“RUAIRI?”
She had been calling the young boy for the past five minutes,
“RUAIRI! YOU COME IN RIGHT NOW! YOU HEAR ME?”
A little
boy with dark hair scampered into the hovel that they called their
home. He was covered from head to toe in mud. His bright blue eyes
peaked out under dark lashes. He bit his lip while looking up at his
mother. With a deep sigh she knelt down in front of him with a dirty
cloth in her hand.
“My
dear boy,” His mother scowled, “how on this good earth did you
become such a mess? I swear that if I did not know any better I would
say you were one of Mister Bugnot’s pigs and not my own little
boy.”
The five
year old giggled at his mother’s words and covered his mouth with
his hand. She gently removed his hand from his face and started to
scrub the dirt off it. When she had cleaned the little face as best
she could she stood.
“Go
change into something decent,” She gave him a little push to the
door on the opposite side of the room, “your father will be home
soon and you know how he feels about keeping a clean and tidy house,
which includes you.”
Ruairi ran
into his room, no larger than a closet. He quickly removed clothes
that were covered in dry mud and pushed them under his small bed. He
opened the trunk, it was the only other object in the room besides
the bed, and pulled out a clean tunic and trousers. He quickly put
them on and hurried out into the main room. He peaked over the table
to watch what his mother cooking their evening meal.
The young
boy jumped as the front door burst open and in walked his father. The
man stood staring around the room before closing the door shut behind
him. He shut it a little harsher than was needed and his son felt a
shiver run down his spine. His father walked over to the table, his
boots thundering with each step. He looked at what his wife was
cooking for dinner and scoffed but said nothing. He then turned to
Ruairi, who shrunk under his gaze. He took in the mud caked into his
son’s hair and the guilty look on his face.
“And
what have you been up to today?” His whisper rumbled through the
house. He reached out and touched the boy’s hair, “Boy, why is
your hair filthy?”
Ruairi
stared at his father, his lip quivered a little, “I was playing
outside and fell.”
The man’s
eyes narrowed, “what a clumsy son I have.”
His
father’s hand came up, Ruairi flinched. WHACK! The slap across his
face sent the boy sprawling to the floor. His mother came around the
table and stood between the two.
“Mariam,”
The man said angrily, “Get out of the way, the boy needs to learn.”
“Not
like this,” She placed her hands on her hips, “he is just a
child.”
WHACK!
Mariam raised her hand to her face. It was already a violent red.
“You
do not talk back to me, Woman!” His voice shook the entire house.
Ruairi whimpered from the floor.
