Page 6 of Hold Fast

“What are ye doing here, Una?” he asked as she pushed past him into the cottage, which stank of old cooked fat and body odor and musk. Greer followed closely behind her.

“Can I nae visit my father and look after his well-being?”

“You havenae visited this past year. I dinnae ken why you would start now.”

Una forced a brittle smile.

“I wasnae allowed such liberties.”

He grunted. Una took in the rest of the cottage. Dirty dishes were stacked on the table, and it was clear that Fergus has simply been ladling new food on top of the old without washing. Una’s stomach turned to think of it. Clothes lay scattered about the cottage, the rushes were all but gone, and the bed was a tangled mass of dirty linens. Fergus scratched his head, and Una took a careful step back.

“Jesu, Da,” she said, noticing the state of the hearth, which had not been cleaned or swept in what looked like months. That the cottage had not burned down around him while he slept was a miracle.

“What?” Fergus said defensively, looking around it. “’Tis fine.”

“’Tis filthy,” she retorted, tying up the sleeves on her dress.

She only planned to sleep there one night, but if she was to sleep there, she wanted to be sure that she would not be in danger of fleas or worse. The floors needed sweeping and new rushes to be laid, the linens needed washing, the dishes needed scouring, and that hearth needed to be dealt with immediately.

Fergus rested his hands on the table and lowered his body into a chair with a grunt.

“I don’t like dogs,” he said.

“Greer willnae bother you. We’ll be gone by morning.”

“Surely you’ll be gone before then. I cannae imagine the laird allowing you to sleep away from him.”

Una took a deep breath, preparing herself for the row that she knew was coming.

“I am nae going back to the keep.”

He blinked at her, confused. “Then the laird is coming to fetch you here?”

She shook her head and began sweeping ashes from the heart into a pile.

“What do ye–”

“My handfast is over today, Da.”

He grunted. “Ah. So the laird set ye aside, did he?”

Una’s shoulders were so tense that they were making a bid to join her ears at the top of her neck as she worked. Greer whined from the floor at her feet, always so in tune with Una’s moods. The white greyhound had been a gift from one of the kitchen boys after Una had cared for his dying mother, and Malcolm had let her keep it in an uncharacteristic act of charity.

“Let’s hear it then,” Fergus said, scratching at a bit of dried food on the tabletop.

Una continued to sweep the hearth. When he cleared his throat loudly, she rolled her eyes, annoyed but not surprised that he would press for more information.

“Just that, Da. The contract was fulfilled. There was nae heir. I am free.”

If she had stopped there, he might have let it go. But instead she added, “And thankful I am for it.”

“Thankful? You arethankful, Una? You’re happy to be cast aside by the laird? Like… like… like a whore he’s tired of? I never thought you a fool, Una, but zounds, lass!”

“You signed the contract alongside me. You ken full well that if no heir was conceived within that year, it was finished.”

Una kept her face a careful mask as she swept. It had been a long walk from the keep, through the village and past the cottages of people she knew well, people she had known her entire life. Some of the doors had been open, their inhabitants standing in the openings and watching as she passed with expressions that varied from pity to disapproval. She knew what they thought of her. She kept her head high anyway.

“Did you nae do your duty?”