No approval whatsoever was forthcoming from Fi and Gurda, who treated Rian as a traitor

SUMMER

As the summer wore on, the days grew longer. One calm day, the midges were driving Rian almost demented in the field. Gurda shouted “Basket,” from where she was weeding and Rian stood, wearily, slapping her neck where an insect was biting.

A weird pulsing tone made her pause and look up. She couldn’t see the bird but knew what it was: a snipe, drumming.

For some reason it reminded her of Buia, and that made her think of the times they had spent out on the hills together collecting herbs.

Many of the weeds they were pulling up from the field were useful. It was a shame simply to dump them.

They should be drying them, or at least letting the cattle have the benefit, not just tossing them out in the corner of the field to rot.

She lifted her head and took Gurda’s basket, replacing it with her own.

“I’m going to give some of these to the cows,” she said. “They’re good for milk.”

“That’s not our job. I don’t care.”

Palatable

She heaved the basket onto her back. It was always awkward to do it without someone helping, but neither Gurda nor Fi were willing to offer a hand.

Holding the strap with both hands, one on each side of her forehead to take the strain, she lugged it up to the weed heap.

There, instead of simply tipping it out, she separated out the palatable herbs.

The docks and thistles and bracken could stay but the sweet grass and tender herbs, like dandelion, tormentil, violets and skullcap, would be appreciated by a suckling cow.

Rian tore the roots off them and then knocked the earth off.

Did they like creeping buttercup? She would find out. The groundsel was so useful it was a shame to waste it even on cattle.

As for sorrel, well, she’d eat it herself, right there and then.

She chewed a tangy mouthful and set off with the lighter basket to befriend a cow.

It didn’t take her long. She had watched Fi do everything wrong: getting too close too quickly, so they took off at a run, then waving her arms and shouting, frightening them with her own fear.

Rian liked cows. She knew how to be with them. She wandered up to the nearest cow, a black, hairy creature with a calf in tow.

As she got close the cow stopped grazing to stare at her. The calf was curious.

She talked to them in simple language and a low voice.

“Hello cow. I’ve got some tasty green stuff. You might like it.”

She put the basket down and lifted a handful of grass out.

It was longer and lusher than the thin blades growing among the heather.

The cow was interested. Rian guessed she had probably been fed from a basket in previous years. If she wasn’t made afraid she might be biddable. She was. She came close, snuffling at the grass in this stranger’s hand, then accepting it.

Her big grey tongue rasped Rian’s fingers.

The calf explored the intoxicating smells in the basket, then allowed itself to be scratched between the ears.

Rian took care not to get between the mother and her child.

The cow butted its offspring aside to stick her own, basket-filling head in among the treats Rian had brought her.

Delicacies

She lifted out with a big clump of groundsell in her mouth, and Rian, having let her understand what delicacies were inside the creel, hoisted it on her shoulder and turned towards the broch.

“Come on.” She started to step away, glancing over her shoulder. “Come along.”

The cow followed the basket and the calf followed its mother.

“Good girl. Come along.” Rian strolled and the cow paced along behind.

They stopped every now and again so that the big animal could enjoy a reward for her co-operation, chewing into the grass and herbs in the basket. They were soon at the broch.

It took Rian a bit more effort to persuade the cow to pass through the gate into the walled yard behind the building, but she persisted.

Eventually the big beast was trusting enough to cross the threshold.

Rian shut the gate behind her and wondered what to do next.

The broch door was half open. She stood beside it and coughed.

“Maadu? I’ve brought the cow.”

The woman filled the doorway. She was chewing. “Who said you could leave the field? Get back to work.”

She pointed out to the bent backs of Gurda and Fi, virtue being shown to the sinner.

Rian retreated. As she passed the gate to the yard, she gave the remainder of the basket’s contents to the cow, who was standing waiting to be milked, her calf suckling.

Maadu called after her. “Bring some more grass when you come in.”

Was there a hint of approval in her tone of voice? No approval whatsoever was forthcoming from Fi and Gurda, who treated Rian as a traitor.

Porridge was “not good enough” for her on account of her eating “grass”. Her small portion was withheld. Slops were her duty.

All dirty jobs fell to her. Her blanket was no longer in her sleeping place. The water butt was out of bounds.

Opportunity

“Keep your filthy hands out of there,” Gurda said to her.

She must drink direct from the peaty stream, trying not to disturb the sediment where creatures squirmed and wriggled in the mud.

For the first few nights, Maadu made her strip and smeared more fat on her welts but after they began to heal there was no further attention paid to her.

Both Cuckoo and her mother wrinkled their noses when she was in their proximity.

Gurda gave her no opportunity to sneak away to wash her ragged clothes. Sometimes Rian caught a whiff of her own stench.

She often felt sick, and found it hard to hold down the meagre food they let her have.

So be it. If she must be dirty, she would be dirty. Her hands were rough and sore from weeding in the acid soil.

It didn’t matter.

She retreated to the high-up place she had discovered when Ussa beat her.