Story

“Siofra?”

 “Yep, silk and good sex turned her into a heathen slut.”

The abbot watched him dipping bread into his soup, with dirty nails. He checked the adjacent tables but saw no one paying them any attention. The place was full of travellers, not many locals came here.

Why did this awful man choose this tavern?  He scrubbed his spoon with his kerchief till it resembled something clean.

“Siofra? The daughter of Danand, Siofra.“

“Yep, a heathen slut now. As far as I can tell.” He spoke with his mouth full of bread. Wielding his spoon like a shovel he heaped stew in with the bread, then discovering it was too hot, spluttered it across the table then poured a good measure of ale in to cool it down. A slimy mixture of stew and ale slithered across his moustache and nestled into his beard where it glistened unappetisingly.

“Heathen?”

“Well, she definitely converted to Islam.”

“Not quite a heathen then. In Scotland? Is this true? This sounds like a long story.”

“Yea, I’d say so.”

He’ll try and string it out for more money. The Abbot pushed his uneaten food away. He placed his hands on the table, but feeling it’s stickiness, returned them to his lap.

“So, tell me the story. And you’d better be able to verify every word. The veracity of my writings are important to me, even if they aren’t to the likes of you.”

“Well first off, I talked to her maid.”

“Here in Clifden?”

“Yea, at the castle, scrawny, sour woman, cost me a few coins. Met her at The Grey Stag, the inn you know, worst muddy water piss ale this side of Dublin.”

We hardly need to mention how bad the ale is at The Grey Stag, everyone knows that.

“And…”

“She tells me Siofra was spitting fire, stomping round, real miserable. Says to her father…” He checks a few badly scribbled notes. Cheap ink on tattered parchment. ‘Father, you can’t let mother do this. I’m thirteen and I’m hardly wife material.’ Says they’re sending her to the Picts to marry some ‘smelly, ignorant man she’s never met.’ Right unhappy, throwing stuff around. He tells her she’s the chieftain’s daughter, its duty, she has to be obedient, serve the people, you know, the usual, make the treaty for everyone’s good.”

Sounds believable, the whole family have sharp tongues and tempers like she wolves.

“And she went to the Picts did she not.”

“Yea, I mean he doesn’t know what a stroppy cow she is, he’s just seen the painting. Surprised he even said yes to be honest. I mean she’s not that bad looking, I wouldn’t say no, but the painting was pretty awful. She demanded she’s painted in sunlight so she came out looking like a ghoul and the painter gets her teeth, not her best feature. She got stroppy about that too, screamed at the painter, poor woman.  ‘You see me as a chubby squirrel ghost?’ she says. They had to have three guards hold her back to stop her tearing it up.”

“Yes, yes, And she went to the Picts, did she not.”

“Yep, He thought she was comely and Picts are all pale as death so that’s not a big issue to him. An’ he’s not exactly young or handsome himself is he, so I heard. So yea, she  rode off just before Michaelmas. Her, couple of maids, guards, a lady in waiting or two.“

“And she went to the Picts.” Get on with it.

“Well, she was on her way, but not exactly.”

“What then, exactly, I don’t have so much time Hackler, if I could have the brief version of the story please.” Preferably without a spray of half-eaten food.

“Halfway cross the Irish sea the ship gets overrun by pirates, Vikings I heard.”

Lords above, I can’t tell people Vikings have taken her. It’ll start a riot.

“So, does she survive? She’s with the Vikings?”

“No, she wouldn’t pay.”

“Who?”

“What I heard, from one of the city reeves, is the Vikings asked for a ransom, a lot, you know, greedy buggers Viking pirates.”

“And it was paid?”

“No, I told you, she wouldn’t pay.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Danand, her mother, she wouldn’t pay the ransom, just went into a blue fit and demanded they return her.”

“But they didn’t?”

“No, why would they? Sold her off. Sold her to some barbary pirates. She went to Constantinople.”

Jesus save us, I definitely can’t write she went to barbary pirates.

“How can you possibly know this?”

“Oh right, from Lady Caleigh, her lady in waiting, she went too. Said she was terrified but they were treated ok, you know, fed and left alone. I mean they were pretty valuable cargo if kept.. you know… intact.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Siofra and Lady Caleigh are taken to Constantinople, sold in the slave market”

Our lord and the saints, can this get any worse.

“So how do you know this?”

“Lady Caleigh’s relatives sent someone to buy her back and they buy her and she comes home.”

Lady Caleigh, I remember her, skinny shrimp of a girl.

“But not Siofra?”

“No, young, good looking, well bred, milky white virgin, mad expensive. Lady Caleigh’s father said he felt bad but just didn’t have the coin. He was a little surprised how much she goes for, but then the buyer didn’t know what a stroppy cow she can be.”

“And you have this straight from Lady Caleigh?”

“From the skinny horse’s mouth.”

He has ale dripping from his beard, lords, this man is disgusting.

“So, please cut to the chase, what happens to Siofra?”

“Oh, she sells to a sultan. Young, very rich, not unhandsome.”

“Lady Caleigh tells you this?”

“Yes. ‘Tall, dark and broody’ she says.”

“And?”

“She likes it.”

“Siofra?”

He nods, “Yea, she likes it.”

“What do you mean ‘she likes it?’ How can you know that?”

“Well, it wasn’t easy to find out. Sultans are picky about their wives’ social lives you know.”

This impertinent man is insufferable.

“I can’t say I do.”

“Well, I can tell you, popping in for a chat isn’t a possibility.”

Especially for uncouth dirty specimens like you I imagine.

“So how do you know about Siofra.”

“Met a eunuch, nice man, Libyan I think, felt for him, can’t be much fun can it.”

“What?”

“You know… snip, snip.”

“What did this eunuch tell you?”

“We had a few goblets of wine, you know, to soften him up, loosen up his tongue. He says she enjoyed the place. All silks and gold and feather cushions. Likes the company of the other women. Nice and warm. Laying around bathing, reading and playing music. Says she took to it. Says she went to him like a doe and came back smiling. Better fate than the smelly Scot she says”

Lord forgive me for saying so, but I can imagine Siofra revelling in how her parents will react to all this.

“She shows no concern for her honour, her parents?”

“Well no, especially as they refused to pay the ransom. Dirty old Scot or handsome sultan.” He shrugs, grins.

“All very… interesting, but it does present a small problem however does it not.”

“Pissing off her stuck up mother.”

“Being indelicate, yes.”

“But you’re going to publish it? I mean I worked hard for months to get all this.”

I’m not paying this disgusting man a groat more than I have to.

 “But it is all hearsay, isn’t it.”

“It’s good stuff, no reason not to believe any of it. Solid, reliable witnesses for every juicy word.”

“Even if that’s true. There’s a strong need to be sensitive.”

“But you’re going to use it. It’s a juicy story.”

“Don’t worry, I will write something. Something sensitive, a short summary.”

“Like what? I get paid by the word. How short?”

“Lady Siofra, virgin daughter of Danand, left to marry the Picts’ Chieftain, but was lost at sea. God bless her pure soul”

“Twenty two words and not even true!”

“Not untrue. Only kind to assume she was a virgin and her soul was pure. She did leave, she was lost.”

“Twenty two words? Twenty two measly words.”

“ ‘Danand’s virgin daughter,’ twenty one words.”

“Lying, thieving clergy, should have known better. Pure soul? There’s a joke. A heathen slut more like.”

“Then ‘God bless her soul,’ twenty words.”

“Her mother will like the ‘pure’ mind, I think we should keep the ‘pure.’”

He’s right and I don’t want to get on the wrong side of Danand. “Very well. ‘God bless her pure soul.’”

“Twenty one words!”

“I’ll arrange payment. Do you want it in coin or ale.”

Sweet angels, he’s picking his nose. This man is one stop above a beast. I’m surprised he doesn’t eat straw and oats.

“Ale I suppose, twenty one miserable words. Hardly worth my time. And don’t tell me you don’t have the coin.”

“It’s the churches coin. It’s my holy duty to be careful with God’s coin.”

“Yea, right.”

He looks into his empty tankard.

“Now, I have a few tit bits about her brother if you’re interested. Stirring stuff, but this stuff’s gonna cost you.”

“Are you mad, Danand will gut us if we badmouth her precious boy. What did you hear? Is it true, is it good? Tell all.”

“I might be too thirsty.”

“ Landlord, another large ale for my good friend here.”