Domelch’s heavy brow lowered ever so slowly. Her eyes narrow, angry slits of cold emerald, prompted Ethne to speak just as Domelch knew it would.
“I am verra sorry for treating ye thus.” The lies came easy now, much more easily than they used to when Ethne had struggled to understand what she did wrong. To explain. To defend herself. She knew better now. She would not be found blameless in any situation.
“On. Yer. Knees.” Domelch’s satisfaction complete, her nose held high and her long, red hair piled high atop her head, gave her an imperious look.
Once, Ethne and Malcolm had lived among people who were kind and loving. Her great-great-grandmother had been a woman of some importance.
Not anymore. Now, their mother and father were both dead, and Malcolm had married this miserable woman and returned to the “old” ways. Old ways Ethne had no experience with before she came here. Old ways that used words like “tribe” instead of “clan.” Old ways the church considered heathen practices. They lived away from the protection of the village so their ceremonies would not be banned, and Ethne would continue to be their slave in all but title.
Knowing what Domelch wanted, she knelt before the two of them, head bowed, hoping she remained far enough away to avoid being kicked this time. “I ask for yer mercy in allowing me to remove this slight against ye. Pray tell me what I can do to make amends.”
“What do ye think, my little man? What would ye like this night?”
“I would love lamprey cakes! Ethne makes the best, and it has been such a long time.” His tone held the same enthusiasm as earlier when she’d believed the child might enjoy a simple walk in the woods.
“Then she will make lamprey cakes.”
“For all of us?" he asked.
“For all of us,” Domelch said, her tone pure gloating. “How generous ye are, my little man.”
It was forbidden by the mormaer at the castle to catch lampreys and it mattered very little that these were disputed lands.Anyonecaught breaking that law would need to pay just compensation. A silly law created as a way of honoring the Norman king’s love of the slimy creature. A hard law to enforce, but it was there for anyone wishing to cause trouble. A fine could be exacted, even payment in kind when no coin was held. Payment in kind could be anything.Anything.
Ethne and Finn had been stopped just a fortnight ago after they’d been left behind when his parents went south to sell the skins they'd collected. Digging for crabs at low tide, the sounds of the surf surrounding them, she hadn't heard the mounted warriors coming at them until it was too late.
Four wealthy islanders by the look of them, but only one dismounted—the largest one. A gold medallion prominently displayed against his chest indicated his authority. She was at his mercy. No one would dare gainsay him. His fine leather gloves signified his great wealth. He swaggered toward her, peeling them off his enormous hands. The gold ring on his finger bore the seal of an island tribe. With no strong leadership of their own, the people in this area had no recourse against the outrageous treatment of being stopped and searched. Their tribe was afforded no protection, not from the mormaer, who considered this land the property of his king, or from these islanders who coveted the area. After all, they were outcasts by choice. Outcasts and unwanted.
Wearing a leering smile, he'd searched her with hot grasping fingers that lingered in places she should not be touched. His men laughed. She stood there, as still as she could, and took it because she had no choice.
In her mind, she’d stood up to him and demanded to know where, exactly, they believed she was hiding the slimy delicacy. But when he had finished his “inspection” and turned her about, he stood nose to nose with her. His breathing heavy and his eyes hooded. She was glad she'd held her tongue. With his lust sparked, he was even more dangerous. If he decided to rape her, the others who had enjoyed watching the humiliating examination, might even be allowed to take their turn. In that brief moment, she could read his indecision. She prayed to God for mercy.
“Ye stink!” He spat the words, then shoved at her chest, pushing her back so that she lost her footing and fell with a splash into the rising tide swirling around her. She had no recourse then, and she had no recourse now. And she didn’t like feeling helpless.
The “loving” smile Domelch turned on her son never reached her eyes. Ethne was convinced the woman had no feelings for anyone but herself. A heart of solid rock.
Ethne could not refuse and lowered her gaze, relieved they hadn’t noticed her watching them as Domelch saw that as a sign of disrespect. “As ye wish. I thank ye.”
“And tell him ye will not treat him so again!” Domelch demanded of her.
Ethne cringed, but stopped short of fisting her hands. Domelch watched her like a hawk high in the trees, ready to swoop down on her at any sign of insolence.
“Never again will I treat ye so.” Ethne was beyond angry with this little boy whom she had raised as her own, but she doubted he understood the consequences of his actions.
“Ye may return when ye have collected enough lampreys for our evening meal.” The words were thrown over Domelch’s shoulder as she walked away, Finn’s hand firmly in hers. Neither looked back.
* * *
Twilight had long passed, the rising moon the only light to guide Ethne across the boulder-strewn path. She paused to stretch her back, enjoying the quietwhooshof the surf, and took a deep breath, trying to loosen the knot tightening her stomach. Domelch would no doubt object to the paltry number of fish she’d been able to catch. If her brother were not away, mayhap this time he’d come to her defense. She shook her head. Not likely, best to linger out here no longer. As if in answer to her troubled thoughts, music drifted toward her on the faint breeze. A whistle being played by someone far better than her brother.
Visitors. Her brother must be back. She closed the short distance to the cave’s hidden entrance with quickened steps. Unnoticed, she paused just inside the cave to search him out. Malcolm sat with his back against the far wall as always, talking with their chieftain and three other tribe’s men. They were back from their hunt, a success by the amount of drinking and loud talking. They had been gone since the new moon, and this celebration could last many days.
Malcom looked exhausted. His dark-hair matted against his head, along with filthy clothing, demonstrated how little his wife revered him. Ethne’s heart squeezed. Domelch had not even provided him a bath. Instead, she flaunted about, distributing the dripping meat and seeing to the others. Another thing Ethne was helpless to change.
The smell of roasting boar made her stomach growl. Her smelly catch waited in her makeshift sack—herléineturned up at the hem with its ends tucked into the rope securing her waist—but she leaned back to appreciate the lovely music. Soon enough she’d be noticed and ordered about. The fire cast dancing shadows against the curved walls as nearly a dozen people moved around the tiny space, looking very much like the drawings that adorned the wall.
Five burly men were just joining Malcolm, their backs to her. She only recognized two of them for certain.
“Ethne!” Finn flung his hot, little body at her. He always got overly excited when people came to visit, refusing to leave the gathering for his much-needed sleep for fear he’d miss something.
