With a cry, she ran for the house, but Pátraic caught her around the waist. Clíodhna screamed and clawed for his eyes, twisting her body in his arms. He let out a screech, and pulled back from her attack, his grip slipping.
Wriggling free, she made it to the threshold before the first monk crossed inside. She planted herself in his path. “You will not enter my house! I do not give you permission to touch my children! Get away from my home, all of you!”
The wind whipped up and blew so hard, two of the monks staggered back. The others searched the sky in panic as dark clouds roiled in, blackening the rising sun. Screaming ethereal creatures rode within the wind itself. The gossamer horrors, all mouths and sharp teeth, would be Sluagh Sídhe intent upon harassing the monks. Clíodhna hadn’t called the creatures. They must have joined in the fun once they noticed the storm.
Pátraic also glanced to the heavens and moved his hand from shoulder to shoulder, then to his forehead and his chest. He gestured to the monks to follow him. Before he left the clearing, he turned back to her, his eyes narrowed. “This is not finished, wanton. Mend your ways and I might relent. But continue your pagan practices, and I will have no choice but to act in the children’s best interest.”
Once the men left, Clíodhna’s knees buckled under her, and she sat on the threshold. She gave in to the shakes and put her hands over her face. Tears leaked out between her fingers.
Donn poked his head out. His gaze seemed clear and worried, so he must have been up and listening to the argument. “Ma? Ma, what’s wrong?”
Clíodhna sniffed in to clear her head. “Nothing, Donn. But I can’t take you to the abbey any longer for lessons.”
“Why? What did I do?”
“Not you, Donn. Me. I angered Abbot Pátraic, and now he wants to take you from me. You, Etromma, Aileran.”
Her son sat next to her on the threshold, his brow furrowed deep. “I don’t understand. Why would they take us from you? Are you going away?”
She put her arm around him, hugging him tight against her right side. “No, Donn. They want to take you all away from me to teach you to be good Christians. I’m too pagan for them. Do you know what pagan is?”
He picked at his nails. “The monks say the word, but I don’t know what it means.”
“Odhrán told me it used to just mean people who dwell in the country. However, it has come to be a name they give to those who aren’t Christian. Anyone who doesn’t believe like they do. They use it as an insult to all of us who don’t follow their ways.”
Donn bowed his head and Etromma’s sleepy voice drifted from the darkness. “Ma? What’s wrong?”
Clíodhna stood and rushed to her daughter’s side. “Go back to sleep, love. You don’t have to get up early today to do chores before lessons. I’ll go feed Aileran, and Donn will tend to the animals.”
Donn headed toward the stable while Clíodhna lifted her baby to feed him.
Would she have to run away? Take her children and flee in the night like criminals? She gripped Aileran so tightly he whimpered. She relented and loosened her hold while he sucked.
No. She would not allow this. She had been here for many winters, ever since she married Oisinne. Since before Etromma was born. She had nowhere else to go, as her parents had died of a fever when she was young.
Clíodhna would not permit Abbot Pátraic the satisfaction of running her off.
* * *
When Adhna returned the next week, Clíodhna let out a sigh of relief. Since Pátraic’s visit, she’d been jumping at shadows, twitching at each sound, worried they had returned to take her children. With Adhna here, she would have help. He could help her keep watch and maybe teach her how to make her home safer.
“Clíodhna? You look distraught, child. Come, let me help you.” He placed his hands on her forehead and that sweet, strong energy infused her body, rushing through every muscle and bone. She quivered with delighted strength when he’d finished.
She let out a deep sigh and sat on the bench outside the roundhouse. “Thank you, Adhna. I’ve gotten little rest this week, and my work has suffered.”
“Oh? There is a tale to tell, I see. Let’s sit and you can relate it. Might you have a bit of cheese to hand?”
Clíodhna chuckled and fetched the wedge she’d kept for him. His love of cheese had become a joke between them, but he had an obsession. Made from goat’s, cow’s, or sheep’s milk, he didn’t care. He’d told her that Fae aren’t very good at making things, unless they were a specific kind of Fae. Cheese, bread, milk—each required physical labor the Fae didn’t care for. Despite Adhna’s ability to create milk within a cow’s udder, doing this regularly didn’t appeal to him, even if it supplied him with endless cheese. Thus, such gifts from humankind had become well-loved by the Fae.
“What has happened this week to make you so frazzled, Clíodhna?”
She related the details of Pátraic’s visit and his threats. Adhna clicked his tongue and tugged at his beard several times as she spoke, her anger seeping through her words despite her determination to speak in a calm tone. When she’d finished, he let out a deep breath.
“I’m afraid there is little we can do about his power, at this point. Perhaps when he’d first arrived, we could have leveraged some of the other villagers… but it’s too late now.”
“But I’ve
