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party Ching referred to. Best get over to the side. It took them a few moments to convince the horse, by
which time the procession was upon them.
Although Maggie s actual rank as her father s acknowledged heiress and acting steward was rather
ambiguous, Colin s presence and their by-now shabby mode of dress dictated that they follow the
custom of standing as the obviously noble caravan paraded before them.
Accordingly, Colin took his cap in his hand and wore his best humble look as the first horse, which
contained a man in a military uniform, passed.
Maggie sneezed again and watched the upcoming equestri- ans with bold and open curiosity. Colin s
elbow jabbed her ribs. Come on, Maggie, you ll get us whipped. Do TRY to look the modest maiden,
won t you?
Sorry, she said, and trained her eyes on her great toe which was now protruding from her boot. Only
occasionally did she sneak a peep at the procession. She could hardly help the sneezes, however, which
occurred with increasing fre- quency.
Imagine, receiving us with no chamber prepared, nor lamp lit, nor tea laid! a well-fed figure who
looked as though missing her tea would do her no harm at all complained to a thin and delicately
handsome man. Both were well mounted and well dressed, the woman perspiring through the limp lace
collar of her lavender brocade riding costume, which threatened to collapse at the seams at any moment,
with the stress placed upon it by her numerous bulges and pro- tuberances. She was red-faced, either
with indignation or the effort of riding, it was difficult to tell which.
I was talking with the serving maid... the man began.
You would talk to the serving maid, snapped the lady.
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And she said that the lord had not informed the servants of our impending arrival, nor had he given
orders of any sort regarding his household since he ordered his horse and rode off after Lady Rowan.
The lady sniffed. What would you expect of a northern woman but that? They re all half-wild up there,
so I under- stand.
Nevertheless, it s a great pity. Poor wretch. I understand Lady Rowan is very beautiful. Maggie
sneezed again. Bless you, the man said absently, taking no note of the origin of the sneeze. The fat
woman leaned across him from her saddle to glare at Maggie, who, fortunately, was too occupied ready-
ing herself for another sneeze to glare back.
I don t care what she says, snipped a plain-faced girl three horses back from the apparently noble
couple. She was addressing a somewhat prettier maid who rode beside her. Both were clothed too
grandly for the road, in silks and satins and laces repaired with other materials and much taken in,
evidently cast-off gifts from their lady. What s that old bag know of true love, anyhow?
Not a thing from him, I ll wager, the other girl agreed, chuckling behind her hand. He s too busy
trying to catch us at the bedmaking.
No wonder, either, poor man, said the first girl, But Ludy, one of Lady Rowan s personal maids,
come from our village, you know, and she was actually there when the gypsy actually came into the
actual castle!
No!
Yes! Handsome as anything, she says, though swarthy, of course, but I find dark foreign types
attractive, don t you?
Oh, my, yes. That brooding, unknown quality!
Prouder than any noble, he was, she says, though not too proud to give a girl a pinch. She giggled.
Ludy showed me her bruise to prove it.
Well, they are all alike.
Indeed.
What happened then?
Oh, it was SO romantic! Ludy says first he come and asked for a meal, you know, and the lady, she
was just passin by. He offered to sing to pay for his lunch.
Ooooh, he sang too?
My, yes, that s part of it. you know. There s a lovely song about it all. The girl went on to tell with
great relish and considerable colorful embroidery how the Lady Amberwine had been so thrilled with the
singing she d invited him into the hall, and then at his slightest suggestion had ordered her horse saddled,
pausing only long enough to pull on her fine leather riding boots and warm woolen cloak over her green
silk morning dress before following her new love off across the moors.
I didn t see any moors hereabouts, meself, said the other girl suspiciously.
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They re on the west side of the castle, silly, where you can t see them for the trees around the hill.
Well, moors or no moors, she didn t let any grass grow under her, did she?
Oh, no, she was gone by that evening.
Maggie s sneezes interrupted their conversation and the plainer girl looked back over her shoulder at
them. Ugh! Scraggy-looking pair.
He s rather dear, though, don t you think?
By the time they had climbed down the hill, crossed the valley, climbed up the dome, crossed the
drawbridge, and gained entrance to the inner courtyard, Maggie was not only crying openly, she was
gasping for breath.
The closer to the castle they came, the more blurred her vision became from the itching and tearing of
her eyes. Her constant sneezing kept her from drawing a decent breath. She stayed bent over with
convulsions of katchooing, and Ching no longer rode on her shoulder but regarded her with wide-eyed
alarm.
Colin gently guided her across the courtyard to the hall and pounded on the door. A servant on his way
in by a side door noticed them at first with disapproval, then saw the state Maggie was in and
sympathetically motioned to Colin to come round to that entrance which led to the kitchen.
Your woman looks sick, observed the sturdy female who, by the ladle she brandished, Colin took to
be the cook.
Yes, ma am, it came upon her suddenly. Though we may not appear so, my traveling companion is of
noble blood, and I accompany her with a message for the Lord Rowan. Do you suppose she could be
made comfortable till this illness passes?
Ching lingered in the doorway for a moment, then, confi- dent that the two-legged members of his party
were looking out for one another, went to see if there was a barn available with the possibilities of a good
brawl with some of his own kind, and other feline diversion. Perhaps he would get friendly enough with
the locals to acquire some gossip useful to their mission, hastening the acquisition of his mistress s step-
granddaughter and his own return to his favorite rug under the loom.
Poor dear can scarcely draw a breath! the cook said, supporting Maggie in her meaty arms. To bed
with her, and hot herbal towels for her face and chest! She gently lowered Maggie into a chair and left
the kitchen, to return an instant later with a pretty if somewhat vapid-looking girl. Ludy, put this lady in
the North Chamber. She s too sick to be drug all over the castle.
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