Riona

by Linda Windsor

  “And I’ll give him your love.” Bran patted the basket of food strapped behind him.

  A dozen more good-byes were said before the party was mounted and on its way. Even so, Riona stood next to Kieran, glad for his added warmth, and waved to any of the men who looked back. Everyone else had drifted away to his or her own course for the day. Dallan, Finella, and the boys juggled balls for the amusement of the stable hands and guards. Siony and Mebh tossed a ball in the rath to the older children while the smallest children bounced and squealed in the goat cart.

  “There was a time I’d rather have heard pigs slaughtered than the noise of children’s frolic,” Kieran confessed to Riona with a wistful tip of his mouth. “It sounded much the same to me.”

  She snuggled under his arm as they turned and headed for the inner yard. “It’s a joyous noise indeed.”

  “Remember the first day we arrived and the hordes of giggling that charged us?” He laughed. “Sheer horror clutched at my chest. I thought all semblance of order had gone, vanished … that poor Benin had expired, overwhelmed and overrun.”

  “You’ve grown much as a father since then.”

  Kieran smirked. “Aye, I’ve got the gist of it now.”

  “But you haven’t mastered infants.”

  “Who has? The wee creatures just pass food through one end and out the other, what doesn’t leak out their mouth on the intake, that is. They cry and sleep and sleep and cry at will. I sometimes think the old ones were right in thinkin’ babes don’t become human till they learn to walk and talk. Till then, they’re as unpredictable as the Sidhe.”

  “Well, milord.” Riona tried hard not let her excitement bubble up through her stern countenance. “I would suggest that you apply yourself most heartily to learn what you can of the “wee creatures.”

  Kingly grace failing him, Kieran nearly stumbled on the smooth, well-worn yard, spooking a nearby family of ducklings. He turned Riona to face him, eyeing her warily. “Are you trying to tell me something, wife?”

  “I’m just telling you that come spring, God willing, I’ll need a new sapphire for my brooch.”

  “You’re sure?” He shook her and then, catching himself, rubbed her arms as if to make up for any harm it might have caused.

  Riona nodded, smiling, as she watched excitement fill her husband’s gaze.

  He looked about frantically and lifted his arm as if to call back the travelers who’d already disappeared in the fields beyond. With his other hand he clutched a fist of golden hair in frustration. “Faith, woman, you should have told me earlier! I’d have Bran know the school might move back to our rath yet.”

  “I’m having a child … not a litter,” she added, remembering his observation the night they’d found their nuptial bed draped in a garland of mistletoe. “And I wanted us to be alone when I told you.”

  “Have you told the children?” Kieran sought out Fynn and the twins in the yard with his eager gaze. He was fit to burst with the news. Like Lady Gray about to pounce, he all but wiggled in anticipation.

  “I wanted you to be the first,” she told him, “once I was sure.”

  “So I can tell them now?”

  Riona’s laughter sent him scurrying off, but he stopped suddenly.

  “No,” he shouted back to her. “I want to tell everyone.”

  He climbed to the top of a dirt pile. It and the straw beside it were kept on hand to fill mud holes dug by weather and traffic.

  “Hear me, Gleannmara!” he shouted, waving his arms over his head like a madman rather than a king. “I’m going to be a father!”

  Riona saw Finella bend over in laughter. The ring Liex tossed to her flew by uncaught. Dallan tossed his aside and started toward the dancing king. From the guardhouse, men came out, approaching slowly at first. Like as not, they thought he’d lost his wits.

  “I’m going to be a father!”

  The alarm on the guards’ faces gave way to grins. This time they understood what their king was carrying on about.

  To the cheers of “Huzzah!” and the delighted titter coming from the washwomen gathered round their tubs, Kieran hopped down off the pile. He raced back to her, scattering a feeding cluster of fowl in the process.

  “You are crazy as a swineherd, milord,” Riona chided as he scooped her up in his arms and swung her around.

  “Aye, lass, that I am!” He put her down and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ve been crazy since I first saw you, nothing but a wee thing like Leila.” He planted another kiss on her nose. “And I grew crazier when you came back from fosterage in the first bloom of maidenhood.”

  He held her face between his hands and claimed her lips, lifting her spirit even higher until she had no idea whether her feet still touched the ground or danced on the clouds. All she knew was that this sweet madness of his was infectious. She still floated when he pulled away and caressed her still with his gaze.

  “And if either of us goes to the other side ahead of the other,” he vowed fervently, “then look for me to be dancing on the clouds, crazy as ever over you, Riona O’Cuillin.”

  She reached up and touched his lips. “You mean, Riona of Gleannmara.”

  Kieran pressed his forehead to hers. “I mean love of my life,” he whispered, brushing aside her finger so that his lips met hers in a hint of a kiss. “I mean light of my heart,” he went on, making with yet another gentle pass. “I mean soul of my soul.”

  The words came from deep within, carried to her on his breath, sealed with a completeness ordained at the beginning of time, when the Creator made man and woman to be as one.

  And above them, dear hearts, the good Lord surely smiled and said, “It is good.” The Fires of Gleannmara still burn like a candle in the wind with a flame that cannot be extinguished from without nor—so long as faith is its wick and love its fuel—from within. For all that, I’m pure bustin’ to get on with the next tale in this tellin’ of me children’s illustrious and adventuresome past. Just wait till ye read about me next daughter—the willful and daring Deirdre—and the man she’ll have, sure as Erin’s grass is green.

  But don’t be putting this book aside now. If ye haven’t already taken a gander at it, help yerself to me very own version of a glossary and reference. ’Tis filled with more interestin’ tidbits of academic and legendary note regardin’ me and mine.

  Now, until we meet again, may the Almighty keep ye in the palm of His blessed hand.

  The publisher and author would love to hear your

  comments about this book. Please contact us at:

  www.multnomah.net

  GLEANNMARA’S GLOSSARY/REFERENCE

  Fer yer entertainment as well as enlightenment, below is a list o’ tidbits regardin’ me past and me people’s ways, just for them what yearns for a taste o’ the Salmon o’ Knowledge.

  adart (ey-art): a pillow o’ feathers encased in deer skin.

  Aedh (ed): The high king of Ireland during Riona’s time. Many significant accomplishments. (See Aidan, bard’s dilemma, Baetan, Columcille, Drumceatt, to each cow its own calf.)

  aiccid (ay-sid): heir apparent to kingship or clan chief.

  Aidan (ay’-dan): the first Christian king of Scotia Minor (Scotland), which earned its recognition as a full province of Ireland with homage due only to Erin’s high king rather than an Ulster ruled subkingdom the likes of his Ulster Dalraidi kin’s lands. (See Baetan, Drumceatt, Columcille.)

  aire (ayre): a noble, most often in literary reference, but can refer to a free man.

  Airmed’s blanket (r-med): In the DeDanan legend, Airmed gathered and sorted the herbs gathered by her brother Midach, a gifted healer, after their father, the healer Diancecht, slew his son and fearing his healing powers even in death, mixed them up and scattered them all over the earth.

  athair (a’-the): father.

  anmchara (ahn-ca-rah): soul friend, confessor, soul mate.

  ard rí (ard righ): high king.

  Baetan: King of Ulster and would-be high king
of Ireland and Scotland: Now here was a pompous example of bein’ too big for one’s trews (britches). Baetan grew in power after fightin’ at Culdreime with his northern Niall cousins—High King Aedh’s father, Scot King Aidan’s father, and relative and saint-to-be Columcille agin the then High King Diarmait o’ the opposin’ clan. Baetan set up his court at Tara, which was abandoned by the high kings who came along after it was cursed out o’ the sense the good Lord gave ’em, but this fool thought himself high and mightier than reality. Then, when Aedh (high king) wouldn’t make their cousin Aidan (Scot king) pay homage to Baetan as the Dalraidi kin in Ulster did, this blusterin’ banty rooster up and attacks Aidan’s shores. (And ye think your family quarrels are foolish?)

  Well, he failed, but what can a soul expect when they try to defeat a king divinely appointed by God Himself? Ye see, even Saint Columcille was favorin’ Aidan’s brother, but an angel appeared and smote the headstrong saint to make him see the light. Columcille ordained Aidan as the rightful king, and the rest is pure history. As for Baetan, his foolish greed and temper got him killed in battle not long after he was run from Scotland’s shores. (See Aidan, Columcille, Aedh.)

  Bantan (bahn’-tan): Bran’s horse.

  bard: a poet or historian of the druidic order; these good fellas recorded Erin’s history in verse and song. Their literary license is what makes the separation of history and legend so difficult for today’s scholars to discern. In the last half of the sixth century, the bards narrowly missed total obliteration and/or exile at the Synod of Drumceatt. Their carefree existence over, they were stripped of their political influence and their right to abuse free hospitality and compensation. The new order had no choice but to become the secular schoolmasters, earning their keep at their assigned tuath.

  Interestin’ly enough, the Hebrews had no recorded history either, save in song or verse, until the Holy Scriptures. Not till the arrival of Christianity were Erin’s stories recorded for posterity in cooperation with the poets and scholars. No doubt about it, the Irish of today are nearly as Hebrew as Celtic.

  bards, dilemma of the: A passel o’ these melody-mouthed scholars had become more trouble than they was worth, trottin’ about imposing on good hospitality and payin’ it back with barbed satire and curses. Sure, the nobles wanted ’em exiled, but Columcille saved them (see Columcille). Reform the system, says he, but to exile the bard was to exile their knowledge, which was sacred to every Celtic heart. It was decided that each tuath would appoint its own bards to educate its children, as well as have a priest for its spiritual education. Aye, the bards became schoolteachers, and knowledge was saved.

  batagh (bah-tah): public victualer to entertain travelers and chief’s soldiers; rent-free land, much like a tavern geared more to entertainment and board than bed.

  blefed: plague with symptoms of yellowish palor, fever.

  bóaire (bo-ayr): a self-sufficient farmer/cattleman.

  Bran (brahn): raven.

  brat: outer cloak or wrap; the more colors, the higher the station of its wearer.

  Brehon Law: the ancient law of the Irish Celts, updated in the fifth century at a convention of druids, priests, and kings.

  brewy: A name for a common inn and the innkeeper. The room and board were free, same as in any Irish home, with the land and food/cattle for travelers supplied by local landowners. This is just another fine example of Celtic hospitality.

  Brichriu (brik’-ree-oo): an ancient historical satirist known for stirring up trouble.

  bride price: the price paid by the groom to the bride’s family for the privilege and duration of his marriage to the lady.

  Quite the opposite of the dowry, wouldn’t ye say? And ’twas a custom mainly Irish and connected to Erin’s Hebrew roots. Goin’ back to when the Milesians from Iberia settled in Erin, there was a shortage of women. So the Milesians asked the Hebrews, who’d been in Ireland since Japeth and Shem’s children landed there after the Flood, if they might marry the Hebrew daughters. Yes, says the Hebrew elders, but only if a bride price is paid to the bride’s family for the duration of the marriage. The rest was up to the groom. (Bear in mind, before Patrick, marriage was bindin’ only as long as both parties agreed to it, but the custom o’ payin’ for the bride continued for centuries beyond.)

  bruden: A much larger and higher-class hostelry or brewy, able to lodge not just individual travelers, but nobles and their entourages as well. ’Twas usually found at main crossroads and, like the brewy, ’twas free to all.

  Brugaid (brew-gayd): A female innkeeper or brewy, for many a one was run by me daughters.

  bulliken: a young bull

  chieftancy: A chief or king was elected, no less, by the clan. To qualify, he must be knowledgeable in war, academics, and the like; of fine physical health and stature so’s he can lead warriors into battle; and usually related to the last chief, but not necessarily. A son, brother, or paternal cousin is considered first, but should no one in that bloodline qualify, then a man from another of the clan families was picked and the line o’ rule was passed to another family … leastwise till someone bigger and better took it from them.

  cloak of invisibility: a legendary magical cloak, which, when donned, made the wearer invisible; believed to be used by the gods or Sidhe, and sometimes given to a mortal to use.

  colt’s tooth: a strong desire for the opposite gender.

  Columcille (co-lum-kil-li): Patron Saint of the Scots, a.k.a. St. Columba, the Dove. A feisty Northern Niall prince, Columcille could have been a king with his bardic training, but he chose servin’ the Lord instead. His blue blood and bardic tongue and his lifelong effort to remain humble endeared him to the noble, the commoner, and God’s church. The church had to excommunicate the man for taking up the sword at Culdreime’s battle, but he was reinstated later in consideration of his faith, devotion, and genuine contrition. Still, his remorse was such that he imposed exile upon himself from his beloved green Derry to the gray and lifeless island of Iona, off Scotland’s coast.

  His is yet another fine example of how the good Lord can use even a proud hothead to save souls, for Columcille took God’s light to the Scots and Picts. Sure, he named and crowned the first Christian king o’ the place. Later, he did come home to save the bards, decide the sovereignty of Scotland, and build the framework for public, secular, and church education in Ireland. (See Drumceatt, Synod of, and to each cow its own calf for Columcille’s part in the establishment of the first copyright law. Also Baetan and Aidan for the saint’s persuasion by an angel.)

  crannóg: a fortified lake dwelling, usually on man-made island.

  cromlech: a capstone resting on two upright pillar stones, sometimes forming a passage; usually marks a grave of someone of importance—a hero or royalty.

  Cromyn (krah’-min): crooked or bent.

  culcita: a quilt; also a flocked blanket or bed.

  Culdreime, Battle of: What a fight, the culmination of a feud between the Northern Uí Niall (St. Columcille’s kin) and the High King Diarmait in sixth-century Ireland. Even the church got into this donnybrook of a fight. See, full of himself, Diarmait invaded the sanctuary of saint-to-be Columcille’s church and seized a Niall lad accused of killin’ the high king’s nephew in a hurling match at a fair—a mere accident in a dangerous sport by all accounts. Diarmait was defeated, and three thousand men were killed. (Have a gander at Columcille to see what happened to him for his hotheaded involvement. Also see to each cow its own calf to discover another bone the young saint-to-be had to pick with Diarmait.)

  Dalraidi (pl.) (dahl’-rah-dee), Dalraida (sing.) (dahl’-rah-dah): this was an early Ulster clan; some migrated to Scotland in the fifth century, and by the sixth century, sure they ruled it and the latter half of that same period chose their first Christian king, Aidan.

  cumal: female slave; a monetary unit equal to one female slave.

  Dallan (dah’-lan): blind-diminutive of dall.

  DeDana, Tuatha: See Tuatha DeDanan.

  death o
f King of kings: ’Twas recorded in an early druidic historical poem about King Connor MacNessa, a kindly monarch who saw the sun black out on the day o’ Christ’s crucifixion. On finding out the meanin’ of it from his druids, he was so overcome that he attacked the sacred grove of oak, takin’ his passion out upon the trees as it were, and the exertion aggravated an old war wound, killin’ the good-hearted soul. Here was another o’ the legends that paved the way for the comin’ o’ Christianity in the fifth century.

  dergud (dergu): mattress stuffed with feathers, straw, or rush (colcaid; same).

  Dhagda’s legendary music: In the tale of Dhagda (dahg-da), the ancient king of the mythological DeDana, and of Boann (bow-ahn), his wife a goddess of the River Boyne, the significance of music to the lives of me children is plain. The time neared when Boann was to give birth to their sons, and Dhagda was by her side. While she labored, her husband played upon his harp, crying and mourning with her in her agony. When their three boys were born, he plied the strings with notes of laughter and joy, until it was time for her to rest. For that, his fingers brought forth from the instrument lullabies, lulling her to sleep. The new mother was so moved by his music and devotion that she named their sons after it: Goltraighe (crying music), Geantraighe (laughing music), and Suiantraighe (sleeping music).

  So was set the precedent of music’s importance to the heart, the mind, and the soul, like hymns of joy and praise, as well as comfort to life’s pain and, o’ course, lullabies to lure wee ones to sleep.

  Diarmait (der-mot): the high king of Ireland during Battle of Culdreime; Aedh Ainmire was the high king in this book’s setting.

  dillat: A cloth draped over a horse in lieu of saddle. Me children didn’t use saddles early on. They bounded up on the horse, no stirrups. Indeed, the Romans marveled at skills of the Irish horsemen and employed them in Roman ranks.

  dromin (dro-min): a long ridge or hill.

  druid: St. Columba wrote, “My druid is Christ.” Substitute teacher or spiritual leader for druid to catch the drift of his meaning. The sixth-century “druid” was mostly a bard, historian, poet, or musician of the highest order. Them what caused all the troubles leading to almost gettin’ exiled were the black sheep o’ the lot, but even God used them to prompt a new law, making the bards into secular teachers in the first public education system in the world history. (See Drumceatt, Synod of and Columcille, Saint.)