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.She is like a wounded bird in your hand, sometimes frantic to escape, sometimes complying with your desire to help, and you should not yield to her entreaties to let her go.She cannot be healed except with your restraint.”“You’re a deep one, my friend, but—”The door of the keep slammed back and a frantic cry interrupted Raymond.“Fire.Fire!” Fayette dragged Ella and Margery out by the arm, and screamed again, “Fire!”Raymond broke into a run, Keir by his side.Catching the girls around their waists as they descended the ladder, Raymond asked, “What fire?”“In th’ kitchen,” Fayette said.“In the kitchen,” Raymond repeated.Above him on the landing, Denys cried, “Is Margery hurt?”“Get out of the way, lad,” Raymond commanded.“The girls are unharmed, but my Juliana—” He bounded up the steps.Before he could enter the keep, Papiol dashed out shrieking, “Fire! We are all going to burn.Fire!”Raymond shoved the quivering wreck of a castle builder aside and sprinted through the great hall and down the spiral staircase.Shrieks and shouted imprecations resonated against the stones, and he met two boys with buckets coming up.“Is it out?” he asked.“Aye, m’lord.’Tis out, but ’tis merry hell down there.”Merry hell? What did the lad mean? As Raymond rounded the last corner, he stopped so abruptly Keir rammed into his back, knocking him down a few steps.Merry hell, indeed.Every servant who should have been above was below, waving his arms against the smoke so that the massive room looked filled with crazed windmills.Every one of them was talking, giving his version of the incident or lamenting the cleanup.His parents stood on overturned kettles, craning their heads to watch the madness.Sir Joseph leaned against the stone in the corner, watching the mania and laughing softly.Layamon strode back and forth, trying to herd the servants back up the stairs and succeeding only in moving them from side to side.The cook stood loudly weeping amid the soaked ruin of her kitchen, while Juliana, blackened with soot and wet from head to toe, stood patting the cook’s back and speaking into her ear.Raymond’s gaze settled on the evidence of the greatest damage.Juliana’s skirt had been burned to her knee.Her hand was wrapped in a white cloth, and pain pressed a hard line between her brows.“The kitchen must be moved to the bailey,” he muttered.“Raymond!”His mother’s screech made him close one eye against the misery of the shrill note.“Raymond, we were almost burned in our beds.” Isabel jumped off her kettle and flailed her way through the crowd.Geoffroi joined them, pressing so close Raymond backed up a few steps to gain the advantage of height.“A terrible tragedy, narrowly averted by my own quick thinking.”“Your father told everyone to come down and lie on the fire,” Isabel said gushingly.“And such a surge there was to obey.”Layamon waved from across the room and shouted, “’Twas not so bad.Only a bit of an escape from the pit, if you follow my meaning.”Geoffroi glared.“I told you softness to a woman would avail you nothing.A real man would—”“Get out!” Raymond bellowed.The noise abruptly died, and he jumped off the steps onto the wet floor.His foot went out from under him; he regained his balance and his fury seethed all the more.“Get out!”His finger swept the room.“Unless you have a reason to be here, get out.”The first rush of servants to the stairway was like the foam that tipped a wave.Behind the first rush came the force, pushing up and up, catching his protesting parents and dragging them in the midst of the swell.Sir Joseph was carried along, negotiating the currents with jabs of his ever-present stick.In an amazingly short time, the room stood empty, save Keir, Layamon, the cook, and Juliana.Raymond stood with his wet feet in the largest puddle and demanded, “What happened?”Layamon squatted beside the rock-built fire pit in the middle of the floor.The oven for baking bread swelled out from one side.The other side, a wall with a single thickness of stone, had crumbled away.Layamon pushed the rubble with his finger.“Was the fire too hot, woman?”The cook wailed, “Not more than any other time.”Keir squatted beside Layamon.He, too, stirred the rubble, then the charred remains of the wood.The acrid odor of wet charcoal rose, and he grasped the end of a log and pulled it out.“A large log.”“Sent down in a load an’ shoved in by me new kitchen boy.He don’t know much about fires, yet.” The woman mopped her face on her damp apron, leaving streaks of soot on the broad, fair face.“Still, I’ll always maintain it shouldn’t have popped th’ end out like that.”“Before I allowed this kitchen to be used, we tested the strength of the fire pit and oven, again and again.I don’t understand how it could have crumbled,” Juliana said.She leaned against the oven with a weary wince that brought Raymond’s wrath bubbling up.“Not often enough,” he roared.In two strides he reached her side and reached for her hand.She jerked it back, but he glared until she extended it.Gently, he unwrapped it.The back was only dirty, but the palm was reddened in random splotches, and a blister had formed.The cook hovered, craning her neck to see over his shoulder, and he directed, “Bring a clean bucket of water.”As the woman hurried away, Raymond lifted the charred area of Juliana’s skirt.With her free hand, she slapped at him.“There’s nothing there but a few singed places.’Twas my hand I set down in the embers.”With awesome patience, he asked, “And why did you do that, my lady?”“Because in the rush to put out the fire, someone pushed me down.” She sounded cross.“If that blasted boy hadn’t come into the great hall yelling about the fire, Cook would have had it extinguished with no problem.”“Here ye are, m’lord.” With a thump, Cook placed the bucket beside his shoe.Straightening, she looked for a cloth to dry her hands.She settled for her own sleeves, muttering, “Fools don’t know how t’ aim fer th’ fire.But m’lady’s right, I would’ve had th’ fire out.M’lady insists we keep th’ full buckets on hand, an’ I could’ve done it.”Raymond brought the bucket up and Juliana plunged her hand in.“It’s cold,” she said.Her shoulders relaxed.“It feels good.”Glancing down at the men, Raymond asked, “What caused it?”“Maybe…” Keir paused doubtfully.“Maybe fire stress to the stones.”Layamon stood and shook out his knees.“Maybe.”“We’ll move the kitchen out to the bailey at once.” Raymond indicated the oven with a wave of his hand.“If we start on the fire pit immediately—”“Nay.” Juliana’s voice was flat.Raymond froze, his arm uplifted.“What?”“Nay.The kitchen stays where it is.” Juliana swept her loosened hair back from her face.“We’ll bring the master castle-builder in to look at this.”“Ha!” Raymond said, remembering Papiol’s blanched face [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]