by Philip Henry
Dusk had fallen but the celebrations were only getting started. Bonfires were lit so that the revelry could continue long into the night. Local musicians and lilters provided the rhythm for the crowds to dance, and the local ale houses provided the mead at no cost.
As was tradition, the bride sang for the assembled crowd. Everyone was silent as her voice sailed lightly over them like a cool breeze on a summer day. Even Congal had never heard her sing before and was entranced by the sound. The gathered musicians were especially impressed with the soft tone of her voice. When she finished the crowd cheered for more, but she left it to the musicians to continue providing the entertainment.
‘Never have I heard sounds so sweet,’ Torloch said. ‘Tis what I imagine faerie song must be like. Otherworldly in its beauty.’
‘It seems my bounty grows with each day I know her,’ Congal said.
Congal stood next to Torloch and watched Taisie dance with the girls from the town. ‘I’ll bet the Scots can see the fires.’
‘I hope they can. I have more joy than I can share with my countrymen alone, Torloch.’
‘She’s indeed a grand lass, sir.’ Torloch laughed and took a long drink from the jug he was holding. When he lowered the jug his face changed. He put his hand to his sword and nodded to Congal to look behind him. Congal turned and saw Agnar standing behind him. Congal steeled himself to fight. Taisie stopped dancing and looked over, the smile gone from her face. The musicians and dancers fell silent and still.
‘I apologize for intruding on your celebrations. We are setting sail and I wished to make peace with you. Ireland and Norway need not be enemies after this night. You fought as the gods decreed. Nahbogdon lost, as was the will of the gods.’
Congal regarded the man, then stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder. ‘I will hold no quarrel with any man on this day. Come, drink with us and seal the peace between our two great countries.’
Torloch reached Agnar a tankard and said, ‘Slainte.’
‘Slon-sha?’ Agnar asked.
‘Good health,’ Congal said. The three men drank. Taisie smiled and returned to the circle of dancing girls. The music started again. ‘Will you take Nahbagdon back to Norway with you?’ Congal asked.
‘No,’ Agnar answered. ‘We have already sent him on his way to Valhalla on a burning raft.’
‘Valhalla?’ Torloch asked.
‘The Hall of the Slain. It is a majestic hall located in Asgard and ruled over by Odin; god of the hunt,’ Agnar explained. He cleared his throat and turned to Congal. ‘And what of your own injuries? You have healed?’
‘I was tended to by a skilled apothecary. I am not fully healed, but on this day I will feel no pain.’
‘That’ll be the mead!’ Torloch shouted. Congal and Agnar laughed. ‘I just hope you’re fit for your mi na meala.’
‘Have no fear, my friend!’
‘And what is that?’ Agnar asked with a smile.
‘It means Month of Honey,’ Congal said.
‘I still don’t understand,’ Agnar said.
‘Mead is made from honey!’ Torloch said between gulps.
‘It is our custom,’ Congal explained, ‘that when a man and woman are joined they are left alone together for a month with a good supply of mead. After this time, it is said the gods themselves could not stop the woman from being with child.’
The three men laughed again. Agnar said, ‘It’s a grand tradition. I will try to see that Norway adopts this Honey-month ritual.’
One of the town girls ran over and curtsied before Congal, then turned to Agnar and said, ‘Will you have a dance?’ Agnar looked to Congal for permission.
‘You have a long sea voyage ahead of you, my friend,’ Congal said, then smiled.
Agnar set his tankard down and allowed the girl to drag him off into the dancing circle.
Agnar danced with the girl until Congal and Torloch had stopped watching, then abandoned the girl and made his way through the crowd.
He bowed his head before Taisie. ‘My lady, is it permitted that I may dance with the bride before I leave these shores?’ Taisie looked to Congal but he was deep in conversation with Torloch.
She smiled to Agnar and raised her hand, which he took. Taisie and Agnar danced. He spun her around and around, faster and faster. She laughed politely, though she hoped Congal would stop this dance soon. When they did stop dancing she found herself far from the other dancers and close to the edge of the cliff. Agnar seized his hand around her upper arm, hurting her.
‘Congal!’ he screamed. ‘Congal!’ The music silenced. The dancers were still. Everyone looked to the source of the shouting. Again he shouted, ‘Congal!’ The crowd parted leaving a line-of-sight between Congal and Agnar holding Taisie by the cliff edge. Congal cautiously started to make his way forward with his palms facing the Norwegian. Taisie was struggling in his grasp.
‘Congal,’ he said, now in a lower voice befitting the distance between them. ‘It was my king’s wish that you witness me carry out his last command.’ Agnar spun Taisie roughly around and threw her off the cliff behind him. Everyone gasped. Congal heard her scream all the way down. He screamed, ‘Taisie!’ and ran towards the edge.
When Congal was close, Agnar said, ‘Did you really believe…?’ Congal drew his sword with lightning speed and lopped his head off. His body stood twitching, spurting blood, until moments later it collapsed and was still.
Congal ran to the edge and dropped to his knees. He looked over at the dark waters far below. He got to his feet and ran back through the crowd and grabbed Torloch.
‘Find the apothecary and follow me down.’
‘Congal,’ the big man said softly. ‘She is lost. There is no hope…’
‘There is always hope!’ Congal ran and jumped on his horse. He turned to Torloch, tears in his eyes. ‘Find him and follow me down.’
Torloch reluctantly nodded and Congal galloped off into the night.
Torloch arrived on the beach with the apothecary and half-a-dozen men from the town that wanted to help. They saw Congal’s horse standing by the water and dismounted next to it.
They listened to the unending roar of the sea. They watched the untiring lapping of waves on the beach. They saw no one. Torloch built a fire to guide Congal back. They stood by the flames, ever watching the dark horizon.
The apothecary was the first to speak. He said what they were all thinking. ‘I fear we have lost them both.’ He reached up and put a comforting hand on Torloch’s shoulder. Torloch continued gazing into the blackness.
The apothecary hung his head and turned to walk away when Torloch cried, ‘There!’ They all looked to the ocean and saw the water being churned. Someone swimming. They ran closer to the sea. They saw Congal swimming to shore, dragging a limp body in a white dress behind him. Torloch and the men ran into the water. The apothecary opened his trunk and began selecting potions and powders that would heal a drowned woman.
The men carried Taisie over to the fire. Her white dress was now heavily stained with red. ‘Lower her head,’ the apothecary shouted. ‘ Keep her feet in the air.’ The men did as they were told. The apothecary slapped her back several times and sea-water gushed from her mouth as she coughed. Hope blossomed in Congal’s chest. ‘Lay her down now.’ The men laid her down and stepped back. Congal knelt next to her and watched the apothecary run his hands over her body. He gently lifted the torn dress at her chest and looked underneath. The wound was deep and blood was pouring from it. The apothecary took a deep breath before raising his head and looking Congal in the eyes.
‘There is nothing I can do.’
Congal reached across her body and grabbed the apothecary. ‘There must be! There is still breath in her body. My kingdom is yours if you save her life.’
‘Sire, her body is broken in many places. I cannot stem the flow of blood from her wound. I regret to say, she will not see morning.’
Congal pushed him away and got to his feet. He turned and took a few steps to
hide his tears from the other men.
Congal turned and ran to his friend. ‘Torloch, the beast in the barrel. Did my father execute it yet?’
‘No. He wanted to take it back and make a public example of it.’
‘Where is it?’
‘On my cart, in the stables of the ale house.’
Congal ran to his horse and jumped on. ‘Give her up to me.’
The men helped Taisie onto the saddle in front of Congal. He held her close to him with one hand and held the horse’s reins with the other. He galloped off towards town.
Congal prised the lid off with his sword, then toppled the barrel on its side. The creature inside tumbled out onto the mud floor. Congal pounced on it and cut the gag from its mouth. The creature spat out the stones Congal had placed there and drew breath. Congal pointed to Taisie, lying in a bed of straw in the corner.
‘You claimed you could heal any wounds. Heal her and I will grant you your freedom.’
‘Do you know what you ask?’
Congal grabbed the creature and dragged him across the floor to Taisie. ‘Heal her now! Her time is short.’
‘Unbind my hands.’
‘You think me a fool? Not until you have healed her.’
‘Only my blood can heal her.’
Congal’s face twisted in disgust.
‘She must drink from me. It will heal her. It is the only thing that will heal her.’
Congal dragged his fingers through his hair, then drew his sword and brought it down sharply. The creature’s hands were free. It reached down to unbind its feet and Congal put the tip of his blade under its chin. ‘No. Not until she is healed.’ Congal knelt down and looked the creature in the eyes. ‘Do not betray me daemon, or your death will be slow and filled with pain you cannot imagine.’
The creature shuffled over to Taisie. He looked back at Congal, then bit his wrist and placed it on Taisie’s lips. Congal’s heart raced and his hands trembled with rage that such a creature should be touching his love.
Her lips started to move. They kissed the bleeding wrist before her. Her hand raised and pulled the wrist closer to her. The creature tried to pull his wrist back and her other hand grabbed it and held it close. She started to moan and pant as she sucked harder on the wrist. Taisie screamed and the two fell apart. She lay on the straw, her body writhing somewhere between pain and ecstasy. The creature undid the binding on its feet and stood up. Congal was too captivated by the sight of Taisie, moving again, alive again, to care.
The creature stood beside Congal. ‘She will be like me now.’
Congal turned to him and said, ‘No. Never.’
‘It is the price she must pay to cheat death.’
Taisie stopped squirming.
‘It is done. I suggest you find a peasant of the town. Someone who will not be missed. She will need to feed.’
‘Silence your lying tongue!’ Congal stepped forward.
‘The first hunger after Becoming is confounding, she will not know…’
‘She is pure of heart. She would never be what you are, travesty!’ Congal knelt down beside her and ran his hand down her cheek. Her skin was cold, probably from being in the sea so long. Congal reached forward and lifted back her dress. There was no trace of the wound on her chest. Congal turned his head and looked at the creature in wonder. ‘If I had not witnessed…’
Taisie bit into his neck and the sweet nectar she desired was given. She did not know where this liquid was coming from. She did not know how she had found it. A new instinct had been borne in her and had taken over her actions. For a few moments she had felt on the brink of death and then sweet nourishment was making her strong and clearing her head of all confusion.
She felt as if she had drank too much mead. A man. Standing before her. Not Congal. He reaches out his hand. ‘Who are you?’ she asks. Even her voice sounds different.
‘My name is Galen. We must go. It is not safe for our kind here.’
‘I am Taisie, betrothed of Congal, King of Ireland. Please see me to his side and…’
‘He is at your side.’
Taisie turned and saw a man lying dead next to her. She drew back, then recognizing him leapt forward. She saw the bite marks on his neck. She rubbed her chin and found blood on her fingers. She began crying, the memories coming back to her.
‘What have I become?’ The creature lowered his head and remained silent. Taisie looked into the face of her dead husband and said, ‘What have I done?’ She raised her head and screamed at the heavens, ‘What have I done?’
One Year Later
The cart trundled along. The man, his wife and their ten-year-old daughter were seated at the front while all their possessions rattled around in the back. The man had given the reins to his daughter some time ago but now took them back. He wanted to get there before dark if possible. Ahead of them they saw an old man walking in the opposite direction, his back bent by the load he was carrying. The man pulled the horse to a stop.
‘How are ye?’ the man asked.
The old man stopped and regarded the family. ‘I’m grand,’ he eventually answered.
‘Do you know how far we are from The North Glen?’
‘The old man turned away from their eyes and said, ‘No such place. Not anymore.’
‘How can that be?’ the man asked.
The old man turned back to them. ‘Do yourself and your kin a service and turn around now. There’s nothing there for you.’
‘I was born in the North Glen. I lived there until my nineteenth year. There are dozens of settlements.’
‘They are all abandoned now. That land is cursed. Heed my words and go back where you came from.’ The old man was beginning to get angry.
‘I mean to show my daughter and my wife the place of my birth.’ The old man looked at the ground and said nothing. ‘I’ll find it without your help, then.’ The man cracked his whip and the cart trundled forward.
The old man shouted after them, ‘Tis no longer called The North Glen, tis Glentaisie now. That land belongs to her. Remember my warning.’
The man waved a dismissive hand at the old traveller and continued on his way.
The signpost said GLENTAISIE.
‘The oul fella must have been right,’ the man said to his wife. ‘This is the place. I recognize the fields and forests where I played as a child. We will be there before the moon is much higher.’
There were trees on either side of the road. The night was eerily free of sounds. ‘Many nights I walked this road. We are very close now. Are you excited, Aoife?’ he asked his daughter. She nodded, smiling. ‘I had two brothers and a sister, so if any of them still live around here, you could have cousins. How would that be?’
She smiled and clapped her hands together. The man and his wife laughed. The man brought the cart to a stop. A branch lay across the road. ‘I’m not risking breaking a wheel on it. I’ll clear it away.’ He jumped off the cart and grabbed the branch and dragged it into the trees.
His wife watched the trees. He didn’t come out. She looked all around. ‘Sean?’ she called.
‘Where’s daddy, mummy?’
‘He’s just hiding to make jest.’ Her worried face showed she did not believe what she had just said. She climbed down off the cart and took a few steps towards the trees. ‘Sean? Stop fooling now. You’re scaring the wee’un.’ She looked back at the cart and saw her daughter standing on the seat looking at her. She took a few more steps forward and saw something move in the darkness. The moon came out from behind a cloud and she saw something feasting upon her husband’s flesh. The creature looked up and saw her. Blue eyes glowing in the darkness. She turned back to the cart and screamed, ‘Aoife, run!’
The little girl jumped down from the cart just as her mother was pulled into the trees. Aoife started running back the way they had come. Tears were steaming down her face and she was crying loudly. She heard her mother screaming in the distance behind her and then fall silent. She kept running. Screa
ming. Following the road in the darkness. Crying. Yelling for help. Something flew overhead casting a moon-shadow over her and she screamed louder. The figure descended from the sky and plucked the screaming girl from the road and carried her off into the night.
dave2
It just looked like a garage. Admittedly, a large garage, but a garage nonetheless. Two ramshackle cottages sat by the road separated by a small wall, but their back gardens seemed to be shared. This garage stretched over both their properties with broken parts of engines and machines piled up on either side. The businessman checked the address on the scrap of paper he had been given. This was the right place. He looked at his £600 Italian shoes, then looked at the muddy driveway. He did consider going in barefoot for a few seconds, but it wouldn’t be very professional. What the hell, if these guys could do what they claimed, he would have more money than he knew what to do with. He clicked the alarm on his Mercedes, though there didn’t appear to be another soul for miles. It had taken him forty-five minutes to find the place and he had directions, the odds of anyone else stumbling upon these two cottages in the middle of nowhere were remote.
His first step sunk three inches into the mud. There, shoes ruined. He didn’t have to worry anymore. His second step was less concerned with dirtying his shoes and more about not slipping and ruining his suit as well. As he passed the front garden he couldn’t help but stop and stare. He paid a professional gardener a lot of money to tend to his lawn and it didn’t look as good as that. The immaculate lawn seemed totally out of place in these otherwise squalid surroundings. He continued on, past the houses and towards the doors of the garage. A sign was welded above the door, made up of reclaimed letters from who knew where, it bore the legend: dAve2. He was definitely in the right place. He knocked timidly on the door.
The door opened momentarily and he was greeted by a welding mask. The mask lifted and Dave asked him, ‘Can I help you?’