screamed like banshees when they got in trouble for it, smeared food in their hair, temper tantrumed in exhaustion, but when they had fallen asleep — Emma and I would be all, “Aren’t they so cute?”
And they were. And I missed him so much.
I missed Isla so much.
The small oil lamps were blown out. Already I was losing track of my days. This was my second night, right? What day, what month, what year? No one to ask.
I knew it was before Balloch castle was built. If I wanted to chisel for help I had to wait for the walls to be built first. But still, even if they knew where I was, they couldn’t get to me. The fucking vessels wouldn’t go this far back. There was nothing to be done.
All I could think of — not planning, not revenging, not getting away, only how hungry I was, and how desperately, life-alteringly thirsty.
If I could have gone outside I would have lain in the snow and shoveled it into my mouth while I just allowed myself to go cold.
I needed to go to the bathroom again.
I was ashamed. These children barely looked at me. The babies just nursed from me. I was ringless, and peeing myself, completely devoid of dignity. The lady in the corner who got beaten for not praying well enough, for not listening, for not speaking, for being too dumb to understand... for being alone.
I wanted to die.
But that was the plan. They had another nurse. They didn’t need me, I was extra. They were going to use me until they were done with me. That was all. Nothing personal. I was an extra milk cow that had wandered onto their land. They didn’t need me enough to want the trouble of feeding me. They were like, whatever. They could milk me for a while. It was a bonus. It was free.
And there wasn’t a damn thing I could say.
That night was long, my bruises hurt. The floor was hard and the cold surrounded me, not an acute cold but a chronic, plus my skirts were wet. My scent — it was awful. I was dragged to the chair to nurse the older baby and then dragged to the ground to sleep. The second time I awoke to the newborn crying. I was dragged to the chair and the wee baby was put into my arms. A tiny little human that nursed piteously.
“Are they starving you too, sweetie? Where’s your mammy?” My heart broke for this being that had to grow up in this awful nursery with this bleak cold in this desolate century with the only nice person the lady from the corner. She wouldn’t even remember me after I died.
I nursed the baby on both sides without touching her, without stroking her soft little cheek, and then she was yanked from my arms and I was returned to the corner.
I fell asleep and slept soundly for a couple of hours. Then, still asleep, I was jerked up, marched to the prayer corner and forced to lift my outer skirts and was beaten again with the stick. Thwack on the back of my thighs. Thwack on my ass. Thwack across my lower back and upper back and again and again while I peed myself in pain. My face pressed to the wall, she kicked me, and face against the wall I collapsed, crumpling to the ground, sobbing in my own filth.
The morning was the same. I just allowed myself to be pulled from the corner to the chair and back to my knees to pray.
Thirty-six - Magnus
I asked a few of the men about m’wife and ate m’meal, trying tae understand how she could be here without anyone bein’ aware of it, but then Sir Colin, ignoring my purpose, wanted tae shew me around the tower construction.
I went outside and listened tae him speakin’ on the tower, while I turned, eyein’ the doors and windows and passageways around. I discerned where the kitchen would be in the southeast corner. Then I saw a group of women walkin’ together, their eyes cast down, heading from the kitchen tae the Great Hall for their meal.
One among them was the household manager, I could tell from her air. I would speak tae her first.
Sir Colin droned on, “This is where we will situate the door, and there will be the stair.”
The women entered the Great Hall and the door was closed behind them. I said, “Sir Colin, m’apologies,