by Heidi Hanley
He pulled the wool kilt out of his pack and sat down, patting the space beside him. When she was settled, he covered them both with the kilt.
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the rain and occasional claps of thunder. Meditative breathing relaxed her enough to help her appreciate the tranquility of her shelter and the cool, earthy smell of the drenched ground. Then she felt a hairy spider on her shoulder and yelped. Silas swept it away.
“I hope no other family members are waiting to pounce.”
“I hardly think spiders are capable of pouncin’, milady. But if it will take your mind off the thought, perhaps you’d care to tell me the story of King Arthur and his lusty queen.”
“I’ve told you that story. Besides, why am I the one telling all the stories today? Isn’t that your job?”
“I’m tired.”
“What! Do you think I’m not?”
He gave her leg a conciliatory pat. “Come on, Briana. I love to hear you tell tales.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, secretly happy that they had this time alone to tell stories. “Once upon a time, a king built the perfect kingdom. It only rained at night.”
“For sure they didn’t live in Uisneach,” he interrupted, staring out at the downpour.
“Do you want the story or not?”
“Please, continue.”
“The king was good to his subjects, made good laws, provided for his people and protected them from outsiders. All was perfect except that he needed a queen. He knew of a woman, the daughter of another king, and took a hankering to making her his wife. The woman was brought to Camelot to marry Arthur and they did fall in love.”
“That’s nice,” he said, gruffly.
She smiled. “But then this drop-dead gorgeous French knight shows up and Guinevere falls in love with him.”
“Sounds like a fickle lass, if you ask me.”
“You know very well, Silas, the heart goes where it will. Now, be quiet and let me finish.”
She wound a tale of love and intrigue that was far too reminiscent of their own story.
“So, what happened to her?”
“There are many endings, depending on who’s telling the story, but it seems she ended up in a nunnery.”
“And here we are going to an abbey.”
“Can we please not make any comparisons between Camelot and our own circumstances?”
Aldebaran snorted and they laughed. “He agrees,” Silas said.
Silence followed until Briana said, “Are we going to be here a while?”
“Maybe, why?”
“I have another story I want to tell you, actually, a dream.” She shivered and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling the fabric snug around them both. “Before I went through the tree, I had this recurring dream about being on a battlefield in a place like Uisneach. I was hiding in some trees and I saw a man with red hair coming at me with a sword and a crown.” She felt Silas shudder but he remained silent. “I didn’t know if he was a good guy or a bad guy. I was going to fight him, but he seemed to be trying to help me. Then I saw a blonde-haired man and wanted to follow him, but before I could, I was attacked and stabbed by a man in a gray uniform. He was just about to strike again when I woke up. I thought the dreams kept occuring because I spent a lot of time…” She stopped.
“Spent a lot of time what?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“I promise not to laugh.”
“I had these action figures, uh, kind of like dolls. “A king and queen, several warriors, a dragon and…” She paused and looked at him. “And an archer.”
“Hmm…”
“He meant something to me, something beyond what he should have.”
He cocked his head.
She held his gaze and swallowed. “I talked to him. I imagined us as lovers. He was the reason I never could connect with any other guy.”
Silas didn’t bat an eye. “It was me you were waitin’ for.”
“Yes, and now I see it was a premonition of what was to come. But Silas, the archer always walked away. And the man with the crown always came to me and tried to give it to me.”
“You never saw yourself take it?”
“No, but maybe that was because I wasn’t ready to make that choice.”
He took her hand underneath the kilt. “Are you now?”
“I am, Silas. I must.”
He nodded, staring out at the dismal field of rain and fog.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, quietly.
“We’ll both hurt, a mhuirnin, but it will get easier in time. I hope.”
They stopped talking for several minutes, just letting the stark reality of their future lay lonely between them.
“Thank you for not laughing,” she finally said.
“Aye, well, I can’t say I talked to any dollies, but I always knew someone waited for me.”
“And here I am, but promised to someone else.”
He gave her a wry look. “Maker has a warped sense of humor to make the woman I fall in love with the Mouse of Prophecy.”
“He must be a sick bastard.”
“Hush, Briana. Don’t say such a thing.”
“What, you think I’ll be struck by lightning?”
A terrifying crack of thunder and jagged line of lightning rent the sky. They both jumped. Briana laughed but Silas shuddered. “It’s no jokin’ matter, Briana.”
She burrowed deeper into his body for warmth. “Let’s stop talking about it and just be grateful for this time, which is likely the last time we’ll ever be alone.”
Close to him and warm, the patter of rain and lack of sleep lulled her into a light doze, though not so deeply she couldn’t hear him humming, then softly singing.
“Your heartbeat and mine, solace we find, next to the firelight.
Feathers and ivy, the ties that bind, shine in the moonlight.
Your arms, they hold me, while holding a line, in ruins at twilight.
Stay here, my heart, don’t leave me lonely, forever in midnight.
Unbroken, one soul, given forever. Unbroken, one life, living together
You ask will I wait, I promise I will. If you’ll only remember.”
All too soon, the sun broke through scattered clouds and their respite ended. Silas gently nudged her awake. “We’ve got to go, a mhuirninIf we hurry, we can make the abbey by dinnertime.”
He took them back in the woods where they would be less visible, should any Gray Military be on the hunt. Sunbeams dappled the forest, making the rain-drenched tree limbs sparkle. Residual clouds of mist floated by, wildwood spectral journeyman on their last breath. An odd peace surrounded Briana and Silas. Talking seemed irreverent somehow, but occasional, half-formed thoughts wafted between them, memories of lovely moments shared, worries of what was to come, vows they meant to keep.
The path they followed wound around a pond and through flowering rowan trees at the edge of another opening. Silas pulled up sharply on Aldebaran’s reins. Stay quiet, Briana. Do you see that?
She wasn’t sure what to be more shaken by: the abbey that stood in front of them, or the line of gray-uniformed warriors that surrounded it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Shannon Abbey
Silas backed Aldebaran into the trees to camouflage them while they watched the regiment.
“Shannon Abbey is supposed to be a protected sanctuary,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I don’t understand how Shamwa’s men are able to get this close.” A woman cloaked in religious vestments appeared. She talked with a man in a hooded cloak near the front of the abbey. “I can’t tell who he is. Probably Artanin, but I can’t be sure.” He turned to Briana. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She felt confused and wobbly, as though she had one foot in one world and one foot in another. “I don’t know how this is possible, but I have – had – a picture of this place hanging in my bedroom in Maine.”
“Are you sure, Brian
a? I imagine most abbeys look similar.”
The limestone cruciform abbey surged out of the green earth enshrouded in mist, ghostly. The rectangular main part intersected with two matching arms, with a tall square tower spired up out of the middle. The part of the church that housed the altar, with its three long windows, was much grander now than in her world and time, when it had fallen into a sad state of disrepair. It was larger now, too, because of the rooms and walkways around the cloister, none of which remained in her time. Archways and buttresses were ornately carved with symbols and geometric designs, a beautiful piece of architecture that had absolutely no reason to be in Uisneach. Smoke spiraled up from chimneys, its woody scent drifting over the landscape to Briana and Silas.
“No, it’s exactly the same, except this one is intact and the picture I have is of ruins. I fell in love with it when we went to Ireland. I didn’t understand why it meant so much to me, but it called to my soul.” Resting her forehead against her hand, she willed herself not to cry.
The abbey was situated on a plain so much like the one in Tipperary, she expected to find the Rock of Cashel behind it. The hill was there, all right, but Cashel didn’t exist, just as this building standing in front of her should not exist. On top of the mound stood the most magnificent circle of standing stones she’d ever seen. Some of them stood thirty feet tall with none less than fifteen feet high. Eight in all, she assumed to mark solstices and equinoxes. She could only shake her head in disbelief.
“Listen, Briana. We’ll figure it out, but at the moment, we’ve a bigger problem. As long as those men are guardin’ the abbey, we’re stuck.”
They watched as the woman and man carried on a heated discussion. Then the woman turned and went inside.
“Hmmm… will you look at that? Whatever she said, they’re leavin’.”
In fact, the hooded man, (Artanin, she was sure), gave orders, and the troop began to march away from the abbey to the northeast, past the standing monoliths and down the other side of the hill.
“We’ll stay here a while, to be sure no one comes back,” he said.
Waiting gave Briana time to absorb the shock of seeing Hore Abbey, Shannon Abbey in this world, resurrected in perfect glory.
“I think it’s safe.” He pulled his bow around in front of him and reached for an arrow. “Just in case,” he responded, to her questioning eyes.
They wasted no time getting across the field, still wet from the rain. Silas tied Aldebaran to a post. Before they could knock on the door, it opened, and a petite woman in a gray habit greeted them. “Come in! Oh my gracious, what’s happened to you?” she said, taking in Briana’s somewhat bedraggled appearance.
“Thank you,” Silas answered. “Is there a stable for my horse?”
“Of course. Sister Deidre will tend to him when she goes to feed our little Nellie.”
“Thank you, Sister. I’ll go down with her and tend to my animal.”
They stepped into a vestibule. Briana put a hand to her mouth. A peat fire burned in the small fireplace, with rushes lighting the walls. Adornment was minimal, but so beautifully crafted that it needed nothing other than the occasional carving along a lintel or archway. She stared in fascination as Silas related their circumstances to the woman who’d introduced herself as Sister Clare. Briana wondered why he hadn’t been more circumspect, but he seemed confident.
“You are welcome here. We shall not worry about Lord Shamwa as this is a place of peace, protected by the Maker. He and his minions will never come to the abbey. Let’s get you dry, fed and rested. You both look about done in.”
Briana and Silas exchanged glances.
Are you nervous about the nun’s wee lie? asked Briana.
Uh huh. But we’ll follow along and see what happens. I hope nothin’ till we’re fed.
At least you have your priorities straight, she said, wryly.
The tiny woman hustled them along the passageway. Silas leaned over to whisper to Briana, “The poor lady is going to think you’re a mute if you don’t say somethin’.”
Rolling her eyes in embarrassment, she said, “Sister Clare, I’m sorry for my poor manners. I seem to have been overcome by this beautiful place. We’re grateful for your help.”
The girl stopped in mid-stride and smiled broadly. “Not to worry, milady. I thought you looked a wee bit gobsmacked. The abbey affects some people that way.” She turned back and continued down the walkway, leaving Briana to stare at Silas.
Gobsmacked?
Aye, well, she probably hasn’t been a servant of the Maker her whole life.
They were taken to rooms and advised they would be collected in an hour for supper and to meet the abbess.
“We must go to our prayers, but you shall have dry clothes in a few minutes. You can rest a while, until I come for you.”
“Thank you, Sister,” Briana said, before going into the room and shutting the door behind her.
The room was small and sparsely furnished with a narrow bed and plain wooden table and chair. A homey fire crackled away in the hearth, suffusing her body with its warmth. She wandered to a small window which looked out over the stones. It looked so different without the massive castle of the high kings of Ireland commandeering the hill.
Silas? Are you warm enough? I’ve got a lovely fire going in here.
Aye, I think we took their rooms. Very kind, these religious people.
A knock at the door stalled their conversation. An older woman, dressed in the same garb as the others, with hair the color of carrots, shuffled in, with a more spiritual demeanor than Sister Clare. “Hello,” Briana said. The nun handed her a garment that matched the one she wore. “I’m Lady Briana.”
“I’m Sister Enda. You may use this robe while your clothes are drying. Would you like me to take them for you?”
“Oh, no. I can hang them over this chair next to the fire, and they’ll dry in no time.”
The woman nodded. “Just don’t set them too close. We can’t have the place catching fire.”
“No, of course not. I’ll be careful.”
The woman left briskly, offering no other instructions or friendly chit chat. Once the door closed, Briana shed the wet clothes and after arranging them over the chair, stood naked in front of the fire, allowing the heat to pull the chill from her body.
Briana?
Silas! What are you doing? She instinctively reached for the robe before she realized he couldn’t see her. She heard him chuckle.
I was going to ask you not to laugh when you see what I’m wearin’. Some kind of religious robe. I look ridiculous.
A vision rose up in her mind and she smiled, feeling the slight pinch to her midsection. Ouch.
I said no laughing.
Rap… rap… rap. She knew it was Silas and opened the door. Laughing was the last thing she wanted to do. Druid he was, sexy and a bit intimidating. She wondered whether to ravish him or kneel before him.
“My goodness, Silas, there’s nothing funny about how you look. I’m thinking you should conduct a ritual and sacrifice a virgin or something.”
He shivered. “I don’t find that funny.”
“Hmm. Now that you mention it, I agree. Not funny at all.”
“I’m takin’ Aldebaran to the stables. I’ll meet you later.”
Sister Deidre, a plump young woman who hardly looked like a stable hand, arrived beside him, Sister Clare, right behind her.
“Are you ready, sir?”
“Lead the way, Sister.”
Sister Clare took Briana to the dining room, where she waited alone. Briana explored the room and catalogued every aspect of it in her mind. Silas and Deidre returned, along with the other five sisters, who’d gathered for the evening meal. They were introduced to Sister Chloe, Sister Colleen, and Sister Ambrosia. The door behind them opened again and the abbess entered the room, shrouded in the folds of a hooded white vestment, the cowl pulled up over her head, preventing Briana and Silas from seeing her face clearly. The sisters a
ll stood until the woman waved them to sit. She came to stand in front of Silas and Briana, her face hidden in shadow. Briana felt something oddly familiar about the woman and nearly collapsed when the woman slid back the hood. She looked like Cailleach’s twin.
“I greet you, Lady Briana, and Silas of Cedarmara. I am Mother Ealga, the abbess of Shannon Abbey.” Seeing their shock, she knit her brows together. “She hasn’t told you about me.”
“She… did tell… me about… you,” Briana stammered. “She failed to mention you are twins.”
“No, not twins, but we certainly did look alike. Do we still?”
Briana nodded.
The abbess sighed. “What brings you to Shannon Abbey?”
Don’t say anything about the Grays. Let’s see if she tells us, said Silas.
“The lass got herself lost,” Silas said, casually. “I found her near-drowned, and this was the closest place we could come for shelter. We mean to catch up with the lord marshall and the king’s troops.”
“Is King Brath revived?”
“No, but we mean to do so, as soon as we reach Ard Darach. We hope to rely on your hospitality for a meal and a good night’s rest. We’ll be off in the morning.”
“Of course. The sisters and I will be happy to help in any way we can,” the abbess said, smiling.
Do you think she’s sincere? Briana asked Silas.
I honestly don’t know what to think just yet. I do wonder why she hasn’t mentioned the Grays.
The abbess was much like Cailleach, not only in appearance – they shared the same storm-gray eyes, cream-and-earth skin and salt-and-pepper hair – but also in attitude and presence. There was a commanding quality, a palpable sense of power, common to the two women, inviting respect and deference from others. The anchorites obviously held her in high regard, attending her with the reverence of those who feel called to sacred and honorable service. It was only after they received some kind of consent from her, which Briana missed, that food was served.
“I’m starvin’,” Silas declared, the moment the savory scent wafting into the room.