The Barbarian

2.

'Go fetch more water from the well, we're running low.'

'Yes, Mother.'

'And did you milk the cow yesterday? She was noisy last night and Husband says she's leaking everywhere.'

'No, Mother. But I can do it now.'

'And when you've done that, bake some bread. The men will be hungry when they get home.'

'Of course, Mother.'

Grinda's mother looked down at little Edwin suckling at her breast, her dark hair falling across her face. It was gloomy inside their little one-roomed hut. Though the light from the rising sun trailed inside their door and through the gaps in the straw ceiling, it wasn't enough to shift the darkness.

From outside came the sounds of Grinda's two little brothers playing catch, shrieking and laughing as they chased each other around the house. They were supposed to be gathering food for the evening meal. The cabbage and onions and some of the potatoes would be ready for picking. Grinda turned on her heel with a sigh, knowing she would be the one taking on the job. Such an important task couldn't be left to two gormless boys. Her shoes whispered through the rushes as she ducked under the door and stepped outside.

'Billy, Jacob, do as Mother says!' she called as she circled the house. They tackled each other to the ground, rolling in the dirt, punching and kicking. Grinda grimaced; more clothes to wash, more cuts to nurse, more rips to patch. Billy leapt to his feet with a snort and fled, Jacob close at his heels, both ignoring her as they disappeared around the neighbour's house.

Grinda bypassed the garden, scattering chickens as she went. The family cow lifted her head at her approach and gave a great bellow, pulling at the rope tying her to the back of the house. Grinda frowned. Her udder was painfully swollen, her teats red and the earth below was wet with congealed milk. She could smell its sourness on the air. Grinda had heard her all night mooing and stomping but had been too tired to do anything about it.

'I'm sorry, girl,' Grinda said with a rush of guilt, patting her on the neck. The cow shook her head, swished her tail and gave another bellow. 'I just didn't get the time yesterday.'

She picked up the pail and knelt beside her, lifting her skirts as she did so she wouldn't get them muddied.

Her teats were wet and slippery, and the milk jetted forcefully into the pail, hitting the bottom with a loud patter. Before long the pail was almost full and the cow had settled.

Grinda patted the cow's leg. 'Better?'

The cow nosed her hand.

Grinda left the milk for her mother to tend to, fetched the yoke and headed for the well.

The village was a bustle of activity. Grinda waved at a couple of women as they hauled along their pails of grain and water. A clutch of little girls whispered and giggled, their baskets filled with fresh eggs and newly picked vegetables. Grinda dodged a group of young boys throwing sticks and stones and manure at each other. A couple broke off to chase down a barking dog, shouting and whooping. There were few men, most out on the farms.

Grinda pulled down her wimple low over her face as the sun beat on her head. Warm sweat trickled down the back of her neck. She shifted the yoke, settling it into a more comfortable position across her shoulders, the two pails dangling emptily on either side. She wrinkled her nose as she passed a woman shovelling manure into a wagon.

The closer Grinda approached the well, the nearer she drew to the smithy and the louder the sound of banging became. There was a hiss of steam as the blacksmith dipped the glowing iron into a barrel of water. Sweat poured down his red face and into his thick bushy beard. More sweat trickled along his biceps and down his powerful chest. Grinda stared as she passed.

A group of women waited at the well, all sweltering in the heat. Grinda greeted them. They waved and smiled and said hello, but they were strangely stiff and quiet as though they had been discussing something secret.

Grinda frowned, looking curiously between them all before setting down her yoke with a grunt of relief. Even with the pails empty it hurt her shoulders, rubbing against the old bruises that never had a chance to heal. 'Something wrong?'

Mirabelle shook her head. Agnus looked away. Janelle sighed. Bella had her back to them all, busy at the pulley as she hauled up a bucket of water.

Eva folded her fat arms. 'We should probably tell her.'

Mirabelle's eyes were bright behind her heavy lashes. 'I suppose. She's going to find out anyway.

'But she's just a child. We'll scare her. And what about Karin?' Janelle looked uncertain. A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek. She flicked it away.

Grinda pushed back her shoulders until she stood to her fullest height, which wasn't much. 'I'm not a child and Mother's not the boss of me.' It was a half-truth. Father was the boss, but he wouldn't care what gossip she listened to, so long as she finished her work.

There was a splash as Bella emptied the bucket into her pails.

Eva shrugged. 'If you insist. A rider arrived at the village late last night. I didn't see myself, but I was told he was one of Lord Triston's knights.'

Grinda's eyes widened. 'A knight? A real knight?' She had never seen a knight before. Lord Rickard had once been one but he was years past his fighting days now: too much pork in his belly and as slow as a three-legged ox. 'Is he still here?'

'Unlikely. I'm sure he would have left at first light to rush to Redburn.' Redburn was the next village over, only an hour away from Quay by donkey trot.

'Why?'

'Well, that's the news, isn't it?' Eva glanced at Bella as she gathered close to listen. She had left her yoke at the well and the wet hem of her skirt stuck to her skinny legs. 'It seems we might be in danger.' Eva paused, savouring Grinda's unease. 'It seems there have been barbarian raids on the villages of Quinton and Tacturn.'

The breath caught in Grinda's throat. Agnus rested a hand on her pregnant belly. Bella frowned.

'But they're only two days away!' Grinda said. 'Do you think they're going to come here?'

'We're not sure.' Janelle gave Eva an annoyed look.

'But the knight was worried,' Eva continued, ignoring Janelle. 'At least from what I hear. He spoke to Lord Rickard last night.'

Grinda clutched at her skirts. 'What should we do?'

'Pray.'