Clíodhna hugged him, wishing with all her heart that he didn’t have to leave. The clouds blocked out the sun, and the wind picked up as they released each other. She stared into his bright blue eyes, wanting to kiss him before he left but not daring lest they part in conflict.
She expected him to walk away. She did not expect him to dissolve in her arms. Her skin tingled where they had touched. Clíodhna sat down on the viewing rock and cried in a mixture of grief and frustration.
Chapter Three
Her days no longer occupied with lessons, Clíodhna took some much-needed rest. Now that the weather warmed and Bealtaine approached, she did repairs on the roundhouse, prepared her garden for new growth, and attended many other tasks to keep her mind busy.
Clíodhna still needed someone to honor the spring season, but if Adhna might be back in time, she must keep herself for him. No one else in the village came close to being suitable or as attractive. Odhrán, though she would have delighted in sharing his body, had made his position clear, and it would be unfair to him for her to pursue that avenue. Besides, she didn’t see much of him since the Abbot arrived. They stole a few moments of treasured discourse when she picked her children up, but the Abbot had given him new duties, which kept his days well full.
She attended another sermon to discover more about Abbot Pátraic’s intentions. His words sounded reasonable enough, if strident. He didn’t seem to have any room in his philosophy for those who didn’t wish to become part of his church. Clíodhna didn’t care for that assumption. She’d never been good at obeying commands from authority figures. They normally made her want to do the opposite out of spite.
However, he outlined several worthy projects, including regular instruction for all the children of a certain age, community workshops to spread knowledge, and charitable projects for those in need.
These reflected the precepts Odhrán had spoken to her many times, so she felt confident the new religion valued such ideas. Druí also had such ideals, but higher education only came to those dedicated to the path.
To fill her now-empty mornings, she assisted the monks with their projects. Clíodhna volunteered to help with the food garden, and using the techniques Adhna had taught her, encouraged them to grow quick and strong. Several monks remarked at how well the garden grew under her care. She found it ironic that the Abbot had once told her she’d require permission to enter.
Occasionally, she helped make soup for the abbey, earning her a nod of approval from the new Abbot as he passed. They distributed soup to some of the poorer people in the village, an activity which Clíodhna heartily approved of. When she stood at the table, handing out bread with the soup, she considered this a change for the better. Not that the village would ever let someone die of starvation, but many did scrape to fill their bellies, especially in the spring when nothing yet grew in the gardens and the autumn slaughter was long since devoured.
Another area where the Abbot had changed tradition was in the acceptable behavior of unmarried women. He dictated that they should remain modest and protected by their fathers or brothers until they married.
Clíodhna did not like this change one bit.
Not only did it affect her directly, as a widow, but she seethed at the inequity of it. How dare he dictate women’s behavior and abilities? Did they not equal men in wisdom and reason? Under Brehon Law, women could hold property, divorce, and stand equal to her husband in the eyes of the law. The Druí had no such disdain for females. How dare he come into their land, their society, and begin making demands of change?
Clíodhna hadn’t been to that sermon, so she didn’t discover the news until Ita brought her the gossip. When Clíodhna discovered this change, she sought Odhrán’s counsel after dropping off the children the morning before Bealtaine.
The young monk didn’t appear to be in his normal place, near the stables, nor did he work in the blacksmithy. She checked the leather workshop, and found him in the practice field. He sparred with another monk, both using wooden quarterstaffs. The clack clack of the weapons sounded gentle. They only played at fighting, barely touching the stout poles.
When he noticed her watching, Odhrán bowed to his opponent, replaced his staff on a rack, and mopped the sweat from his forehead. “Good day, Clíodhna! How are you on this fine morning?”
She pursed her lips, glaring at him. “What do you know about this new edict by your Abbot?”
His cheerful expression dissolved into a grim line. “Oh, yes. That. I expected to hear from you on this.”
She waited. “Well?”
With a shrug, he wiped his face again. “It’s a rule in Rome that Abbot Pátraic and other leaders are charged to implement throughout the Christian lands.”
Clíodhna refused to grant him leniency, despite their friendship. “These are not Christian lands. These are Eirish lands, and not subject to rule by your empire. They don’t even call it by the proper name, renaming it Hibernia. We are not Rome’s to take. The Abbot would do well to remember that fact.”
He closed his eyes and breathed in deep. When he let the breath out, his eyes opened, full of entreaty. “Please understand, Clíodhna. I have no say in this decision, and no way of changing his mind. His superiors have ordered him to do this. I’ve been ordered to support him.”
She clenched her jaw in frustration. “Then who do I appeal to in Rome?”
He stared at his feet, his hands clasped.
