‘It wasn’t a child,’ insisted Arian. ‘It was only blood. I would never harm a child.’
Eriatha sighed. ‘Find another way to deal with the fear.’
‘Oh the fear is gone now,’ said Arian. ‘I will not be so stupid again.’
But it had not gone, and three times more that year she passed silver coins to Eriatha, coins given to her by men on the road. And now a second fear had been born to torment her. What if one of the merchants should ride into Three Streams and recognize her? What if Father should find that she had been living as an earth maiden? Like Eriatha she too would be cast out.
Arian pushed such thoughts from her mind. Soon both fears would be ended for good. The Feast of Samain was coming, and Connavar had promised to marry her. Then there would be no need to sit, as she was doing now, by the roadside. Conn would be with her to take away the fear, to hold her close, as she should have held Baria close.
Death could not come for her while Connavar was near. He was strong, and brave, and warm with life.
As Arian sat on the grass thinking of Conn, two men came walking, leading a laden wagon.
Her hands were trembling, and she felt the need upon her. Rising she tossed back her golden hair and stepped out to meet them.
Eriatha the Earth Maiden opened the door to her hut, and beckoned the young man inside. Conn ducked under the low lintel and entered the dwelling. The hut was small and round. There were no windows, and no upper rooms, just a central fire within a circle of stones, the smoke drifting up through a hole in the cone-shaped roof. By the western wall was a wide bed and a coverlet stuffed with goose down. There were two high-backed chairs, and two old rugs by them on the dirt floor. This was not where Eriatha lived, Conn knew, merely where she plied her trade.
Ruathain had told him she was from the Pannone tribe, and the Big Man had supplied the coin for Conn to give her. ‘Treat her with respect, Conn,’ Ruathain said. ‘She is a good woman, and pays her tithe to the settlement. Last year when the floods were upon us she was out from dawn till dusk shoring up the river defences. She did not stint in her work.’
‘I do not need a whore,’ said Conn.
‘All skills have to be learned, boy. Any man – like any dog -can rut without instruction. But if you love your wife you will want to bring her pleasure too. Eriatha can teach you how. Then you won’t have to blunder around your own bedchamber on your wedding night.’
‘You could teach me,’ said Conn. Ruathain’s laughter rang out.
‘No, Conn, I could tell you. Eriatha will teach you.’
Now he was here, and trying not to look at the bed. ‘I thank you for your welcome,’ he said, formally, as she invited him to sit. Eriatha gave a practised smile and a bow. She was a small woman, slender but not thin, her red hair hanging loose to her pale, freckled shoulders. Her dress was of soft wool, dyed blue, and boasted no adornments: no embroidered wire, no brooches. She sat opposite him, so close that their knees were almost touching. Conn looked into her face. She was older than he had thought at first – perhaps as old as twenty-five. From a distance she looked much younger. They sat in silence for a few moments. She seemed at ease, but Conn was growing more uncomfortable. His hand moved towards his money pouch.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘First tell me why you have come to me.’ Her voice was deep for a woman, the sound husky.
‘I am to be married,’ said Conn. ‘The Big Man . . . my father . . .’ His voice trailed away. He found his embarrassment rising.
Eriatha leaned forward and took his hand. ‘Your father,’ she said, ‘wants you to be a good husband, and to be able to satisfy your wife on your wedding night.’