Lennox an’ Mar. They seem to be his closest cronies, and there might be a bishop or two, since he’ll need witnesses for whatever he means to propose to Angus Mohr. And of course they’ll a’ hae others in their trains. We might hae as many as thirty.”
“Mother o’ God! I thought a score at the outside, but thirty?”
“Aye, and mayhap more. I’ve no way o’ tellin’ until they arrive. There could be another half score, for all I know.”