“I do not know. In truth, he did not have much of a choice.”
Astrid gasped, her encounter with Pádraig swiftly coming to mind. “Tell me he was chivalrous with ye.”
“He was! He just did not have a chance to say no. ’Twas for my protection. Sean—”
“Sean of Drogheda?” She spoke of the overking, whom Diarmuid had ridden out to meet these many days past.
“Hewasof Drogheda.”
“Ah, I forget. I have not seen him much of late. He has always spent more time with my brother. How fares he? Is Thomasina big with child?”
“She is not. Lorccán is their last, and he is nigh on six years now.”
The throbbing in Astrid’s ankle was near unbearable, and she settled on the bench before she spoke. “When I was very young, our clans would gather for celebrations. That was when my father was still alive.”
The memory of her father started her tears anew. She had loved him very deeply. A handsome man and a great warrior with grand ideas of virtue and honor, he’d held every man in their clan to the same ideals.Hisfather had been at the Battle of Clontarf, and that was something that was never forgotten. Though Brian Boru died that day, the unity of the people and the line of kings that followed continued still. They would not give up who they were and what they believed. And her father would never have allowed any of his men to treat a woman as Pádraig had treated her.
“But I am not allowed far from here now. My mother keeps me close to her side. I also think Diarmuid does not trust me to not make a fuss. He leaves me behind for his own peace.”
Astrid lifted her gown to check her foot. It had grown quite large from her injury.
Aednat gasped. “Who has done this to ye?” She turned the leg just the slightest, inspecting the bindings. “This is not the way to help it mend.”
“Meic Murchadha’s healer covered it up.” Astrid flushed at the memory of Marcán leaning against the door with his dark, brooding expression, looking on as the woman insisted it was Astrid’s behavior that had brought God’s wrath down on her.
“May I see it?” Aednat asked.
Astrid nodded. Aednat carefully unwrapped it.
“Does it hurt?”
The ankle looked terrible, all purple and black, and Astrid was overwhelmed with sadness. She had been in such a hurry to get to the Meic Murchadha, that was why she had gotten hurt. Foolish to a fault, she’d convinced herself all of her problems would disappear if she spent time with Pádraig and spoke to him of their joining. Instead, her problems were just starting.
“Astrid?”
Aednat’s gently inquiring tone threatened to unleash the torrent of sadness in her, but Astrid cleared her throat and said, “I am often hurting myself. My mother says I am clumsy.”
Everyone knew if her mother said it, then it was so. No discussion. No questions. No thoughts of yer own unless ye cared to listen to all the ways in which ye were wrong.
Lost in her thoughts, Astrid didn’t realize Aednat had finished caring for her injury until she said, “That should ease the aching.”
Astrid rubbed the clean, tight covering and smiled. “A much better job than the Meic Murchadha’s healer.”
“Did she put anything on it?”
Astrid shook her head. “She was more interested in speaking of God’s curse on me, saying it was my behavior alone that caused me to have so many accidents.”
Again, Marcán’s expression came to her mind. Not exactly condemning, but he’d said nothing to silence the women either. Seeing Aednat’s frown, Astrid wished she’d not been so honest in her answer. She did not want her new sister to think badly of her.
“Mayhap ye need to be more careful,” Aednat said.
“According to her, ’tis irrelevant whether I am careful or not.” Astrid decided to take a chance with Aednat. She could use an ally. “D’ye believe it as well? That God is angry with me?”
“I do not know how God feels, but were ye walking at a steady pace? Was the ground sound beneath yer feet?”
“Oh, no. I was hurrying along the sheep trail that connects our land with the Meic Murchadha.”
“Rutted? And well worn?”
