To the Waters and the Wild

by S C McGrath

  Frowning, Nuala said, “Your camp has been receiving more of the wounded and I have come to help. You are exhausted and must be hungry. I can care for the men in your stead for a time. Go and find Deirdre and get something to eat.”

  “I am not tired or in the least hungry,” protested Keelin. Then, seeing Nuala’s raised eyebrow and stern expression, Keelin conceded, smiling wanly.

  Instead of searching for Deirdre, however, Keelin left camp and started down the road to the rest station, hoping to get word of Brian. She had just left the woods when she spied a group of warriors in the distance, making their way toward her. She strained her eyes and started to run toward them. She was now sure that the man in front was Ruaidhrí, since he was at least a half-head taller than the other men. Also, his red hair and beard stood out like a beacon. As she drew nearer, Keelin recognized Séamus walking slightly behind Ruaidhrí, leading a horse. Where was Brian? Keelin knew Brian’s walk, the way he held his head, yet could not see him amongst the men. Why did he not run to meet her? Fear seized her and she ran faster until she was almost upon them. Keelin stopped abruptly when she saw the men’s expressions, saw that Séamus’s horse pulled a litter.

  “Keelin, lass,” said Ruaidhrí taking a step toward her, his hand outstretched. “Do not be—”

  “NO!” wailed Keelin. She dodged Ruaidhrí as he tried to grab her hand and ran past Séamus to the litter.

  Keelin froze as she looked down on the ravaged, broken body that had been Brian. She dropped to her knees and with a trembling hand reached for a lock of hair that lay against the pale, bloodless brow. Lovingly, she brushed it aside and kissed Brian’s forehead, then rested her cheek against his. Lost in her grief, Keelin had only a vague notion of strong hands gently grasping her shoulders, pulling her away from Brian and lifting her up, comforting her.

  The men resumed walking and no one spoke. There was nothing to be said, nothing left to do but bury their friends. They walked slowly, these grim, exhausted men, and at their lead were Ruaidhrí cradling Keelin in his arms and Séamus, intent only on bringing his friend home.

  

  CHAPTER twenty-nine

  

  eirdre held the infant in her arms, humming soothingly as she studied the pink face with its pursed lips and prominent chin. A shock of red hair crowned the rather high brow, and it appeared the deep blue of the child’s eyes would not change. After a very fussy and colicky interlude, the little boy was now almost asleep, content in Deirdre’s arms. The young priestess had only just arrived when Saraid handed her the crying baby. “Here, Deirdre, take little Fionn. Keelin tells me you can soothe the most troubled soul. Perhaps you can also soothe a colicky baby.”

  “You have a way with Fionn,” commented Moira as she nursed his twin brother. “He is the more demanding of the two, although not by much. Brian was born first and I think Fionn will be forever trying to catch up with his older brother. What a pair these two will be, if they are anything like Ruaidhrí.” Moira said this not with concern but with pride, and she touched Brian’s cheek lovingly with her fingertips.

  Saraid laughed. “Brian and Fionn are going to be terrors, no doubt.”

  The three women sat outside Saraid’s cottage, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun still high in the sky. The scattered, wispy clouds floated around the sun at a respectful distance, never dimming its brilliant light.

  “Where are the men this fine day?” asked Deirdre.

  Ruaidhrí is helping Conall and Liam pull tree stumps in the lower meadow,” said Moira. “They should be back in the late afternoon with hearty appetites.”

  Deirdre’s face brightened. “Do you need help preparing the evening meal?”

  Shaking her head, Saraid said, “I know you did not come here to help us cook but to visit Keelin, though I appreciate your offer. Will you stay for dinner?”

  “Yes, I would love to. I believe Déaglán will be arriving soon. Is there enough food for him as well?”

  “There is always more than enough food when Saraid and I cook,” said Moira.

  “How is Keelin?” asked Deirdre. “My duties have kept me away too long. I pray she is doing better.”

  “Yes, I believe so,” answered Saraid. “The twins have helped, have given her joy.” Saraid’s eyes glistened with tears. “Keelin will now smile and laugh, sometimes with real mirth, yet she will not speak of Brian, cannot bear to hear others do so. I still occasionally find her sitting in Rua’s empty stall, Brian’s cloak wrapped around her. It breaks my heart. She disappears for days at a time and offers no explanation as to where she has been. Oddly, she seems happier upon her return and I no longer worry as much about these absences.” Saraid smiled warmly at Deirdre. “I know she will be delighted to see you.”

  “And I, her,” said Deirdre, standing. “Do either of you know where she might be?”

  “Shortly before you arrived, she returned from her patient visits and jumped on Rónán, bareback I might add,” offered Moira. “She and Brian’s old stallion seemed quite happy as they trotted away. She did not say where they were headed.”

  “I think I may know,” said Deirdre, carefully handing little Fionn to Saraid.

  “When do you expect Déaglán to arrive?” asked Saraid.

  “Any time now,” said Deirdre, smiling as she looked toward the road, beyond the cottage yard.

  Saraid’s eyes followed Deirdre’s gaze and within seconds they saw Déaglán appear, cresting the rise, riding toward them. “Deirdre, you have the most uncanny ability to know when my restless and wandering brother will grace us with a visit.”

  “Yes,” said Deirdre without explanation, and the three women watched as Déaglán approached.

  

  Keelin trotted Rónán along the village road, her spirit buoyed by the bright sunshine. Warm days in Eire were infrequent and to be savored. Keelin lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. She sighed and thought longingly of her coastline far to the west where the hot winds and the clear skies made her feel free, banishing her dark thoughts. Brian would have loved her coastline and the huge expanse of land it bordered. They would have had grand adventures and started life afresh. Keelin sighed again and smiled, opening her eyes. Yes, Brian would have loved her coastline.

  There were more and more days such as this, days when she could think lovingly of Brian without blackness descending upon her. Yet nights were still frightful and she often slept only fitfully and rarely woke refreshed. For months Keelin had railed against a fate so cruel as to take Brian and Rua after the victory had been won and the enemy in retreat. Keelin could not remember when the anger disappeared. In its place a deep sorrow had burrowed into her soul, more devastating than the anger. But then, Keelin began to have the dream again and it rescued her. She now understood the dream and how it had long ago foretold her fate.

  “So my fine Rónán, shall we fly?” asked Keelin as she reined him off the road and onto an open field. The old stallion pricked his ears and bounded forward, the desire to run bred into his blood. Keelin had to admit that on flat, open land no horse could touch Rónán for speed, not even her beloved Rua or the remarkable Rosie. She felt the wind against her face, listened to the stallions’s rhythmic breathing punctuating his powerful stride, and she was happy, invigorated by his strength and heart. Before Rónán tired, Keelin slowed him, cooling him out at the walk, and the two followed the path up to the meadow.

  Keelin did not at first see Deirdre sitting on the trunk of a fallen oak. It was only when Deirdre stood and approached her that Keelin noticed her friend. Jumping down from Rónán and slipping off his bridle, she ran to Deirdre and the two embraced fondly.

  “How did you know to find me here?” asked Keelin.

  “When Moira told me you had ridden off on Rónán, it was not difficult to imagine where the two of you would end up.” Deirdre hesitated, then added, “Little Brian and Fionn are quite a pair. And I can attest to Fionn’s strong lungs.”

  “You saw the twins
, then?” asked Keelin. “Are they not beautiful? Brian . . . would be honored that Ruaidhrí and Moira chose to name their firstborn after him.” Keelin’s voice wavered a bit but she felt almost serene. It was good to speak of Brian without a wave of emptiness pummeling her.

  “Indeed Brian would,” responded Deirdre. “I held little Fionn and quieted him, though it was not easy. He has a fierce temper, that one.”

  “You would not wish to be present when both boys are unhappy. Their discordant shrieks are not for the faint-hearted. During those moments, I quickly remember a patient I must see and escape,” said Keelin with some of her old impishness.

  “It is good to see you smile again,” said Deirdre.

  “I am hopeful. I know what I must do.” Keelin inclined her head toward the fallen oak. “Let us sit. There is much I have to tell you.”

  Once seated, Keelin wondered how to begin. She felt at peace sitting next to Deirdre, watching Rónán as he grazed in the meadow. She was not yet ready to speak of her decision and knew Deirdre would not press her, would sit quietly for as long as need be. Keelin’s mind wandered, freely moving from one moment in her life to another, some important, others inconsequential, all shaping who she had become. She was not sure how long they sat there without words, Deirdre displaying infinite patience and Keelin enjoying memories no longer clouded by Brian’s death. Finally, she turned to Deirdre. “You will not be happy with what I am about to tell you.”

  Deirdre frowned, looking puzzled.

  “For many years I could not understand why the gods gave me the powers I possess. I wanted no part of The Dadga and a life of devotion and self-sacrifice. Admittedly, I thought only of myself and my dreams. When Eire was threatened, everything changed. I entered the Otherworld and learned my affinity for its realm is extraordinary. There are only a handful of others in The Dagda who are so welcomed. Even more rare are those who can travel through it without benefit of their Dagda cloaks as I do. I know only of you, Nuala, and, of course, the high priest Fearghus.” Keelin sensed a change in Deirdre and expected a challenge.

  “I believe there are two others with such ability,” said Deirdre, almost reluctantly. Her soft blue eyes betrayed both anxiety and a hint of indecision. “However, if I am to be honest, I would have to say none of us possess your affinity. It is . . . most uncanny.”

  Keelin laughed. “You should rightfully have said ‘disturbing,’ for I am sure that is what you are thinking.”

  “Please do not tell me you have acquired Nuala’s powers of the mind as well,” said Deirdre, laughing along with Keelin, the tension of the moment broken.

  “Most assuredly not,” said Keelin. “My existing powers burden me enough. Before the battle I believed the gods had granted me such powers for a purpose. They did not wish me to be bound by The Dagda or its law. I had the freedom to determine my own fate. I foolishly believed the life I imagined would still be open to me after the battle.” Keelin smoothed the folds of her linen skirt, her fingers trembling slightly. “It was not,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Yet the gods did not deceive me. The Otherworld had already given me not only a glimpse of my future life but, for a few brief moments, allowed me to experience what my life could be. The gods have always known what my struggle would be. Now, so do I. I had to choose between the life into which I was born and the life I was destined to live.”

  Deirdre eyed Keelin sharply. “What is it you are saying?”

  “I have chosen my future life,” said Keelin, calmly.

  “Your future life?”

  “Yes, the life I visited . . . experienced, when I traveled to my future during the ceremony in Danu’s cave. You know very well of what I speak.”

  “Keelin, what you suggest is madness, even if it were possible,” cried Deirdre. “Your home, your family and friends, your life is here, in this time and place.”

  “No, I have never truly belonged in this life, in this time. I have always been different, have chafed under the restraints of this life and have yearned for something more. Brian felt as I do. We were never meant to stay in one place, to live on Eire, however beloved.”

  “Of course, you feel different from others. Those of us who have been singled out by the gods are different. You have suffered a great loss. Yet abandoning all you know will not heal your wounds. You will be alone in a strange world, without solace. You cannot do this,” implored Deirdre, clasping both of Keelin’s hands in hers.

  “I am not unafraid. Sometimes my decision terrifies me. Yet I cannot stay here. There is another reason I must leave.” Taking a deep breath Keelin said, “Only in my future will I be with Brian. He is there, I know, waiting.” Keelin searched Deirdre’s face for understanding and saw only concern. With a lopsided smile, she said, “You think me mad and perhaps I am, though only slightly.”

  “I am not amused,” said Deirdre. “You do not know if Brian will even exist in that time or place, or what he will look like. Your reasoning is flawed at best.”

  “I know I will find Brian. He is the man walking on the cliff’s path above the ocean, the man whose face I could never quite see in my dreams. Everything is very clear to me now. I have not told you but when I touched the Stone of Fáil at my ordination, it was the coastline of my dream I saw. In particular, it was the vision of the man walking down the cliff’s path. Now, when I have the dream, I feel Brian’s soul near me. Sometimes I even feel his touch.”

  Deirdre looked intently at Keelin. “I imagine Nuala already knows of your decision?”

  “Yes,” said Keelin, smiling. Nuala had become her staunchest ally. “She is helping me.”

  “Undoubtedly Nuala believes your journey is possible.”

  “I have already traveled to my future several times. Granted, I was given only quick glimpses from the safety of the Otherworld. It was like viewing beautiful Romhanach murals,” said Keelin, her eyes shining. “However, I could not enter, was not present there. Nuala believes I must wait until Samhain, when the veil between this life and others is truly open. She told me her uncle Aidan first traveled to his future during Samhain. Later, when he was more skilled, he could travel with only his Dagda cloak aiding him.”

  “Nuala spoke to you of Aidan?” Deirdre’s eyes widened. Then, embarrassed by her curiosity, she said, “I am sure Nuala spoke to you in confidence. She trusts your discretion and always has.”

  “Nuala is most reticent,” said Keelin, nodding. She thought of Aidan’s small journal, safely stored in an inner pocket of her satchel. Nuala had given her the journal not so very long ago. When Keelin had tried to refuse the precious gift, Nuala had placed it in her hands, saying, “My uncle’s journal chronicles his travels and will help you immeasurably. He gave it to me when he said goodbye for the final time. I have memorized each line he wrote and can recite them as I do Eire’s histories. I want you to have it, and so too would Aidan.” Nuala had then smiled and added, “You are like him in so many ways.”

  Both young women were silent for several moments, deep in their own thoughts. Finally, Deirdre sighed resignedly and took Keelin into her arms, squeezing her tightly. “You are braver than I, a true adventurer.” Deirdre stood and reached for Keelin’s hand. “Come, let us visit our favorite coastline and watch the sun rise. There, you can tell me all.”

  In an instant the two disappeared, leaving Rónán to enjoy the grasses of the meadow until they returned.

  postscript

  In 85 A.D., Domitian (Titus Flavius Caesar Domitianus Augustus, 51–96 A.D.) recalled Agricola from Britannia and, despite the general’s illustrious career, he never again held a military position. Gauis Cornelius Tacitus, a Roman historian and Agricola’s son-in-law, claimed that Domitian recalled his father-in-law because his successes in Britannia had outshone the emperor’s in Europe. The invasion of Eire was officially recorded as a reconnaissance mission.

  Eire would remain secure and undisturbed for another 800 years, until the arrival of Norse raiders.

  On 18 September 9
6 A.D., Domitian was murdered as he sat reading a report in his chambers. The conspiracy to assassinate the emperor was alleged to have been orchestrated by Domitia Longina, the emperor’s wife.

  There is no written record of Keelin or her family.

  acknowledgments

  I would like to thank two people in particular who contributed to the writing of this novel. First, my daughter, Katie McGrath Shuler, who was my early writing partner. She helped me with much of the initial research on ancient Ireland, and with the vision for both the storyline and the development of its characters. Scenes in several of the early chapters were either written or outlined by her. Although Katie became too busy with her young family and photography career to continue our writing partnership, her ideas and creativity were invaluable to me. Second, I would like to thank Jennifer Sawyer Fisher, my extraordinary editor. Her knowledge, guidance, and wonderful suggestions helped me beyond measure. From Jennifer I learned it was not enough to write well. One must also tell a compelling story. With each editing round I learned something new and, almost without exception, grudgingly agreed with her edits.

  Special acknowledgement goes to those kind souls who read my first draft and gave me helpful feedback and encouragement. Roger McGrath, Duncan Shuler, Allison Bennett, Holland Hunter, Faith Heinemann, and Yuna Erickson waded through what I would soon realize was a very rough draft needing much work. Thank you!

  I would also like to thank Sara Parriott and Lucinda Dyer for encouraging me to “go for it” and publish the novel. Their support has meant a great deal to me. Finally, my heartfelt thanks to Stacey Aaronson, my copyeditor par excellence. Stacey helped me publish my grandfather’s WWI diary and has now done a similarly beautiful job with this novel. Stacey, you are truly a gem!