Wilfrid shook his head and grinned. “Lady Eadyth, me-thinks naught you do is on a small scale. In the past three days, you have made me take notes on the purchase of additional cows, more oxen for the plows, renovations to the cotters’ huts, pruning the orchard trees, digging a new well and two new cess pits, repairing the castle roof, enlarging the stables, transporting bees for a honey and candle business, and now a flock of smelly, bleating sheep.”
“Do not forget cleaning the garderobes.”
Wilfrid grumbled with disgust at that reminder.
“The garderobes are a top priority,” Eadyth remarked with particular emphasis. The three garderobes were located just inside the outer curtain walls in the bailey, with their stone seats protruding outward so the excrement and fluids sank to the ditches below. To say the stench reached high heaven was an understatement. “The moats have not been dredged in the two years of Eirik’s absence, I warrant. Nor the cess pits under the two interior garderobes. When was the last time they were even limed?”
Wilfrid dipped his head sheepishly. ” ‘Tis a distasteful task I have long put off.”
“Humph! Even worse, I noticed no clean straw or grape leaves in the servants’ garderobes for wiping. What does that say for the cleanliness of Ravenshire’s inhabitants? Small wonder Ignold and the others smell so bad.”
“My lady!” Wilfrid groaned, his face flushed bright red with embarrassment. “Must you discuss all the details? ‘Tis enough that I know you want the damn pits cleaned.”
The next day she set Jeremy, the stoneworker she had brought from Hawks’ Lair as part of her dowry, to work on the ventilation problem in the great hall. At one time, there had been a huge central hearth in the Viking style with a smoke hole in the roof, but Eirik’s grandfather Dar had made many Saxon improvements, including two rare fireplaces at either end of the large room. Unfortunately, the chimneys were not large enough to accommodate the hall’s size, thus the continual backdraft of smoke.
Jeremy’s expert skills were much needed outside, as well, where she had pulled him from work on reconstruction of the castle walls. Like Hawks’ Lair and many other keeps throughout Britain, Ravenshire was built on a high, flat-topped earthen motte, surrounded by a massive ditch.
“Dar replaced the wooden palisade fence and its guard towers with ones of stone,” Wilfrid had explained, “both an outer and an inner curtain to enclose the bailey with its outbuildings and exercise yards. But the Saxon assaults on Ravenshire the last few decades have been unkind to its defenses.”
“I noticed when I returned for the wedding that Eirik had already started repairing the walls. I am sure Jeremy will be able to speed the work along.”
Wilfrid complained to her now about her priorities in taking away his new stone expert. “A little smoke in your eyes will not matter if our enemies break through the castle wall.”
“Well, at least someone at Ravenshire appreciates a portion of my dowry. Eirik has made jest enough about my dower bees.”
Wilfrid just smiled, accustomed by now to her complaints about Eirik.
“Come to think on it, the bees are the only part of my dowry I have not yet delivered to my husband, and I am anxious to transplant them to my new home.”
Wilfrid muttered something vulgar under his breath.
“With all the work that needs to be done at Ravenshire, and not much evidence that Eirik has the means to pay for it, I want to get my beekeeping business established here so that the estate can be made to prosper.”
“My lady,” Wilfrid sputtered, ” ’tis Lord Ravenshire’s place to decide what he can or cannot afford to do with his keep. Besides, methought that was the purpose in the belated spring plantings.”
“The sowing of the fields is, of course, a first step, but that would only bring self-sufficiency to the manor, at best. And the sheep and weaving operations could be profitable in time, but, for an immediate influx of coins, my honey and candles and mead are needed.”
“You intend to trade your own products?” Wilfrid asked, horrified.