The Dust of 100 Dogs - A. S. King [14]
She made a point to look in every direction every minute, so that she rotated a fraction of an inch on each second. To keep track of her duties, she piled dirt onto the floor in organized mounds, and each time she looked one direction or another, she marked it on her pile of dirt, all the while humming the same tune her mother sang to keep the beat of her rotations.
After several hours of this, Mairead called up to her.
“What are you doing up there Emer?”
“Just looking.”
“Come and help me with the dinner, so. You’ve been up there long enough.”
“What about the dragon?”
Mairead answered, “Just come down and wash yourself.”
“Where’s Padraig?”
“He’s out with your father. Come down now.”
“But I can’t leave until Padraig relieves me.”
“Of course you can. No one is coming tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” Mairead answered, making sure to sound as annoyed as she was.
Emer couldn’t bear to step down from her wrap-around view of the valley.
“Emer!”
She took one last look and barreled down the steps.
“Come when I call you, girl! No more of your stories about dragons.”
“But he said that a dragon came to … ” she forgot the name. “To … to other places.”
“Who said?”
Emer stopped to think for a moment. “Padraig.”
“He told you about a dragon?”
“Yes.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“About Oliver and the horses that are faster than any Irish horse,” she answered.
Mairead put her hand out. “Stop that talk. Your brother is in some trouble now, and I’d say you’re happy.”
“But what about the dragon?”
“There is no dragon. Your brother tells you lies to scare you, that’s all.”
“Well then, why did that man come on the horse today? Wasn’t he the one who told you all about it?”
“That man was here to sell us dried fish. He comes every winter in case we haven’t enough of our own food. I certainly will have a word with your brother when he gets back.”
“I don’t want to die. I don’t want you to die. Or Daddy. Or Padraig. If the soldiers do come, can I hide in my secret place instead of in the church?”
Mairead stopped busying herself and sat down next to her daughter. Gently she asked, “Pet, why would you think we’re going to die? Who told you that?”
Emer didn’t answer.
“Emer? I told you what your brother said was a lie.”
“Padraig wasn’t lying, I know it.”
“Yes, he was.”
“And that man wasn’t here to sell us fish, either.”
Mairead looked at her little girl and began to cry a little, but said nothing.
“Mammy, I don’t want to die.”
With that, Mairead pulled Emer into her arms and rocked her as they hugged quietly. She said nothing until she found something other than “Oh Emer” to say, which took over two minutes.
“I’m sorry. I know you can tell when I’m lying.”
“So there is a dragon?”
“No. No. There is no dragon, but there could be some trouble, I guess. You know you’re safe, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So please don’t worry. Your father and I can take care of you and your brother no matter what happens upon us, I swear it.”
Emer stopped crying and sat up on her mother’s lap. “Can I be the lookout then?”
“Well … ”
“Please?”
“When there’s nothing else to do, yes. You can watch.”
“What about Padraig? Will you tell him that I can?”
“Of course, Emer. You’re the perfect choice for that anyway. He’s too busy with your father.”
“Good,” she whimpered, and stayed curled in her mother’s lap, nuzzling.
Certainly there was trouble to come. Situated halfway between two principal towns, one of which was Cromwell’s present target, their small corner of the world would soon be crawling with soldiers, looters, and worse.
“Emer?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to know what your name means?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I think you’re old enough to know why your father and I named you Emer. We had good reasons, you know.”
“Does Padraig know what his name means?”
“I think so.”
“Then I should know what my name means too.” She looked attentively at her mother.
“You’ve heard me speak of Cuchulain before, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Cuchulain was a great Irish hero. He was