by Mia Pride
Chapter 19
(Ériu- Ireland)
The journey from Alba to Ériu had taken slightly more than four hours with men taking turns rowing throughout the day. Fortunately, the waters were calm and the men were experienced rowers, making the trip uneventful, which pleased Clarice. Life had been much too complicated for her and she welcomed the new changes.
Jeoffrey seemed anxious to be on his homeland again, not certain how he would be greeted as the son of Elim. Clarice felt confident that the new High King would not have called for him to join their ranks if he did not value Jeoffrey as a man of honor. Still, as they arrived on Ériu’s rocky sea shore and proceeded to travel west toward their destination of Ráth Mór, the large hillfort Tuathal and his wife had built to house their large family and all their combined tuatha after the battle, Clarice was also anxious to arrive and get settled into their new life.
The land journey had been more than double the sea journey, but within less than a day, they had arrived in their new home. The weather had been blessedly cooperative with only small showers sprinkling down on them in the early morning. By afternoon, the thicker clouds had been swept away by the sun’s rays and Clarice welcomed the warmth and scents of the Ériu summer.
The large iron gates loomed above them, larger than any other gates Clarice had ever seen. “Mama! Papa! This tuath is very big,” Wee Jeoffrey observed as he sat in front of his uncle Alastar on his horse. “And my arse hurts.” He rubbed his backside and winced.
“Och Wee, Jeoff. Do not speak that way,” Clarice reprimanded with a waggle of her finger.
“But, Uncle Alastar said it the entire journey!”
Alastar shrugged and laughed. “Well, my arse does hurt!”
“Are you ever serious, Alastar?” Clarice asked with a laugh and playful whap at his arm.
“Never, my lady.” She was going to correct him for calling her a lady. She was only a serf after all. But nay, she was now the proud wife of Jeoffrey Mac Conrach, the noble born warrior and hero of the Battle of Ériu. She was proud of her husband and all he had come through to be here now, preparing to serve the new High King.
“Eoin and his men arrive, my king!” a shout rang out from a warrior standing guard high above the gates on a platform overlooking the view. Five strong guards with matching long lime-bleach plaits stood tall before them, unmoving as they held blue and red shields in their left hand and spears in their right.
Jeoffrey shifted nervously behind her on their borrowed black horse and she put a hand on his thigh to reassure him. “Are you worried about meeting the king? Or about seeing Treasa again?” she asked, looking over her shoulder with a raised brow. Och, she could not help but tease him for his past transgression, but in truth, she only felt a strong interest in meeting the lass whom Jeoffrey had once believed himself to be in love with. Rubbing the slight protrusion of her belly where his child grew, she knew his loyalty was to her and his children. He had proven his love for her many times over and she would never dare dishonor his sacrifices by questioning his love.
He snorted derisively and looked down at her with a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. “Behave, wife,” he chided. “I shift because my arse also hurts…and aye, I am nervous to meet Tuathal Techtmar. But I am interested in seeing Treasa and do wish her well. She was a great companion to me at a time when I needed it most.”
“I know, love,” she patted his thigh again and looked straight ahead as the gates of Ráth Mór creaked open for them. Her heart pounded overtime. She prayed to all the gods that they had made a smart decision joining Tuathal’s ranks. There was nothing left for them in Alba, anyhow. Would she make any new female companions? Would she and Treasa get on well? Maggie had quickly become a great companion to her, having been the only other woman on their boat with a score of men. She hoped dearly to fit in well and settle down once and for all.
When the gates were fully open, the largest man Clarice had ever seen stood before them wearing a large pelt of fur on his shoulders and an even larger grin on his face. By the gods, he was excessively large. His thighs were the size of tree trunks and filled out his trousers. A golden circlet adorned his dark shoulder length hair and a small beard graced his jaw. But it was his deep glittering blue eyes, dancing as he took them in, that caught her attention. He radiated power, and yet had an easy demeanor about him. On his right arm, a small woman with silvery blonde waves blowing in the breeze clung to his side. She was several hands shorter than he was, yet her smile and matching golden circlet proclaimed her as his queen. Her cerulean blue eyes were the exact same color as the sky above and she looked up to her husband with adoration as he began to speak.
“Jeoffrey, son of Elim!” the man shouted and clapped his hands. “Welcome! I am Tuathal and this is my wife Leannan, High Queen of Ériu.”
Dismounting swiftly, Jeoffrey helped Clarice down, then Wee Jeoff before approaching Tuathal with a bow. Clarice’s limbs were stiff and ached. Riding on horseback was still rather difficult for her and she had to resist rubbing her sore backside in front of her new king.
“My thanks for inviting us to join your tuath, High King Tuathal. We are honored,” Jeoffrey said again with a bow. “This is my wife Clarice, and our son Jeoffrey.”
“You are all welcome.” Tuathal squinted into the bright sun and shaded his eyes with his large hand. “I see some new faces.”
Eoin dismounted and walked his horse forward by the reins. “Aye. We brought two new warriors with us as well, Alastar and Àdhamh, and his sister Maggie.”
“Welcome! I trust my cousins to have found honest, trustworthy men to join our ranks. We will see to building you homes.”
“Eoin!” A woman’s voice carried on the wind and Clarice followed the sound, seeing a lovely woman with golden blonde hair fast approaching carrying a bundled-up babe in her arms. Och, but she was a beautiful woman. Eoin sped forward and met the woman halfway, wrapping her and the babe in his arms.
“Treasa! I have missed you and Neassa terribly.” The woman let out an endearing squeal and got on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips with a loud smack.
So this was Treasa. Clarice had to admit, she was lovely with her hazel eyes that seemed to glow golden in the sunlight, and she had a very womanly shape to her that any man would lust after…including her own husband at one point.
Repressing her spike of envy, she swallowed hard and forced away any jealous thoughts. She refused to look at Jeoffrey, afraid she would see a look in his eyes that would anger her.
Treasa looked over Eoin’s shoulder and smiled. “Och! Jeoffrey!” Treasa handed the babe to Eoin and ran fast into Jeoffrey’s arms. Hesitantly, he returned the embrace, but only briefly, clearly walking the thin line of not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to anger his wife. “Tis so good to see you looking well! I never did think I would see you again!” She pulled away from him and looked at Clarice and Wee Jeoffrey with only kindness in her eyes.
“Tis good to see you as well, Treasa. I was certain Eoin had come to finish me off when he appeared in my tuath in Alba,” Jeoffrey laughed. “This is my wife, Clarice. And our son, Wee Jeoffrey.”
Treasa’s smile faltered and her brows crinkled in a most feminine way. Was everything about her so wonderfully endearing? Then, she laughed at herself. “I am sorry if I made a strange face. Tis only…how is it you already have a son of what…three summers? And with your name? I would suppose he was her son and you adopted him once you married, only…well, Jeoffrey! He looks the very image of you! He has his mama’s eyes and lovely light brown hair, but he his face is all yours!” she laughed again and came up close to Clarice. “I do believe there is a story waiting to be told, is there not?”
Treasa winked and Clarice could not help but burst into laughter. The lass was infectious with smiles and gaiety. “A story, indeed,” Clarice said wryly.
“I cannot wait to hear all of it!” Treasa said with an excited clap of her hands. “I am so truly happy to have you all here with my
family. After the battle, Jeoffrey left so fast. He had become one of my closest companions, strange as it sounds. I suppose war brings people together in odd ways. When Tuathal suggested seeking him out and offering him a place amongst our people in honor of his sacrifice to Ériu, I was simply thrilled. And how lovely to see him with a beautiful family.”
Clarice cringed and looked down, only now remembering that she had not bathed in many days and her poor green dress was tattered beyond repair. Her hair, a murky brown when compared to Treasa’s glossy gold, hung lank and tangled about her head. “How can you be so kind? I look a mess and I know it. Tis been a living nightmare this past sennight.”
“Clarice,” Treasa said warmly as she took her hand in hers. “I do not see a mess. I see a woman who is beyond stunning. You have put a smile on Jeoffrey’s face that I never thought to see. He never looked at me the way he is looking at you this very moment,” she said with a smirk. Clarice looked at her husband’s face and knew Treasa spoke true. Jeoffrey looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world.
“Clarice carries my child,” Jeoffrey added as he stepped closer and placed a hand on her stomach. “She has had a terrible ordeal, but she is a brave, strong lass.” He squeezed her hand affectionately and her love for him grew more than she ever thought possible.
Before Clarice could respond, a large group of men and women came into view, all pouring out of one large home to the left. As they came closer, their smiles widened. A woman who looked identical to High Queen Leannan stepped forward carrying a small babe in her arms and a tall black-haired man with piercing emerald green eyes beside her, carrying another wee babe in his arms. This woman was clearly the twin sister of the queen and her babes must also be twins.
Three very large men walked next to three elegant women of small stature, dressed in fine dresses blowing in the summer breeze. One woman had stunning red hair, the other a silvery blonde that matched well to Queen Leannan and her twin sister. In fact, her features very similarly matched theirs and she assumed this woman, though fair and youthful in appearance, must be their mother. The third woman had beautiful long chestnut brown hair, a few shades lighter than Clarice’s. But when she saw their identical faces, she gasped and put a hand on her heart.
“By all the gods…three identical sisters with different color hair?” Clarice remembered Jeoffrey saying that Eoin, Brennain, and Flynn were the sons of the Sisters of Danu, and Treasa was one of their daughters, but in all that had transpired during the past several days, she had completely forgotten all about the legendary reborn goddess Sisters of Danu. “Are they…”
“The Sisters of Danu. Aye,” Jeoffrey said with a smile, gripping her hand.
Eoin stepped forward to explain. “This is Gwynneth, my wife’s mother,” he pointed to the blonde-haired beauty and Clarice flushed when the woman waved and smiled, wrapping her arms around a mountain of a man with dark hair and the same blue eyes of the queen.
“Treasa is the queen's sister?” Clarice asked in confusion.
Eoin laughed. “Clever lass. Our family is large and can be confusing to some. Aye, the queen and her twin are also Treasa’s sisters. Una is Brennain and Flynn’s mother. And Ceara, the red-haired sister, is my mother.”
Clarice nodded, trying to remember it all, then stilled. “They are sisters. So, you and Treasa are…cousins?” She tried to keep her voice neutral, not wanting to insult her new tribe members…the Sisters of Danu and their family, no less. But cousins marrying was indeed strange.
Treasa smacked her head and widened her eyes in amusement. “I suppose you and I both have background stories to share, do we not? I am adopted, not truly a blood relative,” she confirmed with a laugh.
Clarice smiled and nodded, finally understanding, their family was indeed large and still, more people stood around them that she had not met. It would take her a while to learn their names and relations, but she supposed she now had forever to try.
“Eoin, you dolt!” a red-haired beauty came out of the house carrying a bow, slinging a quiver full of arrows over her shoulder. “Tis about time you arrived back home! Was it so hard to grab the son of Elim and come back to your wife and babe in a timely manner?” Her green eyes glared at him menacingly and Clarice stared wide-eyed at the interaction.
“This is my sister, Aislin,” he explained. “She is ever quick to point out my many failings.” He rolled his eyes and addressed his sister. “Tis nice to see you, as well, dear sister.”
She snorted as she approached and whapped him in the arm, then shrugged her chin in Clarice’s direction. “Who is this?” The lass was abrupt, but she seemed to say what she meant and mean what she said. Clarice couldn’t find fault in that.
“This is Jeoffrey, Aislin. And his wife Clarice and their son, Wee Jeoff.”
“And his best mate, Alastar,” Alastar said as he came forward and bowed dramatically to Aislin. Clarice wanted to roll her eyes. Alastar did prefer the red-haired lassies and Aislin was about as fair as a lass could be. Her red waves blew about her face and she wore a tight fitting dress made of animal hide that pulled across her slim curves.
Clarice did not need to roll her eyes, for Aislin beat her to it. “I did not ask about you,” Aislin shot at Alastar and looked away. Clarice covered her mouth to hide her mirth. Very few lassies rejected Alastar and his dimpled smile, sandy blonde hair, and beaming blue eyes.
“You would ask about me eventually, lass. Tis best you get you know me properly from the start.” Jeoffrey elbowed Alastar in the ribs and Aislin rolled her eyes again.
“I assure you, I would not have ever asked, nor cared, a wit about your presence…what’s your name again? I have already forgotten you.” She cocked an arrogant brow, dismissing him with a swish of her hair and her curvy backside swayed back into her home.
“By all the gods in Ériu and Alba. Never have I met a worthier opponent,” Alastar whistled as he very openly gawked at her retreating backside.
Eoin grunted and took Treasa’s hand. “Many a lad has tried to tame my sister. Nay lad ever will. Good luck, mate.” With that, Eoin pulled Treasa in for a kiss and dragged her away.
Alastar leaned into Clarice and Jeoffrey and chuckled. “I dare not tell him that taming her wild nature is the last thing I would ever want to do.”
Clarice shook her head and sniggered. “Watch yourself. Alastar. We only just arrived. Do not cause trouble. I like it here.” She looked up at Jeoffrey and smiled. “I think we will be happy here.”
Jeoffrey gripped her hand and pulled her in for a sweet kiss, rubbing her belly reverently. “I know we will be happy. Tis been a hard few years for us, but I do believe the worst is passed. Tis time for us to move forward together.”
“I love you, Jeoffrey. I always have.” She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply.
“I do not mean to interrupt,” a small voice said and they pulled apart. It was their new queen, Leannan. “We have readied a home for you. Would you care to see it?” She smiled widely and began to walk ahead of them. They followed willingly and Clarice grew more and more curious as they passed roundhouse after roundhouse without stopping. Ráth Mór was a very large village with a loud bustling market, laughing children, practicing warriors, wives clucking and gossiping as they selected the freshest of fish or traded soap for butter. Aye, this was much like home, only grander.
“We have arrived,” Leannan’s sweet voice said and Clarice stopped in her tracks. A large farmhouse with fresh white walls and a towering new thatched roof stood before them. A large byre filled with bleating sheep and grazing cows stood to the left and plenty of logs rested against the side of the house for their hearth. To the right, a large field with crops planted looked as if it already flourished.
Clarice shook her head in awe. “Jeoffrey…tis your farmhouse.”
***
Jeoffrey stared at the house for a silent moment. It was not possible. How could this plot of land be his? It was too good to be true and he wanted
to pinch himself to snap out of whatever dream he had walked into. “Jeoffrey?” He heard Clarice ask and he realized he had been silent for far too long.
“How did you know?” he asked his new queen in wonder.
She chuckled and waved him into the byre. “I believe you once told my sister Treasa that all you wanted in life was a farmhouse of your own with a wife and several children.”
Had he told Treasa that? Closing his eyes for a moment, he sighed and processed his new reality. Aye, he supposed he had said that once. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the smiling face of his perfect, lovely wife, her slightly swollen belly, and their dearest son clinging to her leg. Then he looked to his farmhouse once more. He had everything he had ever wanted. Love. Family. Purpose. Peace.
“Thank you,” he whispered to Queen Leannan and gripped Clarice’s hand. “Tis perfect.” But he looked at Clarice when he said his next words. “Absolutely perfect.”
She smiled and leaned into him, and his world went off kilter. He did not deserve so many blessings but he made a vow to the gods then and there that he would spend the rest of his life being worthy of his many blessings.
A clucking sound came from the byre and Wee Jeoffrey gasped and ran inside. “Chickens, Papa! We have chickens! Och! And a wee lamb!” Jeoffrey danced around in circles with his hands high up in the air. “I love our new home!”
Everyone laughed and the queen nodded to them. “We are very pleased if it pleases you. Jeoffrey…” she stepped forward and gripped his hand. “Last summer you stole my sister from Eoin.” Shame washed over him and he lowered his head.
“Och. I am truly sorry for all the pain I caused your family. I deserve none of this.”