Chapter Two
The icy water splashed against her arms, drenching her dress and sending shivers down her spine.
It might be summer now, but the river yet held the chill of winter.
Emer rolled up her sleeves and dunked the second bucket into the River Sionainn.
Though it was her third trip for water today, she expected it wouldn’t be her last.
Her shoulders burned in protest as she hoisted the shoulder pole across the top of her back, the water sloshing precariously as the buckets lifted off the soggy ground.
Finding her balance, she started the slow walk to Oran’s guesting house.
Or, rather, her guesting house. His family had given it to her in payment of the body fine after he tried to murder her.
Emer fought a frown. She didn’t like to bring anyone down, not when she could lift them up instead, including herself.
But it bothered her that so many folk went after her as Oran had.
What was it about her that made everyone think she was just there for the taking?
Did she have some brand on her forehead that only criminals could see?
No matter, there was naught she could do but keep going about her business.
It would take hundreds of buckets of water to clean the filth that had accumulated in her new hostelry.
Between managing her original guesting house, the Hart’s Rest, on the opposite side of town nearly a mile’s walk from here and bringing this one up to standard, Emer’s days were filled from dawn to dusk and then some.
Emer carefully set the buckets down in the courtyard outside the new hostelry. She really needed a name for it. She certainly couldn’t keep referring to it as Oran’s hostelry. That would bring bad luck or bad memories. Mayhap both.
Pinching her nose shut, she opened the front door.
She’d thrown out the soiled rushes, swept the floors, and wiped down the tables once already, but the place still stank of sour ale and Lord knew what else.
She’d need to wash it from top to bottom with lye and give it a good rinse. All in good time.
She dumped each bucket in turn into a large oaken barrel, settled the shoulder pole on her back, and returned to the river again.
Better to do it now than while she was in the middle of scrubbing.
Nearing the wide river, Emer spied her elder sister, Alannah, fording the shallows just downstream.
Only broken posts and charcoal planks remained of the causeway that had, until recently, provided dry transport from one shore to the other across the mile-wide river.
After filling her buckets, she ran over to meet Alannah, waving. Every time she saw her sister, warmth and happiness flooded her as though they’d been apart for ages and only just reunited. She knew how lucky she was to have Alannah, and she would never forget it.
Alannah shook her head at Emer’s gleeful waving, though she still smiled and waved back.
Emer knew Alannah thought her silly, but she refused to live a sad life where she hid all the things that made her happy.
Joy was so fleeting, why should she not grasp it with both hands at every opportunity?
Life was too short to worry about how silly she looked.
“What brings you to these parts?” she called when Alannah neared the eastern bank.
Alannah stood a full head taller than Emer and was as beautiful as any queen she’d ever seen.
Her long, raven-black hair framed an oval-shaped face with flawless bone structure and rosy cheeks.
She wore her favorite blue linen léine and pale brown trews, her sword and dagger hanging from a belt about her waist.
Emer admired her sister’s strength. She only wished there’d been any left for her by the time she was born.
“The men aren’t far behind me,” Alannah answered, sitting to wring the water from the legs of her trews. “Brian’s returned.”
Another flutter of excitement bubbled up in Emer’s chest. Over the past month, five of Brian’s most trusted and most skilled warriors had stayed at the Hart’s Rest: Conan, Dallan, Finn, Ardál, and Illadan.
Teague, Conan’s brother and the prince of her kingdom, Connachta, was staying with them as well.
“Oh!” Emer clapped with a little jump. “Does that mean we finally get to meet the rest of their companions?”
Alannah nodded. “They’re going to meet with him now, but they promised to bring everyone to the Hart’s Rest tonight for dinner.”
“That’s three more men, then, aye? Conan’s two brothers and Brian’s general?”
“Aye. I don’t know where Teague will be, though.” Alannah’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Why does it matter who’s there and who isn’t?”
Emer tipped her chin up. “No reason. I’ll be back in an hour or so to start cooking the meal.”
Alannah looked unconvinced. “Do you need help with,” she gestured vaguely toward the buckets, “that?”
“No, I can manage, but thank you.” She wasn’t about to spoil the surprise.
Emer didn’t have Alannah’s strength or bravery, but there was one thing she could do: cook.
Better than anyone she’d met, even. The best part of being an excellent cook was that she could use it as social currency, in its own way.
Folk loved getting pies as a gift or a fresh-cooked meal.
She could cook as a favor when someone was grieving, or just delivered a babe and was tired to the bone.
Since her meals tasted so good, no one complained that food was her standard gift.
She hurried the last two buckets back to the yet-to-be-named hostelry, dried off as best she could, and headed toward the market square.
She had just enough time to haggle her way to a basketful of goodies and walk the mile back to the Hart’s Rest. A special meal needed special ingredients, after all.