Pagan Fire Read Online Free

it be that she’d actually invited the devil himself into her dreams? That he was seducing her with thoughts of the flesh? If it were the devil’s work, then surely there would be some sign. A flash of red eyes flickered in her mind’s eye, a startling reminder of her dreams. Fear washed over. Oh, but she was tired of being afraid all the time, afraid of the dark and fire and cows, of all things! The devil be damned, she thought, refusing to consider the possibility any further.
    Her hand on the door, she realized there were other young women at St. Columba’s who were plagued so with thoughts of men and the flesh. For their penance, the priest had stripped them to the waist and beaten those ideas out of them with a leather whip. She shuddered as she imagined herself bared for the world to see, the sting of leather tearing into her soft flesh. She instinctively crossed her arms over her full breasts, held almost flat by the binding cloth the sisters insisted all the women wear.
    Maere shook her head again. Why in heaven’s name did the abbess have to suggest such a notion? She knew Maere would fixate on it and worry over the sanctity of her precious soul.
    No, she decided. She would not tell the priest. She would try to be more careful, to not be so afraid, to not cry out and talk of a man coming after her. She slipped on her suede sandals as the bell rang again and padded softly out of the room.
     
    After Matins, Lauds, and Prime, the sisters gathered in the dining room at eight for a silent breakfast of hot cider and thick crusty bread. They sat elbow-to-elbow on hard benches at a table long enough to seat all twenty of them, ten on either side. The only sounds in the white-plastered room were wooden sticks beating against the clay cups as the sisters stirred their drinks. The thick sweet liquid stuck to the sides of the vessels, and chunks of apple had to be scooped out with bits of bread. It was good and filling, exactly what was needed for a cool day.
    One of the novitiates shifted in her seat and the sunlight broke through the window and across the table. Maere turned her head, squinting horribly, as the rays hit her directly in the eyes.
    The girl who had moved elbowed the one sitting to the right of her. They both giggled. “What are those terrible faces you’re making?” Seelie whispered.
    Maere glanced quickly at her friend, then pulled her veil down to shade her face. “It’s the sun. You know it hurts my eyes.”
    “I know you like to complain!” Seelie said, louder than she intended.
    “That’s not true,” Maere said, even louder.
    “Seelie. Maere.” The young women clamped their mouths shut and stood when Abbess Magrethe called out their names.
    “You both know better than to speak during the morning meal. You are supposed to be reflecting on the scriptures you heard earlier today.” Magrethe stared at her charges. “For your punishment, the two of you will clean these dishes away by yourselves.” She looked around the room. “Any of you who were assigned to this duty can help in the yard. We’ll be clearing a new garden plot near the well.” With that, the abbess stood, dusted the crumbs from her apron, then turned and left the room.
    As soon as everyone finished eating, they filed out of the dining area, one by one, and headed through the heavy timber doorway that led outside. There, they would see to their separate duties of planting the garden, feeding the livestock, or boiling the laundry over a large open fire. Maere hated that job the most. There was something about the size of the flames and incredible heat that stirred an uneasy emotion within her. Whenever it came her turn to wash clothes, she begged and pleaded with anyone who’d listen to be let out of the duty. After a while, the sister in charge of scheduling the weekly chores must’ve grown weary of the ruckus, because she quit making Maere take part in that job.
    Maere glared at the girl. “Why’d you do that,