Free The Owl Killers by Karen Maitland Page B

I’ll not waste a penny more on her, so do not ask it.” Dragging the child by the wrist, he slapped her small hand into mine as though he were betrothing us. “Take the little hellcat and never let me set eyes on her again.”
    “And what exactly would you have me do with her?” I asked him.
    “You may feed her to the ravens for all I care.”
    He clicked his fingers at his wife, who obediently rose and followed him down the hall.
    As she passed her daughter she murmured, “Be a good girl, Agatha.” But she did not once look at her child, not even when she reached the door at the far end of the hall.
    I felt the small cold hand clench into a fist inside my own, then the door slammed and Agatha pulled her hand out of my grasp. Wrapping her arms around her chest again, she stood glowering at the table. We would have to talk, but that could wait. The important thing now was to remove her from the house as quickly as possible. The girl might well be all that her father described, but I would not have left a mad dog in the care of such a man.
    “Will you take your things now,” I asked her, “or shall I send someone for them later?”
    “I want nothing from that … that fat toad.”
    “Agatha!” I said severely. “You owe a duty of respect to your father for giving you life.”
    She glared at me. “You heard what my life was worth to him: so much carrion.”
    I held up the three weighty bags. “Most girls in the village would not have a single penny placed upon their lives. See what you are valued at.”
    “You hold the value of my father’s pride, not my worth. He wouldn’t have people say he was too poor to pay a dowry.”
    There was such a cold fury in those green eyes that I wondered if her father had been correct in his judgement after all and she was indeed a fiend. Still, even a wildcat may be tamed. It would be a challenge, but I could certainly do no worse than he had. God had given Agatha into my hands so that I might bring her into His grace and I was determined to bring her there, whatever it took.

agatha
    t HE SMALL GUEST HALL IN THE BEGUINAGE was hot and stifling. My body ached, my head pounded, and every joint and muscle was groaning in protest at being made to stand upright. My legs were shaking, but Servant Martha took no notice. She stood erect before the plain table, her hands clasped behind her.
    “Now, Agatha, you must understand that beguines make no perpetual vows, but you must be celibate in deed and thought so long as you reside here, and so long as you live here you will obey the rules of this community agreed by the Marthas who are elected by our beguinage to have the running of it.”
    I stared at her mouth, watching her lips move over her sharp teeth and the mole on her chin bob up and down. I wanted to shout—
Stop
talking at me! I don’t care about your stupid rules. If this is a nunnery, just put me in a cell and leave me alone
.
    “You’re free to come and go as you wish, but you will be expected to attend the Sunday Mass at the church, likewise the daily prayers in our chapel. As beguines our purpose is to study, write, and teach, to care for the infirm and sick, and work selflessly for our community and for the poor. We put food on our table and clothes on our backs through the labours of our own hands, not from money taken from the people or the Church.”
    The room was too warm. I couldn’t breathe. Images and faces kept sliding away from me, dissolving before I could grasp them. A fire, roaring up taller than a man; someone screaming; black wings hovering above me. I couldn’t move. I was being crushed. His weight was still holding me down and I couldn’t break free. It was all I could do to stop myself lashing out. I tried desperately to concentrate on what she was saying.
Don’t think about last night. Don’t think
.
    Servant Martha was frowning. Her mouth grew tighter. Her voice snapped like a dog on a chain.
    “Your personal belongings, dowry, and