“I’m looking for my father,” I replied weakly.
A moment later, I felt the sharp sting of someone’s hand on my cheek. I looked up to find Father Edwin standing over me.
“Devilry,” he swore, his whole body shaking. “You are conjuring the devil in your uncle’s very hall! Would you bring Satan into this place?” His thin body leaned threateningly over me. He shouted with such venom that his spit splashed on my cheek. Shocked, I shuddered as I stared at the priest’s pock-marked face.
When I didn’t answer him, he lifted his hand as if he would hit me once more.
“Enough,” a voice called from the doorway. I turned to find Alister standing there. His long brown hair hung in a greasy tumble. His stomach had grown so large over the course of the winter that the bottom of his bloated belly peaked out from under his tunic. He was lighting a pipe, the red of the flame making a collage of shadows and red hues across his face. “Enough, Edwin. I’ll school her,” Alister told the priest as he crossed the hall. He staggered as he walked.
“Yes, My Lord,” the priest said, glaring at me once more, and then smiling before he left me and my uncle alone.
“Little Raven. Come,” Alister called. He dragged a chair before the fire, the legs screeching across the stone floor. He set the pipe down and beckoned for me to sit on his lap. He reeked of ale and the heavy scent of angelica root smoke from the pipe.
Still feeling dizzy from looking into the flames, and my cheek smarting with pain, I did as I was told. But my instincts were on alarm. I knew well that Alister was not to be trusted.
“Does it hurt?” Alister asked, touching my cheek lightly.
The stink of body odor emanated from him. His hair held the light scent of ox fat. Alister stroked my cheek with his sweaty hand then rubbed his fingers up and down the length of my neck.
“Yes,” I replied quietly, forcing my stomach not to revolt. My intuition told me to run away.
“Poor thing. I won’t let him touch you ever again. Don’t worry. But tell me, did you see anything in the flames?” Alister asked as his hand softly caressed my shoulder.
I shook my head.
“Come now, Little Corbie, I know your blood is full of the old magic. Tell your foster father what you saw.”
His hand rubbed my arm, his thumb pressing against my breast over and over again.
“I saw ravens…ravens in the snow.”
“Ravens in the snow?” he asked, his hand now rubbing my leg. “Poor girl. How frightening. Here,” he said, pulling me against him. This time, he moved my bottom over his pelvis, and I felt his hard cock pressing into me. His hands caught the hem of my dress, his sticky fingers sliding up the insides of my bare legs, my thighs. I gasped. I’d seen Alister use the same move more than a dozen times on the serving girls. I knew what came next. I just couldn’t believe he’d try it on me.
I tried to pull away, but he grabbed me roughly, squeezing my inner thighs, forcing my legs open. He tore my undergarments aside; I felt the fabric rip as I struggled to be free. But he was stronger than me. Forcing my legs open, he jabbed his fingers inside me.
“Don’t move, Little Raven,” he whispered in my ear. I struggled, feeling sick as his fingers jabbed into me. “You’ll like fucking as much as your sweet auntie does. We can keep each other warm all winter.”
The door to the feasting hall opened.
“Corbie?” Madelaine called. I saw the look on her face as she took in the scene. Her pretty features contorted into a weird grimace.
Alister let me go.
Gagging, I fell to the floor.
Madelaine rushed across the room, bending to pick me up. Tears were already rushing down my cheeks. My stomach tossed.
“Go upstairs,” Madelaine whispered to me, but I was frozen in place, staring, horrified, at Alister.
“Christ, Madelaine, you’re such a nuisance. Barren cunt. What good are you, anyway?” Alister asked sarcastically as he rose. Stepping toward us, he punched Madelaine in the gut.
Gasping, Madelaine fell to her knees.
“Whore. You’re nothing but a whore,” he said. Grabbing Madelaine by the hair, he lifted her to her feet and slammed her against the wall. I heard her moan when she hit the hard stones. He was advancing on her again when I noticed a carving knife lying forgotten on the table. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed the knife and put myself between Alister and Madelaine.
“Don’t touch her,” I said, lifting the knife menacingly.
“Well now, what do we have here?” Alister asked with a laugh, but he didn’t come closer.
“Keep your filthy hands off both of us, or next time I’ll chop your fingers off,” I spat. I hoped Alister wouldn’t notice my hands trembling. I clutched the knife handle so hard my hand hurt.
“Well, there it is…now that is the blood of a true MacAlpin, not some half-blooded bitch from Strathclyde like you,” Alister said to Madelaine then turned to me. “You’ve got your daddy’s blood, girl,” Alister said laughing. He picked up his pipe and lit it, the heavy smoke twisting upward and turned and left the room, banging the wooden door shut behind him.
I dropped the knife. It hit the stone floor with a clatter. I turned to Madelaine. “Are you all right?”
She collapsed into my arms. “I’m so sorry,” she heaved, grabbing me tightly. Her whole body was shaking. “Did he…did he ruin you?”
I shook my head.
“May the Great Mother watch over us both. He’s drunk tonight. He’s lost even to his worst self. He knows better. King Malcolm would execute him. I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
My stomach rolled. I could still feel the sharp prick of his fingers in me, crooked, sharp and vile. I felt sick and angry. I felt polluted. And even as bad as it was for me, my heart ached for Madelaine. I knew that what I saw was just a hint of what happened between them behind closed doors. Madelaine had faced far worse, worse than she would ever name. Her body, all the bruises, told the tales she never spoke. In Alister’s house, no one was safe.
I squeezed my eyes tight, forcing the memory of that night away, and tried to focus on Madelaine who was still speaking of what it meant that the Goddess had called: “You will go amongst our wise women,” Madelaine was saying. “They are women of the old ways. They will teach you our faith, the ways of our people. You have no need to fear,” Madelaine explained.
“I’m not afraid,” I whispered. At least, I was not afraid of them.
Dark clouds rolled over the moon. Everything grew black. Madelaine fell silent and did not speak again until moonlight lit the room once more. “Your soul is very old,” she whispered. “Even as a babe, you were always…different. You belonged to the otherworld. I will miss you,” she added and rose, leaving me to my solitude.
Chapter 3
With the blare of a trumpet, a courier arrived the next morning with news that Alister and his men would be home by evening. The house was set aflutter. The beds were filled with fresh straw, the stairs were scrubbed, the cattle slaughtered, and wine casks were brought up from the cellars. Madelaine, paler than the moon, moved through the house dispatching orders. Alister had been away for a month. The cooks and grooms had vacationed from their hard work. The serving girls had enjoyed empty beds.
That night, the light from Alister’s men’s torches glared through the dark, heralding his arrival. I watched from my window as he arrived at the castle gate and was met by Tavis whose formal position in the castle was sentinel and chief guard. Their exchange was brief and stiff.