Quest of the Highlander (Crowns & Kilts #5) - Cynthia Wright Page 0,26
creative process, at the loom.”
“Ye are stubborn, Nora Brodie. Headstrong. Just because ye want something, it does not mean it is possible. I cannot simply push this Habet fellow aside and insist that one of the royal weavers must be a lass. They would think me mad.” He paused, adding for good measure, “Habet has already said no lass has the strength to work the loom all day long.”
Nora blinked back tears. How could this be happening? All her life, he had encouraged her aspirations. Hadn’t she left her own mother behind, in Flanders, to be at his side so that she might grow up to become a master weaver?
“Father, you have promised me.”
He stared in consternation. “I have ne’er promised that ye would be a true weaver! Ye must have dreamed it! With your gifts and determination, ye may have a grand life as a royal tapisier, which few women could even imagine. But a master weaver?” William shook his head. “Nay.”
Her eyes stung. “You know I can do it.”
“This is a world of men. I cannot change that! No master weaver has ever been a—”
She broke in, her tone impassioned. “I know what you are going to say, that women cannot assume such a position, but I mean to break that rule. I will be a master weaver before I die.” She watched his eyes widen and hurried on. “It is a big dream, bigger than such a dream would be for a man, so I have no time to waste with this…” Nora poked a finger at the sheaf of parchment. “This list!”
Her father moaned and rubbed his brow as if she had caused his head to ache. “Even if ye were a lad, there would be years of apprenticeship ahead. I cannot simply wave a hand and allow my daughter to move past the men who follow the proper path.”
Apprenticeship? What about all the years she had spent with him, learning to weave magnificent tapestries at her father’s side?
“I am being punished because I am female,” Nora declared angrily.
“I did not make this world!”
Suddenly, Nora’s throat was thick. “I thought you were my ally.”
“I am, lass. Your ally, but no wizard.”
She turned away. “I must go outside, Father. Perhaps I only need a bit of air.”
“Aye, go on, then. But do not tarry.” He waited until Nora reached the door before adding, “If ye will be patient, perhaps we shall find a way. Ye must show them all that ye are willing to give your life to your art. That’s what it will take if ye mean to do what no other woman can.”
She felt a surge of hopeful determination at his words, but no sooner had she emerged into the busy inner close than the dark cloud of worry returned, wrapping itself around her like a heavy cloak.
“Nora!”
Looking up, she saw Grant. The youth emerged from a small group of masons and carvers, loping up the cobbled pathway from the bakehouse with an oval loaf of bread in one hand. He seemed to grow taller every time she saw him, and if she were not so preoccupied with her own problems, his attentions to her would seem sweet.
Nora put on a smile and waved. Almost before she could speak, he was at her side. “Where have ye been these past few days?”
“I have been very busy. We are about to begin the first tapestry on the new loom.”
“But that is a good thing, and I can see in your face that something is wrong.” He was staring at her, an unruly shock of dark hair falling over one eye. “Come with me.”
Sighing, she let him pull her along, into the still-unfinished new palace. Because work was being done on the other side of the building, there was no one about as they made their way along a wide passageway. When they reached the doorway to the king’s outer hall, Grant pointed inside.
“The heads are going to decorate the ceiling in here.” He pointed to the plain, coffered ceiling high above them, and she realized he was referring to the large portrait medallions she’d seen them making. “I’ve been helping with the carving! Bayard has taught me so much.”
On they went, until Grant opened a door leading into a large, three-story-high courtyard with stone walls and many windows. It opened to the blue sky overhead.
“How lovely!” exclaimed Nora. “But it would be much nicer if it were a garden.”