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She started as she rounded the corner of the first dwelling she reached, when Ferris stepped from the shadow of the building. Precious water sloshed across the ground to seep into the earth.

“You startled me,” she complained. “Now I shall have to make another trip.”

Ferris shrugged, unconcerned at having added to her labours. She wondered if he might make amends by offering to help carry the bucket, or even refill it for her.

It was not to be. The other thrall merely leaned on the cottage wall at his back and smirked at her.

Unease became fear. Ferris made her flesh crawl, though she could not exactly say why.

She should pity the man, he had suffered at the dark Viking’s hand, but any such sympathy had evaporated now as she picked up her pail again and made to pass him.

“Did you think about what I said?” He moved forward, barring her path.

“Excuse me.” Mairead stepped to the side.

He moved again, still obstructing her way, though now it was clear he did so deliberately.

“Let me pass,” demanded Mairead. She glanced about her but saw no one. Should she scream for aid?

“I asked you a question.” He lowered his tone, leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Did you think about my words?”

“I have no wish to talk to you. Please, get out of my way or I shall tell Gunnar what you said and you will be flogged again.”

“Ah, so you do remember. Have you considered my suggestion, then?”

“What suggestion?” She knew full well what Ferris referred to but was hedging for time, for some way to extricate herself from this confrontation.

He stepped back, his smile cold. Ferris placed both hands under his cheek and inclined his head to the side mimicking sleep, then he made a stabbing motion with his right hand. His mime was clear enough and Mairead backed away, terrified now.

“You are mad, quite deluded. He will kill you…”

“Only if you tell him, but you won’t do that, will you? You know where your loyalties lie, and who knows what may happen to your precious little family if you betray your people. We are Celts, slaves, all of us. These Vikings are our enemies and they deserve all they get. You know that to be true.”

Mairead knew no such thing. She could not name just what the Viking was to her, but she was certain that Gunnar was not her enemy. He had delivered her baby and rescued her son, and she could no more plot to murder him than she could sprout wings and fly home to Scotland.

She shook her head. “I will not help you. I want no part of this.”

Ferris shrugged. “As you like, but everyone knows what your brat did, and what will happen when the Jarl returns. If you want to protect him, protect all of us, you will do as I say.”

“I will not.” The very idea was laughable.

Even if she was minded to sneak up on him while he slept Gunnar would be more than a match for her.

She was a healer, not a killer, and she would not repay the kindness the Viking had shown her by seeking to murder him in his bed.

“Now step aside or I shall scream fit to raise the dead.”

If anything, Ferris’ smile broadened. “No you will not. You will keep your pretty mouth shut, or you will pay the consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

He reached for her and stroked her cheek before she could move to stop him. Mairead recoiled but he followed her and now she found herself backed against the wall of the building. Ferris laid his palm across her mouth, sealing in the scream which bubbled in her throat.

“Quiet. You will say nothing of this, of me. Ever. Do you understand?”

Mairead nodded and clutched Tyra to her chest. She would say anything, promise anything, if only he would let her and her baby go unharmed.

Ferris leaned in, the sour heat of his breath filling Mairead’s nostrils as he placed his mouth beside her ear. “The Jarl will tire of you soon enough. Perhaps I would enjoy sampling what is left…”

No! She squirmed in his grasp, desperate now to escape. Had she been alone she would be fighting in earnest, but with her baby she dared not?—

“Mairead. Mairead, where are you?”

The sound of Aigneis’ voice was never more welcome. Ferris hissed in annoyance and turned toward the interruption. Aigneis’ footsteps could now be heard, in moments she would appear.

“Another time,” murmured her assailant. He released her and slunk away around the opposite end of the cottage just as Aigneis came into view.

“Ah, there you are. What about that water…?” The older woman paused, peered at Mairead. “Are ye all right, lass? Ye’re as white as snow.”

“Yes. Yes, I am fine. I was just… just a little fatigued.” She stumbled forward to pick up her bucket, now barely half full. “I must have spilt the water. I shall go back to the river and?—“

“Ye will do no such thing. Ye need tae rest, ‘tis but a fortnight since you gave birth. Go back to the longhouse, I shall bring the water.”

Mairead was grateful to hurry away, her thoughts swirling.

Should she tell Aigneis what Ferris had said, what he had done? Should she tell Gunnar?

No, she decided. She was too new here, she did not know the ways of this place, or who she could trust. She would not participate in any of Ferris’ malicious scheming, and he was quite wrong if he believed there would be ‘another time’.

She would make certain to avoid him from now on.

He would have no help from her and he would be unable to perpetrate his scheme without it so Gunnar could sleep easy in his bed.

Neither would she make enemies if she could help it so she would remain silent.

And whatever the vile thrall might like to suggest, she would find another way to protect her son from the wrath of the Viking chief.