The dog wagged its tail enthusiastically, and Eadyth laughed softly. “You like that name, do you? Well now, we must come to an understanding on another matter.” Picking up the foul-smelling animal, she walked outside and deposited him in the bailey. “Do not come back ’til you have bathed, Prince,” she advised the dumb beast, whose eyes watched her soulfully as if it understood perfectly.
Turning back to the hall with a chuckle, she saw that some of the highborn gentlemen were awakening groggily from their drunken stupors, and she set them to hunting fresh meat for the table, even Wilfrid, who seemed too stunned by her bullying to protest. In fact, he smiled enigmatically, asking innocently, “Didst the Lord Eirik ask for your help, my lady?”
Eadyth felt herself blushing—a habit she would as soon control, but could not. “Nay, he did not. I presume he still lies abed after swilling ale the night long with you,” she snapped back tartly, then turned defensive. “I do him a service setting his lazy servants to their work.” She cast a quick, meaningful glance at Wilfrid’s bed companion of the night before, implying that Eirik probably did something other than sleep in his chamber, as well.
Wilfrid flashed a knowing smile her way and gave a quick kiss to the maid, who, standing beside him, had managed to cover her nakedness with a fur pelt. “I will see you later, Britta,” he said, tweaking the maid on the rump with a lascivious wink.
Britta blushed prettily and looked up at Eadyth with blank innocence.
Eadyth tried to glare angrily at the foolish maid, but Britta was little more than a child, probably no more than fifteen. Truly, she knew no better. “Britta, please cover yourself with more suitable raiment, then remove all the bedding from whatever pallets or chambers are unoccupied. Bring them out to the kitchen courtyard for washing.”
Britta nodded obediently. “Be you the new mistress?” she asked shyly. “Will you wed the master?”
Eadyth felt another unwelcome blush heat her cheeks. “I doubt that we will wed, and, nay, I am not your mistress. I merely act as… as friend to Lord Ravenshire in getting his keep in order.”
Eadyth tried to sit politely then and await Lord Ravenshire, but her body bubbled with its usual restless vitality. She could not bear idling uselessly while awaiting the master’s convenience, especially when her hands itched to tackle the vast amount of work surrounding her. She soon gave in to her instincts.
By midday, she felt a glow of satisfaction as she gazed at the remarkable progress already made. The kitchen gleamed. The hall smelled sweetly of fresh rushes and newly crushed herbs. Clean clothing and bedding boiled in large kettles over open fires and lay out to dry on bushes in the neglected kitchen gardens.
Some of the servants had already been sent to bathe at a spring-fed pond behind the keep, and the rest would soon follow. Eadyth had forbidden anyone from breaking fast until they had performed their chores and bathed. She wished they would hurry. Her stomach growled noisily, along with the rest, at the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread baking in the stone ovens to the side of the wide hearth. Newly churned butter rested golden yellow in a large crock atop the massive wood table dominating the center of the kitchen. The grain of the oak had finally emerged after the table’s harsh scouring with sand and strong soap, despite Bertha’s whining about her raw-skinned fingers.
Admiring the basket overflowing with recently gathered chicken and goose eggs, Eadyth wondered if Bertha knew how to make a good pudding. If not, she could advise her with one of her own receipts.
Eadyth’s stomach roiled again with hunger as she heard the sizzle of juice popping in the open fire from a side of salted pork. A small boy, Godric, the orphan of a long dead castle thrall, turned the spit slowly as he looked up at her, his gaze adoring, thankful to be given his own small chore. A stock pot of venison bones and leftover winter stored vegetables had been started in a cauldron at the back of the fire, with a cloth-wrapped pease porridge hanging in its center.