“Let her go, Fachtna. Your duty is not to discipline non-believers. In fact, if I recall, your specific mission is to help those in need. Am I misremembering?”
With a growl, Fachtna released Etromma, who ran to her mother. Clíodhna enclosed her in a hug with her free arm. She glared at the older monk. “I demand an apology. This man has assaulted my daughter with no provocation.”
The monk spluttered. “No provocation!”
“Fachtna! You must offer an apology to the woman and her daughter.”
By now, several other monks gathered, drawn by the shouting. Most of them stood behind Odhrán, but one or two stood behind the transgressing man. Clíodhna spied Ita far in the back, a frown on her face.
“I must apologize to her?”
Odhrán crossed his arms and planted his feet wide. “To both, yes.” Several monks behind him murmured agreement, though they’d have no idea what started this fracas. Clíodhna noted the power Odhrán commanded, and the trust his fellow monks put in him. A man to be watched. At the moment, she enjoyed his good graces and support. She might be wise to cultivate that for future use.
Fachtna mumbled something under his breath.
Odhrán tapped his foot. “Louder. We cannot understand your words.”
“I said, I apologize. I should not have touched the… young woman.”
Odhrán stared at the older monk for a few more moments before nodding. He turned to Clíodhna, who finally managed to quiet Aileran again. “Will that suffice, Clíodhna? Or do you require further assurances of his good behavior?”
Clíodhna lifted her chin. “That will do. Thank you.”
With all the dignity she could muster, Clíodhna took Etromma’s hand and walked away, well aware that the entire community of monks, as well as a few villagers, stared at her back. For a wonder, she didn’t stumble.
* * *
Once out of view of the village and prying eyes, Clíodhna allowed the tears to flow. They dripped down her cheeks unchecked, since Etromma still held her hand and Aileran fell asleep again on her shoulder. She sniffed twice before asking, “Etromma, where did Donn disappear to? Do we need to go get him?”
“No, he tried to find Mugain, but she’s visiting her aunt, so he left for home. I stayed behind to ask more questions. That’s when that man got angry. He started yelling at me, using strange words. He said I would go someplace called ‘Hell.’ Do you know where that is?”
While swallowing back an angry sob, Clíodhna clenched her fists. “No, darling. Maybe it’s where he came from. The monk I talked to said he came from Rome. I’ve heard of Rome, but not of Hell.”
They fell into silence as they followed the forest path. It wound through bare trees and muddy ground, last autumn’s fallen leaves forming a slippery carpet. When their roundhouse and farm came into view, Etromma released her mother’s hand and ran inside. Donn came out in an instant.
“Ma? What happened? She was fine when I left!”
“It’s taken care of, Donn. Pay no mind.” Clíodhna entered the house, put Aileran down in his straw bed, and moved her shoulder back and forth. She resented carrying the child for so long. Her muscles ached for hours afterward. “Did you enjoy the visit before that?”
He glanced at his sister’s alcove. She’d drawn the curtain, but no sobs or other sounds of distress escaped. “I didn’t want to ask questions, though. I might go again and see if I learn more.”
“If you would like that, we can arrange some classes. I understand there will be teaching, like a Bard or Druí . Would you want to take classes?” What would the monks want in exchange for such lessons? They didn’t have much to trade. Perhaps she could offer some service to the monks. Clíodhna possessed gardening skill. They might not be as familiar with local plants and their needs. She’d not been able to tell the health of the plants in mid-winter, but come spring, it might be a useful trade. If only she could do so without having to interact with that odious Fachtna.
Donn made a noncommittal grunt. A sound outside made them both glance at the door, still standing open. “I’ll see what that was.”
He grabbed his staff and went outside. Clíodhna sat next to Aileran’s bed. What if that awful monk followed them? He’d been a tall, solid man, despite his age. He could hurt any of them.
This helpless feeling infuriated Clíodhna. Why should she feel vulnerable in her own house? Why did men have all the physical power? They often wielded emotional power, as well as power over others’ lives. A true chieftain led by example, but others led through fear or sheer might of arms. Did these monks rule in the same way? Was their venture into their lands merely a way to soften the village for a power grab?
Donn reappeared and laid his staff against the wall. “Just a squirrel. I’ll go check on the cows and other animals. When I come back, do you want me to watch Aileran, so you can take a walk?”
Clíodhna narrowed her eyes. “Do I look like I need a walk?”
He grinned. “You look like you need to run away, screaming and tearing out your hair. A walk would be much easier to recover from. I don’t know what happened in the village after I left, but it’s obvious something shook both of you. I’ll get the details from Etromma when she’s ready.”
Wondering what she did to raise such a thoughtful son, Clíodhna glanced at the baby. He should sleep for a while, gods willing. She’d fed him recently enough, and her breasts didn’t ache yet. She could find the time for a short walk once Donn returned.
As Clíodhna walked outside, she breathed deep of the thin, chilly air. The day
