by Wade McMahan
Happy tears glistened in her eyes. “I understand it most well, brother. Yes, though I be dead, and know your reluctance to continue with it. Yes, I know it seems foolish, but if it is his will, I wish more than anything to leave this world for the final time as the wife of my beloved Laoidheach. Please, Ossian, please say it can be so.”
My heart was tearing apart as I looked upon them. They had such a short time together, these two, and suffered unspeakable horrors. Now they asked one simple thing of me that would ease their sadness and gladden their hearts forever.
My reluctance vanished. I could not refuse them. “Yes, Aine, of course I shall try to make it so, though it is not within my power alone to bless your union. Only the gods can do that.”
There were vows to be made, and I turned to Laoidheach. “You know the vows?”
He shook his head. “No, but tell them to me quickly.”
“Very well, repeat these words,” and Laoidheach did so as I began,”
Aine, you are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone,
I, Laoidheach, give you my body, that we two might be one.
I freely give you my spirit in whole, `til our life shall be done.
You cannot possess me for I belong to myself,
But I give you all that is mine to give.
I shall serve you in all ways for all time,
Our livestock in the paddocks and grain from our fields,
All that I am or hope to be I offer you with loving hands.
So I pledge by the gods of my fathers.
Laoidheach’s eyes watered as he completed his vows, and I turned to Aine. “And now, Aine, repeat these words,”
Laoidheach, I, Aine, vow you the first cut of my meat,
the first sip of my wine.
From this day it shall be only your name I cry out in the night,
and into your eyes that I smile each morning.
I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine.
May the children I bear prove the truth of our union,
Above and beyond this, I will cherish and honor you,
Through this life and into the next.
So I pledge by the gods of my fathers.
Drifting mist mingled with my tears, my eyes shifting between the two as I concluded, “By our Druidic laws, the dowry is paid and you have sworn the marriage vows, but they must be sanctified by the gods. I cannot speak for them, but promise that I will do all I can for you.”
Laoidheach implored, “Then call upon them. Quickly now, call upon them.”
“Very well, I shall try.” I closed my eyes. The Staff trembled in my hand and bade me pray to Danu, the Queen Goddess of the Tuatha De Danaan themselves.
I call upon you, O Queen.
I call upon you, Danu, Goddess of prosperity, magic and wisdom,
to see the young people before you who pledged themselves,
one to the other for all time.
I pray that you ease their distress,
and shower everlasting happiness upon them.
See us, O Queen.
See us here, and offer your blessings,
upon the unification of these two young lovers,
lovers knowing they are already lost even as they begin.
Hear us, O Queen.
Hear our pleas, and take pity,
that the man, Laoidheach, and the girl spirit, Aine,
might become as one for all time,
and so that someday they will reunite in paradise,
at Tír na nÓg, as man and wife.
Bless these poor lovers, O Queen.
Their time together is so very short.
I beg you show us a sign of your sanctification of their union,
so that from this point forward,
all men will know them as man and wife forever.
A spiritual union is tightly bound within the minds of those who hold to it and I would not deny this marriage whether blessed by the gods or not. Even with the power of the Staff in my hand, I held little hope Danu would reply. Regardless, I had already decided that a sign would appear, one I would note even if it was an obscure thing such as a bird in flight, a mere gust of wind, anything I could point to that in the minds of Laoidheach and Aine would consecrate this extraordinary ceremony.
And yet, wide-eyed, I caught my breath as a most magical thing happened. The soil fractured beside the kneeling Laoidheach, and he gasped and shrank away as a plant sprouted and grew tall before our amazed eyes. The leafy stem formed a single bud, and the bud expanded to form a perfect scarlet rose.
Never again would I doubt the power of the Staff. As gratitude swept over me, I closed my eyes.
We thank you most sincerely, O Queen.
We thank you for hearing us,
and for consecrating the union between Laoidheach and Aine.
Now know all men they are man and wife,
for by your blessing,
it shall forever be so.
Laoidheach hesitated but a moment longer, and then plucked the rose, brushed it with his lips and presented it before Aine. “My wife, my dearest one, I offer this blessing from the gods, a single rose bespeaking our eternal unity, as a token of my love.”
“Keep the rose, beloved husband.” Aine’s eyelashes glistened. “I pray you keep it always as a remembrance of your loving wife. Remember too, I will be waiting for you, waiting on the shore of Tír na nÓg where we shall be Ever Young together.”
My entire body trembling, my eyesight dimmed. The Morrigan had warned that the Staff would draw the life force from me. Now my strength was waning fast, as did the energy sustaining Aine.
She whispered, “Kiss me once, my love, for I grow terribly weary and fear I cannot remain beside you much longer.”
Laoidheach leaned forward, gently kissed her lips, and Aine sighed. “Sing to me, my beloved. Sing to me as I return to sleep.”
Her eyes closed, and, with tears streaming down his face, Laoidheach sang softly,
What matter the moon, my love,
If you aren’t beside me?
What matter the stars,
When I stand alone?
I bear the night’s silence,
A night without splendor.
I wander…
* * *
I dwelt in nothingness, a place of serene quiet. How I arrived there, I neither knew nor cared. It was a warm place, a place of comfort, a haven removed from my world, a world of unspeakable sadness, a world in flames.
“Ossian?”
From somewhere my name was called—an annoyance. My mind and body were at peace and I did not wish to be disturbed.
“Ossian? It is I, Laoidheach. Ossian?”
Bah! The bother of it! There was no reason why Laoidheach should—a hand was on my shoulder, shaking me.
“Ossian!”
My eyes opened to discover Laoidheach’s face above me, pasted against the background of a bright blue sky. It was strange. My last recollection was of dark clouds, of falling rain.
“Laoidheach. What…that is, speak to me of Aine.”
He pointed. “Aine lies there. At least, there lies her form. I pray her spirit has already reached Tír na nÓg.”
I rose on my elbows and looked to where he pointed. On the grassy knoll beneath the alder where I last saw Aine was a mound of fresh earth covered by a cairn of stones. My mind flashed back to Aunt Lou‘s cottage and the vision I received the night I foretold Aine’s future.
Laoidheach still knelt beside me, his hand resting upon my shoulder, when a new image raced through my mind. Perhaps it was the lasting effects of the Staff, or my final moments alongside Aine, but it was then I saw it, the horror of it…I saw my friend’s death.
A twisted smile touched his face, his voice soft. “It is a very odd thing, is it not? Yes, it is quite odd.”
It was appalling to know I brought forth the dreadful image at such a time. “You mean you saw it, too?”
“Aye, but do not be troubled by your revela
tion, my friend. Possibly, it was because I was touching you when your vision came, but whatever the reason, I saw it clearly.” He shrugged. “There will be no help for it, will there? No, of course not, for it is destined to occur exactly as you foresaw it. But, I say again; please don’t worry, for you see, I feel no fear, none at all. When that time comes, whenever and wherever it may come, Aine, my beautiful wife, Aine, my love, will be waiting.”
Chapter 27
The Woman at the Window
Before returning to Brendan at Trá Lí Bay, I would fulfill my promise to the men of Quirene. Uncertain of what we might find there, our eyes swept the woodlands and shrubbery as we neared the village. Yet, unlike our previous visit, we found men clearing fields or tilling the soil.
Nearby, a man stopped working, holding a hoe waist high in his fists as we rode up to him.
Sweat streaked the man’s soiled, bearded face and I nodded to him. “You know us?”
He was tall, his long muscular arms and stooped back spoke to years of tending his land. Iron lived in his eyes, though his straightforward gaze was wary. “I know you.”
His field evidenced much effort went into its clearing. I pointed toward the truth of his work. “You are a good farmer, I think.”
No doubt banditry lingered in his past, as it did for all the men of Quirene, but his full, unwavering attention held me. I knew him then as a proud, serious man who rightly cared little what I thought of him. He shrugged. “I farm, though the season grows late for planting. In good years my family fares well.”
My hand swept ’round the fields near and far. “We seek the man, Osgar.”
“You will find him there,” the man pointed further down the trail, “beyond the sixth stone fence.”
I reined my horse to proceed, but paused when he asked, “You would have burned our village?”
“Aye, that I would had I found bandits here.”
A grim smile twitched the corners of his mouth, matching his humorless chuckle. “I thought as much.”
Faces turned toward us as we rode the trail, and Osgar saw us coming. Like the first man, he carried a hoe as he strolled through his field and joined us.
“So, Osgar,” I greeted him. “No bandits?”
“No bandits, Ossian.” He shrugged. “After you left we held a vote.” He cocked an eyebrow and jammed a thumb into his puffed chest. “It was I who spoke for abandoning our evil ways and returning to our fields.”
Perhaps that was true, though it was likely blather, for I knew him as Brógán O' Tolairg’s minion. “All the men agreed?”
“The few who did not are now gone, as they were no longer welcome in Quirene.” He shrugged and gave me a knowing wink. “You see, I knew you would come back. It’s little we have in our village, but we’d no interest in seeing it all burned.”
Crossing my arms across my horse’s neck, I leaned forward. You gave O' Tolairg’s wealth to the women of the dead archers as I directed?”
“Aye. That we did, and all now wealthy because of it.” He winked. “There is one, not a comely lass, poor thing, but I make a special effort to visit her often and offer what comfort I can. I believe we will soon come to an understanding, so to speak.”
The larceny in Osgar’s soul was never far from the surface, but I had no interest in his plans for the dead archer’s widow. “And your master? What of him?”
“I have no master, but if you speak of Brógán O' Tolairg, the man is dead. His bones lie buried in an unmarked pit there,” he pointed toward the village, “beyond those trees.”
Goban grunted. “Serves the bastard right, I say.”
“Aye, right you are.” Osgar glanced down and took an idle whack at a weed with his hoe. Then he leaned on its handle, hands lapping over its end, and turned his attention back to Goban. “Well we heard Ossian’s message, so we dug a deep pit and threw Brógán O' Tolairg into it. The man had four dogs, enormous wolfhounds they were, that stood so,” he raised his hand to his chest, “at their shoulders. O' Tolairg personally trained the beasts to become ferocious man-killers. They were fed by his hand alone and only he could control them.”
Leaning back in his saddle, Goban scowled, crossing his arms over his thick chest. “And so?”
“And so, the dogs were thrown into the pit with him. Each day we fed the man but not the dogs. After only three days, Brógán O' Tolairg fed his hounds for the final time.”
Laoidheach winced as the three of us exchanged glances, and then Goban asked, “The dogs, where are they now?”
Osgar raised his hoe, pointing it toward the village. “They share the pit with their master forever.”
* * *
Old men idled upon benches, watching as we traveled through a tiny hamlet in the lands of the Ui Failgi. A young woman with toddlers playing around her skirt glanced up from gathering vegetables in her garden.
I nodded to her as we rode by. “May the Lordly Ones bless and keep your family safe, and may the Earth Mother bring forth bounty from your garden.”
Eyes wide, her face wary, the woman made the sign of the cross and backed away toward her doorstep, motioning for her children to join her.
Sagging in my saddle, I sighed, for a moment feeling very old. What had become of my land, my Eire?
At the edge of the village stood a lone cottage, seemingly abandoned, its grounds unkempt. We would ride by it, following the trail leading toward the southwest and our still distant destination. Movement drew my attention; an impossible vision stood framed within the cottage’s only window.
Yet, she was no vision. Indeed, she was real enough. Flowing, dark red hair curved about a fair, oval face, and the world’s darkest violet eyes held me as though I sat before her judgment. She nodded to me, a tantalizing half-smile curling perfect lips as she stepped from view.
Unmindful that my friends rode on, I reined-in, my heart skipping as I waited, hopeful she might reappear at the window.
“Ossian. Why have you stopped? Come on, me stomach’s already griping and we’ve far to ride before we camp tonight.” It was Goban, looking back over his shoulder, waving me forward, concerned as always with the food around which his days revolved.
I ignored him, my attention returning to the window.
Laoidheach walked his horse back to me, his hand hovering above his knife’s hilt as he scanned the shrubbery surrounding the cottage. “What is it?” he whispered.
“You mean you didn’t see her standing there,” I pointed, “in the window?”
“See her who?” Then a grin broke out on his face. “Oh, I see.” He shook his head as demons danced in his eyes. “No, I didn’t see her, but if you’d like, Goban and I will travel on and set up camp while you remain here to conduct business with the…um, lady of this house.”
“Ach, your evil tongue wags like a viper’s.” Dismounting, I tossed him my reins. “Do you wait here. I will be only a moment.”
Pursued by his chuckling, I was striding toward the cottage when he called out, “If it’s meeting her you plan, when the door opens I’m thinking you’ll be meeting her husband’s hairy knuckles.”
It is a dark day, indeed, I was thinking, when a man’s friends… My steps faltered. Perhaps Laoidheach was right. Perhaps she was married. Then I remembered her face and straightened my shoulders. I would soon find out.
Five quick steps brought me to her door, heart racing, and I gave it a rap. There was no response. Weight shifting from foot to foot, I raised my fist to rap again and hesitated. If she were to open the door at that moment, I would look like an over-anxious, foolish adolescent.
Forcing my mind and body to remain calm, I delivered three solid knocks. The force of my blows swung the door wide, hinges screeching, to reveal a single, empty, dust-covered room. A simple chair sat in a corner, festooned with cobwebs. A lump formed in my throat, born of dismay and confusion. Without doubt, no one had entered the cottage in months.
* * *
Day after day we traveled, avoiding people to t
he extent possible, and potential trouble. We made a hasty stop in a village of the Corcu Ochae to replenish supplies, and pushed on. More than once over our evening fire we discussed the mysterious woman in the window, but none of us could make sense of it.
Morning mist shrouded the mountain valley as we followed a trail single file beneath towering ancient trees. Only the soft hoof-falls of our horses broke the silence. It was a familiar trail, the same one I had followed a month before when I left Brendan to journey to Rath Rathleann. A long day’s travel would bring us to Trá Lí Bay.
Wrapped within our own thoughts, we proceeded at a slow pace. I led the way with Goban close behind and Laoidheach trailing, leading the packhorse.
Back from the trail, within a small clearing in the undergrowth, she appeared again, fog swirling about her, standing alongside a massive, moss encrusted tree. Long red curls tumbled across bare shoulders, her blue gown draping to her feet. Her face, eyes and small smile I well remembered, and I stopped, filled with wonder.
“Blast!” It was Goban. “Why are ye stoppin’? I almost rode into ye.”
I pointed to the clearing. “There, you see her?”
Leaning forward in his saddle, Goban stared toward where I pointed, but just then, dense fog swirled about her, and she vanished in the mist.
He tilted his head. “I’m not sure. For a moment I thought I saw… No. It was merely a wind gust churnin’ the fog, nothin’ more.”
Dismounting, I turned to hand him my reins. “I shall soon find out.”
“No.” Unmoving, he did not reach for my reins. “Ye mustn’t go in there. Perhaps ye saw a woman, perhaps not. But if ye did, it is said that banshees, evil creatures that they are, sometimes transform themselves into beautiful women to lure travelers from the trails. Those who follow never return, for they are devoured by the banshee.”
Little I believed him, my hand gesturing towards the trees. “That was no banshee, and I sense no danger from her. I tell you it was a woman, the woman in the window.”
“And so, how is it possible that the same woman who mysteriously disappeared in an empty cottage a few days past, just now reappeared alongside us in the forest?” He leaned down and placed a hand on my shoulder. “How well will your senses serve ye while you’re turnin’ on a spit above her fire? Don’t you see? If she’s not a banshee, then what manner of spirit is she?”