Manannan's Magic (Manannan Trilogy Book 1)

by Michele McGrath

  “But you wouldn’t do anything to him, would you? You can’t really do such things?” I had doubt in my voice, for I remembered a certain night of unexplained magic and the visions in the flames. McLir laughed.

  “You and I know that, but your father doesn’t and neither does anyone else in your village. If people question you about my powers, you need only repeat some of the wilder stories already being told about me. You have been in my company more than anyone else on the island. Anything you say will be listened to and believed. Your father won’t want to chance being turned into a toad, so he will be cautious about provoking me.”

  “If you put it like that, I am certain he will,” I cried, feeling happy. My father is a brave man, but he would never risk danger needlessly. Magic, in any form, makes his skin crawl with dread. If such a rumour circulated, he was most unlikely to put things to the test. So I would be safe – at last.

  I left McLir and Shea reluctantly; but I had to go, so I should not be discovered and the good undone. The journey back seemed even longer than before, for all the light had gone. Everything was darker and I had to move carefully to avoid obstacles. I was fortunate. I got to Sharry’s house with no more than a stubbed toe and a stifled curse to break my journey. Sharry was so exhausted he had not waited up for me. His snores guided me to the beds and I fell down beside him thankfully and went to sleep myself.

  The morning light was pouring in through the doorway, when Margaid came running and woke us up. She screamed into my ear, “Feena spoke to me. Oh, she has spoken to me. She asked me for water. Come quick!” She fell onto her knees and started to weep. I didn’t wait for any more. I scrambled to my feet and raced back home. Mummig’s eyes were open and she recognised me.

  “Renny!”

  “Mummig! How do you feel?”

  “Hungry,” she said. Her voice was weak but clear.

  “I’ll get you something directly.” The broth I brought her was saltier than it should have been, for the tears I had wept into the bowl. She managed to drink a little and even to eat part of a bannock, which was a great relief.

  Later on that morning, Fritha, too, awoke hungry. Sharry and I were overjoyed.

  “We must give the paste to the others who are sick,” he said, “now that we know for sure the cure works.”

  “We must, but it will be far more difficult without being seen.”

  “Between the two of us, we’ll manage somehow,” he said and we did. Both of us went visiting, one to treat the sufferer, the other to distract the carer and anyone else nearby. One by one, we did what we had to do, so no one realised where the cure had come from. Sharry and I worked as never before. We scurried about, baking, grinding and visiting the sick, while still caring for Mummig and Fritha. It took time for the others to respond, because we could not give them the paste so regularly. What we did was suspicious enough, if anyone had thought to ask questions but no one did. Everyone was too tired and stressed to notice anything that wasn’t right under their noses.

  Certain people responded better than others. Some were almost cured, while others still lay near death. However, we had hope now and this gave us new courage and strength. Not long afterwards, Mummig and Fritha were well enough to rise from their beds. They did simple tasks, or sat and watched us while we worked. We rejoiced in the change in them.

  The deathly silence that had gripped the village broke. People now walked briskly and no longer spoke in hushed whispers. The usual hum of noise seemed like beautiful music, which we had missed and never thought to hear again.

  Only one of the sufferers had yet to respond - a young boy called Nele, a friend of my brother’s. He still lay white and unmoving in his bed, his mother watching fearfully by his side. Nele would not lick the paste and he had difficulty swallowing anything.

  “That is part of the problem,” I said to Sharry, when I returned from visiting him. We kept trying, but, in the end, he was one of those for whom time had run out. One night, he slipped away, the last in our village to die that winter.

  As everything began to return to normal, my father and the other men came home more often. It made me think again, about what would happen to me, if Father ever found out that I had defied his orders. A sick chill stayed in the back of my mind, which I could not banish, for all Sharry’s reassurances. He said we were the only ones to know and he would never speak of what we had done, not even to Fritha. I trusted him, I always had, but I still worried, for I had almost forgotten about McLir’s promise.

  Then something strange began to happen. It started with the sideways looks of some of the women as I passed them. One or two began to draw aside from me. They hadn’t done so for weeks now. Conversations would stop, when I came into a hut. At first, I thought I was imagining these things. Then Mian, my first cousin as well as being a good friend, suddenly turned and walked away as I approached him. He had never done such a thing to me before and I wanted to know why he did so now. I ran to catch him up and grabbed him by the arm. He wheeled round and shook me off with an oath.

  “What’s going on, Mian? Why did you turn away from me? Have I done something to offend you?”

  He looked at me as if he had never seen me before.

  “Don’t you know?” His voice was stiff and I caught the undertone of alarm.

  “What don’t I know?” I demanded.

  “The magician, McLir, said if anyone harmed you, he would put a curse on them and change them into something awful.”

  I was about to laugh at him, when I stopped myself. This was exactly what I wanted certain people to believe, so I must not spoil the effect, even with Mian.

  “So that’s why everyone’s been avoiding me! Who told you?”

  “Margaid did, but they’re all talking about it.”

  “Including my father?” I realised I had seen him even less than I usually did.

  Mian nodded. “Oh yes. I was there when they told him.”

  “How did he take the message?” I hid my grin and had a fleeting regret I had not seen him for myself.

  “He didn’t say anything, but his face went bright red and he hurried away.”

  So McLir had been correct and the rumour had flown, as he said it would. My spirits rose. Yet I did not want everyone to be so afraid of me, especially someone like Mian, whom I had always liked.

  “You don’t need to avoid me, Mian, you never did me any harm,” I said, reassuringly.

  “What is harm? I could push or trip you without meaning to. I don’t want to be turned into a toad, thank you!”

  I laughed. “Don’t be so silly.”

  “I’m not.” He glared at me, looking affronted.

  “If you truly meant to hurt me, that’s one thing. If you hurt me by accident, that’s another. McLir understands the difference between the two.”

  “He would, wouldn’t he?” Mian smiled for the first time. “He knows a lot, more than is good for him some say. He even knew how to cure this sickness.”

  “Oh?” I wondered exactly how much Mian knew.

  “Creena’s lot all recovered after he came to their village. They never lost anybody and now everyone’s calling for him to help them too.”

  My heart dropped. I had been so happy to know McLir was nearby and could easily come to me, if I needed him.

  “Has he gone or is he still at Creena’s?” I waited breathlessly for his reply.

  “He went a few days ago, him and his dog. I saw them both leaving. He took the path up into the mountains with a big pack over his shoulder.”

  “So he’s gone.” I struggled to keep the unhappiness out of my voice.

  “Yes, but you needn’t worry. He said that, wherever he was, he’d come right back and get anyone who hurt you.” He looked at me, his eyes puzzled. “Why would he do that for you, Renny? Why are you so important to him?”

  Because of the prophecy, I thought, but I couldn’t tell him about that. I just said, “He cured me and we lived together so long, we became friends.”

&nb
sp; “Only friends? Everyone’s saying...” My face grew red with anger, as I realised what he meant.

  “I don’t care what they’re saying! McLir is my friend and I am his, no more and no less. Isn’t that enough? I’m proud to be his friend.” Fury burned hot within me and I turned and walked away leaving him staring after me. I seethed, but I also had a sudden pang. For the first time indeed, I wished McLir and I had been more than just friends. I loved and respected him, despite the fear his visions caused – the feelings of a woman, not a child.

  I had not recognised the difference before, probably because I was still very young and had been so frightened. I was lonely and sad he was not with me, especially at a time when I needed him. The women in the village never talked of such things in front of me and the other girls. We used to chatter among ourselves, imagining what it would be like to love a man and to lie with him. Would it hurt? Would we bleed? We saw what the animals did, of course, we’d seen them often enough, but wouldn’t people be different? Before she married, Fritha and I used to talk about her wedding night. She looked forward to being with Sharry, but was afraid at the same time. After her wedding, she would not discuss these things with me any more. She knew and I didn’t. She once told me, when I pressed her, that it was wonderful to be in Sharry’s arms, but she wouldn’t say anything else until I got married too.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” she said me, with a grin.

  So I never told her about the tingling sensation I used to have if I pleased McLir and he praised me. I kept silent about the hot blood that rushed up into my cheeks, when I saw him looking in my direction. I never spoke about the confusion I sometimes felt when I thought about him. Nor did I tell her how my nipples tightened, or about the warm feeling I got between my legs. Sometimes I dreamt I lay in McLir’s arms, with his lips kissing mine, but the dream always ended too soon. I woke up itchy with frustration.

  I was different now. I would never be the girl I had been before I fell from the cliff and McLir had saved my life. I had begun to grow up in the sea cave. In the months of sickness that had followed, I had become a woman and I knew it now. I wished with all my heart and soul that McLir and I had indeed been more than friends.

  11

  A sad spring turned into a summer of slow recovery. We missed old Jole, Cissolt, Payl, Cristen and Nele. We all had sorrows with which to come to terms, although I had been one of the lucky ones. Most of those I loved were still alive. Fritha bore her baby, a little girl she called Cara. The birth made her weak, but she was never in danger, and we rejoiced with the new mother and her child. All the same, Cara reminded Fritha far too much of Cristen, who had been so like her at the same age. As a result, Fritha’s face often showed sorrow rather than joy. I had not realised what a large part Fritha played in my life. Her sunny good nature always used to cheer me up, when things went wrong. Now I had to do the same thing for her and it was much harder. Fritha missed Cissolt too. During those days, Sharry and I gave her strength and gradually she became stronger. Verona, her mother, grieved even more and spent many long hours with Mummig, remembering those we had lost. Sometimes they laughed through their tears, reliving the happy times before anything evil had happened.

  I did not have much time to brood. Mummig was still weak, although she got up and tried to help but she tired so easily. On some days, she barely lifted her hand and I did all the tasks she had done before. I tried to do them as she had, but I lacked her skill, experience and tact. Nor was I the only one struggling with new duties. Everyone had more to do. We tried to make up for the wasted weeks, when we had no time for anything but caring for the sick. Yet we were thankful to be able to work. We might easily have been lying under the burial mounds, as they greened slowly in the rain.

  The spring flowers went and the summer ones bloomed. Mummig, at last, took up her spinning wheel again and set a few stitches in her sewing. She looked thin and deep shadows circled her eyes, but she lived and, every day, she gained a little strength.

  The world outside also recovered, as the sickness went away at last. Travellers began to pass by and sometimes they stopped and told us the news. Some of our people visited other villages, as they used to do before, and the markets were being held again. A few traders came, bringing us goods and gossip, which we had sorely missed. We had little to exchange with them, for the spring had been cold, making the crops late. We had to give some of our precious coin for the things we needed. However, no trader was ever grudged his bed and board. I was pleased when they came, because even Mummig and Verona seemed interested in what they brought with them. Both women forgot to be sorrowful for a while. I enjoyed looking at the goods, when the traders’ packs were opened, but I didn’t expect to be given anything. Nothing had been bought just for me before. So I was surprised, when Mummig held out a length of green cloth and asked me if I liked it.

  “Yes, it’s so soft.” I rubbed the fabric against my cheek. The green wool, the colour of new leaves, had been finely woven. We only make rough homespun for ourselves and green is a favourite colour of mine. I know it suits me, because my hair is as red as the bracken for which I am named. I rarely had the chance to wear coloured clothes, because dyeing cloth takes time and effort. More often than not, we don’t bother.

  “This cloth will make you a fine dress,” Mummig said with a wink at Verona. She is the best seamstress in the village and works beautiful embroidery, when she has the chance.

  “A new dress, for me?” I gasped with astonishment. I almost never had new clothes. Like most of the women, I usually wore hand-me-downs. In my case, they were mostly Brede’s. Some of her things had been judged too old and shabby to go to her new home when she married.

  “Yes. For you to wear at Lughnasa.”

  “Oh!” I let the cloth slip as my fingers turned nerveless and all my joy disappeared. How had I forgotten? The thought sickened me. I walked straight out of the house, not realising I had done so, until Mummig called after me.

  “Renny!”

  I stopped and turned, but I didn’t really see her. My eyes and my mind were numb with shock and apprehension.

  “I want to speak to you, Renny. Come where we can be alone together.” I glanced at her and nodded, knowing I had little choice. Then I took her arm and we went to her favourite spot on the riverbank. She used to sit there and watch us play as children. We sat down on a fallen log and I waited for her to speak, although I dreaded her words.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you ever since you came home. But so much happened it never seemed to be the right time.”

  “What about, Mummig?” My heart sank, for I guessed what she wanted to tell me. Normally a mother speaks to her daughter months before Lughnasa, so everything is decided and in order for the celebration. Because of my absence and her sickness, of course, this had not been possible for us. Nothing was the same this summer.

  “We are in the month of Jerree Sourey and Lughnasa is fast approaching, as you know. You have already turned sixteen and this is the time your father and I expected you to become hand-fasted.”

  “But surely hand-fasting can’t take place now Father Peddyr is dead?” Father Peddyr believed in what he preached and, when he became sick himself, he had the courage of his convictions. He refused all help and paid the price for his beliefs. I did not mourn his passing and I thought the usual ceremonies would not happen, for want of a priest. Apparently, I was wrong.

  “Father Tomas sent to tell us he will come to us as soon as he’s finished in the west. He’ll baptise the children, say prayers for the dead and hand-fast yourself and the others.”

  “Oh.”

  “So your father asked me to speak with you. Weren’t you expecting me to?” I could tell she was surprised I had not mentioned it. Usually hand-fasting is in the forefront of every young girl’s mind at this time. I should have remembered. I was the right age, but so much had occurred to make me forget.

  Lughnasa comes after the harvest, when we celebrate the safe gath
ering of the crops with feasts and dances. I was still too tired and too sad to think of my future, but people are different. Perhaps some young man considered me a woman ready to be married.

  “So many have died and there has been so much to do.” I excused myself to her.

  Mummig sighed. “Life must go on. Children must be born, to replace the dead we all loved and will never forget. You know that. It would give me comfort to see you settled with a good man and bearing his children, as Brede is doing. I don’t fear for Conal, but this winter made me realise I may not always be here. I don’t want you left alone in your father’s house.” I shuddered at the thought and I agreed with her wholeheartedly.

  “Has anyone asked for me?” I ran the faces of the available young men through my mind, and I could not imagine whom it might be. Mian was the only one I even liked, but he’s my cousin and he’s been hand-fast to Onnee for over two years. They would be wed before this winter came. As a child, I’d played all the games that foretell your future and I’d seen the usual omens in the flames and in the waters. So many, in fact, I no longer believed in these superstitions and disregarded them. In my case, the games had never been anything more than looking, wondering, and playing tricks, as all girls do. Most of the boys in our village were either much older and already spoken for, or younger, like Conal and his friends. Before my accident, some young men had watched me, as I had watched them. We all knew the time of choosing was getting nearer. But I seemed to have been living in another world since then. Since I returned home, I had not looked again and I was not aware of anyone looking at me. The rumour that I was under McLir’s protection had spread. Even fewer men spoke to me and most of them avoided my eyes, as well as my shadow.

  “Keir asked your father for you yesterday.” My mother broke into my tumbling thoughts.