Flanders raised a hand, silencing the steward once more. "The people, ye say? And what of the women I sent to the kitchens, hungry and disheartened by their meager rations? I am surprised they stay on. Which leads me to wonder how many have abandoned Todlaw while I was away, believing they would be better off on their own?"
He looked Heslington over, from head to toe, and winced.
"Odin help me, I cannot look another moment at those raiments." He lowered his voice. "Take them off."
The man blinked rapidly. "Off?"
"Yer cote. Take it off. Tell me, where did ye find such a fine garment?"
The man gaped and wrapped his arms around himself as if he could somehow hide his clothes with his fleshy limbs. "It...it was a gift."
"A gift? From someone at Todlaw?"
"No, laird."
"No, I didn't think so. Yer friend must be someone...significant. Did The Bruce happen by in my absence and believe ye were in need of a reward?"
"No, laird."
"No? Hmm. I would wager that selling such a fine piece would bring in enough food to restore that balance ye quibble over. Would it not?"
Heslington bit his lips together.
"Nay, nay." Flanders shook his head. "Too fine a garment to part with." He waited for the man to hope, then he dashed that hope into the rushes. "Ye'll note that Marjory's gown is quite thin. With nothing better by winter, she'll no doubt fall ill. I believe yer cote would cover two women of such size, will it not?"
The steward backed a step. "Ye would have me freeze, then? Yer steward?"
There was that self-importance again.
"Auch, no. I have something else in mind for ye." Flanders barely hid his smile. "Strip, Heslington." After a nod to one of his guards, the man was forced to relieve himself of his most outer garment before returning to the bench and told to sit. The garment was then delivered to Marjory, who folded it neatly over one arm and returned to her spot by the wall.
Flanders returned to the chair. One down, two to go,as James used to say. It was just one of those phrases from far in the future, where James would be living out his life...in time. It was a pity his friend wasn’t with him now, to help him rectify the situation. But alas, all Flanders could manage was to imagine what his wise friend would do in his stead.
And hopefully, this would take care of Hector Stephan’s meddling. If only he’d heeded Brigid Muir’s warning more closely, it might not have come to this.
3
NAKED TREACHERY
* * *
"Mistress of the Loom, come forward," Flanders called, his voice easily reaching to the back of the hall. Though a fresh energy charged the air, the crowd was silent except for a few whispers that skittered across the stone floor like nervous mice.
From the corner of his eye, Flanders watched Heslington and Ailis stiffen as the rarely-seen, white-haired woman made her way to the dais. Despite a back bent from years of labor, she moved with brisk steps and cut through the crowd like a seasoned warrior navigating a battlefield. At the foot of the rise, she offered a brief curtsy, her eyes flicking nervously toward the chatelaine and the steward before settling on Flanders. “Yer lairdship,” she greeted, her voice steady.
Flanders softened his demeanor and offered a kind smile. “How do ye fare, madam?”
The woman squared her shoulders, a flicker of pride in the lift of her chin. “Fare? Why, I fare better than most my age, though there are not many left.”
While everyone chuckled, Flanders noted the strength in her arms, visible through her thin sleeves. Her neck and shoulders, too, bore the marks of a life spent in diligent service, not wasted in idleness. His gaze fell on herairisaidh, a garment patched meticulously with stitches so straight and sure they spoke of a craftsman’s skill. “Is this yer work, then?” Flanders asked, gesturing to her attire.
Her cheeks flushed pink. A sad smile tugged down the corners of her mouth. “Auch, aye. From long ago.”
“How many work with ye?”
She puffed out her chest. “More than a dozen, laird. It takes a wee army to clothe so many.”
“And how many yards of cloth do ye complete each day?” Flanders pressed, seeking to understand the depth of the problem.
