The portal to procreation opened further and Sorcha had never felt so filled with new life. Niall gazed at her open-mouthed. He and Ruaridh were still naked, and they both stood with white-fisted hands and proud phalluses as if their turns were yet to come. The goddess near to birthing the heir seemed to smile upon her from the wall as the leaves fluttered down from the arch, dislodged by a man's punishingly hard activity and his hands twice the size of her own. The giant phallus was relentless in its thrusting, a ceaseless stabbing assault that made her womb the centre of the universe. Her hands began to slip as he battered her forward… and his hands were engulfing her own.
Hector was driving her to a bliss she was beginning to be frightened of and could not evade. She felt it start as a heightened awareness of the man at her back, stray leaves dripping off his shoulders and head, the muscles on his arms contracting with every thrust.
A helplessness coursed through her which opened her for his plunging even deeper inside her, faster and faster until her entire body seized rigid and she cried out in panic as the waves of blissing came to an acute peak. And she couldn't help but squeeze her legs together, trying to hold onto the phallus, but it had gone, leaving only the memory of its purpose in her rhythmic clenching which refused to stop.
On the floor was carved an oak tree at which Hector knelt and gave up his spend. Onto his spend there fell from his bowed head some fresh oak leaves as he caught his breath again. And Cecily came to cleanse him, and he took her free hand and held it tightly while she hummed the bees' song and did her Wisewoman work at the forest grove built for them all by Coinneach the Chief in the Chamber of the Green Man.
Much time was let pass before the Bard invited all but one of the Circle of Nine to reconvene in the Vault. And for all that eight chairs had been set out in a half-circle around the fire, only five of them were occupied. Oona was the only wife not sitting on her husband's lap. The Green Book of MacKrannan Fertility Traditions must be updated, and much had happened in the intervening twelve moons which required recording for future generations. Some parts were more joyous than others.
There were no Summonses, for this was more of a celebratory occasion, and Oona made sure her mead flowed around the merry company in such copious amounts that the purpose of the gathering was the easier to fulfil.
"Right…" said the Bard, all notion of proper convention forgotten as he suppressed a hiccup. "Who wants to go first?"
He opened the book at the section headed 'REMEDIE FOR WYFES TOO TALLE – THE PUSHYNG IN OF SPEND' and loaded his quill with ink.
The Grandam Wisewoman stayed his hovering hand. "Should we no' be starting with the Rules being met?"
"Oh… aye, ye're quite correct, Oona." It was as well his dear wife was here to keep him right, for some of the events needing recorded had led to much confusion by way of who knew what, and when did they find it out, and who didn't know anything about it, and who must never find out what, and should they even be recorded at all… ach, Oona was good at all that. The Rules. Start with the Rules. "Have ye that part prepared? Let's hear it, then."
Oona swigged more mead to grease her throat for the oration, and fetched a parchment from under her chair.
"The Remedy was completed wholly and utterly according to the Rules for the First Moon," she began.
"Sorcha the chieftain's Tall Wife went willingly to the arch and Niall the chieftain did Spend inside her from the front.
"Hilde the Wisewoman did rouse Ruaridh the chieftain's brother in his time of need, and Ruaridh did Push the Spend in from the back, and did himself spend outside of her.
"Cecily the Wisewoman did rouse Hector the chieftain's cousin in his time of need, and Hector did Push the Spend in from the back, and did himself spend outside of her.
"And Sorcha the Tall Wife was blissed the customary three times, the first caused by the chieftain Niall, and her hands did stay on the arch throughout the Remedy.
"Are we all agreed that the Rules of the First Moon were met? Say Aye…"
A chorus of Ayes and much back-slapping came back to her from the circle, and she passed the parchment to the Bard for transcribing into the Green Book.
Niall shifted his Tall Wife Sorcha to a more favorable position on his lap. "We never heard the Rules for the Second Moon," said he. "Come on, tell us what we were in for."
The Bard passed the Green Book to the chieftain, and pointed to the relevant passage.
"Three nights in a row?" spluttered Niall, and read further on. "…Third Moon, one night, all Spend in the Tall Wife to assist the Pushing In… Fourth Moon, three nights, all Spend… Fifth Moon, one night, six men – ach, this is just savage! Who is to say which is the father?"
He read on silently, and gave the book back to the Bard lest Sorcha espy what she'd been in for at the Ninth Moon. The MacKrannans' reputation for obstinacy was legend. A problem like this would be solved from every conceivable angle.
"The Second Moon was as far as we had planned before another remedy tried," said Oona, crossing her fingers behind her back. "But had ye read on, ye would find all present swearing their blood oaths under the arch that any bairn conceived was the husband's and destined for the Heir's Cradle, for his was the first Spend."
"It's no' half as savage as putting the wife round the brothers in secret," said Sorcha, who had since heard of such a thing in the local nobility, "and all are better yet than murdering a barren wife. And the First Moon worked, so there's an end to it."
Niall gave his wife a wee tickling, and felt his cock stir at her resultant squirming. He was still of a mind that Sorcha had taken more delight in the First Moon remedy than she'd ever admit, and his cockstand grew the more just thinking about her abandonment during the three couplings. It was the Chamber of the Green Man's triumph. They had all been savages in their lust in that place.
The images would be seared in his memory all the days of his life. He still had no' decided whether he was incandescent wi' jealousy or thoroughly aroused by the scenes. All was fine until Ruaridh had laid hands on her, and he'd to watch his wife blissing full on with his brother's cock ramming into her from the rear. He'd made his mind up that very minute that Sorcha would be moving into the chieftain's bedchamber, and no argument about it.
And then their cousin… god's teeth, that was bloody pagan… it was as if Hector the Tripod had been taken over by some entity, standing there in his height and covered in leaves like the Green Man himself. Truth be told, he'd wondered if they'd all been possessed by the spirits of the ancients in the Chamber, for they'd confessed to each other of how it felt coming back into themselves and resuming coherent speech in the moments after. Even Sorcha had been thinking herself some goddess from the cosmos, and then running for her gown like a prude.
The Remedy had worked. Thoroughly. The clan's Traditions might seem strange at times but there was no denying their efficiency. He'd learned much from the lesson, and felt the wiser for it, and he'd sign his name wi' pride to the Bard's recording in the Green Book.
"So," said the Bard, "it will be recorded that the Rules for the Second and other Moons were unrequired. All say Aye?"
"Aye," said all.
"Moving on, then. We must record something of Mirren, deceased wife of Ruaridh, for she was one of the nine." An unease filtered through the eight assembled at the mention of the absent ninth's name. "Have ye anything prepared on that, Oona?"
Prepared, he asked… fine well her husband knew the angst of her toil in putting the story into the written word, for he had to ask the Scribe nicely for extra parchment, she having burned a considerable pile in this very fireplace until the phrasing was euphemistic enough.
"I have," she said, bringing another parchment from under her chair. "Mirren, wife of Ruaridh, was of unpleasant disposition when she came to the Vault, and did try to disrupt the remedy further in the Chamber of the Green Man until sedated with medicinal honeymead.
"And the assembly were distraught to later discover that her many pains and
worries and troubles had been caused by her taking a fall at the Clootie Well, and her grabbing hold of many cloots, and a whole branchload resting on her, and all the pains and worries and troubles contained in the cloots transferred to her own person.
"And such were the severity of the ills that her own family took her home, thinking the Curing Wells on their own lands might alleviate her ills, but sadly they did not, and Mirren passed from this world soon after."
The Bard noticed the uncomfortable shifting of arses upon seats at the telling of the tale, and quickly called for Ayes.
"Aye," said Sorcha immediately, absolutely ignorant of any other explanation, and still feeling a bit guilty for her bad thoughts. Mirren had been ill, and that was why she'd said such horrid things in the Chamber. But she'd been so nice afterwards, and came to see her every day, and didn't seem inclined to gossip anymore when she had so many ailments to tell of. She'd looked very sickly, poor soul.
Sorcha was still on the strict diet of the Wisewomen's devising, and still drank the honeywater instead of wine, yet Mirren kept bringing baskets of cakes until the day she left MacKrannan Castle and the cakes no longer needed to go down the garderobe to save hurt feelings.
Such a pity there had been no chance for Sorcha to say farewell, her being sent on urgent clan business by Niall that day.
"Aye," said Niall.
The truth must be kept from Sorcha for a long time yet. Besides, it would no' be right to record more of it until Mirren and Ruaridh's two young bairns were full grown. The details had been contained thus far. Best leave it at that. Hector and him had sorted it before he even had the chance to send the Wisewomen on a spying mission.
The one thing mystifying Niall yet was Oona's reaction to the news of the carrotseeds. 'Fancy that' was all she'd said. The Sight would explain much, but still… See, if Oona had even the tiniest flicker of suspicion aforehand, and it was a big If, well then, the Bard and the three Wisewomen would no' have bothered bringing out the Green Book of Fertility Traditions and putting everybody through that. Would they…?
However it had unfolded, he could no' be sorry at all that transpired regardless. Life had been much changed after the Remedy. He trusted them to do the right thing. They were no' called Wisewomen for nothing.
"Aye," said Ruaridh.
If the Clootie Well story was sufficient for Niall, it would do fine for him too. For now. When his bairns grew, they must know the full detail of their mother's treachery, and be wary of such flaws in their own characters. And his new wife Hilde was no' called a Wisewoman for nothing – she'd keep them on the right paths always, and their wee half-sister now, and all bairns yet to come.
The first sight of Hilde naked at his rousing stayed with him yet, and he'd repaid her in honey many times since. Lives had been changed that night. Ruaridh's heart was brimming full, and his father the Chief well-pleased at the outcome.
"Aye," said Hilde.
She was right glad that Sorcha had no' been told about Mirren's cakes. The early signs of the ripening goddess were upon that Tall Wife even the day after the Remedy, and the cakes would have caused her to slip what she carried. The upset of the whole truth was best left for many years yet. Maybe when Ruaridh's bairns were grown enough to be told.
He'd never looked her way once after the circle was dissolved. Mirren was banished soon after, but she was still his wife.
The Wisewomen told her to take heart that he was no' treating her like some wench just for tupping. And then the messenger came with news of his bereavement. Only then did Ruaridh seek her out and take her to his father.
Ruaridh had treated her like a princess at their wedding day Coupling. And he told her often what blithesome company she was. Their daughter was his image, born no' a moon ago, and Hilde felt blessed by the Chamber of the Green Man and the spirits who dwelled there.
"Aye," said Hector.
He had met with Niall in the mountain cove the morn after the Remedy and voiced his suspicions of Mirren trying to keep the Heir's Cradle empty. Niall voiced the same suspicions, and shared the circumstantial evidence that Mirren had visited Sorcha daily. The men started tracking Mirren's movements for a couple of days and discovered she was taking seedcakes to Sorcha again.
The Chief was informed, and the entrapment set. Capture had taken place with only a minor scuffle in the bedchamber that Mirren thought to contain Sorcha, but in fact contained Niall the chieftain and Hector the Captain of the Queen's Bodyguard. They'd taken Mirren to the Chief who opened her basket of cakes and picked out the incriminating seeds right in front of her, and Ruaridh said naught as she was banished home to her own family under a cover story of recuperation from illness.
Hector had learned the value of diplomacy when solving intrigues at the royal court, and had heartily agreed with Niall's assessment that none could have known of Mirren's treachery before she gave herself away in the Chamber. He knew fine well that Niall did no' believe the sequence, but what the hell, better to forget the working out of who knew what, and when did they find it out, because no further good would come of it.
Cecily had known. She'd tried her Blank Face when he'd asked her, and that's how he figured it out. All she'd confide was that she'd seen Mirren's face change and what kind of evidence was that to go accusing folks with? And it would have taken thumbscrews to get anything more out of her.
Ach, well, a bit of mystery between a couple was a good thing. And how long would it have taken him to woo her, had it no' been for their both participating in the Remedy for Wives Too Tall? Courting was overrated compared to a thorough rousing with honey to make a man get on wi' things.
He'd wasted no time at all. Straight after the circle was dissolved, the four of them dressed again and the arch put back around the fireplace, he'd called them all to the middle. Two witnesses were needed for a handfast, six were available – Mirren didna count, her lying asleep on her star. And he'd yet to live it down that he'd asked for witnesses even afore he'd asked Cecily if she'd have him…
"Aye," said Cecily.
She smoothed out her new fancy skirts a bit wider lest anyone see what Hector's hand was doing underneath them. This was their first anniversary. A visit home was a nice reminder of their sudden handfast in the room right next to this one.
His call for witnesses afore he'd even asked her to wed had taken her aback – until she remembered her Wisewoman training that everything coming topsy-turvy to the Chamber of the Green Man would be put right.
Mirren's face had lost all hope of falseness when she stood in the circle. The comforting flash of the Sight had shown Cecily what would be. And it was. And hell mend her.
The king and queen had laughed when Hector told them of her study of faces and its use in detecting crime before it happened. Their Majesties had wondered if Hector MacKrannan would ever meet his match, and see what had happened in one leave of absence? And wasn't it grand that the newlyweds had so much in common?
The allocated bedchamber beside the queen's quarters was plush, but Cecily preferred Hector's cottage. It was nearly dawn when he'd taken her there twelve moons ago and walked straight past it to the waterfall. There he cleansed himself of all that had happened, and asked her to forget what she'd seen, for bedsport was no' usually anything like that at all. And she assured him she knew how different a Fertility Ritual must be from the ordinary, else why go to all the work and bother?
On the path back to the cottage he picked white heather and harebells, wanting her to have a posy on the wedding day she'd missed. He carried her over the threshold, and then dried himself, and showed her how gentle he could be, so that even her maidenhead's burst had not been too sore, and she knew the joy of blissing.
Within the sevennight she grabbed hold of the top of an open door and persuaded him that she really did want to know what it felt like holding onto that arch. And Hector had obliged, under the condition that he would no' be wearing any species of leaves.
"Aye," said Oona. "That's us all, then.
What's next?"
"Eh?" said the Bard in a momentary lapse of attention. "Oh… let me see now… Here it is. The Outcome. We must chronicle the results for future generations. Chieftain, I address ye. This is your bit. What say ye that we record also the two marriages, and Hilde's bairn?"
The chieftain pondered a moment only. "Do that. The Chamber built by Coinneach the Chief must take credit there, and the work of the Wisewomen. And on that note… Bard, I address ye. Would ye consult with the Wisewomen and see if the Chamber could be put to some use by the clansfolk and no' just the bloodline? Sorcha and myself think it a shame for such a place to lie dormant."
"Curious ye should mention that, because Oona was saying just the other day…" A covert signal from his wife rushed him past the source of the concept and onto the detail. "But I suggest we prepare a much modified edition of the Green Book for the clansfolk. Diagrams would be needed, for no' many can read."
"And we'd need a new bed," said Oona. "The stilts are there for it, in the struts of the wall carvings, and the boltholes set in the floor."
"Hah! So there should be a bed!" said Sorcha. "And what Remedy from the Green Book is that used for?"
"Oh, quite a few. The Remedy for Wives Too Tall was the first remedy in the book – the one used by Coinneach the Chief who built the Chamber."
"The bed came later, then?"
"Aye, much later, milady. Ye'll remember the first painting is of an arch, no' a mattress. And ye would notice that for all the fancy new ways of getting a bairn, it was Coinneach's remedy that was of most value to yerself and the chieftain. Oh aye, the old-fashioned ways are always the best…"
The Chieftain Needs an Heir - a Highland ménage novella (Clan MacKrannan's Secret Traditions) Page 8