Cian passes the test

Cian had the knife in one hand and the loaf of bread in the other, but he was not cutting. It had never yet occurred to Eithne to be afraid of Cian with a knife, but his immobility was unnerving.

She held her breath and counted her heartbeats. Perhaps they would be her last.

Cian startled her not by striking but by speaking. “Make me a sandwich,” he muttered. He tossed the loaf onto the blanket between them and laid the knife beside it. “If you please.”

Before this night he had always cut their bread and meat and cheese, as a husband ought. Perhaps he had decided she was to be his servant now in all things.

“We shall finish that chicken,” he announced. “I shall get you a hare tomorrow. You’re knowing how to cook a hare?”

He glanced over his shoulder at her. Her hand had been creeping for the knife, but as long as he looked she was paralyzed.

“Aye…” she whispered.

He grunted and turned his face back to the fire. Eithne gently picked up the knife, as if it might rear up and stab her if startled.

“These hills are crawling with rabbits and hares,” he said. “Shrews too, I’m certain.” He snorted. “That will be what Sweetdew’s doing.”

Eithne pulled the loaf onto her lap.

“If it’s too much chicken,” he said quickly, “you may be giving some to her. I’m told mothers need a– What are you doing?” he howled.

Eithne wailed in terror and dropped the loaf, but her hand closed so tightly around the knife her finger-​​bones ached and seemed to bow out with the strain.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Is this some sort of test?”

She squeaked, “No! I’m sorry – ”

“What is this? Do you suppose it will burn my tongue if I taste it? Do you suppose my head will explode?”

“No! I’m sorry!” she pleaded. “I wasn’t thinking! My father was always cutting a cross into the bread before slicing it – always – I was forgetting you…”

She did not know she might dare finish her phrase. He finished it for her.

“Am a demon? I told you I am not, Eithne. Cut me a piece. We shall see about this test.”

“But it wasn’t a test,” she whimpered.

“Cut me a piece! Out of the center, right out of your cross.”

Eithne scooped up the bread again, and she hacked off one half and then an awkward slice. At last she was able to set down the knife, freeing her hand to pass the slice to him.

He took it between his hands and studied it closely, as if trying to read a text written in flecks of wheat. “Blessed be the name of God the Father,” he said slowly, “the Most High, who makes bread from the earth to sustain our bodies.” He hurriedly tore the slice in two and handed half back to her. “Eat.”

Eithne crossed herself and said, “Amen,” but she took a bite to show she was not afraid.

Cian stared defiantly at her as he chewed, but he had taken such an enormous bite it began to seem ludicrous after a while, for he clearly wanted to say something. At last he mumbled through his mouthful, “Still here. Told you.”

“Aye…”

Eithne did not know what to think. Perhaps it had proven he was no demon, or perhaps it had only proven that such a test could prove nothing.

He swallowed painfully and said, “Now make me a sandwich. If you please.”