Valknut

CHAPTER|6 Breaking Free

“Aye she be a bonny lass in a few years” Lady MacShane agreed with Sir Connor as the two sat in front of the tent watching Kieran and Catriona play in the meadow. One moment the two were flat on their bellies making shapes in muddy patches, the next they were racing to the loch for a swim. It had taken the women ages to clean Catriona up.

“Tis not that she willna dip in the loch. Lass be a good swimmer. Tis she willna part with her tunic and breeks,” one of the women reported to Lady MacShane.

Lady MacShane couldn’t understand the girl’s attachment to her rags. She certainly didn’t want to ponder over the fleas and what not’s those rags most certainly housed. She figured Catriona spent so much time dressed as a boy that perhaps she would take to Kieran’s clothes instead.

But no, the lass refused them as well. Sighing in frustration, Lady MacShane settled for the clothes to be scrubbed in the loch alternating with repeat dipping’s in boiling water. Then she tasked one of the women with sewing up the tatters and patching up the holes. 

Looking somewhat presentable for perhaps two minutes was all that she could stomach. As soon as the clothes were put back on her, Catriona ran off to play with Kieran. Rolling in the mud was on the first game she wanted to play. As the afternoon sun stained the spring blue sky with a dash of bright orange, Catriona sat down beside Kieran in the meadow. Panting from exhaustion from being chased, often tackling and sometimes tripping the other, the two had worked up quite the appetite. They waited patiently as the women worked on the evening meal. 

While Catriona salivated over the upcoming meal, Kieran’s thoughts darkened. His brooding over the war and its events were brushed aside often, making room for his new friend, but they returned equally quickly as well. For the moment, he was content with simply staring at the sky.

Before long, exhaustion set in and he let out gentle snores that amused Catriona. She found herself highly tempted to stuff a weed in his ear but heeded Lady MacShane’s plea to let the tired boy nap for a bit. With nothing else to occupy herself with, Catriona resigned herself to ponder over her own fate and the decisions she had made. 

A lass of only nine winters, she was certainly older than Kieran. Looking at her however, one would not think so. She was tiny for her age, wore ragged boy’s clothing, and had uncontrollable red curls that often infuriated her. Her eyes were a deep green, speckled with brown.

For a long time, she had been by herself. A decision she had made a winter ago, a decision she was proud of, for the world was indeed cruel to orphans. Most orphaned girls, including Catriona, were either sold as servants or shipped off to the nunnery. Once her parents passed away from illness, she had little choice. Her Uncle who had politely met his obligations by caring for her parents declared that he could no longer afford to feed another mouth.

In a way though, she was grateful, after all life in the nunnery wasn’t as bad as being sold to some overbearing fat lord with a mean streak.

Or so she thought. 

The nunnery was most unpleasant as Catriona recalled. The rebel in her would often be found sneaking out of bed after all the nuns had retired for the night. When presented to the Abbess the following day, Catriona would often have to listen to the same sermon… and then she would be locked in a window-less room where she would be asked to contemplate on her actions and the teachings of the Lord. 

When she would ask questions during her lessons, the Abbess would reply with “a woman must quietly receive instruction with entire submissiveness. You will be wise to remember that my dear. If you listen to my teachings you would remember that the bible says, a silent and loving woman is a gift of the Lord: and there is nothing so much worth as a mind well instructed. You are neither silent nor submissive, but you will learn to be for such is my duty to teach you” and with that the Abbess would call for her whip.

More often than not, the Abbess would be punishing Catriona for her refusal to be obedient. Her punishments would vary from being disgraced in front of all the girls in the nunnery to being forced into enduring extraordinarily lengthy “fasts”.

When she had been caught stealing stale bread during one such fast, Catriona had been locked in the tiniest room ever. It had enough space for her to stand and kneel. The Abbess had given her a Crucifix and before closing the door, she had said “of the woman came the beginning of sin, and through her we all die. You, my dear, are nothing but sinful.”

The Abbess had been a bit of a zealot. 

While she did relish the time she spent alone, what she most missed was being out in the open, working the gardens, and tending to the herbs and vegetables. She did not enjoy her tasks of spinning and weaving.

Even if none of these had bothered her, the other girls housed in the nunnery certainly did. As the newest member, she was often picked on by the older girls. While in the presence of the nuns they bowed their heads, shuffled their feet and recited their lessons with humility.

When alone, they were a terror for Catriona for what they did to her and how they teased her. In a way the girls were right, Catriona would be a late bloomer. She hadn’t the petite build to be a pretty lass, nor the curves. And if she was not going to be a pretty married submissive wife of an important man then she must learn to be a good servant girl.

With that prophecy, they would force her to complete the most menial tasks asked of the girls by the Abbess. 

If she was going to be starved and forced into stealing to provide for herself, Catriona figured she might as well do so on her own terms. Having had enough of the nunnery, Catriona planned her escape. She had requested to dedicate herself to the service of the Almoner.

Hoping for more obedience from the girl when tasked with what she found her calling in, the Abbess had agreed. On an overcast day, while the Nun was making her rounds dispersing alms to the poor and sick, Catriona snuck away. In her hurry to get out of the cold and rain, the Nun hadn’t noticed the absence of her ward till much later.

Ever since, Catriona had been by herself. She had hitched rides in the carts of unknowing merchants and traveling villagers. She had roamed market places, picking up scraps that others had discarded.

She slept in stables, comfortable with the warmth of the horses. And for the first time in a long time, she was content with being a late bloomer. After all it helped her little to pretend to be a boy with a chest that said otherwise. 

Like every day, Catriona found herself at the marketplace looking for what she could steal. The kindness Sir Connor had shown her was by far the only kindness she had seen in a while. Instead of catching her and sending her off to the guards for stealing, he had shown concern and asked of her parents.

Curious, she had followed him. She had sat beside his horse for the longest time watching over their camp and listening in on their conversations. Understanding that they were in a way homeless like her, and not seeing any untoward behavior, she had wondered if they would welcome her.

When Sir Connor spotted her, she knew he would come to her. Before he reached her however, she quickly hid her only worldly possession, a trinket that belonged to her mother, in Sir Connor’s pack. She hadn’t understood its importance when her Uncle gave it to her, but she knew that it meant something.

And she was not taking the chance of having it stiloen from her.