When her father reentered the dusky confines of the wattle-and-daub home, he leaned down to help gather the last of the leaves and roots scattered on the earthen floor. His voice filled all four corners. “I expect we will see him again by the end of the week.”
Eilish knew he was right. Cathal was one of their regular patients, likely due to both his job and bad luck. Most of the villagers couldn’t afford treatments from a physician in the larger towns, so they came to them for natural cures for their ailments. She looked at her father. The long braid at the base of his head fell over his shoulder. Shadowed blue eyes blinked back at her.
He muttered, “We should lay the herbs out for drying. Tomorrow we will go look for more burdock. I recall seeing some growing down beyond Declan’s farm.”
She nodded silently. He knew how she felt about her cousin. Declan was a kind but simple man, equal to her station in life. And a man she did not wish to marry. Eilish didn’t want her father stirred up. She didn’t want them to get into another disagreement over her future. With the skills she’d learned from him, she could find a valuable place in any kinsman’s settlement, but he wanted to know that when he passed from the earth, she would inherit his land.
“Maybe he would walk with us and offer protection,” her father said.
Eilish began to sort the long spear-shaped leaves from the rounder, smaller ones, creating two piles on the table. She sighed. “What protection do we need? From what? From who?”
“Have you not seen the monk’s tower beside the monastery? They did not build it to get closer to God.”
“The Finn-Gall will not come here. We do not have anything they need.” She shook her head.
Domnall threw his hands in the air. “You may be my kin and a very bright lass, but you should not feel yourself safe from the gaill who plunder our land. You need a better protector than me. I will be in need of your medicine before you know it, an old man creaking down the street like a banshee over the glen.”
“Father, do not talk like that,” she chastised. “It will be long before you need my help.”
He grumbled under his breath. “It is clear we will not see eye to eye. Oh Lord, I only desire to keep my daughter safe, but she thwarts me at every turn.”
Eilish closed her eyes and said a prayer to herself to calm down before responding. “I am sorry to distress you, Father.”
Domnall kept quiet the rest of the evening, and he went to bed early, leaving Eilish beside the fire alone. She watched him go behind his partition. It had been long since her mother had wrapped her arms about her, holding her close on cold nights. So many years, in fact, that she had adjusted to their life without her.
Smoke from the fire filled the air. The tiny hole in the reed-covered roof only helped a little. She watched the flames burn down to glowing embers, enjoying their dying warmth. Eilish thought she heard soft noises outside and walked to the front door to peer into the darkness. Leaning up against the door was a brown sack. She looked about before picking it up and bringing it inside. She set the grain near the cauldron for her father to find when he woke. As grumbly as her father’s kin was about their help, by sunup there was always a new chicken for their flock or a sack of produce waiting for them.
Eilish went to her own bed and removed her cloak. She set her broach in a safe place before leaning down to slip off her leather shoes. She pulled her woolen blanket up to her chin and fell asleep quickly.
In the twilight of the morning, she woke to the sound of chickens squawking from their hen coop. She was about to claim a little extra sleep when something else caught her ear. Screams and the monastery bell tolling.
Eilish sat up in bed with a start. “Father?”
“I hear it,” his voice answered from the other side of the screen. “Stay where you are.”
Ignoring his wishes, she got up and hurried to the front door in her tunic. Her father had arrived only moments before her and had slipped the latch to peer outside. The moon was still a sliver in the heavens as the sun’s light began to spill over the green fields. An orange glow emanated over the horizon toward the river. A dark plume rose into the sky.
Eilish remembered the summer evening during her girlhood when the blacksmith’s workshop caught on fire. It had smelled different from the hearth fires she was used to, similar to tonight. Shouts rang out a distance away. She couldn’t discern what was being said, but she could hear the alarm and fear.
“Look!” Domnall pointed to the tall tower in the distance. “They hide only from the Finn-Gall!”
She squinted to see the wooden ladder being lifted to the second level of the stone fortification. She had never witnessed it withdrawn before—there had never been the need. The monks certainly hadn’t wasted time retreating to safety.
Beside her, Domnall muttered, “It cannot be an attack from our neighbors in Ulaid. There is little time. Quick with you—to my bedside.”
He pushed her away from the doorway, interrupting her gaping at the scene outside. The door was closed, and he turned to her. When she didn’t move, he pulled her through the dim home. The embers from the hearth were dull but provided just enough light to see by. He began to rifle through his clothing and threw a pair of plaid leggings at her.
“What is this?” she asked once she found her voice.
“Put them on!” he answered. “I wore them in my youth. They should fit you.”
“But women do not wear leggings!”
Eilish held them up only momentarily before she bent over to slip them on. She couldn’t understand why her father wanted her to wear a soldier’s trousers, but it was clear he was distraught.
“I always wanted a son as well, so now I shall have both.” He looked at her in the gloom and shook his head. Without hesitation he ran off and came back with the strips of long cloth they used for bandages and thrust them into her arms. “Having breasts will not do. Bind yourself flat, and put on one of my loose tunics. I will return in haste!”
She watched him fly across the home to the front door and let himself out. Confusion and shock had kept her fear at bay, but now it filled her senses. Her heart raced furiously in her chest, thundering away in her ears. Eilish tore off her tunic and did as her father asked. With shaking hands, she wound the linen cloth around her chest, flattening the curve of her breasts against her body. Once she reached its end, she tucked it under the binding. Then she plucked a dirty tunic from the floor and slipped it over her head. It was far more loose-fitting than she was used to, and it only just reached her knees.
Before she could secure the waist with a belt, her father hurried back inside carrying something pointy in his hands. She wondered if he’d gone to find a blade, and when he came at her with it, she held up her hand reflexively.
“Do not fear me, child.” He grabbed her hand in his and eased it down. “This is for your own good. I would not have my own daughter raped by the likes of those heathens.”
Steel gleamed in the embers’ light. She now saw it was indeed a blade, but not the type she’d expected. Her father held the sheep shears in his hands. Again, he lifted them toward her. She closed her eyes only to hear the sound of her own hair getting trimmed away like she was one of the livestock. Tears filled her eyes, and she began to weep.
“Shhh, my child. This is no punishment.” He tried consoling her with his words, although he didn’t stop. “It is not uncommon to find many young men with a cut like this.”
Eilish had never seen her father trim his hair, nor had she ever had hers cut before. She sniffed. “I will be ugly.”
“Better ugly than dead or worse,” her father answered, finishing up. The last long curl of hair fell at her feet. Domnall set down the shears to admire his work. His hands arranged her hair so that it fell over her eyes and face, down to her chin. She felt cool air at the base of her neck where it was bare. “Aiden is your name. You are my son.”
She swallowed and nodded, her tears drying up as reality set in. Her father’s ability to remain c
alm and make quick judgments had always aided him in his life’s work. Eilish now understood. She was to be a boy from that point onward to survive.
Her voice wobbled as she whispered, “But I have no whiskers.”
Domnall patted her shoulder. “Many young boys struggle with that. Keep your voice low, and do what you are told. It might just keep you alive. Let us sneak away. If we are lucky, they will be intent on the monastery.”
Eilish grabbed a sack and filled it with bread, some of the herbs they’d collected that day and a bladder of milk. She flung her cloak over her shoulder and followed her father out the front door. She kept her eyes to the ground and hunched down as she chased after him. He stopped suddenly and groaned. She bumped into him, nearly falling backward.
A man’s voice said something she couldn’t understand. When she peered around her father’s shoulder, she saw two large men holding shields against their chests with their swords pointed at Domnall’s chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.
Was this it? The end of her life? She hoped if they were going to kill them, it would be quick and painless. Eilish tried forcing away all of the horrific stories she’d heard about the Finn-Gall barbarians. Aside from settling many large towns along the coast, they raped the women and killed the men, and if they were in a foul mood, sometimes the other way around. Anyone left standing was treated like the slaves they became. She swallowed and held still behind her father.
The pale-haired and dark-skinned men continued to point their swords at them as they had a loud argument she couldn’t understand. From around the side of their home came more men, one dragging another behind him without care.
Eilish recognized the dark cassock that cloaked the monks who kept to the monastery. The man stood beside his assailant with his shoulders lifted in defense and his head bowed, revealing his shaved crown. Under his arm was a leather-bound book, something she’d seen the clergy teach from. The monk’s captor spoke with the other Northmen. They seemed to be at odds about something, and the swords moved closer to her father’s flesh the more they fought. She stepped back and tried pulling her father with her.
She was surprised when the monk lifted his chin to speak some words to the men in their own language, at which his assailant shook him like a misbehaving child. Eilish had never spoken to a monk before and thought they remained quiet at all times. Maybe not when their lives were in danger.
“What do they say?” she dared to ask the monk.
For the first time, the man clad in his dark cassock looked at her. She could see the fear in his eyes. He appeared just as frightened as she was that they would soon be relieved of their simple lives. He muttered under his breath, “They argue about your worth. If the old man should be killed or sold.”
She exchanged a glance with her father, whose eyebrows rose at the mention of death. Without a thought, she stepped out from behind her father and said, “Tell them my father is a healer. He has great value.”
The monk cast an apprehensive look at the blades being dangerously swung about before venturing a few spare words. The Finn-Gall stopped their argument to stare at Domnall. Then one of the men stepped toward Eilish. He touched her hair, and then grabbed her chin in his strong, thick hands. His words came out slowly. Not knowing what he said only frightened her more. She dared not look the man in the eye.
It was Domnall’s turn to speak up. “My son, Aiden, was taught the healing arts too. He may be skinny, but he is strong.”
Again, the monk glanced at her with a trace of confusion, but he didn’t hesitate to translate. The man that still held Eilish’s face in his grasp lifted his sword to her cheek. His hot breath touched her skin. “Lítill sveinn.”
He let go of her face to grab her wrist. Her father was secured too, and they were led toward the river where the screams still filled the morning air.
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Research Notes
Icelandic Viking Settlement-
During the second half of the ninth century, Iceland was discovered by Norse settlers. The first man to touch foot on shore named it Snæland (Land of Snow). Future settlers renamed it Ísland (Ice Land). Due to the fact the land was uninhabited (except for Gaelic monks), it was quickly settled by Norse who wanted to claim property and escape politics and taxes back home. By the middle of the tenth century, it was fully settled, numbering up to 25k inhabitants.
The Icelandic Commonwealth began in 930 with the establishment of the Althing, a parliamentary system that was held out of doors on the fields of Thingvellir (Thing Fields). Freemen could attend the assembly where all of the most powerful leaders (Gothi) would oversee disputes.
Fenrir Mythology-
In Norse mythology Fenrir (or Fenrisúlfr) was the son of the god Loki and giantess Angrbotha. Since he grew at an alarming rate, the gods feared his strength and ordered him bound with chains. The god Tyr was the only one courageous enough to do so, and his hand was bit off by the beast in his attempt. A sword was placed in Fenrir’s jaws to hold it open, and the chain around his neck was fastened to a boulder. It was said that when he would free himself at Ragnarök (Doom of the Gods), he would consume everything in his path, including Odin, chief god of the Æsir.
About the Author
Natasha Brown’s active imagination has always been a distraction. When she was a child, the forest outside her home, and books read in the dark past bedtime taught her that exciting worlds are created with dreams and a voice. Once she started writing she couldn’t break the habit. She is likely busy at work now, researching, planning and chatting with her future characters.
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Scars (Time of Myths: Shapeshifter Sagas Book 2) Page 19