Read Hush: An Irish Princess' Tale for Free Online

meek!”
    The messenger nods in agreement. “Boys in a dare make mistakes.”
    Outrageous words. To cut off Nuada’s hand instead of a slave’s!
    “The winner is as much to blame as the youth, then,” says Mother.
    “Bjarni agrees,” the messenger says quickly. “They’d been drinking too much.”
    “Tell us the details,” says Mother. “Exactly what happened?”
    Brigid takes my hand and squeezes. I sneak a glance at Nuada. He stares at the bedclothes. I can’t tell if he’s listening. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling.
    “Your son was—”
    “Prince Nuada,” says Mother. “Have the courtesy to use his name.”
    “Prince Nuada,” says the messenger, “was looking at a tool on a wooden bench. He leaned forward, his hands splayed to either side like this.” The messenger demonstrates. “His right hand was in a perfect position. The youth simply came up behind and swung the ax. Just once.”
    I see it in my mind. Poor Nuada, standing there, then
slam,
the ax comes down from nowhere. Like a curse. The brutality makes everything go black for an instant.
    “He grabbed the hand and ran,” continues the messenger.
    “And destroyed our son’s future in one cruel act.” Mother sinks back onto the bench.
    “What is the youth’s name?” says Father.
    “Bjarni will not reveal that. Nor the name of the winner of the dice game—who was also just a youth.”
    “They won’t get away with it,” says Father. “This act will not go unpunished.”
    “Bjarni asks that you think not in terms of punishment, but, rather, compensation.”
    “Compensation?” says Mother. “Don’t you people require blood for blood? How about having that boy’s hand chopped off?”
    I gasp at her words. But of course it’s only fair.
    The messenger blanches. “Bjarni is ready to compensate well for the indiscretions of the boys.” He slips a satchel from his shoulder, gets down on one knee, and dumps the contents on the floor. Gems glitter.
    Mother stands and stamps a foot. “This is outrageous. He offers us his loot.”
    “Wait,” says Father. “Don’t say things you’ll regret.”
    “You can’t hush me! Does this Bjarni think we’re idiots? He’s stolen these gems from Irish monasteries”
    Father shakes his head and looks at the messenger as though he’s asking for commiseration. “This is what it’s like to be married to a headstrong woman.”
    “The Vikings are the most vengeful of all,” says Mother. “If anyone understands revenge, they do. Why should a Viking expect us to withhold punishment?”
    “For a very important reason,” says the messenger. “Families shouldn’t deal in punishment.”
    Mother shakes her head in confusion.
    “Explain yourself,” Father says sternly.
    “The gems are only part of the deal.” The messenger licks his lips nervously. “They are to ensure the wealth of Prince Nuada his whole life long. But Bjarni has another offer—and this one is to ensure the happiness of your family.”
    “Our son has been mutilated,” says Mother. “And you talk of an offer that can bring happiness?”
    “He asks for your daughter, Princess Melkorka, in marriage.”
    “What?” Mother’s hand goes to her throat as though she’s being strangled. She looks at me.
    I am staring back at her. This cannot be happening. I am the one being strangled. I run to her and stand half behind her.
    “Bjarni has wealth beyond your dreams,” says the messenger.
    “Does he live in Dublin?” asks Father.
    “Don’t ask!” screams Mother. “Don’t you dare ask. Don’t you dare consider that offer.”
    “And don’t you say another word,” says Father. I’ve never heard him use such a tone with Mother before.“There are things I must know. You can listen. All of you can listen. But if you say another word, any of you, I’ll make you leave the room.”
    Mother lowers herself slowly onto the bench. I sit beside her. Brigid comes and sits on Mother’s lap. We cling