“I thank you, but I think not. We arrived at a time of mourning and, if I can’t help you, I prefer not intrude further than is needed. With your permission, I’ll leave you now, so you may be alone with the others who share your grief. Shea, follow me.”
He smiled at me and strode out of the village, back the way we had come, Shea walking at his heel. I did not watch them go. If I had, I might have burst into tears and I did not want to let the other women see me weep.
“Renny!”
“Fritha!” She stood a little apart from me, as if she was afraid to approach – and she is my closest friend! I hesitated, unsure what to do for a moment. Then I did as I had always done, I smiled at her and ran forward. She gave me a huge smile in return and came forward to wrap her arms around my neck.
“Oh I have missed you,” I said, smelling the sweet oil she always uses on her hair.
“I missed you too. You’ve been gone for such a long time.”
“I couldn’t come before. I only started walking properly, without a stick, two weeks ago.”
She tucked her arm through mine. “Well I’m glad you’re here now.”
I wondered if Fritha might be alone in thinking that way. I glanced at the other women. Most of their faces had tightened, as if they did not wish me to find out what they were thinking. Few of them looked welcoming, and one or two turned away, so I would not speak to them. Others hung back, looking fearful, as Lilee had done, and my temper rose.
“Look at me!” I yelled at them. “I’m Renny, not some changeling! You’ve known me all my life! I’m the same person as I’ve always been.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Old Iney stepped forward, interrupting me. “You’ve lived with him since then!” she said, pointing to McLir’s retreating back. She’s an argumentative old biddy who is always making trouble, and I don’t like her.
“So what?” It was a childish rudeness, but at least I didn’t stick my tongue out at her, as I used to do. Perhaps I am growing up at last.
“How do we know what he’s done to you, after all this time?”
“He’s cured me, cared for me, and brought me home. That’s all he’s done. Isn’t that enough?”
“You never know what people like him are up to!”
“I do! Look at my leg!” I thrust it out in front of her nose. “The bone’s straight. I can walk on it. If I’d been here, I’d be a cripple by now. I’ll always be grateful he found me and made me well.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but we had no time for more. A thin cry sounded from inside the house and startled us.
“Feena’s awake.” Verona came over and gave me a small push. “Go in to her now. Tell her I’ll be with her in a minute. Her heart will be eased when she knows you’re back and safe.”
So I went into the place that had been my home. It seemed strange to me now. It was dark and full of smoke from the smouldering fire. The air in the cave had been so clear. The tumbled beds, piled against the walls, smelled sour. The air was stale, in spite of the draught blowing in through the open door. I was never aware of either the smell or the darkness when I lived here before. I noticed it now and gagged. I groped my way forward, to the place where my parents always slept. My eyes were blinded by the dimness, after the brightness of the day outside.
“Mummig?” I called to her softly.
“Renny? Is that really you?”
“Yes, Mummig, I’m here.”
“Oh, thank God!” Her hands reached out for me and pulled me close. Her grip was weak and I felt wetness on her cheeks. After a little while, she asked me, “How are you?”
“I’m well. I only ache when I walk too far.” I actually felt exhausted by the long journey and the sudden emotion but I tried to conceal my tiredness from her. For once, she did not question me searchingly, which alarmed me even more.
“Does your leg ache now?” was all she asked.
“A little, nothing for you to worry about, but, Mummig, you’re never sick; I didn’t expect to find you like this.”
She sighed, and I had to strain to hear her words. “I helped to nurse Jole and I must be wearier than I thought to take the sickness from him.”
I started to reply when Verona came up to us and motioned me away. I stood up reluctantly, although I could see how tired my mother was. I left her and went to put my bundle next to my usual sleeping place. Verona joined me soon enough and she led me outside, where we were able to talk without Mummig overhearing.
“How is she? Tell me the truth.”
“She’s weak. She’s taken the sickness badly.”
“How long has she been like this?”
“Several days. She’ll be worse before she’s better. ”
“Has anyone told Brede what’s happened to her?”
“I sent Keir two days ago, but she can’t come, of course, because of the baby.”
I nodded. Brede must be due to give birth anytime now. She would have to have her baby without my mother’s help and encouragement. What a time for Mummig to fall sick!
“If Mummig is so ill, why did you stop McLir from seeing her? He understands more about sickness than all the rest of us put together.”
“I couldn’t let him go near her. Someone would be sure to tell Oshin as soon as he got back, most likely that Iney. You know what your father’s like, Renny, without me having to tell you. He won’t ask any stranger for help, especially one banned by the church. He hates anything he doesn’t understand. Frankly, I didn’t dare. I don’t want to feel the weight of his fist, even if you do. He’s not been in the best of moods, since the message came about where you had got to. I know you couldn’t avoid what happened to you or who rescued you but asking that man to help Feena would give Oshin all the excuse he needed to beat us both. Feena only has the ague. She’s been sick before and she’ll be again, as we all have. You had the ague yourself, two years ago, remember? It’s nasty but not serious. I didn’t send for you because Feena’s on her deathbed. I sent the message because she wouldn’t rest, not knowing where you were and how you are. The thought’s been preying on her mind for months. It’s one less thing for her to worry about, now she knows you’re back and able to walk again.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. You can help me care for her. I’ve got more than enough to do with all the others.”
“Others? What others?” The fear came back into my voice.
“Cissolt and Cristen.”
“Oh Verona, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?” I put my arms round her thin shoulders and hugged her. After a moment, she stiffened and pulled away from me. Cissolt’s her eldest daughter. She is married to Jole’s son, Payl, and Cristen is their only child.
Verona sighed. “There was time enough to tell you about them, once you’d seen your mother. Cissolt and Payl helped me when old Jole was bad. As a result, they caught the ague themselves and passed it on to the baby. It spreads so fast. That’s why we buried Jole without waiting for the others to return. No doubt, it’ll be my turn next!” She gave a hollow laugh, which didn’t ring true.
“Don’t say that!”
“I’d be glad of the rest, if you want the truth. My family are a demanding lot when they’re sick.”
“Aren’t the other women helping you?”
“Oh, they get off their backsides sometimes, if someone gives them a job to do.”
“Well, I’m here now and I’m ready to help.”
“A pity you know nothing about sickness.”
“I understand far more now than I did before, that’s for sure. I had to do something while I was away, and I learned all sorts of things from McLir.”
“Ssh!” Verona gave a quick glance around to find out who might be near enough to overhear. Fortunately, we were alone. “Don’t ever say anything like that. Don’t let your father find out!”
“No one’s with me but you.”
“If anyone else did overhear, you stupid child, they’d take great delight in run
ning to him with the tale. If he ever hears about it, I pity you. Keep your mouth shut and say as little as possible, if you know what’s good for you.”
She had given me the same advice as McLir. They were both right and I would be foolish not to obey. My father proved the truth of their words immediately, when he returned later that evening.
“Where is she?” Conal, hearing the news I was back, ran through the house and threw himself into my arms. There was no hesitation from him! I hugged his wiry little body, holding him close. I realised that, in spite of his constant mischief, how much I had missed the young scamp. Conal has always been able to make me laugh.
Oshin followed hard on his heels, so I set Conal aside and rose to meet him.
“Ayr? Father?” I could not see him properly in the gloom as he came towards me.
“So you’re back, are you? About time too!” He peered at me closely, as if he had never seen me before. “Taken you long enough.”
“I could not come earlier. My leg …”
But he showed no interest in my leg or in me. He frowned.
“Now you’re here you can make yourself useful. Verona’s got enough to do with her own lot, without looking after your mother as well.”
“I’m happy to take care of her.”
“Good. Make sure you do a proper job of it, for once in your life.”
I stood looking at him for a moment, appalled by his greeting, after so long a time apart. I had forgotten the constant need to avoid him I had learned as a small child. I had never had to think about such things in the cave and freedom from fear had made me careless. He loomed above me now, scowling with displeasure.
“What are you waiting for?” he growled and raised his hand to me. I scurried away to be out of his reach, before the blow could land. A black cloud of unhappiness descended on me, part fear and part hatred of the man who had always ruled my life. I had never been without this unhappiness, when I had lived here, but I had been happy while I lived peacefully in the cave. Now the darkness came back all at once like a stabbing pain, stronger than ever before. I had truly returned to my home.
8
The sickness wasn’t the winter ague. We knew that long before baby Cristen died. No one had ever seen such a sickness before. We did not find out it was some sort of plague for a long time. People had started to fall ill just after the solstice. It started in the south of the island. The plague had spread northward, like an evil wave, engulfing settlement after settlement. Travellers, who passed through our village fleeing the infection, told us it was raging everywhere.
The sickness starts as if it is a winter cold, and then gets worse. The victims have throbbing headaches and their bodies begin to pain them so much, they find any movement hard. Although we tried every remedy we knew to relieve their agony, we failed to do so. The sickness seems to halt for a few days and then changes. People become unable to eat and their skin is yellow and waxy. After that happens, they die a few days later. Some people are stronger and linger on; others just fade away in front of your eyes. The babies and the old ones died first, as usual. They are always the weakest, but no one was immune, especially those who nursed the sick.
Although we all feared the sickness, we had no choice but to carry on. None of us shirked the tasks we had to do. I don’t think we could have lived with ourselves afterwards. No one deserted our friends and kin. The sick were people we had known all our lives. We had loved or quarrelled with them and even hated some. That did not matter. When you are faced every day with such an evil, the small annoyances seem to fade away. I now had to care for a number of people I always disliked, including horrible old Iney. I did so willingly, because a suffering body is a suffering body. I won’t say I wished she were well enough to curse me, as she used to do. I hoped for a quick end to all the silent suffering. I wasn’t the only one who prayed to be spared, for myself and for those I loved.
I remembered the tales the old ones told of the great sickness which raged through the island in my great grandfather’s time. It killed half the people who lived in our village. Life became much harder for those who had survived. There weren’t enough people to do the work that always has to be done. Some fields are still lying fallow today - they have never been tilled since that time. Plague is something we always dread, for the sickness brings both death and starvation in its wake. The plague was upon us now.
The day after I returned to the village and in the days that followed, I took my turn with the other women. I tended my mother and the others who were ill. I prepared meals, washed clothes and kept the fires blazing against the bitter weather. Caring for the sick has always been the job of the older women in our community. As more of them became ill, the younger girls had to take their places. I was no longer allotted the simple duties I had done before I left. I was expected to do the work of a grown woman. I did my best, but nobody had time to show me how to do some of the tasks properly. I made a mess of them, until I learned the right way to carry them out. I went to sleep each night exhausted, too tired even to dream. I awoke in the morning almost as weary as I lay down.
For one thing, I was grateful. My father and most of the other men kept their distance, as much as possible. They busied themselves with fishing and looking after the beasts or preparing the fields for the spring sowing. They did any kind of work, which kept them away from the sadness, and the stench of sick people. So my father did not see my mistakes, nor did he take me to task for them. He took my brother Conal and the other lads off with him. I was grateful they were out of the way and not in danger. Yet, without their noisy presence, silence lay over the village like a shroud. It seemed to be a place only for the dead and dying. We had become a community of females, who looked at each other each morning, as we counted those of us who were left to carry on.
I found it hard to bring myself to touch the moaning bodies and smell the foul scent of the illness. In those wretched days, I left my childhood behind me forever. I ceased thinking the things a child thinks and learned, for the first time, to think like a woman. I began to realise, too, the true worth of my mother. All my life she had made our community work together for the common good. She sheltered us from my father’s rages, patched up quarrels and created much of the prosperity that had been ours.
At the beginning, Verona tried to take her place, but she had her own worries. Cristen, her beloved first grandchild, was gone. She had no time to mourn him, for Cissolt, her daughter, was so ill and needed her desperately. I wondered, each day, how she managed to keep going, but she dragged herself about to do her tasks as usual.
One by one, other people began to die, although my mother, thank God, was one of those who lingered. She found a strength I did not realise she had and hung on to her life. I feared for her, but I still had hope. Then came an unexpected blow.
“Not Fritha!” I had a sudden picture of my friend’s face, as I had seen her last summer, laughing in the sunlight, her golden hair shining around her like the halo of a saint. “What about her baby?”
“If she dies, we’ll try to save the child. But she’s not far enough gone for the little thing to live.” Verona wiped her face wearily as she told me. I shuddered at the sudden vision of knives slitting open Fritha’s belly to release her baby. The child would be born to a woman already dead. We would have to do it, to give the babe a chance, although we both realised it was hopeless. With difficulty, I shook off the vivid picture and looked into Verona’s drawn face.
“Fritha never ails...” I started to say, but she interrupted me.
“Before you came back, when Cristen was so ill, Fritha helped Cissolt and me to nurse him. Sharry asked her not to, for the sake of her own baby, but she insisted. You know how close Fritha and Cissolt are and how much we all loved Cristen.” Tears ran down her cheek and she let them fall, uncaring.
“I know,” I said, weeping too. Cissolt and Fritha loved each other as much as I loved my own sister Brede.
“How bad is she?”
“
Not bad yet. Her illness has only just started. Cissolt is far worse.” I nodded. Cissolt had been one of the first to contract the disease and she slipped away from us with every passing day. She, too, was with child. She fought with all her might to stay alive for Payl, her husband and to bring this new baby into the world. But weakness and grief for her lost Cristen were overcoming her strength, and she sank lower and lower. She barely drank any more, and the few words she spoke were tortured whispers. The next day, she slipped away, giving only a tiny sigh. I hovered in the background, waiting beside Margaid and some of the other women. Verona would never have the strength to do to her own daughter what had to be done.
Sadly, Cissolt’s poor baby was too young to survive his mother’s death, although Margaid cut him from her alive. He gave a single gurgling cry, as we poured water on him, claiming him for God. I think his soul already lay safely in Our Lord’s arms. We buried them together, the mother and her child, on a day when even the clouds wept grey tears. Payl would not tear himself away from the grave and remained behind as we went back to the village. He would not leave and no one had the heart to make him. I will always remember him like that, kneeling beside the mound of new turned earth. The rain sluiced off his shoulders and poured down his face, mingling with his tears. Not long afterwards, he, too, sickened in his turn and he died with a shocking swiftness. I believed he had no strength left to fight against the infection. His world had gone and he just wanted to be with those he had loved most upon this earth. I understood how he felt, although I and all the others tried so hard to save him. He was a young man and died far too soon.
Cissolt’s death affected us all, but Verona was distraught. She would sit looking into the fire, taking no notice of what was happening around her. Her mind was lost in her memories and she could not find a way back to the real world. She seemed to have no knowledge of what we did or said to her. She even forgot she had another daughter who lay sick. Verona had always been such a strong capable woman. I cried to see her so diminished. We did not tell Fritha about her sister’s death. We did not dare. She was already grieving for Cristen, whom she adored. We were afraid that the news of Cissolt’s passing would make her give up her own fight. Sharry, Fritha’s husband, defied the fear of infection and stayed beside her. He held her hand and lifted her in his arms whenever we needed to wash or change her wraps. He did not believe the girl he loved was being taken away from him. We warned him he would be likely to catch the sickness himself, as Payl had done, if he stayed with her. But he said,
Manannan's Magic (Manannan Trilogy Book 1) Page 7