A novel of Ancient Ireland featuring Sister Fidelma
Ireland, mid 7th century AD
'I have been sitting waiting for your return along this path, shepherd.' The voice had taken on a menacing tone. 'Why did you go and sacrifice a rabbit to the dark lady of the waterfall? I will tell you. A decade has passed since you wed your wife Muirgen. One child has recently been born to you and that stillborn. The midwife has told you that you that you will never be blessed with a child. Your wife Muirgen still has the milk destined for your dead infant. Muirgen is desperate in her desire for a child and, seeing her longing, witnessing her desperation, you in your turn have become desperate.'
Nessan stood rooted to the spot, listening to the recital with growing fear. The seated figure seemed to be penetrating his very thoughts.
'Last week, shepherd, you went to pray with Muirgen at the little chapel at the ford of the Imigh. You asked the visiting priest to intercede with the Christ and His Holy Mother. You knew that your supplications and prayers would go unanswered. That is why you have returned to the old ways, the Old Faith. You went to ask Dub Essa to grant that Muirgen would, by some miracle, have a child.'
[...]
'How do you know all this?' It was one last whispered attempt at regaining some self-respect.
'I have said, shepherd, that is not for you to understand. I am lord of these dark valleys and brooding peaks. I am here to tell you what you need to know. Return to your home. You will find that your supplication has fallen on favourable ears. The wish of Muirgen is now granted '
'What will you do with the girl?' Leofric asked me.
'Freyja?'
'Is that her name? You want her?'
'No,' I said.
'I do.'
'She'll eat you alive,' I warned him. She was probably a head taller than Leofric.
'I like them like that,' he said.
'All yours,' I said, and such is life. One day Freyja was the pampered daughter of an earl and the next she was a slave.
Carl Butcherson quietly followed after the maidservant he had been futtering toward the small, grassy clearing where her mistress was waiting for her. The maid was a tasty piece, but he had an appetite for sweeter, softer flesh. If he could catch the maid's mistress in the indiscretion the maid had confessed to him, the mistress might well spread her legs for him to keep her secret. If she coupled with one, why not with two?
He heard his doxy cry out in surprise or pain and wriggled quickly to where he could see. He expected to get a filip of pleasure from seeing the girl beaten because he had made her late, but what he did see made his breath catch in his throat. Him! He had seized the maid and was holding her with her back to him. And he saw what was at the maid's feet.
Carl would have torn himself free of the bushes to run away, but he was paralysed with fear and so he saw the man's hand rise and plunge down, saw a long knife, dripping red, emerge from the maidservant's throat, saw the blood fountain down her breast, saw the man push the girl so she fell forward next to the other body, the body so battered about the head that he would not have known her, except for her fine gown.
