Rian warmed at the thought of him. ‘When he’s with me, he is all a woman could ask for. But he is married to the ocean first.’
‘And Soyea?’
‘Do you remember the Southern man who was with Ussa?’
Danuta opened her eyes wide and looked at Soyea again as if understanding her ‘striking’ appearance, her strange coloured skin and wiry hair.
‘What was his name again?’
‘Pytheas.’
‘You’ve so much to tell me, little bird. Can you forgive me for not protecting you?’ There were tears in her eyes. Rian saw the memories were painful for both of them. The coughing started again.
‘We must do something better for that cough.’ Rian looked about her. ‘Where are your herbs?’
Danuta gestured vaguely upwards into the loft space to the right of the doorway, where baskets and bundles were stacked. Rian rummaged about for a while, then said, ‘How long have you been like this? There’s nothing fresh here.’
Danuta’s eyes were closed and she didn’t respond.
‘I’ll see what we can do for you.’ Rian took a breath. ‘I know you’re tiring, but I must ask. Donnag, is she nursing you?’
‘That girl is a bone picked clean of all flesh. She cannot look after herself let alone another.’ There was anger in Danuta’s voice, quiet as it was.
‘And Buia? Where is she?’
‘Out there somewhere in her own place. I don’t know what’s the matter with her. Sometimes for a few days she will be here and she looks after me but mostly I don’t think she is in this world. I can’t walk, Rian. I am a burden on them.’
‘And Drost?’
‘He has gone west.’
For a moment Rian thought she meant he was in the Hebrides, then she understood he was dead. The relief made her feel she could breathe fully for the first time in years.
‘But Bael is still here?’
‘When he is here, he is here. When he is not, he is not.’
So there was still cause for caution. She didn’t want to think about it.
‘Well we’re here now. I found some clean bedding for you.’
She arranged some sacks for Danuta to sit on and they lifted her out. She weighed nothing. They stripped the bed. The bedding was foul, the heather beneath it needed replacing but for now they just put down a cleanish hide Rian took from the main room and let Danuta lie back again.
Then it was time to think about something to eat.
BAEL
The dim light faded as someone entered the passage. The bowed figure straightened up and Rian tensed. She would have recognised him anywhere, even in this gloom. He blocked the doorway like a dog down a badger hole.
She measured out a cupful of barley and tipped it into the cooking pot, then put down the cup. ‘Hello Bael. How are you?’
His laugh was a bark.
‘How am I, Rian? Aye. That’s a question, that is.’ He scoffed at her. ‘I’m very well, thank you.’ He spoke in a boy’s voice, as a child is taught to say it, mocking her. Then in his normal voice. ‘I’m getting low on barley, that’s how I am.’
‘Well I wish you a good harvest this year.’
Rian’s voice was calm. She would not be intimidated by the boy who was horrible to her as a child. He might be the son of the man who sold her into slavery, but she was a woman now and Drost was dead.
‘This is my broch and you might as well hear it from me. You’re not welcome, coming here, getting in the way of my wife.’
Rian interrupted him.
‘Danuta is sick. I will stay as long as I can be helpful to her. She needs a healer.’
He might have been surprised by her forcefulness, but he backed quickly into deep sarcasm, clearly a place he frequented.
‘A healer, are you?’ He used the formal form of you and made a mock bow.
‘I am not a healer, no, but I have not forgotten what she taught me and I’ll repay her in the usual way.’
‘Not in my house.’
‘Yes, in your house.’
It was still unclear what this man looked like. He was silhouetted. But this provocation brought him into the space, so the light improved as he stopped blocking the door and it was a surprise to Rian that he was not more ugly. He had one eye that didn’t open properly, yet despite that he had his father’s good looks, with strong cheeks and high, wide brows, and he was dressed in a fine, decorated leather jerkin and high boots. There was something of the dandy about him, but when he spoke, his mouth narrowed into a sneer.
‘You’re not welcome, I tell you.’
‘Danuta has welcomed me. I will not go unless she asks me to, except to gather herbs.’
‘The old bitch can get her own herbs.’
‘While I am here you will not talk about Danuta that way.’
‘I’ll talk how I like in my own house.’
‘Danuta’s your grandmother. You should have more respect.’
‘You talk just like her.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Boring and bossy. I’ll tell you one more time you’re not welcome and you can go of your own will or I’ll throw you out.’ He laughed his barking laugh again.
‘You’re not intimidating me,’ she said. Soyea was backing towards the wall between Danuta’s room and the doorway, looking as if she would like to be able to vanish or at least make a quick getaway. Rian didn’t blame her. Bael’s snarl was enough to make anyone want to run away. But for her sake, if nothing else, she had to be strong and resist him.
‘I’m making porridge for Danuta and my daughter. Shall I make enough for you too? And Donnag?’
‘I don’t want your stinking food. You’ll probably try to poison me.’
Rian let a pause come and pass, while she thought how to respond.
‘I’ll make a bit extra so there’s some left over in case Donnag would like some.’ She tried to make it sound as if she was simply talking to the porridge pan, as if Bael was no longer there.
He stood with legs apart and his chin jutting forwards, ready to bite back at the next question or remark thrown at him. Rian’s avoidance of his aggression left him nothing to chew on, so he turned to Soyea.
‘Another generation of ugly bitches.’ He looked her up and down and although she must have been shrinking inwardly, she didn’t show it. ‘You must have been fucking a bull to sire that one.’
‘My father was Greek. That’s why I look different.’ This was what Rian had taught Soyea to say to the children who mocked her. She hadn’t heard her say it for a few years.
‘My father was Greek.’ He repeated it back in a high voice. ‘That’s why I look different.’ Then in his usual voice. ‘The freak can talk.’
She nodded ‘I like talking. It’s how we show other people what we’re like.’
Rian was proud of her for saying that. She was so brave. And as Bael didn’t reply it became clear what a powerful thing it was to have said. He couldn’t merely sling it back. It had pierced him, and Rian saw that most of what came out of him was a kind of shield, an external casing of harsh words. He was like a crab, all shell and claws but soft and spineless inside. The pincers may be dangerous but as long as one could stay out of their range, he had no agility, and no inner strength to sustain an attack.
‘I’m not staying here to be insulted. Mind you’re not still here when I get back.’ He ducked out through the low doorway.
Soyea turned to Rian, who lifted her eyebrows and smiled.
‘That was Bael.’ She stirred the porridge.
‘I’m sorry about that boy,’ a little voice said. Soyea peeked into Danuta’s chamber. Rian listened in from the hearth.
‘What?’ said Soyea.
‘I’m sorry about Bael. He’s rotten. Don’t let him upset you.’
‘You don’t need to be sorry.’
‘I heard what you said to him. You’re a wise one for your age, aren’t you, little bird?’
Rian could hear that she was smiling in that cherubic
, crumpled way again, and she realised why she called her own children ‘little bird’.
‘Rian’s making porridge,’ Soyea said. ‘It’s a lovely day. Do you want to go outside later?’
‘I’ve not been outside for a long time.’ Her voice sounded wistful.
Soyea stuck her head out of the doorway. ‘Can we take Danuta outside later?’
Rian began dishing porridge into bowls. ‘Maybe another day. When she has a bit more strength.’
Danuta managed a few mouthfuls. After Soyea’s bowl was empty, Rian stayed with Danuta while Soyea went to wash the porridge pot and bowls. The food seemed to have tired the old woman. She closed her eyes and dozed. Rian was content just to sit there, in her presence, treasuring her.
Soyea returned with the bowls. They were new, decorated with a strange, rather beautiful dimpled pattern Rian had not seen before.
‘Who made these?’ Soyea said. ‘They’re lovely.’
Danuta opened her eyes. ‘Donnag does them like that. It’s the island style.’ She gestured in the direction of the sea. ‘She’s from the long island.’
Rian would think of the scrawny woman differently now she knew she made these pleasing round bowls with delicate, rhythmic patterns.
‘I’m sorry about Bael,’ Danuta said to Rian.
Rian said nothing.
‘He was never a good brother to you.’
‘He’s not my brother.’
Danuta’s face lit up. ‘Did you meet Uill Tabar?’
Rian’s mouth twisted, and she chewed her bottom lip. She said nothing, but nodded.
Danuta reached for Rian’s hand. ‘I’m glad you met him before he died, Rian. So you know.’
‘I don’t…’ Rian said. ‘I still don’t really know.’
‘Didn’t Uill tell you?’
‘Soyea, would you like to put the bowls back?’ This wasn’t really a question, more of an order. Soyea couldn’t hide her disappointment. She must have known there were important things to be said and that she would miss them, but she picked up the bowls and spoons and took them out into the main room of the broch and dumped them by the fireplace where the embers were cooling.
‘Oh Rian, I’m so sorry about that day,’ Danuta said.
She was crying, and Rian didn’t know how to make it all right. She sat still, staring at the floor as if no one else was there.
After Danuta repeated her apology, Rian took her hand and stroked it. ‘No point in being sorry now,’ she said, wanting to ask about her parents, but tongue-tied in the face of Danuta’s sorrow.
Neither of them spoke for what seemed ages. Eventually Rian said, ‘We should go back to where we were staying. I wasn’t sure I’d be safe or welcome here, so I asked them for a hut in Achmelvich. Eilidh is letting us use a crannog. We left some things there. If we’re really going to be welcome here…’ She petered out. The look in Danuta’s eyes was all she needed. ‘It’s my turn to look after you. We’ll come back tomorrow.’
They had tired Danuta enough. The old woman looked exhausted. They made sure she was comfy, and then left and made their way back along the coast. Rian tried to suppress the agony of being so close, and still not knowing what Danuta had to tell her. Why hadn’t she simply asked? What was there to fear from knowing?
RIAN’S FATHER
The walk back to the crannog seemed far longer than it had been on the way there that morning. Rian sometimes stopped to point out where the sea had eaten the rocks at the shore into amazing shapes, but mostly she stomped along, not wanting to talk. She put Soyea ahead of her and let her pick out the path, so she would get to know it. From behind her, Rian could see her taking in the landscape, the dazzling sea.
At the beach, although she was tired and the sun had set, Rian headed towards the shrine but the tide was too far in to reach it. She stood as close as she could and called a thank you, then she made a gratitude blessing on the sand, arranging shells and weeds into the pattern of a flower. She got Soyea to help, looking for shells in the dusk; although she rolled her eyes as if she felt Rian was treating her like a child, she obeyed, and even improved the design.
When they got back to the crannog, it was almost dark. Soyea began questioning Rian about Danuta. Rian smiled at her but said, ‘I am tired, little bird. I need to think about everything I heard today. We’ll talk about it another time, I promise.’ She lay back on her bed and closed her eyes. She heard Soyea shuffling about as sleep began to overtake her, and roused herself.
‘Soyea.’
The girl glanced at her.
‘You know how to look after yourself, don’t you?’
Soyea frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Nothing, really. It’s just that even people who want the absolute best for you can’t always protect you. You need to be able to look after yourself.’
‘What are you saying?’
Rian wished she hadn’t started this, but she also felt compelled to make her daughter understand. ‘Danuta wanted to protect me, but she couldn’t. I want to protect you, but I may not always be able to. You may need to be your own protector.’
‘Don’t worry, Mother. I can keep myself safe.’
‘Good.’
A frog croaked outside the crannog, a rhythmic sound that soothed Rian as she let sleep wash over her.
In the morning, Rian tiptoed out early to spend some time alone on the beach, thinking about Cleat. When she returned, it was time for food. The fire was smoky. Trying to wake it, she breathed on it until her eyes watered and a flame eventually licked a birch stick. She shook oatmeal into a pot and added water. The flame puttered out. She reached for her blowpipe and puffed the reluctant flame back into existence, but laying a stick across it snuffed out the fledgling burn. The fire shouldn’t be this unfriendly. Soyea would be awake soon. It was necessary to have some food ready for her. They had a big day ahead of them. Was that so difficult? She blew again down the pipe, willing the embers to wake up. A trickle of fire mustered itself and this time the birch stick caught and held the flame, allowing itself to be eaten. She put the pot on the stone nearest and nudged it towards the heat. The flame sputtered but held on.
She heard Soyea scuffling in her bed and looked to see if she was wakening. When she turned back, the flame was out again. Dead. It shouldn’t be so difficult to make a pot of porridge on a spring morning. It just shouldn’t be so difficult.
Her third attempt to light the fire succeeded but it left her feeling rattled.
Even though it was another lovely morning, as she and Soyea set out on their way back to the broch, she was nervous. They paused briefly at the shrine at the beach, then pressed on. She needed to return to Danuta and wondered if she would be strong enough to ask about her mother and father. She must be. She had waited so many years, but now suddenly she couldn’t bear the prospect of waiting another day.
It was all quiet at the broch. Rian opened the door and called, ‘Is anyone there?’
Donnag appeared from the guardroom. ‘I am.’
‘Is Bael here?’ Rian asked.
Donnag shook her head.
‘Where is he?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’ She sounded as if this was often the case. She stepped aside to let them enter, stood watching for a moment, then left without a word.
They made a drink, then Rian and Soyea took Danuta out into the sunshine. Her legs were spindly and weak, but she managed to shuffle along, bent nearly double, held up by the two of them. Outside, she blinked and her eyes streamed. Rian sent Soyea for deer skins and a sheep fleece to make somewhere comfortable to sit where they could see the sea.
When they were all comfortable, Danuta sat stroking Rian’s hand, a blithe expression on her face. ‘Tell me, what happened when you met Uill Tabar?’ Her voice was thin and breathless.
‘Manigan knew him. But he’s dead now,’ Rian said.
There was a pause, as if both Danuta and Rian were waiting for the other to speak. Rian shuffled, staring out to sea.
<
br /> Eventually, Danuta said, ‘Did he tell you about your father?’
‘Not really. All I know is that he was a slave as well, apparently.’ Rian turned to Soyea. ‘I’m afraid you are from a lineage of slaves.’
‘Noble ones, if nobility matters to you,’ Danuta said.
‘What do you mean?’ Soyea was sitting on the ground, looking up at the two of them perched on the low wall at the base of the broch.
‘Uill said my mother got pregnant with me when she was young, same as I did with you,’ Rian replied.
‘And she was a slave too?’ Soyea asked.
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so. My father was the slave. I don’t know what happened, but it was some sort of disgrace.’
Danuta crossed her hands in her lap. ‘I do know, and it’s about time I told you. That girl, your mother…’ She licked her lips and lifted her chin.
‘What was her name?’ Rian asked.
‘I wish I could tell you, but it was kept a secret even from me, to preserve her reputation.’ She clenched her fists in frustration. ‘But I can tell you who she was, and she was no slave. She was a headman’s daughter on the Winged Isle.’
Rian’s eyes widened.
‘So you’re a princess,’ Soyea said.
Danuta chuckled. ‘Well, almost.’ She turned to Rian. ‘It was Farspag, your father, who I knew. I didn’t know her really. She was just a wee girl who fell in love with him, and who wouldn’t? He was the strongest, most handsome youth you could imagine. He was the son of a slave-woman, Magris, but everyone knew he was Fergus the Chieftain’s son, and Magris herself was no ordinary slave. Did Uill tell you this?’
Rian shook her head. She daren’t speak for fear of interrupting Danuta’s story.
‘Well Magris was the daughter of the leader of a land over the Sea of Eriu. He was beaten in a battle that Fergus fought when he was young. Magris was captured and Fergus took her as a slave. He treated her like a trophy, but she never forgot she was someone powerful and she did everything to remind him.’
‘What was she like?’
The Lyre Dancers Page 4
