A knock wakes me up from a deep sleep. The light in the room has dimmed. I am lying on a feather bed in a linen robe. Still in medieval Ireland. I rise and walk to the door, feeling the cold wooden floor beneath my bare feet. I open the door. The maidservant is standing there, holding my clothes and boots.
“Here are your clothes, sir,” she says, entering the room. “They have been cleaned and dried. Would you like help dressing, sir?” Her face was all serious, not even a hint of a smile. Her black hair peeks out from under her bonnet, framing her face.
I realize she helped me undress, and maybe this is her duty. “I can manage,” I say.
She sets the clothes on the table and the boots on the floor and looks at me. “As you wish, sir.” She leaves the room and closes the door.
I hang the robe on a hook by the bed. I pick up the undergarment, noticing how it was clean and warm, with a little smoke. They must have used the fireplace to dry the clothes.
I pull on the undergarment, tying it around my waist, and step into the clean leather trousers. I slip on my tunic, letting the leather ends hang, and look in the mirror above the basin. My hair is a mess, like I slept in it.
There is a wooden comb with two sides for fine or coarse combing. I try the coarse side and untangle my hair, then I finish by combing with the finer teeth. Now my hair is presentable.
I put on the vest, buckling each strap, then I pull on my woolen socks and clean boots. My sword belt is still on the table. I strap it on around my waist, not knowing if I will be returning to this room, and slip on the gauntlets.
When I open the door, I don’t see the maidservant in the corridor. I leave it open and walk over to the window and peer out at the mountains reflecting off the glass lake. The sun is setting, casting long shadows over the water. Everything is so still except for a few swans floating by. A white swan walks out onto the land, hidden by the rushes, and settles down for the evening. The rocky shore is about thirty feet below. The heron I saw earlier is still there, just standing in the marshy water and waiting. Mallard ducks swim by him and keep on going without disturbing him.
The maidservant enters the room. “Would you be needing any help, sir?”
“I could use a little help tying my gauntlets.”
She walks over to me and grabs one of my arms, studying the gauntlet. “You know, the men use their teeth to tie these on. Are you going into battle?”
“No,” I say. “But I don’t want to leave them here and forget about them.”
“It’s not proper to take your sword belt and gauntlets to the banquet hall,” she says. “You can leave them here in this room. They’ll be here when you return.”
I realize at that moment that I might be staying the night. Then I nod, removing my sword belt, and slide off my gauntlets, placing them on the table.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“I am called Caitlin, sir.”
“How long have you been here?”
“About a year,” she says. “I left the abbey a year ago.”
“Were you trying to become a nun?” I ask.
“The nuns raised me after losing my parents to the plague,” she says.
“Sorry for your loss,” I say.
“That’s okay, sir. I was too young to remember them.”
“So you chose a different life instead of being a nun?” I ask.
“I never intended to become a nun, but they raised and cared for me before I became of age. Lord Donal visited the abbey last year and offered a home for those who wanted to leave the abbey.”
“Where do you see yourself someday?” I ask as I stare out the window over the lake.
“For now, I like my work. Do you need to relieve yourself, sir, before the meal?”
I guess servants aren’t used to having small talk. “Where is the privy?”
“Down the hall. I’ll take you.”
I follow her out of the room and down the hall, away from where I came in. There is a door at the end, partially open.
“I’ll wait for you and take you to dinner.”
“It should only be a minute.” I step into the privy, close the door, and slide the latch in place.
It is like the privy at the house in Corke. There is a place to sit on an enclosed bench. I remove the lid and take care of business. After replacing the lid, I turn to find a basin full of water. I wash my hands with soap and dry them on a cloth. Then I unlatch the door and go into the hall.
Caitlin is dusting an oil lamp fixture when I come out. “Follow me,” she says.
We walk to another stairway and climb up a short flight of steps to a landing. She pulls back the door and gestures for me to enter a grand hall, closing the door after I step in.
“Welcome, Sir John,” Donal says. “Were you able to get some rest?”
“I did, sir. Thank you for the hospitality.”
He is no longer wearing his cloak. He grabs my hand in a warm greeting. “Come, let’s have some drinks.”