The Wandering Wordsmith

After The Raid

Pádraig

Pádraig stood with his hand resting on the hilt of the heavy blade by his side. His men began to clean up the  bodies of the last raid. He had known a lot of the minds who had one resided inside these cadavers. Some he had even called friends. Now his hands were bloodied with their liquid life. 

'' How do you stand so emotionless when you have just murdered your own countrymen?'' His second in command, Samuel asked.

''Have I not shown that I have shed the err of my nation time and time again?'' Pádraig answered not looking at Samuel but instead at the chaos in front of him.

''Pádraig you can never escape your birth,'' Samuel told him sympathetically.

''I have long fled the farmhouse from where I was born.'' Came the response in a flat voice.

''You don't have to hide your sadness. The king does not expect you to throw away your despise at what he makes you do. He only requires that you act against it.'' Samuel tried to comfort his friend and commanding officer by putting a hand on his armoured shoulder.

''I do not hide it from you or the king. But Sam if these men found out that I longed to mourn my heritage, they would revolt against me.'' Padraig almost whispered.

With these words he walk away from his companion letting the hand fall from his shoulder.  He decided to help check for survivors, but he doubted that there were any.

He walked the blood-soaked streets with his head high and his face blank. The picture of a ruthless commander. Fire spread from building top to building top. It swaying like a dancer killed like a maniac.  It made the dark sky glow with hate  and fury.

He found one house on the outskirts of the village it didn't seem to have been checked yet. The door was still on it hinges and the windows were intact. As was standard procedure he kicked the door down and entered the house.

He scouted the house half-heartedly for any life and was about to leave when he heard a sneeze from under the pile of fire wood in the corner of the room. Padraig's mind screamed at him to leave, to let the perpetrator go. But his legs had other ideas.

Before he could stop himself he had reached the load of timber and with his strong hands he began to dismantle the hiding place.

What he found gave him happiness and hope. A woman and her two children had stowed themselves away in a hole just behind the pile. People were still fighting back he thought. Even when many had tried and died people were still trying to live.

His smile disappeared when he remembered what he had to do. The woman begged in her native language and then tried her best to translate. But Padraig knew what she said and replied in the same language.

''I shall do them no harm.'' He assured her. The words came out before he realised what he was saying.

The woman was temporarily shocked at what she had just heard. 

''Are you not one of his  men? Why do you speak our tongue?'' The woman asked then the truth dawned on her.

''Liar, traitor, killer of kin.'' She spat. ''May Tal drowned you in earth and moss.'' She put her hand up defensively and used her free hand keep her children's heads down, while she herself rose from the  hideaway to look Padraig directly in the eye.

''You show no fear madam'' Padraig replied returning her gaze.

''We are not all as cowardly as you Padraig Ó Duine. Or do you prefer I call you Patrick Dunne?. She raged on. ''I saw you take my husband's life, saw his blood stain the cobbles and heard his heart's last beat. Did he really deserve that fate because he was unwilling to forsake his people and his country to become the servant of another nation?

''Since he was not willing to become like you.'' Those last words sent shivers down Pádraig's spine.

''Stop shouting and listen to me if you do not wish to fall to the whims of Bá.'' He whispered.

The woman's rage seemed to recede a bit at these words but she still stood protectively above her children.

Pádraig took her silence as a sign to explain. ''Run into the forest to the south, there is a camp on the other side. They should give you shelter and food.''

''Why should we believe you?'' The mother asked.

''Because I am welcoming death with open arms by helping you to escape and if I am lying you shall die anyway,'' Pádraig said quickly, more soldiers would soon arrive.

The woman sighed and started to get out of the hole. She reached a hand to help the children and  Pádraig did the same, but the woman swatted his hand away.

''The hand that took a father's life shall not taint the skin of his child.'' The woman said, but  her voice did not carry the same anger it did earlier. Pádraig remembered then that what she had resided was an old saying among his people.

He hurried them out of the house  just as he heard men coming around the corner sharing stories of the fight they had just experienced and laughing.

Pádraig was sure he was found out when he saw something on the ground that gave him an idea. Quickly he slid his sword through a chink in his armour at his thigh and bracing himself he slit the soft skin underneath causing hot pain to flare up his leg. Hit bit his lip to hold in the scream that rose in his throat. 'Why did I make it so deep' He thought to himself before picking up the head that he had saw on the ground earlier.

It was then the soldiers saw him and he hoped that the family had made its escape. But made no effort to turn a check.

''Patrick,'' One of the soldiers, Curtis, said. ''We heard speaking, in the disgusting tongue of the locals. What happened?''

Pádraig held the head high and announced, '' I found one a woman we had a bit of a chat before she stuck me in the thigh and I took her head as punishment.''

He then showed his sword that was covered in his own blood, but the soldiers didn't know who it belonged to. They thought it had been the poor women whose head Pádraig now claimed to be some macabre trophy.

''You've always had a way with women sir,'' Curtis teased ''Now can we please finish searching these filthy houses so I can get washed.''

''You do carry quite the stench,'' Pádraig said giving Curtis a condescending look.

''Exterminating vermin does cause quite the smell. Doesn't it? Patrick'' Curtis retorted giving emphasising the last word before giving Pádraig a sinister smile and leaving.

Pádraig just stood there dropping the head and sheathing his sword. Before he clenched his fists until his knuckles were white, all but forgetting about the warm crimson liquid slithering down his leg.