“Do not.” Astrid used her firmest tone, her gaze locking onto her mother’s eyes, which widened in surprise or outrage. Astrid couldn’t be certain which, and cared even less.
Beibhinn’s face tightened. “I will! Do not defy me in this, daughter.”
“To what purpose?” she asked, clipping each word. The need to defend Marcán rather than cower to the side blossomed in Astrid’s chest and refused to be denied.
“I will not have ye marrying that man. He is in league with the devil.”
If her mother didn’t have her own motives for wanting to prevent the union, Astrid might have been convinced of her mother’s concern. As it was, she knew the truth, and there was no reason a good man should be left in the wake of her mother’s all-consuming selfishness. “I tell ye he is not.”
Beibhinn moved in close. “Ye are taken in by his fine manners and bravery, but I tell ye he is in league with the devil and needs to be taken down. His mother was the very same.”
The words caught Astrid off guard and she paused. All she knew of Marcán’s parents was what he’d shared over the years. They had been very deeply in love. She could remember no instance when her mother hadeverspoken to either of them.
“His mother?” Astrid had a sudden acuteness of hearing and sight. Her mind became fixed on this woman before her, as if seeing her for the first time. The deep lines at her mouth from years of scowling and unhappiness, the dullness of her skin, and the perpetual look of upset. Outrage and disbelief filled every corner of Astrid’s body and she let her tone say as much. “Ye did not like hismother?”
“A bad seed, that one.”
A handsome warrior with hair dark as night.
Like Marcán!
I remember him still…
Yet he chose another.
Astrid took a deep breath, trying to quell her indignation enough to speak. “And what of his father?”
Beibhinn blushed and glanced away. “He was taken in by her wicked ways.”
Astrid staggered back as if she’d received a blow to the head. “Ye did not like Marcán’s mother, so ye do not want me to care for her son? A wonderful, loving man? Ye would prefer I marry a defiler of women?” Her voice was getting louder, but she didn’t care who heard. “I cannot be with Marcán because ye were in love with his father?”
Her mother’s look of warning only brought a smile to Astrid’s face. A smile of relief. A smile of release from any guilt. A smile of sweet satisfaction.
“His father chose another over ye, so ye wish to punish the son?” Astrid asked. “Ye do not care for anyone but yerself!” Astrid stabbed her finger at Beibhinn. “Yeare a horrid woman! I denounce ye as my mother. No creature as baleful as ye deserves a daughter as loving as me.”
Confusion covered her mother’s face, but Astrid turned away, refusing to say more. She walked toward Marcán, whose expression was unreadable, and took his hand and stood beside him. He never took his eyes off her. There were people gathered around them, whispering, but she paid them no mind.
“Again, I say ye are not a woman to be crossed.” Marcán’s quiet words brought the flash of a smile.
“And well ye know it,” she said, her head still shaking in disbelief. “This is all about yer father, Marcán. Is her behavior not a terrible disgrace for any mother?”
“I am sorry, my love.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed hers. “But glad I am that ye stood up to her.”
“She wants to see ye burned as a Seer.”
Marcán scoffed. “I am not afeared of what she can do. Rest easy,a ghráidh.”
It took but a moment for Beibhinn to recover, her face tightening into an angry mask. “Seer!” She delivered the words in a loud, clear voice, but no one moved. “That man is a Seer! He should be burned alive!”
Those gathered around her shook their heads, unsure how to proceed.
“Call for the priest,” Beibhinn demanded in a shrill voice.
Chapter 19
The crowd that had gathered around took several steps back, away from Beibhinn, too afeared of her to stand up to her declaration naming Marcán a Seer. Astrid felt a tug of sympathy for the pathetic woman who instilled fear by her very presence because of her many wild accusations.
“The priest is here.”
