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‘The type that looks like me. Will has a fondness for a blonde lass, he has always said the innocent-looking ones are more satisfying to corrupt.’ She looked Morna up and down contemptuously. ‘I suppose you are comely, in a dark sort of way, the kind of woman a man bends over a tavern table, ploughs and then forgets. But marriage now! I was surprised at my Will doing that, though I hear tell that this union is more with the Clan Buchanan than it is with you. Am I right?’
If Edana expected anger or humiliation, Morna was determined to deny her.
‘Whatever the arrangement, Edana, we are both content with it. You have had my husband in the past so you would understand my contentment only too well, would you not? I must say Will does perform his marriage duties most diligently, be it bent over a tavern table or otherwise. Why, I scarce get any sleep these days.’
Morna smirked at Edana whose face changed from gloating to glowering in an instant. She pressed home her advantage. ‘I am sure you understand my happiness having found your own particular kind with Laird Cranstoun. What an unbridled joy it must be pressed under such a one as your man, night after night. Next time you are, close your eyes and think about Will and the fact I can have him any time I want, and I don’t have to grit my teeth every time he goes inside me, or swallow my revulsion, as you do with Wymon.’
‘You think I still want your low-born cur of a man. He came to Fitheach with nothing, stinking and in rags. He slept with the animals and was little better than one.’
‘Why did you lie with him then?’ snapped Morna.
‘I was bored, and Will was lusty and pursued me endlessly. ‘T’was hard work teaching him to please me and not worth it in the end, for he was a terrible lover. He spent his lust too quickly and never learnt any new tricks. Such a dull dog.’
‘He despises you. We both know it, Edana, so go away for you are boring me as you bored Will.’
‘Is that what he told you?’ she laughed, a tinkling, girlish sound from a mouth rank with cruelty. ‘I spurned him. That is why he killed my brave Fearchar – to get revenge on me. I am well rid of Will, though he will no doubt come back to me with one click of my fingers.’ She smirked and snapped her fingers right in Morna’s face. ‘Shame he can’t do himself any more given his mangled hand. I saw it happen you know, Fearchar cutting his fingers off.’
Pain bloomed in Morna’s chest at the thought of Will, alone, suffering, fighting for his life. He always hid his hand as if it was shameful, and this woman had no pity for him.
‘You need to stop talking now,’ said Morna as she was taken by white-hot rage.
‘Horrible it was, the crunching sound, as Fearchar’s blade cut in and, oh, the look on Will’s face, such surprise.’ Edana laughed again. ‘Shame it was only his worthless fingers being separated from his body and not his neck. Fearchar should have killed him and thrown him back in with the pigs for them to eat. It is where he belongs, in the filth, because that is what he is.’
Morna’s good sense snapped, and she slapped Edana hard across the face, wiping the smile from it. The woman staggered back in shock.
‘If you don’t shut your mouth, I must shut it for you,’ snarled Morna, balling her hands into fists.
‘Oh, you’ve done it now, bitch. I will kill you,’ said Edana launching herself at Morna.
They fell back into the mud, Edana tearing at Morna’s hair and face in a frenzy. Her peasant roots soon became evident, for, behind the blonde, delicate looks, she was surprisingly strong. Her fingers went for Morna’s eyes to gouge them, but Morna managed to turn aside just in time, and Edana’s nails ripped into her neck instead.
Morna grabbed a handful of blonde hair and tore it out by the roots and was rewarded with a howl of pain from her adversary. Over and over they rolled and slapped, Edana shrieking and cursing like a banshee the whole time. The mud started to suck at Morna’s skirt and boots, and every time one of them tried to stand, they would fall back down.
A crowd gathered around them, shouting encouragement, growing louder and louder. She could not weaken, or this harpy might tear out her throat. She was fighting for Buchanan honour as well as Will’s, and a Buchanan never gave up, never backed down from a fight.
Morna caught sight of Waldrick pushing through the edge of the crowd, bare-chested, with his braies hanging off his backside. The momentary distraction allowed Edana to get her hands around Morna’s throat and pin her down on her back. She started to squeeze, her nails digging in painfully.
Morna tried pulling her hands off, but the woman was devilishly strong. She could feel herself weakening, her lungs fit to burst. With the last ounce of strength she had left, she heaved upwards and rolled Edana sideways and over onto her belly. Morna wriggled on top of her, and pushed on the back of Edana’s head, forcing her face into the mud.
The woman squirmed and clawed, but she could not get free. Gurgling sounds came from the mud as it filled Edana’s mouth and nose.
How Morna hated Edana, then, in a way she had never hated anyone in her life. To speak of Will being hurt, so casually, so carelessly, as if he were dirt to walk upon. How could she do it, have so little care for him after everything he had been through in his life? How could she condemn him to death like that?
A strong hand on her arm tore her away and onto her feet. Waldrick had hold of her with one hand and was holding up his braies with the other.
‘What are you about, you witches. Stop this at once, you she-devils,’ he yelled.
Morna struggled to free herself, and he grabbed her with both hands. In doing so, he let go of his braies, which fell down, treating Morna and the onlookers to the sight of his flaccid pink manhood. The crowd almost burst with laughing and, as Waldrick did a terrible job of securing himself, he rounded on Morna.
‘What are you about woman, brawling in the mud like a common doxy. You cannot be doing this to Cranstoun’s woman. Your husband will have you whipped, and if her man gets hold of you, he will stretch your neck.’
Morna lost patience with the wretched man.
‘He can try. And where were you while she was strangling me, eh? I saw you watching from the sidelines. You are supposed to be protecting me.’
‘Aye, well, I know that one there,’ he said, gesturing to Edana, who was rising unsteadily to her feet spitting out muck. ‘You cross her at your peril, and besides, I was, erm… busy’
Aye, busy with your braies round your ankles servicing that whore.’
