Page 64 of Fallen
There Will Be Consequences
THE ABBOT BURST from the kirk, purple-faced and seething.
“Ye will pay for this, Mother Shona!” he raged, rounding on the abbess. She stood at the foot of the steps, awaiting him. “How dare ye lock me up!”
Suddenly, he stopped short, taking in the abbess’s appearance: her leggings, bunched up skirts, and the sword she wore at her hip. “What. Is. This?” he demanded.
“It was for yer own good, Father,” the abbess replied, ignoring the question. Looking on from a few yards distant, Coira was surprised at how calm Mother Shona sounded. “Things have gone ill … I was trying to protect ye.”
The abbot gaped at her, torn between rage and concern. Finally, he drew himself up, fisting his hands at his sides. Meanwhile, his monks exited the kirk and gathered in a frightened knot behind him. “Protect me? From what?”
“The plague has entered Kilbride,” the abbess informed him, her tone flattening. “Three sisters are ill with it.”
At this news, Father Camron took a few rapid steps back from Mother Shona, alarm flaring in his dark eyes.
“That’s not all,” the abbess pressed on. “The outlaws clashed with MacKinnon today … the clan-chief is now dead.”
The abbot’s eyes widened at this news, his throat bobbing. “MacKinnon’s dead?”
The abbess nodded.
Father Camron’s attention shifted then to where Craeg still stood, a few yards back, at Coira’s side. The abbot frowned, clearly trying to place him. “Who’s this?”
“I’m Craeg the Bastard,” Craeg replied as he observed the abbot with a cool stare. “Surely ye have heard of me?”
Father Camron’s gaze widened, before his face went taut. “Ye have brought the outlaw leader here?”
“Aye … we fought on his side, Father,” the abbess continued. “We helped bring MacKinnon and his men down.”
The abbot’s mouth worked soundlessly at this news. Watching him, Coira forced down the urge to laugh. The words sounded ridiculous, and yet they were the truth.
When Father Camron finally crossed himself, she noted that his hand shook. His face, which had momentarily slackened in shock, twisted, his cheeks growing an even darker shade of purple.
“Unnatural, wicked … godless!” he spluttered, barely able to form a coherent sentence, such was his rage. “This will be the end for ye, Mother Shona. The Pope will excommunicate ye. I will see to it personally.”
A chill settled over the yard in the wake of these words. Coira glanced over at Craeg, to see that he was scowling. “The abbess doesn’t deserve yer condemnation, Father,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the ominous quiet. “She is a good woman.”
“She is an abomination. She has sinned against God,” the abbot rasped. His attention swiveled to Coira then, pinning her to the spot. “As ye all have.”
It was an effort to hold the man’s eye. The hate on his face made Coira want to avert her gaze. Yet, she’d faced sword-wielding warriors today. She’d not let one self-righteous bigot intimidate her.
“I was right about this woman too.” He spat out the words. “Look at her … dressed as a man with her hair uncovered. Ye have no right to wear that crucifix about yer neck.”
Father Camron took a threatening step toward Coira. “Take it off, before I rip it from ye.”
“Touch her, and ye shall lose yer hand, Father.” Craeg’s warning was uttered softly, yet there was no mistaking the menace in it. He rested his right hand upon the pommel of his claidheamh-mor, his fingers flexing.
The abbot’s eyes bulged. “Bastard … are ye threatening me?”
“No … I’m making things clear. If ye touch this woman, there will be consequences.”
Father Camron’s heavyset body started to tremble then—not from fear but from fury. Glaring at Craeg, the abbot raised a hand to the heavy iron crucifix around his neck, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed. His gaze flicked from Craeg to Coira then, his lip curling.
“Fornicators.”
Coira tensed. The abbot was taking his insults too far now. If he didn’t put away that forked tongue, she wouldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
She took a step forward, her fingers flexing around the quarter-staff. In just one move, she could bring him to his knees. Outrage pulsed within her. Just one more word from the abbot and she’d strike.
