Lucius entered and pulled the cloth across the doorway before turning up the wick on his lamp. Then he took a chair.
“Sit down, Ciaran,” he said, “Make yourself comfortable.” His voice had a soft tone and his face was twisted into an unfamiliar expression that may have been a smile. I looked around. There was no other chair. The uneasiness was growing and becoming stifling. I went to sit on the floor. “No, not there. Sit here,” the druid said, indicating his lap. I hesitated. “Come on, there’s no need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” I still held back. ”Ciaran,” he said firmly, “come and sit here.” Conditioning took over. I did as I was told. Lucius started talking to me but what he said I didn’t really hear. His voice was low, sonorous and hypnotic. He stroked my hair and whispered something in my ear. I couldn’t quite make out what it was. I felt relaxed, but tense inside. A voice inside me was shouting at me to run away but I didn’t dare move. I knew I should get away but the years of conditioning were too strong: I was doing what I was told. Lucius said something else and I became languid. Whatever may happen would be no worse than another thrashing. Nothing could be worse.
Lucius’s hands were stroking me and I felt warm, like when my mother last held me. Lucius’s hands went over me, stroking me, as close as my mother’s. The teacher’s hands ran down my back and produced a reaction: my penis started to stiffen. Lucius seemed to know and pulled my tunic up and stroked my bare stomach and I felt a thrill through my whole body, then his hand went down into my loincloth. I tried to move: I wanted to get away now. There was something worse than a thrashing, and I didn’t want it.
The teacher held me tightly over the shoulder and squeezed my balls so that I cried out in pain.
“You will do what I want, Ciaran. If you do, things will get easier for you.” His voice was low and he breathed heavily into my face, as he did after administering a thrashing. He smelled of rotten vegetables and stale beer. He continued more softly. “I want what’s best for you. I will look after you. All you have to do is be nice to me. I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all fine.” He moved his hand, up and down. I felt thrilled and revolted and I shuddered. But from which? “It’s going to be fine. It’ll be all right. Everything will be all right. And you don’t have to do much. Just do a little thing, such a little thing. Do what I ask you. Do what I ask and I’ll make sure you’ll be all right. You’ll do what I want, won’t you?”
I had been looking away. Not at Lucius, not at what his hand was doing as it moved rhythmically, up and down, inside my loincloth. The feeling wasn’t unpleasant but I wanted to get away from the teacher. “Ciaran?” the voice came again, hissing wetly into his ear, “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? I know you’re a good boy. You’ll do what I ask you, won’t you? You’ll do what I want. You always do in the end, don’t you?” I forced myself to look at him. My uncle and Coivin’s mother had told me to do as I was told. To respect my teachers and obey them. To study hard and follow their instructions to the letter. To always do as I was told. I looked at Lucius and started to nod but my mouth shaped the word ‘no’. Lucius squeezed my testicles once more and I cried out in pain again. I remembered it would be my tenth birthday soon, I don’t know why. Maybe he would give me a present if I did what I was told.
“Now, Ciaran,” he whispered in my ear, “I don’t want to hurt you, and you don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” I bit my lip and shut my eyes tight against the tears that were welling up in them. I shook my head and I could feel my face distorting with the effort of holding back the tears. “Oh, don’t cry. No need to cry. You can trust me. You -” Then he stopped, abruptly. His hand was out of my loincloth.
Of a sudden I was on my feet, standing unsteadily. There were loud voices, harsh and bitter. They were arguing. They were shouting. Someone held me and shook me and ordered me to pay attention. The voice was ordering me about. They all ordered me about. They were always telling me what to do. They all wanted something. I didn’t like it and I fought back. I tried to shake the rough hands off me. I just wanted to get away, to go somewhere I could be on my own.
The new voice said something. Said it sharply. Then Lucius spoke and I was myself again, in Lucius’s cell, with my tunic disarranged. Father Diarmuid was looking at me. He was almost kneeling down. He was older than Lucius. He seemed concerned.
“Ciaran!” he said, and shook me. “Ciaran! Do you know me!”
“Yes, I know you.” Of course I knew him. “Of course I know you. You’re Father Diarmuid. You teach me Latin. You don’t beat me so much.” My brain was still thick, as if it was filled with cotton wool.
“Good,” he said. “Good.” He stood up and guided me to the door with a hand on his shoulder. It was shaking a little. “Go on back to the dormitory, now. Go to bed and go to sleep.” I remembered something.
“What about my books? They’re in the library. Someone will take them.”
“I’ll get them for you and bring them over later. Go straight to your bed and go to sleep.” He held my face in one hand and looked directly into my eyes. Then he said something that I didn’t understand but I was willing to do whatever Diarmuid ordered. “Go straight to bed. Go to sleep until the morning. Do not allow anything to disturb you. Sleep well. Remember nothing of this evening.” I did as I was told.
I woke the following morning with my books beside my bed. I couldn’t remember how they got there and expected to be beaten when I was unable to explain why they weren’t put neatly away, but no-one asked me about them. I counted it a lucky escape.
That day, we had a lesson with Diarmuid, who told me to remain behind when the others left to go to eat. The Druid kept me only a few moments.
“Ciaran,” he said, “where were you last evening?” I had to confess, though I was reluctant, that I couldn’t remember. To my surprise, Diarmuid nodded as if satisfied. I was supposed to be able to account for my whereabouts every minute of the day, on pain of a beating - for myself and Coivin. But Diarmuid seemed content. He went on. “Ciaran, you are not to be alone with Brother Lucius. If he asks you to go anywhere just with him, you are not to go. Do you understand?” I nodded slowly.
“But if I don’t do what he says, he’ll beat me.”
“Nevertheless, you must do as I say. Never be alone with Lucius.” I agreed to the order but was prepared to ignore it if the choice was a beating. I looked away from the Druid and prepared to leave. “Ciaran,” he said, “look at me. It’s very important that you do as I say.” I looked straight into his eyes and prepared to nod an awkward agreement. I didn’t want to lie to this man. Again, he said something that I didn’t quite understand, and then I was released. I went to join the others at their meal and couldn’t tell them what Diarmuid had said to me, no matter how much Coivin kicked or pinched. I had no recollection of anything at all and wouldn’t remember the incident for nearly thirty years.
3
Unfortunately, we boys were growing up to be fine featured and good looking. As a result we were both bothered by the unwelcome attention of certain of our elders. We were visited in our room, late at night: I gained a reputation for fighting back and threatening the peace with noise but I didn’t escape unscathed, nonetheless. A beating from my schoolmates or, on one occasion, the hot pain of attempted entry into my rectum but in the end they left me alone. Coivin suffered the worse, for all his bluster during daylight. Two or three would sweep quietly in and efficiently silenced him, bundling him up in his bedclothes and whisking him off. I tried to help but a heavy backhand - maybe heavier than a boy’s - sent me sprawling back to my bed, almost knocking me unconscious. Coivin was returned an hour or so later, snuffling with humiliation and rage. My attempt at comfort was angrily thrown off. His fists thrashed wildly around in the dark and caught me on the face.
The following morning I had an angry bruise at the corner of my mouth and my cousin looked even more sullen than usual. He was very quiet - almost silent - during the day, which had the benefit that we attracted the attention of
our teachers less than usual.
The year was punctuated with regular festivals to signal the progress and change of the seasons. Bealtaine to herald the return of warmth and sunshine. Lughnasa to celebrate the peak of the sun’s powers. Samhain, when the sun dwindled and the borders between the everyday world and the world of spirits shrank and became flimsy and the power of the Druids was necessary to protect the living from malicious and seductive sprites. And Imbolg, in the depths of winter, celebrations of defiance against the darkness, with torches lit to drive back the gloom. All the boys of the college had their part to play; even the youngest. As we grew older and more knowledgeable of the mysteries of our craft we would be allowed to hold the white sheets that caught the holy mistletoe as it was clipped from the sacred oaks. For now, our job was to search the forest carefully for the high-hanging balled clusters of twigs which revealed the presence of the hallowed parasite. On cold, misty mornings this wasn’t easy but success was important: as usual, the punishment for failure was a beating.
It was just such a heavy, wet, washed-out white foggy morning. Ciaran and I had been searching without success for an hour or more: the tops of the trees were invisible from the ground. We could hardly see ten feet in front of us and it was easy to imagine that the spirits had crossed the barrier and were wandering free in the woods, looking to seduce the unwary and drag them, helpless, away to the Hollow Hills.
So we had a dilemma: to face the possibility of seduction by the sidhe if we were caught alone, or the certainty of a beating if we were unsuccessful. Our talk had gone from cheerful chatter at the prospect of time away from the Druids’ harsh regime, through playing on each other’s fear of the spirits, to apprehension and then on to rising fear at our lack of success. Finally, and in some desperation, we decided to split up and continue our search separately, in the hope of covering more ground than we would while still together. We decided on our general directions and agreed to call out when we found something. We were in the mood to trust each other, especially as we knew that the failure of either would be visited on both.
As I went deeper into the woods the fog seemed to close in more thickly. It was a wet velvety guide and maze, reaching out with hoary fingers to startle me suddenly with a freezing touch on the back of my neck. I couldn’t see much in front of me and my constant spinning round in response to the touch of the water which dropped off branches and inside my tunic soon had me disorientated: I had no idea where I was and even less of where to go. If I wandered too far from the path I could find myself in a bog or worse, unable to escape and sucked down for eternity, never to be found or seen again.
I slumped down with my back against a tree, my head hanging in despair and tears of fear and desolation starting from my eyes. It was my twelfth birthday.
“So it’s you. I thought I heard something.” I started up at the unexpected voice. A tall shadow was emerging from the mist. Was I about to be abducted by a friendly-seeming sidhe? I braced myself against the tree trunk and reached round my back for the short dagger I kept wedged in my belt. It would be scant protection against the people of the Hollow Hills but it made me feel stronger. I was reassured as my hand closed round the rope-bound hilt and I brought it round to ward off whoever was approaching.
The shadow resolved itself into Ieuan, a boy a few years older than myself who had shared our dormitory in the first year or so. The thick accent with which he spoke the Gaelic gave away his Welsh origins: he was from the Principality of Gwynedd in the mid-west of Britain. When he saw the small dagger in my hand he took a short step back and held his hands up in mock fear. He smiled. Not bullying or threatening. Ieuan had always been friendly towards me and had helped to soothe my wounds when the beatings had been at their most severe. It was he who had restrained Finn on the dreadful first day at the college.
“Please, no violence! I am defenceless! You have me at your mercy! I surrender!” He laughed then and dropped his hands. “This fog is enough to frighten anyone. Have you lost your way?” He sounded solicitous and I slumped back to the ground, put my head in my hands and started to cry quietly in relief and embarrassment. Ieuan sat beside me and put his arm round my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I know where we are. I’ll take you back. But where’s the other one? The Dark Twin?”
“I’m the Dark Twin, not Coivin. I don’t know where he is. We split up because we hadn’t found any mistletoe,” I managed to sob out. “Then I got lost, and I don’t know where he is. We must find him.” I made to stand but Ieuan restrained me.
“Plenty of time for that. Take a few minutes to get your wits back. You don’t want him to see you like this, do you?” I shook my head and took several deep breaths. Ieuan stroked the back of my neck. “No, of course you don’t. We’ll find him when you have yourself under control. Take your time.” He stroked some more, it should have been relaxing but I felt uneasy.
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. I’ll look after you.” He pulled me closer to him and his other hand started up my thigh.
I still had the dagger in my hand. I pulled myself away and jumped up, feet apart and the small knife held out threateningly. I was angry.
“Keep your bloody hands off me! Leave me alone! By Cromm, I’ll kill you if you come near me!” Ieuan was on his feet as well. He held his hands up placatingly.
“Ciaran, I meant no harm. I can look after you -” he would have continued but I made a wild slash at him. He jumped out of the way just in time.
“I don’t damn well want that kind of help! Just leave me alone! Keep away from me! I’ll kill you if you touch me.” I turned and started to walk away. Ieuan caught up and ran round in front of me. I made to go round but the Welshman stepped to block my way. I brought the knife up again. Ieuan held his hands out, conciliating.
“Ciaran, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, really I am. Don’t turn me away. I can be your friend. I want to be your friend. I - “ he ran out of words. I was still wary. “I will be your friend. Just your friend. I’ll help you. But don’t turn me away, please don’t turn me away. I want to be your friend. Please. Just a friend.” I looked at him. His face did show regret but I wasn’t sure he could be trusted.
“If you want to be my friend then help me find Coivin. And some mistletoe. We must find some mistletoe or we’ll be in trouble.” Ieuan looked relieved and he relaxed.
“That’s easy. The fog is less than twenty feet deep. Climb a tree and you’ll be able to see for miles. The air is clear up above. See, the fog’s bright. There’s bright sunlight and the sky is clear. Have a look around and then come down and we’ll go and find Coivin.” I did as the Welshman suggested and found that he spoke the truth. I could see more than two dozen tell-tale clumps of tangled branches high in the trees above the fog, which clung to the ground like a carpet. One of the largest was just a few feet above me but I didn’t dare to break the taboo against touching the sacred parasite. I slid back down and asked where we were. “About two miles south-west of the college. I know exactly where we are. It’s a good area for mistletoe. I’ve been here before. You can tell them about it. I’ll tell them about somewhere else. You can have the best stuff. I mean it, about being your friend. I want to help you.” I regarded him carefully and finally sheathed my dagger. I believed him.
“Let’s go find Coivin, then we’ll go back.”
After I had described the path I had taken to arrive at this point the two of us went off in the direction in which Ieuan thought we would be most likely to find my cousin. After half an hour’s searching and shouting, we heard a small yell and found Coivin, in as wretched a state as I had been when Ieuan found me. He ran to us through the fog and hugged me as he hadn’t done for months. I was genuinely pleased to have found him and helped him to calm down before we set off for the college, guided by Ieuan. He proposed that we walk together until they were near and then we would split up. Ieuan would come back in later, leaving the two of us to take the credit for finding the rich harvest of mistletoe. It was a simple plan but
I seemed to have difficulty grasping it: my brain felt like cotton wool and my sight was becoming fuzzy. I could see coloured lights in the fog all around but just on the edge of my vision. I felt detached and disorientated. I kept asking Ieuan to repeat the plan until even he was becoming exasperated. Coivin, not noted for his patience, said something which I didn’t quite catch. I asked him to repeat it.
“Why did you kill me, brother?” he said. I turned to him slowly, as if through treacle.
Coivin stood, blood pouring from a fresh wound in his side. He tried to stop the gushing gore but he couldn’t, the wound was too deep.
“Why did you kill me, brother?” Coivin asked as he sank to his knees and onto the wooden floor. There were stone walls all around but a window offered a chance of escape.
“Why did you kill me, brother?” Coivin whispered as he fell to the floor and his lifeblood drained out into a wide pool around him. His eyes looked accusingly at me as he died.
“Why?” he whispered, and died. I looked down and saw that I held a bloodstained sword. It steamed and dripped red, thick liquid as I watched it. I dropped it in horror and it writhed like a snake and disappeared into smoke. A white shadow flew between the two of us and ran out into the corridor, screaming
Innisgarbh (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 1) Page 2