Niamh of the Golden Hair (Manannan Trilogy Book 2)

by Michele McGrath

  Niamh

  of the

  Golden Hair

  Michèle McGrath

  To Marie, cousin and friend

  and in memory of Jim.

  Niamh of the Golden Hair

  1

  Niamh never remembered a time when she did not have to walk softly. All her life, she had lived in the shadows, keeping as far from the tribe as was possible in one small place. She never knew why she seemed to be a stranger among her own kin. Yet, if she ventured too near some of the elders, they would draw their cloaks away from her as if she were diseased. She asked no one, there was no one she could trust. There had been once, but she did not remember the person clearly. All she retained was an impression of long-ago warmth and love.

  She learned early on in her life to hide herself away. She was barely tolerated within the rath, although she was neither a servant nor a slave. Her father had once been the tribe’s leader, a long time ago. Now his name was rarely spoken and then only fearfully. Why he was leader no longer, she did not know.

  On the day her life changed, she crept into the roundhouse and hid herself in one of her favourite places, among the hanging drapes on the largest of the looms. It was less used than the others, so she was unlikely to be found. She took her sewing with her, in case she was unlucky and someone caught her. She just wanted to rest. Her month’s miseries were on her and her day’s work was done. She curled up into a tight ball, fighting her pain. The warmth and the quiet soothed her and her eyelids grew heavy. She slept fitfully, until she heard voices coming into the roundhouse.

  “You wanted to know when the girl’s courses started.” The voice belonged to her aunt, Sadb. Very carefully, Niamh lifted the edge of the cloth covering her, to see who she was talking to. There were three of them gathering round the fire, her aunt, her uncle, Aed, and the old man Eber, always deep in the councils of the tribe.

  “Well?”

  “They are now established.”

  “Then she can be wed at Lughnasa and we’ll be rid of the bitch.” There was viciousness in Aed’s voice and Niamh wondered who had aroused such hatred.

  “No one in the rath will have her,” Sadb said, “even though she is comely enough, with all that golden hair.”

  “I know that!” Aed’s roared. “No one is so stupid. We will have to find someone who doesn’t know her history.”

  “That will be difficult. He would have to be a stranger and live many miles from here,” Eber said. “Nor will you get a true price for her, if he finds out. At the worst, you would even have to bribe him.”

  “She’s not worth any goods and cattle. We can’t afford to part with the little we have left after the winter storms,” Sadb murmured.

  “Gods, woman, what choice do we have?” Aed shouted. “What do you think my brother will say if he returns and find out that we have made no provision for her?”

  “He may never come back.”

  “And you would take that risk?” Aed glared at her and Sabh dropped her head.

  “Perhaps not,” she mumbled.

  “There are other ways of being rid of her than marriage,” Eber said softly. He turned his face away, looking into the glowing embers of the fire.

  “We might have killed her years ago, if that’s what you mean, when she was an infant. We discussed it, as you’ll recall, and the reasons we decided against it still stand.”

  “Accidents happen, even to the most cherished of children.”

  “You’re sure my brother would not know what we had done to her?”

  “No one has seen him for years. He might easily be dead and never come back here again.”

  “And he might not. Don’t you remember how he used to dream? Even when we were boys, he had a knack of finding out exactly what people did not want him to. I won’t tie my life to the chance that he will not return. Goods can be replaced, lives cannot. The best thing to do with the girl is to find someone who is ignorant and will take her. We’ll bargain hard, asking just enough in return so he doesn’t think there is something wrong with her. Then, if my brother does come back, we can say truthfully that we treated his daughter just like any other young woman.”

  “Such a man will not be easy to find,” Eber warned.

  “No, that will be your job.” The voices drifted away.

  Niamh dropped the covers back over her and lay shaking with terror. More than one girl in the rath had just started her courses. Several had yellow hair, but only her father was Aed’s brother and had gone away. She held her breath, reliving the savage emotions that surged through her uncle’s voice, fear and hatred, bitterness and greed. They wanted to dispose of her like a crippled animal. Then she stopped herself. Crippled animals were killed. She would be allowed to live and she supposed she should be grateful. They had considered killing her once. What sort of man could her father be, if he inspired such hatred in his nearest kin?

  Niamh snuggled further into her heap of blankets. She dared not move just yet. She had to be sure they were not lingering by the door. What they would do to her, if they found out she had overheard them, she dreaded to think. A long time passed before she crept out into the daylight.

  In the weeks that followed, Niamh tried to make sense of her jumbled feelings. She did not want to stay in the rath, although it was the only place she had ever lived. She was afraid of the unknown, but would it be worse than here? What kind of man would she be forced to wed? Niamh knew that her likes and needs would never even be considered. She would have to take whoever they found for her. The king’s law would not protect her. If she refused her consent to this match, she would have to remain here after she had openly defied her uncle. The very thought made her start to tremble again.

  Niamh became quieter and more elusive than ever before. She finished her tasks quickly and hid herself away from other people. Since babyhood, she liked to watch the birds and animals in the woodland and the meadows. They demanded nothing of her and she gave nothing except her stillness. She lay there while they played and fought and chased each other. Now she used this skill to watch the humans that surrounded her. One day, Niamh saw Eber and some of the other men leaving the rath. They went alone for the most part and took different directions. She wondered about their errands, but she could not find out.

  The other girls of her age were preparing for their hand-fastings. She was not the only one who would be wed that year. None of them were her friends. She never dared to come close to anyone and they always avoided her. She envied them, though, for most of them would be marrying men with whom they grew up and would be remaining in this place. No unknown terrors for them.

  Niamh tried to keep up her courage, for she would need it. Unless Eber failed, she would soon have to go far away. She had never been beyond the valley surrounding the rath before. The storytellers told of dragons and heroes and mystical creatures. Could some of them be real? What would she do if she met a dragon? She shook herself. Eber and the other men came and went unharmed and most of the other women seemed happy enough with the men they had married. Yet the thought kept coming into her mind that she would be one of the unlucky ones. Nothing in her life had ever been simple; no one had been kind or even interested in her. Why should her future be any different? She waited through the weeks in growing dread.

  2

  When Eber returned, Niamh was out in the fields with the rest of the women. She did not see him arrive or know of his presence until the night meal. She felt dizzy when she saw him, but managed to take her place without drawing attention to herself. Later, she wondered how she had done it, she was trembling so much. She ate little of her food, for her insides
churned and she was afraid she would be sick. She said nothing to her companions but they were used to her silences and ignored her as usual.

  Niamh kept gazing at Eber, sitting beside her uncle and talking to him throughout the meal. He was smiling and looked pleased with himself. Aed also smiled and seemed to be enjoying their talk. Once, he shot a glance directly at her and she hurriedly dropped her eyes, hoping he had not noticed. Blood thudded in her ears.

  The meal finished and Niamh rose with some of the others to fill the drinking horns with ale. She deliberately moved closer to her uncle’s seat, within hearing distance of his discussion. Both men were looking satisfied and Eber had a speculative look in his eye as he glanced at her. She wanted to ask them if a decision had been made about her future, but she did not dare. She was not supposed to know anything about Eber’s search.

  She never approached Aed if she could possibly avoid it. To be this close to him set her teeth on edge. She would have to be told eventually, of course. Her consent to the match must be witnessed. So she was not surprised when her uncle summoned her at the end of the evening, although he usually ignored her, like everyone else. She came forward to stand in front of him. For once, he did not frown at her as she stood waiting for him to speak.

  “Eber has arranged a match for you, Niece. You should thank him for his work on your behalf.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, shooting a glance at the old man then dropping her eyes to the straw-covered floor. She knew she had not hidden her trembling. “Will you tell me about the man who is to be my husband?”

  “Your aunt will speak to you in the morning. For now, you should be thankful for your good fortune.”

  So she had to wait and she slept little that night. Nor did her aunt call for her until all the morning chores were done. She had never been so clumsy over her tasks before and everything took so much time, but she finished at last.

  “His name is Barrfind, chief of a tribe living in the west,” her aunt told her.

  “What sort of a man is he?”

  “He is a mature man, like Eber.” Niamh tried to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, but she knew that she had not succeeded. Her aunt said sharply, “Think yourself lucky that he is looking for a wife and will give the bride price for you.”

  Niamh strung herself up to ask the question. “Why is he interested in me?” She did not know what she hoped to hear, but the answer made her cold all over.

  “His wife died in childbed last winter and he has only a pack of daughters to follow him. He wants sons and Eber has told him that you are a healthy girl, whose family has always produced many males.”

  “I understand.” She found it hard to force the words out.

  “The offer is a reasonable one. The price he offers would be enough for you to live on should the marriage fail.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Barrfind has a rath in the meadow country inland from the Norsemen’s town.”

  “That is a very long way from here,” Niamh murmured. She strung herself up to ask the next question. “Aunt, why am I being treated so differently from the other girls? None of them are to going away to be married.”

  She expected her aunt to slap her, but Sabh answered with an icy coldness in her voice, “None of the others is your father’s daughter. Barrfind does not know who or what you are. He will treat you no differently from any girl he would take to wife.”

  “But who am I? What am I? Why does any mention of my father arouse such fear?”

  Sabh’s eyes bored into hers. “Because you’re a witch, like your father and his mother before him.”

  Niamh reeled backwards in horror; every muscle in her body tensed. “No, I am not! How could I be and not know it?”

  “Sionainn, your grandmother, did not turn to evil until she was about your age. When your grandfather, Lir, met her, he fell in love with her, not knowing about her true nature. He did not fear her magic and would not listen to us, so they married. Her magic seemed to cease after her sons were born and it was not until your father became a man that we found out he had inherited the curse.”

  “But my uncle is her son too and he is no magician.”

  “Aed favours Lir not Sionainn, as did Cathan, who died young.”

  “Then I may not be like my father either.”

  “You may not, but what man who knows your background would take a chance on you?”

  Sabh would say no more and Niamh had to be content as preparations went forward for her journey and her wedding. Her uncle decreed that she would travel in some style, with men from the rath to guard her and Eber to oversee the journey. When she asked why, they told her that she was the daughter of a chieftain. It was a matter of the tribe’s pride to dress her in a proper manner and send warriors to accompany her. Rumour also said that Barrfind had paid a good price for her. There were some sniggers about that, which she could not help but overhear.

  So they opened the coffers, and, for the first time in her life, Niamh was dressed in something better than homespun. She was given three dresses, none of them new. They were finely woven, with embroidery on the sleeves and the hems. Bronagh, an old woman whose sewing was very fine, fitted them to her, for their previous owner had not been as slender. One dress was in the cheap blue dye, but another was green and a third the rich red of autumn leaves. Two cloaks were found for her, one serviceable, the other thinner but soft. Four days before she was due to leave, everything was ready. Some of the women dressed Niamh as if for her wedding because none of them would be there to see her make her vows. She wore the green gown and they braided her hair. They had almost finished when Sabh came into the room, carrying a bundle wrapped in linen.

  “These belonged to Sionainn, then to your father and now to you.” She drew back the wrappings and Niamh gasped. Gold glittered in the firelight. Sabh lifted a torc of twisted gold and settled it round Niamh’s throat. Niamh felt the chill metal start to warm against her skin. Sabh took her plaits and wrapped the ends with clasps shaped like golden flowers.

  “Sionainn left these to her eldest child as he did for his. When the time comes, leave them to your own.”

  “Are you sure?” Niamh fingered the necklace wonderingly. Sabh gave her a twisted smile then walked away.

  “How beautiful!” Bronagh exclaimed.

  Niamh looked round the group and saw several frowns. “I never expected anything like this.”

  “No, they have never been worn since Sionainn died. I remember her well,” Bronagh said.

  “Has my aunt never...?”

  “She wouldn’t dare,” Bronagh hissed at her. “These things may only be used by those that have the right, beautiful though they are. Who knows what might happen if anyone else put them on?”

  “Who knows, indeed?” echoed Lalog, another of the servants.

  Slowly Niamh stripped off her finery and packed it away, all except for the torc that Bronagh said she must wear from now on. Perhaps it was for that reason, or for fear of the coming journey, but the night before she left the rath, Niamh began to dream.

  3

  Niamh had dreamed before, but never like this. It came upon her suddenly. She fell asleep early, curled against the furthest wall of the house with the other unmarried girls. She thought she would be too fearful to sleep, but her eyes closed almost immediately. She slipped down into blackness. For a long time she seemed to be falling and then everything changed. She was in a place she did not know and a strange woman was with her.

  “Who are you?” she asked uneasily, trying to peer through the woman’s closely wrapped veils.

  “I am the Guide of Souls. Did nobody tell you to expect me?” Her voice was harsh, with the cold of the north wind in its tones.

  “No,” Niamh said, wondering who should have told her.

  “Come.”

  “Where to?”

  “There are things you should see; things I must tell you. Come.”

  Niamh felt the woman’s hand close on her w
rist and chill her to the bone. Then she was swirling in sky filled with ribbons of coloured light. When her vision cleared, she was standing upon the banks of a flooded river, with storm clouds at her back.

  She heard shouts and then a stinging pain across her cheek, then a harder one.

  “Wake up! Wake up!” Another blow and someone was shaking her violently. Her eyes fluttered open. She was back in the rath. Her aunt was kneeling beside her, hand upraised to strike again. Niamh cringed away from her.

  “Sabh, hold!” Her uncle’s voice ordered and her aunt’s arm dropped to her side. He loomed over them both. Others crowded around and, on every face she saw both anger and terror.

  “What did you see?” Aed hissed at her. “What is going to happen to us? Tell me!”

  “Husband?” Sabh turned to him, puzzled. “The girl has only had a nightmare and disturbed us all with her screaming. She is leaving to go to her husband tomorrow or I would have her well whipped.”

  “Perhaps, but it may be more than that. I have seen her father dream like this.” Aed knelt down, pushing Sabh aside so he could look into Niamh’s eyes. “Tell me,” he repeated, “what is coming to us?”

  “Nothing,” Niamh stuttered, hardly able to breathe. “What I saw was in a far away place, not here.”

  “Go on.”

  Niamh closed her eyes, so she could not see the people who surrounded her and her uncle most of all. She spoke haltingly at first and then with more confidence as memories returned.

  “I met a woman who took me to a flooded river. We had to cross, because another storm was coming. If we did not, we would have to wait until the flood waters subsided. I was one of the last to enter the river and, as I did so, lightning broke over us. My horse reared up and I was thrown into the water. It closed above my head.”

  “Is she telling us about her journey to come?” Sabh asked in a whisper.