Hush: An Irish Princess' Tale

Hush: An Irish Princess' Tale by Donna Jo Napoli Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: Hush: An Irish Princess' Tale by Donna Jo Napoli Read Free Book Online
Authors: Donna Jo Napoli
ribbons and run off with them not long ago. And I know for a fact that the biggest sow had piglets yesterday.
    I take the stone path to the small farmyard within the fort walls. The hens cluck like crazy things as I come up.
    The old dog staggers over to greet me. I scratch him behind the ears. “Where’re the piggies, old boy?”
    He follows dumbly at my heels, as I head to the muddy area the pigs prefer.
    And there’s Brigid.
    The sow struggles to her feet at the sight of me, her fat rolling. Sucking piggies dangle from her and fall away with pitiful squeals. She has such a nasty disposition, that one. If she would act a little nicer, she’d be in the house now, like other nursing sows. Only that sow can’t be nice. Not to most people.
    But she was just lying there for Brigid, still as a dead thing. How my sister does it, I don’t know. Animals simply trust her, even the most unpleasant ones. They know she loves them.
    Two piggies have ribbons tied around their ears. Brigid smiles. “Want to help? There are six left to do.”
    The sow takes a threatening step toward me. The piggies squeal louden.
    “Come. We have to meet Mother in the kitchen. Now.”
    “All right.” Brigid kisses the closest piggy and we run together back toward the manor house.
    “You smell like that farmyard,” I say.
    “What a surprise.” Brigid laughs.
    She knows tonight’s the night. But if she’s thinking about it, she’s better at acting than I am. Maybe she has Father’s gift of deception. I can barely keep my hands from flying all around. I can barely keep my tongue from shrieking.
    We pass the milking yard and the sweet-sour scent lures me. I want to go in there and stand between brindled cows. They’re nothing like pigs. They bump against each other, completely docile. After an initial glance at you, they hardly seem to know you’re there. It’s like you disappear.
    A blessèd thought.
    “It’s time,” whispers Mother, as we come through the kitchen door. “Time to hide.”
    “Where are we to go?” I ask.
    “I already told you.”
    “All you said was a safe place. You keep putting me off. What safe place?”
    “It’s not far. I’ll give you directions when you’re on the horse”
    “I want to know now.”
    “Hush, Melkorka. You really do need to learn when to hush.” Mother looks around warily and I realize she’s afraid we might be overheard. “Here” She holds up tattered, somewhat dirty tunics made of coarse nettle. Peasant clothes. “Change. And hurry about it.”
    “They’re shabby.” I draw back, wrinkling my nose. “And they smell. I wouldn’t be caught dead in such things.”
    “Exactly.” Mother shakes the larger tunic in front of my face. “Even if people look you straight in the eyes, they won’t recognize princesses in this garb.”
    My cheeks flame. Of course. But those rags repulse me.
    Brigid grabs the smaller tunic in a flash. “It will be like a game, Mel. Come on.”
    I want to slap her for being the first to obey, for acting so cheerful. I have to bite my tongue not to say something nasty as we change clothes.
    Mother pulls us by the hand out through the fort gate and behind a thick bush. A fat mare waits there. She’s not one of ours.
    Mother undoes the ribbons from Brigid’s hair, then ruffles up both our heads, so we look messy. She kicks at the dirt till the wet underneath shows. “Here.” Shesmears the cakey mud across Brigid’s nose. “That’s enough for you. But Melkorka, you need a lot. You’ve become a beauty. And right now, beauty is your enemy. Go on.”
    Mother called me a beauty. And when Father was talking to that messenger the other day, he called me beautiful. I warm inside. But how can I? I shouldn’t be lingering on such words in this moment, not now.
    I hurry to take a handful of mud and draw it down one temple and across my cheek and chin. I won’t be sluggish anymore. I’ll be quicker than Brigid. I’m the older one, after all.
    Mother nods

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