Read Online The Highlander's Reward by Eliza Knight - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eliza Knight
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glance at the men, afraid they might resent that she and their leader were given a roof and a bed and they a bed of straw. The warriors only nodded, accepting and not seeming at all perturbed.
“My thanks, Father,” Magnus said.
“Ye can go behind the stables now to wash up. There’s a tub of water that our men use to clean up before the meal.”
Magnus nodded and he and his men disappeared behind the stables.
“How are ye feeling, lass?” the abbot asked. He looked at her through hazy, tranquil eyes.
She couldn’t help feeling more peaceful in his presence. “I am well now. Laird Sutherland has provided me with safety.”
“Aye. He is a good man.”
“Do you know him well?”
The abbot nodded. “He and his brothers usually pass through here on the way to market or some such other business.”
Knowing that a man of God trusted Magnus made her feel a lot safer. Even if they were both Scottish.
The men quickly returned, their looks and smell greatly improved. They continued on, following the abbot through the cloister until they reached a plain wooden door which opened into a dining hall. Most of the tables were filled with somber-looking monks. They sipped a watery soup from wooden spoons. No one spoke.
The abbot pointed to a lone table against the far wall that was empty. He didn’t speak, but they understood from his gestures they were to go and sit there.
They shuffled quietly through the dining hall toward the far table. Arbella was impressed with the monks’ show of solitude. No one spoke or looked at them. She had been aware previously that they ate in silence and reflection but having never seen it done was quite amazed at their ability to remain in such a state of peace.
As they sat down , several monks came to their table bearing bowls, spoons and cups. Once their places were set, the monks left, returning with a cauldron of soup and a jug of ale. As soon as their bowls and cups were filled the monks retreated to their own tables to resume their meal. Arbella mouthed thank you, not quite sure how the silence worked. When one of the monks shook his head, she realized she should simply incline her head next time.
She stared down into her bowl of broth, barley and vegetables and breathed a sigh of relief. As uncommon as it was, Arbella abstained from eating meat. The habit stemmed from childhood when she’d wandered into the butcher’s shop to see a precious piglet slaughtered. The vision had stayed with her, and she’d lost her taste for flesh.
Arbella sipped at the soup, surprised with its flavor. She detected several herbs and even a hint of salt—an expensive commodity.
After the very quiet meal ended—not at all what Arbella had in mind for her wedding feast—the monks took up their place settings and brought them into the kitchens. Arbella, Magnus and the warriors did the same. There was no amount of service provided to them here. All of them were God’s children in the service of God.
Once back into the cloister, Magnus took her arm again and placed it through his. She found she liked the comfort his solid form gave her.
He whispered, “When we reach Sutherland, I shall see that ye’re provided a proper wedding feast. One in which ye are allowed to speak.”
Arbella laughed softly. “I do admit ’twas not what I’d had in mind for a wedding feast.” She gazed up at him thoughtfully, wondering when a good time would be to tell him she would probably not enjoy the feast his cook prepared. Mayhap when they reached Sutherland she would mention her food preferences. “But I must also confess I enjoyed the peacefulness of it.”
Magnus tilted his head slightly and studied her. “Have ye not known peace much in your life?”
“’Tis not that at all. I was mostly mesmerized by their ability to sit in silence. Most meals I’ve ever attended with so many present are boisterous and overwhelming.”
“Aye.”
They walked around the cloister, past a modest garden until they
“My thanks, Father,” Magnus said.
“Ye can go behind the stables now to wash up. There’s a tub of water that our men use to clean up before the meal.”
Magnus nodded and he and his men disappeared behind the stables.
“How are ye feeling, lass?” the abbot asked. He looked at her through hazy, tranquil eyes.
She couldn’t help feeling more peaceful in his presence. “I am well now. Laird Sutherland has provided me with safety.”
“Aye. He is a good man.”
“Do you know him well?”
The abbot nodded. “He and his brothers usually pass through here on the way to market or some such other business.”
Knowing that a man of God trusted Magnus made her feel a lot safer. Even if they were both Scottish.
The men quickly returned, their looks and smell greatly improved. They continued on, following the abbot through the cloister until they reached a plain wooden door which opened into a dining hall. Most of the tables were filled with somber-looking monks. They sipped a watery soup from wooden spoons. No one spoke.
The abbot pointed to a lone table against the far wall that was empty. He didn’t speak, but they understood from his gestures they were to go and sit there.
They shuffled quietly through the dining hall toward the far table. Arbella was impressed with the monks’ show of solitude. No one spoke or looked at them. She had been aware previously that they ate in silence and reflection but having never seen it done was quite amazed at their ability to remain in such a state of peace.
As they sat down , several monks came to their table bearing bowls, spoons and cups. Once their places were set, the monks left, returning with a cauldron of soup and a jug of ale. As soon as their bowls and cups were filled the monks retreated to their own tables to resume their meal. Arbella mouthed thank you, not quite sure how the silence worked. When one of the monks shook his head, she realized she should simply incline her head next time.
She stared down into her bowl of broth, barley and vegetables and breathed a sigh of relief. As uncommon as it was, Arbella abstained from eating meat. The habit stemmed from childhood when she’d wandered into the butcher’s shop to see a precious piglet slaughtered. The vision had stayed with her, and she’d lost her taste for flesh.
Arbella sipped at the soup, surprised with its flavor. She detected several herbs and even a hint of salt—an expensive commodity.
After the very quiet meal ended—not at all what Arbella had in mind for her wedding feast—the monks took up their place settings and brought them into the kitchens. Arbella, Magnus and the warriors did the same. There was no amount of service provided to them here. All of them were God’s children in the service of God.
Once back into the cloister, Magnus took her arm again and placed it through his. She found she liked the comfort his solid form gave her.
He whispered, “When we reach Sutherland, I shall see that ye’re provided a proper wedding feast. One in which ye are allowed to speak.”
Arbella laughed softly. “I do admit ’twas not what I’d had in mind for a wedding feast.” She gazed up at him thoughtfully, wondering when a good time would be to tell him she would probably not enjoy the feast his cook prepared. Mayhap when they reached Sutherland she would mention her food preferences. “But I must also confess I enjoyed the peacefulness of it.”
Magnus tilted his head slightly and studied her. “Have ye not known peace much in your life?”
“’Tis not that at all. I was mostly mesmerized by their ability to sit in silence. Most meals I’ve ever attended with so many present are boisterous and overwhelming.”
“Aye.”
They walked around the cloister, past a modest garden until they
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