‘Now, if I take these off will you behave yourself?’
‘Aye.’
I started to unravel the bindings which were leaving red welts. ‘You mustn’t stray far. We’ll be safer together. How were you injured?’ I said, gingerly untying the bloodied, filthy piece of fabric that bound it to her chest. Where her hand should have been there was a bloodied stump. Whoever had done it had cleaned the injury and bandaged it.
‘As they docked their ship, I managed to escape. I took off running along the beach. I whipped up the shale like arrows, but I was too exhausted. They soon caught up with me.’ She held up the missing hand. ‘This was my punishment. I would have been better dead.’
?
We sat a while with only the birdsong between us. Ligach rubbed at the redness of her wrists and I was lost in my thoughts of what my husband would do when I finally returned. I still hoped that he loved me for my wild spirit.
It was a rare day when it did not rain. Wisps of clouds danced shadows across the carpet of purple heather. From where we sat, we could see back through the circle of houses to the flock of women busying themselves catching fish.
‘You are lucky that they had only taken your hand.’
‘What do you know?’ she said bitterly.
‘I know what it is to lose your freedom,’ I said, finally, not looking in Ligach’s direction.
‘It is not the same.’
‘No, perhaps not.’ I smiled to myself. ‘But I do know that you can still live a fulfilled life. A life with purpose.’
She snorted. ‘Aye, it is a difficult thing to have a fulfilled life when you have food and ale at your table and a roof over your head. When you are not fighting some Laird who is on his quest for more land.’
‘You think I do not know? Why do you think my father sent me here? To look pretty on the Jarl’s arm? To play the lute and give him children? I may not be fighting with a sword and a garron, but I am fighting to keep peace at our borders.’ I sat next to her. ‘So I may well have food on my table but do not presume to tell me that I do not know what it is like to fight. What it is like to not be in control of your own life. What it is to be an outcast.’
‘Poor wee princess Olith.’ Ligach laughed scornfully. ‘Am I supposed to feel sorry for ye?’
‘No. But as far as I can see we are the only two Picts here and if nothing else, we need to trust each other. I promise I will get you back to Atholl and I can set you free, but you will have to give me time.’
She nodded. She was bad-tempered and sullen, but it felt good to no longer be alone. Ligach craned her neck and peered towards the shore.
‘You’d better get on wi’ it, they’ll be looking for us soon enough. Do you ken the sermons? You speak Latin, aye?’
If my father’s priest had heard my poor Latin, he would have prayed for my forgiveness all over again, but Ligach would never suspect, and I knew enough to make it sound believable.
‘Well enough that I might be able to help us observe our Sundays, there seems to be no sign of this priest.’
Ligach bowed her head. I crossed myself.
‘This dai haveth ure drihten maked to gladien and to blissen us,’ I began.
Then, the crack of a branch. The rustle of foliage underfoot. Heavy and slow as if something ancient had been awakened from its slumber. I froze. All I could think of was that my husband had come to find me. Furious that I’d disobeyed him. I felt Ligach’s hand reaching out for comfort. The clearing seemed to hold its breath.
We listened.
I pressed my hand firmly to hers to quell its shaking.
A shaven-headed, fleshy man appeared at the edge of the clearing, wearing the furs and finery of the other Danes but it was a face I had not seen in the Mead Hall.
‘Lady Olith.’ He bowed his head. ‘I did not believe some of the rumours of your arrival.’
Ligach squeezed my hand tighter.
‘You do not have to be afraid.’ He smiled, revealing a tiny cross hanging from a leather cuff on his wrist. ‘We share the same God. I am Father Fintan.’
‘Were you taken from the mainland?’ I asked, as though the Danes had been casting nets and sweeping up Picts.
