The Walrus Mutterer

by Mandy Haggith

  ‘My mother’s house,’ said Cuckoo.

  The fire was crackling and spitting.

  ‘I want to hear all about everything.’ Fraoch gave Rian a squeeze of her arm and turned back to the forge.

  Cuckoo said, ‘How does a nobody like you know them? They’re famous.’

  Rian glowed a little inside. It was the only glimmer of something better than scorn that Cuckoo had ever showed her.

  ‘They came to my home before I was…’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. ‘We travelled together on the first part of my journey.’ My journey. She heard herself. Was that what it was?

  ‘You must have stories you haven’t told us.’

  ‘You haven’t asked.’ It came out sounding rude, but Cuckoo seemed unperturbed.

  ‘True. I didn’t think there was any point asking a slave for a story. Do you have lots of stories?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well if you don’t know…’

  They fell silent and stood a little distance away watching as Gruach and Fraoch continued setting up, preparing for the evening when the performance of the forge would really get under way, especially if the wind continued rising, when sparks would fly, metal would melt and flow and the smith would work his magic. For now, as if building a stage, they were arranging shields around the fire, stacking wood into an elaborate-looking lattice for show or some other function as yet unclear, unpacking tools and laying them out with ceremony. There was music too: Gruach made tongs and hammers ring out as he tapped them on his great anvil, shaped like a dragon.

  Rian and Cuckoo looked on for a while, then Cuckoo said they had better go back to the broch. She pointed to a bundle that looked like one of Ussa’s bags of trade goods. ‘Carry that.’

  Rian arrived back with aching shoulders and was put to work on the butter. Ussa was lying down in her designated bedroom. Pytheas had gone up a hill with his gnomon, accompanied by two of the sailors from the other boat, no doubt taking one of his measurements of the height of the sun.

  For a while it was tolerable. As long as she was left alone with her thoughts, the rhythm of the churn brought back songs of Danuta’s hearth and she could allow her mind to wander where it would and follow the stream of consciousness wherever it flowed. But after a while Cuckoo and Maadu got themselves into a squabbling disagreement and Rian found her thoughts being interrupted. The guests required feeding and Maadu had both hands in a bowl and was squeezing balls of dough as if she intended damage. Cuckoo had a long list of things she wanted to get from Ussa to enable her to prepare for her brother’s wedding at the end of the summer. ‘She has good cloth, so I could make a new dress.’

  ‘You’ve plenty of cloth,’ Maadu said.

  ‘I’ll need ribbons and some bangles. I need to look my best, you know, this might be the best chance I get to find my own husband.’

  Eventually Cuckoo left off and the women worked in silence for a while, and once the smell of the baking dumplings filled the room there was at least the illusion of peace.

  Late afternoon a soft knock came on the door. Cuckoo opened it and Fraoch said, ‘I’ve come to visit Rian. Is that all right?’

  Rian kept churning and felt a smile spreading up from her chest until it burst out all over her face.

  ‘Hello.’ Fraoch stepped inside and curtseyed to Maadu as if in the presence of a queen. ‘Are you Maadu? I am very proud to meet you. My father Gruach the Smith sends you his greetings and hopes you will visit his forge later.’

  Maadu nodded wisely. ‘Welcome, Gruach’s daughter. Your name?’

  ‘I’m Fraoch. I’m the daughter of Ranu, granddaughter of Raanvaa the Wise.’

  ‘I knew Raanvaa well. She taught me the art of the drum.’

  Rian was intrigued.

  ‘It smells gorgeous in here. Herb dumplings!’ Fraoch smiled at the rows of dough baking on hot stones by the fire, nodding as if greeting them.

  Maadu cackled. ‘You have all of Gruach’s charm, I see, and if you’ve your grandmother’s wisdom you’ll be a wise one yourself one day.’

  ‘If that’s a prediction, I am honoured.’

  Maadu gestured to a stool beside her.

  ‘So you said you’ve come to see Rian. How’s that?’ She spoke as if no-one else were in the room except her and Fraoch.

  ‘She’s my friend. She’s a wise one too, you know.’

  Maadu laughed out loud and shook her head. ‘She’s a dumb slave and not much good at anything except the cows.’

  ‘No, really. She has the herb lore. Her foster mother taught her.’

  Maadu looked at her, brow ruffled. ‘She is just a slave now. Tell me, how is your mother?’

  Rian’s smile of friendship was burned away by shame. She kept churning. Buttery lumps were forming now. Much deference was being shown between Fraoch and Maadu. As Fraoch explained how her mother had died while she was still a child and she had travelled ever since with her father, the butter formed and Rian could stop the paddle and lift the pats of gold out onto a big wooden trencher.

  ‘You make the butter magic look so easy, Rian.’ Fraoch beamed at her, eyes twinkling. Then, to Maadu, ‘You know, their house has herbs hanging from every inch of the rafters.’

  Rian knew Fraoch was making this up, because she had only been, to her knowledge, in Danuta’s broch once or twice and that was in early spring, when all the herbs were long packaged away and stored for safekeeping.

  ‘In summer, you can’t stand up without getting something leafy tangled in your hair.’

  Rian smiled and her belly twisted with homesickness, as if she could smell the herbs of home.

  Maadu turned to her. ‘So what would you do for a broken bone?’

  Rian chanted the early lesson for splinting an arm. ‘Golden rod and Brigid’s yellowstone, a poultice of these will mend a broken bone.’

  ‘And a sword wound?’

  Another easy one. ‘Leaf of yarrow clots the blood flow, leaf of plantain makes it heal again.’

  ‘Fever?’ There were several to choose from. ‘Violets in whey cools the frey. Meadowsweet drops the heat. Far too hot? Crab apple tot.’

  ‘And a baby not willing to be born?’

  Rian stopped. ‘It is not permitted for me to say.’ She chose her words carefully, not wanting to refuse or to look as if she didn’t know.

  Cuckoo had been listening carefully all along. ‘I bet she doesn’t know.’

  Maadu didn’t take her eyes off Rian’s face. ‘Cuckoo, you can take this butter to cool outside in the shade now. Mind you don’t drop it. And then go and ask Gruach if there’s anything else he would like to eat or drink.’

  A whine began. ‘But Rian’s supposed to …’

  ‘No buts. Take it now please.’ There was a stony sound to Maadu’s voice that Rian had not heard before.

  Cuckoo picked up the butter and left.

  Gurda and Fi watched from the corner, the old woman peeling silverweed roots, the younger at the quern stone.

  ‘So you know the moon magic? What can be done for bleeding pains?’

  Rian took a breath. It was one of the most well known remedies, hardly a secret at all. ‘When the womb cramps with the moon, shilasdair roots and mead, and soon.’

  ‘Why on earth did your foster mother allow you to be enslaved?’ Maadu asked.

  Rian shook her head and tried to stop tears welling up at the kindness in Maadu’s voice. She had wondered the same thing so many times in the preceding months.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Fraoch said. ‘Danuta’s son is an idiot.’

  Maadu and Rian both looked at her, waiting to see what else she might say.

  Cuckoo burst in. ‘He needs water. Buckets of it.’ She was carrying two empty pails.

  Maadu turned to Rian. ‘Fetch it.’ Any trace of respec
t or kindness in her face had gone.

  Fraoch waited while she filled the buckets from the stream and they strolled down to where Gruach was hunched by his fire, bellows pumping.

  After they had dropped the water off they went to sit on some rocks by the shore, out of eyeshot of the broch.

  Rian said, ‘How long are you here?’

  ‘The usual.’ Fraoch shrugged noncommittally.

  ‘And where will you go next?’

  ‘Wherever. We’ve been invited to the big wedding do in Clickimin at the next full moon. You should try to get to the feast too.’

  Rian nodded, and the two girls smiled. Rian had no doubt it would be impossible, she a slave, Fraoch free, but it was enough for her to have mentioned it for the feeling of being wanted to warm her, like a dandelion flower in sunshine.

  ‘Seriously, will you not be going to the feast?’

  Rian shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose so.’

  ‘I’ll get Ussa to tell Maadu you should go. She’d love to see you there.’ Fraoch’s eyes twinkled.

  ‘Get lost.’

  ‘She knows you’re beautiful and will remind the Chieftain of her.’

  Rian raised her eyebrows. ‘Is she…?’

  ‘No. Not the Chieftain. Just his gold. She lusts after his money, that’s all.’ She paused, then leaned towards Rian. ‘And possibly one of his sons.’

  Rian snorted. ‘She’s old enough to be their mother.’

  Fraoch nodded. ‘That’s what she likes best.’

  Rian rolled her eyes and they laughed. She felt as if she was alive for the first time since she had been at Mousa.

  ‘Where did you go after I last saw you?’

  Fraoch gestured everywhere with her arms. ‘Around the islands.’

  ‘We went to Thule,’ said Rian.

  Fraoch gawped at her. ‘Thule?’

  Rian began, in a quiet voice, to relate the story of the journey and Fraoch listened, bathing her in attention. Rian talked softly, trying not to bog down in details. She desperately wanted to tell Fraoch about what Pytheas had done. Surely Fraoch would understand? She knew so much about the world, and seemed so fearless.

  She spilled it all out, her lack of monthly bleeding, the certainty that she was carrying his child. After a while she realised she had spoken more than to anyone for weeks.

  ‘What’ll you do?’ Fraoch was staring at her, looking horrified. ‘Can you stop it? With the moon magic?’

  ‘I’ve got a herb to kill it. It’ll be horrible, but…’

  Fraoch finished her sentence. ‘Not as horrible as having a baby. I can’t think of anything worse.’

  Rian put her hand on her thigh, feeling the brand, the taut soreness that might always be there. Unless she got away, her child would be a slave too. It would not be right to bring a baby into the world to meet that fate. She would do anything to avoid that. Anything.

  Fraoch picked up Rian’s hand. ‘You’re very brave.’

  Rian was surprised at herself for not crying. She felt unburdened, light as a bird.

  There was clapping from the broch and Maadu’s voice, shouting over the wind.

  Rian got to her feet and gave Fraoch a little grin. ‘Maybe I won’t be here for ever.’

  Fraoch’s face was all smiling curves.

  *

  In the broch, Pytheas and Ussa were on the new benches, treated as guests of honour. As Rian carried two pails of water past them to the tank in the floor, Pytheas drew his feet in under his knees, disgust on his face, even though there was no possibility of her touching him. Shortly after, they went to watch Gruach’s preparations and Maadu joined them to make her requests to the bronze smith who she wanted to make some kitchen pieces as gifts for her son’s wedding.

  There seemed to be a never-ending stream of things to fetch and carry: peats for the fire, water, buckets of slops for the fly-infested midden. Gurda made sure Rian had no rest, although she took the opportunity of Maadu’s absence to sit and do nothing. Ussa’s loud laughter signalled the end of the reprieve.

  Maadu blocked the light from the doorway. She pointed at Rian. ‘You. Out here.’

  As she stepped over the threshold, the big woman grasped her lower arm. ‘What’s this about you being pregnant?’

  Ussa was chuckling. Pytheas was pale and holding himself very straight.

  ‘Does Fraoch speak the truth?’ He spoke in Greek.

  ‘Alithi.’ She remembered it. The truth. ‘Alithi Fraoch legei?’

  ‘She didn’t waste any time, the little slut. I should’ve charged extra.’ Ussa had her hands on her hips. ‘Two for the price of one, eh?’

  ‘How far gone are you?’ Maadu lifted Rian’s tatty jerkin and poked at her belly. ‘It’s not showing, is it?’

  ‘She’s skin and bone,’ Ussa said. ‘She’ll not show for months. Best feed her up if you want it, although it might be better to get rid of it if you want to keep her working.’

  ‘From what Fraoch was saying earlier she could do that herself. She knows a thing or two about herbs.’ Maadu pulled Rian’s skirt down and made her turn to the side. ‘No, no sign yet. Tits?’ She wrenched the jerkin up around Rian’s neck and prodded her breast. ‘Aye, I could just about believe it. They’re bigger than they were. What do you think?’

  Ussa added a few pokes. Pytheas looked on, wide-eyed.

  Rian wanted to die. A heifer would be treated more gently in a market. But more excruciating even than the nosy fingers was the knowledge that Fraoch had told them. She had thought Fraoch was her friend, had treated her as a confidante. She had trusted her. It was a loss Rian couldn’t bear. Tears wanted to flow, but she bit them back.

  ‘She’ll be an utter waste of space with a brat. That’s all I need.’ Maadu let go of her arm.

  Ussa took it upon herself to advise. ‘Tell her to dose herself with something to get rid of it.’

  ‘I’ll do it myself. What’s the stuff they use? It’s one of the hill mosses, isn’t it? Something weird like that.’

  Ussa shook her head. ‘Better make sure it’s done carefully though. You don’t want it going wrong. A breeder might be useful sometime, even if you don’t want her pregnant just now. You don’t want to damage that.’

  Maadu continued poking, thoughtfully. Rian might as well have been a kitchen implement. She looked her in the eye, tugging the jerkin down over her breasts. ‘Do you know what to do? Do you know which moss to use?’

  Rian just stared back. The clubmoss she had hidden away could stay exactly where it was. If she chose to use it, it would be her decision, not Maadu’s.

  Maadu, however, was not satisfied. A ringing slap sent Rian’s head sideways and the jerk made her almost black out. She brought her hand up to the piercing pain below her right jaw, half-closing her eyes.

  ‘Well. Do you or don’t you?’

  She made a short nod.

  Pytheas was looking calm again.

  Ussa hooked her arm through his. ‘There were no doubt others took their chance on her. I shouldn’t have any great expectation it was your doing. Goodness, though, on the boat! I marvel that you found the space. And to think I never noticed!’ She turned to Maadu. ‘Men, eh? There’s only ever one thing on their minds. They never miss a chance.’

  Rian seethed with hatred for Ussa. Was there no end to the lies she would tell? Ussa knew exactly what Pytheas had done to her.

  Maadu spun Rian around by twisting her arm and giving her a shove. ‘Away and milk the beasts. And get what you need, and deal with it. You’ll not be in sight of this fellow. I thank heavens I’ve not had any of the men here. You have to watch their every move if you mix the sexes, you know.’

  Damselfly

  Rian needed no further encouragement to get away. The tears were spilling by the time she reached the yard and even the cows were insufficient comfort. S
he put the pail down and kept walking. She didn’t care if anyone saw her. She needed to be alone, to digest what had happened, to let her fury at Fraoch express itself, to pull herself together after the shame of Maadu’s treatment of her. She stomped away up the hill past the pool where she had watched the damselfly hatching, and on to a bigger lochen over the brow of the hill looking east into open sea.

  The initial wave of tears had calmed and rage took over. She still felt sorry for herself, of course, but the anger was hot and full of energy and she let it course through her. That bronze smith’s daughter, she was Ussa’s cousin, or niece or something; the same blood, the loyalty always to kin. That’s how it was. She saw that clearly, as clear as the rain clouds on the eastern horizon. The wind was up even more strongly now, but Rian welcomed it. The elemental power was at least impartial and uninterested in the people that got in its way. Let it blow. Let it rage on her behalf.

  She felt dirty. Maadu’s fingers seemed to have left smears on her that she couldn’t bear. She stripped naked and left her clothes on a rock, then grabbed some soapwort leaves and waded into the shallows. The water was cold and splashy in the wind, and the smooth stones on the bottom were slippery with algae. Rian didn’t care. She washed swiftly, rubbing the leaves into a pulpy mass that foamed then spreading it over her skin, scrubbing herself clean. Then she dipped herself in the water, gasping, to rinse. She was all goosepimples and shivering, but it felt miraculous to have washed the filth off. She dunked her hair in the water again and waded back to where she could reach more soapwort leaves. A good lathering and a struggle with her fingers to tease out the matted tangles from her hair as much as she could, and then another dunking in the loch and she was clean all over, cleaner than she had been since she left home.

  Shivering hard now, she dried herself on the relatively clean lining of her skirt. She dressed and then set off back over the hill. The rain clouds had reached the island. She would be rain-soaked by the time she got back. But as soon as the wind was on her back and she was moving, she warmed up. As she marched along, she plotted revenge, poisoning them all with foxgloves. But then she heard Danuta’s voice in her head, dire warnings about evil thoughts, and abandoned that plan. She needed to focus on escape. She was clean now, she could look after herself. She must be ready for the first opportunity.