‘Aye, and that is my own bairn yonder.’ She nodded at a wooden crib in the corner, which held a sleeping pale-haired infant. ‘My sixth, he is, and he’s had his fill, but he’s not near as greedy as this one. She sucks me dry, but then, she is a Glendenning, and they are all the same.’
‘You do not like them, the Glendennings?’ asked Rowenna.
The woman shrugged. ‘They are no worse than any other rich ones hereabouts. They feed me well, and I sleep in comfort.’ She leant forward. ‘And while I am at Krasnmuir, my husband cannot get hold of me and put another bairn in my belly. So what have I got to complain about?’
Plenty, judging by the bitterness in her voice. Rowenna felt a little unsettled by the woman.
The baby’s mouth fell away, oozing a dribble of milk, which Osla wiped away with a grubby hand. ‘Do you want to hold her?’ she said.
‘I don’t think so.’
Osla held the baby out as if she would not take ‘no’ for an answer. ‘Here, take her. Caitrin will not bite, unlike her father,eh.’ She rose and thrust the bairn into Rowenna’s arms, her naked breast dangling - fleshy, pale and pendulous.
The woman groaned. ‘That’s better. Save my back for a bit. Let us talk for a while, for you should know something about the man before he drags you into his bed, lass. Unless he already has.’
‘You are insolent to say such a thing,’ said Rowenna.
Osla shrugged. ‘I suppose I am. My mouth always gets me into trouble in more ways than one,’ she said with a bawdy wink and a chuckle. The bairn was light in Rowenna’s arms, stirring a little, then settling down with a little sigh. She smelled of milk – a sweet smell, cloying but calming. A warm rush of feeling entered Rowenna’s heart. What it would be to have a bairn to love and cherish.
‘She likes you,’ said Osla. ‘Just as well, if you are staying, lass. It will be nice to have company in this wing of the castle, though I won’t relish listening to Jasper Glendenning grunting away on top of you every night. I suppose they might shuffle us off somewhere else by then, to give him his privacy.’
Rowenna’s mouth fell open at the thought, and she tensed, ready to hand the bairn back and leave.
‘Shocked you, have I?’ said Osla. ‘Well, lass, bedding Jasper Glendenning will shock you more. You are young, so I doubt you are prepared for that onslaught, and I am truly sorry for your plight.’
Rowenna suddenly had to know. ‘Is he a monster like everyone says? Will he hurt me?’
The woman laughed. ‘When I said onslaught, I meant he has wiles, lass. He is skilled abed, you see, and word has it once he puts his hands on a lass, he makes her melt into a puddle oflust. They all lift their skirts easily enough and let him take his pleasure whenever and however he wants. My husband could learn a trick or two from Jasper Glendenning if he wasn’t too lazy and selfish to bother. Wouldn’t mind getting a full belly so much if there was pleasure in it first. But with him, he just spits on his palm and shoves it in like a farmyard hog.’
Rowenna’s stomach curdled at the repulsive image the woman conjured. She had little knowledge of the act, having only seen her father and Morag in its aftermath, so she was woefully ignorant of matters of the heart, or loins for that matter.
‘I should not be here. I must go.’
‘Aw, lass. Don’t mind me. When you’ve suckled and birthed enough bairns, you learn to speak as you find, and I am no laird’s daughter with airs and graces to put on.’
‘I have no airs and graces.’
‘But you are a laird’s daughter and a bonnie one at that. I can see why you caught his eye.’
‘Because I look like that Brenna lass?’
The woman’s gaze darted to the door. ‘We do not speak her name, and nor should you. Drove a knife through his heart, that lass, and beggared the man’s pride. That is all you need to know. But you are like her, with that bonnie hair and a soft look about you.’
‘I am not soft.’
‘No, but softer than his wife, may she rest in peace. She was a great beauty- elegant, educated, rich.’ Osla shuffled her stool closer. ‘But do you know what? She was a cold fish, haughty. She would never sit down with me like this and talk. Servantswere nothing to her, you see, insects to crush underfoot. Isobel Marlowe was far too fine for the likes of us or for the likes of the Glendennings. Jasper never gave a fig for her, and I think she knew it. ‘Twas as loveless a union as can be, for his heart was given away. Yet he did his best, did his duty by her night after night until it killed her. How do you like that?’
Someone shouted Rowenna’s name down the hallway, making her heart lurch.
‘Tis nothing to me what they thought of each other. Here, take his bairn. I must go.’
The woman grasped the bairn in her meaty hands. ‘No need to take offence. I was just saying, is all. I thought you might want to be forewarned about that, Jasper. It takes a clever woman to manage him, and you are so young - like a lamb to the slaughter. His lust will burn you up, lass.’
As Rowenna hurried out the door, Osla called after her. ‘Come again if you can bear it. I like to have company.’
When Rowenna returned to her chamber, a group of servants was waiting with a wooden tub and jugs of water. Despite her howls of protest, she was stripped and scrubbed to the point of being flayed alive. Did Jasper think she was a low, rank woman, no more than a beast?
‘A lamb to the slaughter,’ Osla has said, and that was precisely what she felt like.
