son’s appalling behavior.
“And so?” said Donal in much the same tone that Murrough had answered with. “That is what children do, Grace. ’Twas how we played when we were young.”
“No,” I said. “We were not mean-spirited like this child is. From what I’ve seen, our son enjoys givin’ pain to others.”
“Well, he ’ll be an ideal warrior when he grows up then,” replied Donal, settin’ the boy back up on his horse and slappin’ its rump so that it took off with Murrough, glad to be free of his mother’s clutches.
“You’re teachin’ our son some very dangerous lessons, Grace,” said Donal with an evil eye on me. “His older brother is already hopelessly weak.”
“Owen is not weak!” I cried. “He ’s simply good and kind.”
“Good and kind will get Owen killed, you mark my words. Now I’ll not waste another minute arguin’ with you, you silly woman.” My mouth fell open when he said that, and I swear I would’ve snatched him bald right there had not a group of O’Flahertys come galloping up behind us. I didn’t dare humiliate Donal in front of his kin, and anyhow they hollered at us, “What are you doin’ off your horses?
There ’s a pair of full-racked bucks up ahead, just beggin’ to be taken down!”
Donal glared at me as if I’d made a special effort to ruin his day, leapt back on his horse, and disappeared into the wood. I’d suddenly lost my taste for the hunt and rode back to the booley in a state of dejection.
When the hunt was finished and everybody came riding merrily home with both bucks and a couple of does as well, we started seating the family at the long trestle table, set for the feast. But I was shocked to see that Gilleduff O’Flaherty had been seated all the way at the far end of the table while his son, with great fanfare, was placing Donal Crone and his wife, Ellen, right in front of the roast. The two seats opposite them were empty, reserved for Donal and myself.
I knew that Donal considered his uncle the “guest of honor” for the day. Gilleduff ’s brother, Donal Crone O’Flaherty, was the clan’s high chieftain and my Donal worshiped him, honored him excessively and always kissed his arse. I quick went up behind him and pulled my Donal aside.
“What’s your father doin’ at the low end of the table?” I demanded.
“Why is he not near the roast with his brother?”
“Because his brother is The O’Flaherty,” replied Donal with an ugly sneer, “and Gilleduff is not.”
“But he ’s your father and deserves to be honored.” The truth was, Gilleduff, as Owen had predicted, had become a rock in my new life, a great shoulder to lean on, especially when Donal’s truculence or drunkenness became too much for one person to bear.
“The chieftain of a clan and his wife are afforded the honors, Grace,” he went on. “And when I’m The O’Flaherty, ’twill be me sittin’ before the roast, and you next to me, and I doubt you’ll be complainin’ about it either. Now take your place at the table and shut your mouth.” Well, I was beside myself. I was not about to host a feast that would so dishonor my father-in-law, who by now I loved very dearly. So, quiet like, I came up behind Gilleduff—who was too proud a man to make a fuss—and whispered that there ’d been a mistake with the seating, and that the empty place next to his son, across the roast from his brother, was meant for him. Smiling and gracious I showed him to his place, and ignoring the murderous looks from Donal, walked away, takin’ Gilleduff ’s empty seat at the far end of the trestle.
That night in bed Donal put his hands round my neck and said, as he began to squeeze, that if I ever embarrassed him in public like that again he ’d kill me. His fingers were cuttin’ off the air, and I fought against panic risin’ up in me. Then I got angry and did the only thing I knew would stop him. I grabbed his balls and squeezed them with a bit more force
“And so?” said Donal in much the same tone that Murrough had answered with. “That is what children do, Grace. ’Twas how we played when we were young.”
“No,” I said. “We were not mean-spirited like this child is. From what I’ve seen, our son enjoys givin’ pain to others.”
“Well, he ’ll be an ideal warrior when he grows up then,” replied Donal, settin’ the boy back up on his horse and slappin’ its rump so that it took off with Murrough, glad to be free of his mother’s clutches.
“You’re teachin’ our son some very dangerous lessons, Grace,” said Donal with an evil eye on me. “His older brother is already hopelessly weak.”
“Owen is not weak!” I cried. “He ’s simply good and kind.”
“Good and kind will get Owen killed, you mark my words. Now I’ll not waste another minute arguin’ with you, you silly woman.” My mouth fell open when he said that, and I swear I would’ve snatched him bald right there had not a group of O’Flahertys come galloping up behind us. I didn’t dare humiliate Donal in front of his kin, and anyhow they hollered at us, “What are you doin’ off your horses?
There ’s a pair of full-racked bucks up ahead, just beggin’ to be taken down!”
Donal glared at me as if I’d made a special effort to ruin his day, leapt back on his horse, and disappeared into the wood. I’d suddenly lost my taste for the hunt and rode back to the booley in a state of dejection.
When the hunt was finished and everybody came riding merrily home with both bucks and a couple of does as well, we started seating the family at the long trestle table, set for the feast. But I was shocked to see that Gilleduff O’Flaherty had been seated all the way at the far end of the table while his son, with great fanfare, was placing Donal Crone and his wife, Ellen, right in front of the roast. The two seats opposite them were empty, reserved for Donal and myself.
I knew that Donal considered his uncle the “guest of honor” for the day. Gilleduff ’s brother, Donal Crone O’Flaherty, was the clan’s high chieftain and my Donal worshiped him, honored him excessively and always kissed his arse. I quick went up behind him and pulled my Donal aside.
“What’s your father doin’ at the low end of the table?” I demanded.
“Why is he not near the roast with his brother?”
“Because his brother is The O’Flaherty,” replied Donal with an ugly sneer, “and Gilleduff is not.”
“But he ’s your father and deserves to be honored.” The truth was, Gilleduff, as Owen had predicted, had become a rock in my new life, a great shoulder to lean on, especially when Donal’s truculence or drunkenness became too much for one person to bear.
“The chieftain of a clan and his wife are afforded the honors, Grace,” he went on. “And when I’m The O’Flaherty, ’twill be me sittin’ before the roast, and you next to me, and I doubt you’ll be complainin’ about it either. Now take your place at the table and shut your mouth.” Well, I was beside myself. I was not about to host a feast that would so dishonor my father-in-law, who by now I loved very dearly. So, quiet like, I came up behind Gilleduff—who was too proud a man to make a fuss—and whispered that there ’d been a mistake with the seating, and that the empty place next to his son, across the roast from his brother, was meant for him. Smiling and gracious I showed him to his place, and ignoring the murderous looks from Donal, walked away, takin’ Gilleduff ’s empty seat at the far end of the trestle.
That night in bed Donal put his hands round my neck and said, as he began to squeeze, that if I ever embarrassed him in public like that again he ’d kill me. His fingers were cuttin’ off the air, and I fought against panic risin’ up in me. Then I got angry and did the only thing I knew would stop him. I grabbed his balls and squeezed them with a bit more force
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