Page 15 of Her Dark Viking
Donald had appeared at her side. The boy moved in close, clearly nervous now. So was Mairead, though she refused to allow that to show.
She wondered which of the dwellings would be theirs. Would she and Donald be allowed to live together? It might not matter, this place was small, all the inhabitants lived in close proximity. There appeared to be no separate slave quarters, though she could not really tell.
"Where...?" She paused, searching for the correct words.
Gunnar used his thumb to indicate the entrance to the larger of the houses. Swallowing hard, Mairead followed his direction and stepped inside.
The longhouse was dark, as she had expected, though not gloomy. The door offered some illumination, and the rest of the available light came from the fire pit running down the centre. Two rows of stout wooden posts were arranged the entire lengthof the building to create a central aisle and separate areas nestled beneath the eaves. The central aisle provided access to the rest, and the portions under the eaves were split into several rooms. These were marked by curtains or rough boarding to offer a degree of privacy. The furnishings were sparse but sufficient ... a long table at one end, benches, raised platforms with blankets, clearly intended for use as beds. As she had thought, the livestock did share the accommodations, though they were restricted to one area and the rest was kept clean and well aired.
The woman who had come to greet them outside bustled up. Her face still bore an expression of bemused curiosity, but she appeared friendly enough as she smiled at Mairead.
"You must be tired, lass. I shall show ye where to put your things."
"Oh! You are a Scot." Mairead had not anticipated meeting others from her land here, so far from their home.
"Aye, me and Weylin both. I am Aigneis." The woman offered her hand and Mairead took it.
"You live here?" Mairead was trying to make sense of this household and failing so far.
"We do. Me an' my man have the room at the end, there, ye see? An' this'll be yours, for ye and the bairns." The women gestured to an area about midway along the hall, close to the fire pit.
"We are to live here too? In the main house?"
"Ye're here to serve theJarl, are ye not? Where else would ye live?"
Where else indeed?Mairead peered into the space apparently designated to be her new home. It was fine enough, she supposed, certainly as good as her cold, cheerless little one-roomed cottage back in Aikrig. And a whole lot warmer. Alreadythe heat from the fire offered a heady sense of both comfort and security.
"I shall have to find ye some blankets, an' maybe a chair for ye tae be nursing the bairn..."
"That is very kind. Thank you."
"Not at all, not at all. Now you be takin' a seat while I just see to everything. The Jarl will be wanting food, I expect..."
Mairead had no notion what the Jarl might be wanting, but supposed Aigneis would have as good an idea as any since she seemed to keep his house for him. Was Mairead to be an assistant to Aigneis? The woman appeared competent enough. And Donald? What would be his role here? Mairead's head swirled with questions as she sank onto the bench beside the table.
"May I go outside?" Donald had apparently overcome his initial nervousness and was eager to explore. There had been children as they rode into the village, several of them. But they were Vikings, not captive Celts. Not playmates for her son.
Mairead tugged him down to sit beside her. "No, not yet. We must remain here until we know what is required of us, what is permitted..."
"But, I want to find Steinn."
"Steinn is with his family. They will have missed him. It is better to stay here."
" But—"
"No." Her reply may have been sharper than she intended. Donald was not the only one battling his fears, though he appeared to be winning. And now, she realised, she had a rather more urgent need of her own to worry about. "Aigneis, "she called. "I wonder, could you direct me to the privy. I find I need..."
"Ah yes, yes of course. And this fine lad can take care of the little mite while ye're gone, I daresay."
Mairead passed Tyra to Donald, with strict instructions not to move from the bench until she returned, then she followed Aigneis from the house.
The privy was a small, fenced stockade at the rear of the longhouse. Aigneis showed her the place, then left her to complete her ablutions in privacy.
Mairead was just rounding the corner of the longhouse on her way back inside when she heard a sound which made her flesh quiver. Surely she was mistaken. That was not?—
The whistle of leather slicing the air, followed by a shrill, agonised scream dispelled any lingering illusions. Some hapless soul was being flogged close by. Despite her trepidation Mairead could not help it, she had to look. She had to know.
She crept back the way she had come, past the privy and into a cleared area on the edge of the settlement. There, a couple of dozen villagers had gathered to witness the proceedings.
