mother. It was in Gaelic and I didn't know what a word of it meant. I’d spent too many years speaking the King's English and none speaking the language of my mother's mother. I've never been much for singing and my voice cracked more than once, trying to keep track of the tune and sing what was gibberish to me, a song I hadn't heard nor sung in nearly thirty years. My own children hadn't heard it sung, what with Brigid doing all the lullabies. She'd heard me sing one drunken night and had made the right decision in declaring herself queen of her castle and the only minstrel in it. It'd been a cute way of phrasing it, now that I think back, always a smart girl, talking with her cleverness about so many things. She'd have made a fine poet if the situations were reversed and I were the mother at home mothering, and she the man winning bread for the family. But I hadn't been asked who I'd rather pick, and it seems neither had she.
When I looked down, the young lady had fainted dead away. I laid her down, sleeping soundly, in the warmth of the fire and tried to look anywhere that wasn't untoward. I can't say I succeeded the whole night, but she kept her modesty and I committed adultery only in my heart.
When day broke, I was woken first by the youngster on the last watch of guard duty. He informed me there was nothing to report. I noted that I hadn't heard young Richard during my term at the post, and asked if he'd heard anything and indeed he hadn't. Perhaps the hotheaded young Englishman had finally calmed himself down and seen reason.
But indeed he hadn't. When we opened the carriage to remove him from it, well aware that the next group would be nearby within a matter of hours, he lashed out, having somehow released himself from the binds that tied his arms, but having failed to fix the problems of the lock on the doors. It took three of us to subdue him, holding him down as he begged to be let go, for they would surely hang him in Dublin and he had a family back home in Birmingham, he insisted that he could make it worth our while. I took out on him the anger I'd had the evening prior, having welled back up in my breast. I felt my fist connect with his jaw, through the heavy riding gloves, and he blinked stars out of his eyes and was, at long last, silent. For that, at least, I was thankful.
The party who had been assigned to bring the remaining luggage came up before noontime as we had anticipated and we were able to load our cargo onto their carts, but there was little in terms of seating and so with miss Dempsey seated on a bench in a wagon, and the soldiers marching, we went along slower than we had anticipated. It seemed that another night on the road would be needed, in spite of my dire hope to be home and done with the job.
That night, at least, we had access to beds in a small hovel they'd set to stay the night, having not made such gross errors in judgment as those of us less experienced in hauling furniture and luxury goods. The rooms were small, and there were only two. Being courteous and Christian, we offered the one to the lady while the men and I took the other. The movers acquiesced to this plan after a promise of a small sum, and so it was.
The night passed long and I found myself unable to sleep. My thoughts were occupied with Richard, with his attempts to flee and awful shenanigans. I lay in my bed, lost in my thoughts and my fears, and I didn't hear the door open—often a fatal mistake. In fact it shames me somewhat to say, but I hardly even heard the sound of the steps leading up to me, as if they were occurring in another world, one where the fact of the noise was completely disconnected from the consequences of them.
When they were nearly upon me, I finally became concerned and sat bolt upright, looking around for the source. I tried to think where the nearest weapon was in case of attack. Naturally, I thought, if one were to attack our young ward, the first thing any intelligent fellow would