The Guardian by Diana Knightley

Nineteen - Kaitlyn

After the morning wedding we all gathered in the courtyard where Zach had grills set up over an open fire. Eamag was ordering the kitchen staff to bring out plates of hotdogs to be grilled. We were going to feast on hotdogs in buns with ketchup, mustard, relish, onions, and on the side, piles of potato chips, which Zach had taught Eamag how to fry. They had been working on them for hours to have enough for all.

It was funny watching Eamag, an old Scottish woman, proudly beaming beside Zach the young American man, covered in tattoos, a curse word always on his breath, as they presented the feast they had managed together.

In the kitchen Zach was often full of “Dammit, stir it, stir it!” And Eamag was often, “Och! Ye are a waste, how are ye going tae cook like that? Ye daena hae any sense!” But somehow they got our meals out. Today they stood over it proudly, and then he made Eamag a hotdog, put the mustard on it, the relish, some onion, placed on a paper plate, with a pile of potato chips and said, “Ready, Eamag, you old wonderful hag?”

She laughed. “Och, ye are a bumpty! Are ye goin’ tae force me tae eat this terrible meal ye hae made?”

“Aye, you have to eat it or you’ll break my heart, Eamag. We have been in the fucking trenches over this meal. You can’t leave me out here to plant the flag by myself. Or some such shit. Take a bite.” He held the hotdog out for her.

She shook her head and then wiped her face in her apron and opened her mouth for a tiny bite. Then while we all watched she chewed, her face twisted up comically, then she nodded and smiled, “Tis verra good!”

Zach thrust the plate in her hand and cheered, “Eamag likes hotdogs! I knew it! ” And then, “Let the meal begin! Line forms around here!”

In the afternoon, we were all sitting around the courtyard, when James dropped a big duffel bag at his feet, and held up a tankard of beer. “My friends, I want to make a toast to Sophie, who walked into my life when I least expected her—”

Sean held up his glass, “Why nae? Ye’re an auld man!”

James laughed. “Aye, I’m an auld man, not expecting to find her here, now, but there she is—” He put his hand over his heart. “And what a beauty, am I right?” He grinned. “I’m a lucky man to have these friends around me. I’m luckier still to have you enter my life and join my family, thank you.”

She smiled and he leaned over her chair and kissed her sweetly. Then he said, “And because this is our day, I get to pick whatever I want to do, and I pick this!” He pulled a kickball from the duffel bag. “Who wants a game?”

We decided to, in the name of wedding day, make the game men against women. And all ages could play. Quentin and James placed bases out in a wide diamond in the courtyard and then James strutted in front of us all explaining the rules, but then Quentin got a chant going, “Let us play! Let us play!” Because none of the eighteenth century people understood what he was explaining and they needed practical experience instead.

So we played.

On the men’s team:

Magnus was hilarious as he kicked and raced around the bases.

Fraoch danced and preened jokingly through the whole thing.

Sean took to the showmanship quickly, he was yelling at everyone to do better.

Liam took it very seriously.

James coached us all.

Quentin kept strategizing how to win.

On the women’s team we were laughing a lot, because we couldn’t take it seriously in our long skirts and tight bodices. We tried, oh we tried, but we couldn’t compete so we just had to have fun, because when it was our time to kick...

Sophie, for instance, had never in her life kicked a ball, and when she rushed up she missed as the ball rolled right into her skirts.

James yelled, “That’s okay, Sophie!” Clapping he said, “You got this, go again.”

Quentin rolled the ball very slowly and Sophie’s kick was a slight tap that barely nudged it away from her feet. Then James and Quentin conspired to go really slow so she made it to first base.

Then Beaty kicked.

Quentin beamed. She had played before. She tucked the back of her skirt up into her belt and when he rolled the ball she rushed forward and kicked it fast and far. All the little boy cousins and Archie buzzed around trying to retrieve the ball as she raced to first base. At the same time, James was trying to explain to Sophie that she needed to run to second base.

Then it was Lizbeth’s turn.

She said, “Och, tis nae a proper sensible thing tae—” The ball rolled toward her and she jogged forward, meeting it almost halfway, too far away from home base but no one complained. She kicked it right to Liam who looked surprised and then not at all like he wanted to chase her with it as she made it to first base.

Then it was my turn.

I joked, “Quentin, looky here, you’ve got the bases loaded with eighteenth century women — looks like if I make this kick and kick it well, I can, at the very least, get the bride home.” To Hayley I said, “What do you think girlfriend? You think I can get one, two, three runs on this kick?”

Hayley laughed, “I don’t know, depends on how fast they run!”

Zach laughed, “You ladies are strategizing, but look at how many men are in this outfield, there are at least thirty men out here.”

I laughed. “Yeah, but through sheer grit and determination I managed to get a teammate on every base, pure skill baby, like Olympic level.”

I hitched up my skirt.

Quentin started to roll but I stopped him, “Wait! Let me talk to my teammates for a second.”

To all the ladies on bases, I said, “I just want to make sure — you all know what to do — you run, right? Sophie, as soon as my foot connects to the ball you run to this base.” I pointed. “Got me? Run fast! Beaty, you know what to do. Lizbeth, you’re going to where Beaty is standing and if you can keep going, just keep running, following Beaty, got me?”

They all agreed.

I said to Quentin, “Okay...” I hitched up my skirt even higher and looked out at the field, every square inch covered by my opponents. The only weak link, Liam, because he was confused by the whole game. But there was James, infield, grinning — he was the groom.

The ball rolled toward me, I swung my foot back, connected, expertly, and slammed it into James’s hands.

He said, “Shit, I have the ball!”

I raced toward first.

Lizbeth jogged to second, and Liam, following her, asked, “Och, twas where ye were tae go?”

“Aye, tis what Kaitlyn said.”

I turned around and saw James pretend he couldn’t get Madame Sophie out as she crossed home base, then he threw the ball to Quentin who pretended to chase Beaty as she crossed home base, and then Magnus ran alongside Lizbeth coaching, “Run that way, tae the base, ye must touch it! Keep going!” While Liam ran alongside her thinking that was his job, and then Quentin threw the ball to Magnus as my foot stepped on third base.

I picked up speed with Magnus in hot pursuit, his footsteps close behind, as I sprinted, one, two, three — I dove for home base as Magnus tagged me with the ball a half second too late.

I was covered with the dust and dirt of the courtyard, and sat up spitting and coughing, everyone laughing. Archie threw his arms around my neck, “You got a home run!”

Magnus held out a hand to help me up.

After that the men didn’t ‘let’ us win, but they also didn’t kick our arse, and most of the women dropped out from playing because our dresses made unfortunate athletic uniforms. We switched around our teams, filling in with men, until after a couple of hours our teams were more like me, Magnus, Zach, Emma, Quentin, and Sean, against James, Hayley, Fraoch, and Liam with some of the cousins and a few of the guards joined in. It was a freaking amazing afternoon with our large extended family.

And whenever we needed more to eat there was Eamag at the grill with yet more hotdogs and potato chips.

Sophie came over when I was putting ketchup on a hotdog for Isla, “Do ye need any help, Queen Kaitlyn? Ought I tae help ye with the bairns?”

I laughed, balancing three paper plates for Isla, Archie, and Ben. “Am I looking that incompetent?” I passed Isla the hotdog and a second later she had a smear of ketchup on her face. “Besides, it’s your wedding day, you don’t need to help me with the children. Enjoy yourself.”

She said, “Och, I thought...”

“You thought what...?”

Isla squirmed away from me as I tried to wipe her face clean.

“I was told tae help ye.”

“Ugh, you don’t have to help me, I’m an old married lady. No one will mind if you don’t offer to help on your wedding day, so don’t worry about it.”

She looked flustered.

Isla pulled on my skirts. “Want chips!”

“Who told you to help me?“

“Everyone, they said I ought tae do m’best tae keep ye happy.”

“To keep me happy... why? Is it because I had a relationship with James back in the day? Because you don’t need to worry about it — that was nothing. You are a part of his family now, which makes you a part of our whole family.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“Madame Sophie, what is it?”

“Ye had relations with James, what dost ye mean?”

“Oh! I mean, no, not really, not anything to worry about... I’m so sorry I said anything, Sophie, boy, open mouth insert foot.” I watched the kids eat. “I’m really sorry about that, do you need a napkin?”

“Aye.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I am sorry, I hae been overwhelmed t’day.”

“It is your wedding day, you’re allowed to be emotional.” I asked, “So why did everyone say you needed to make me happy?”

“Because ye are a queen.”

“Och.” I grimaced. “Yeah, that is... confusingly simple and a perfectly good reason.” I saw James standing across the way. “Can you hold on for a moment?”

I rushed to where he stood. “Okay, I screwed up, I told her we had a relationship and God only knows what that means inside of her head.”

“What the hell, Katie?”

“I know. I am so sorry about that — go talk to her.”

I pushed him toward where she stood with a forlorn expression, staring out at the crowd in the courtyard.