Cailín (Lass) (Anam Céile Chronicles) (4 page)

The
realm of me childhood this was.  In that place, I too flourished, wild and
free.  Though, woefully, fer me, it would not last.

Not yet
taken over by the British lords, a modest, yet respectable amount of land me
family possessed on which we farmed a herd of sheep.  Riordan, me older
brother, worked the farm with me father, Quinlan. 

And I,
being the lass, had to assist me mother, Meara, in the duties of the
household.  Though, much rather would I have been to be of value in the out of
doors, tending to the animals.  Contrarily, the few times had I the occasion
entrusted to me, nary a time did I not reap me father’s sullenness, as hinder
not could I me wanderlust to frolic along dreamily to wherever ‘twas the wind
were to blow me.

Our
home ‘twas built of grey stone doubled walls packed with an earthen core to
provide insulation and exposed wooden roof timbers rising from the inner face
of the walls providing a
tobhta,
a ledge at the wall head.  The timbers
were sheltered with a dense thatch of turf covered by reed over which an
outside layer of moss and lichen would grow.  ‘Twas essential the roof have
sufficient sturdiness to resist the strong winds delivered by the Atlantic. 

All the
floor was of packed earth and in the central area, there be a hearth fer the
fire, the unmistakable aroma of peat turves ever burning to keep warm the
abode.  Four windows only there were.  A modest area to each end there be, one
where me parents would sleep, the other fer me brother and meself.

Although
in reality we were far from it, still our fellow countrymen we were regarded as
being moderately prosperous, since we were fortunate enough to hold a separate
dwelling in which to keep our animals.  Other than the out of doors, that was me
most favoured place to pass the time.

‘
T
was upon the twelfth
anniversary of me birth that things began to take a unexpected course.  ‘Til
then, reasonably happy I had been in me simple, carefree life.  However, me
mother and father informed me that a young lady I be now, and certain things
expected of me there would be. 

Of
course, substantially more duties I be given to complete.  However, bothered me
this hardly did.  I preferred to keep busy.  What did perturb me was the
lecture I received from me father that night before retiring to bed.

Haphazardly—
as was his way— me father started in, “Now, daughter, ‘tis the time to stop all
yer imprudent childish behaviours and time you start acting as a proper young
lass if you’ll ever be wantin’ to acquire a suitable fellow fer a husband.”

“Well,
‘tis no matter to me whether I do not snag a husband, besides!” I daringly
countered.  “Fac ‘tis, I would truly prefer not to
ever
marry at all. 
Then there be nobody to be tellin’ me what I may and may not do, and be
expectin’ me to keep his abode fixed up and always be cookin’ fer him.  Rather
I would use me time keepin’ meself happy, than some
chap
.” 

Me
mother’s eyes widened as she shook her head silently, apparently anticipating
me father’s reaction to me blatant dissent.

Needless
to say, delighted to be hearing this he was not!  “Oh, you do, do you?  Well, I’ll
be damned if I’ll be afflicted by yer presence in me house fer the rest of me
days!  Learn yer place,
Muzzy
!  ‘Tis yer duty as a lass to relieve yer
family of the burden of you in a timely manner by securing a husband who shall
assume the responsibility of you!” 

Me
mother, on the other hand, looked on me regretfully, blue as the soft light
that shone about her.

His
frequent reminder of me burden to them stung at me.  Nonetheless, wear it upon
me face I did not, as I smugly resumed.  “Father, surely ‘tis not me intention
to hold me burden upon you.  Go out on me own I will, as soon as you’ll allow
it.”

“And
just how’re you supposin’ to fend fer yerself, then, lassie?” he chortled
mockingly.

“Play
me fiddle I will, perhaps travel with a steppin’ troop.” I came back over-confidently,
whilst perfectly imagining the uproar of laughter from him over this one.

Instead,
he became greatly infuriated, his face reddening as he bellowed out
aggressively, “Meara, what it be always I be tellin’ you?  A dreamer, she be,
every bit of logic set ablaze in that bonfire shrouding her head.  An
iarlais
of the
sidhe
this one be
,
sent here to curse us fer God knows
what!”

In me
defense, me mama pleaded with him, “Now Quinlan, must you be so harsh with
Aislinn?  ‘Tis her birthday, after all…”

“Hold
yer tongue, woman!  Don’t you be coddlin’ that
iarlais
!  Suspectin’ her
fer the
sidhe
I’ve been ever since she came to us with her imp hand, and
flashin’ that wicked red mane of hers!  Any sensible person could see that she
possesses all the marks of being bitten by the devil!”

Of
course, he referred to me red hair and freckles, as well as me favoured use of
me left hand, something viewed as totally reprehensible, associated with the
witchcraft, not to mention a multitude of other sins and defects.
 
The
perpetual reminder that I be the black (well actually, red!) sheep in his
family of proper brunettes.  Me mama looked at me powerlessly, as I shriveled
from his slurs, turning to go on to me room.

Speaking
to me again, he outraged, “Turn not from me,
Gingernut
!” he stopped, and
only glared at me.  The rising uneasiness unnerved me as I began to fidget
anxiously.  After a bevy of agitating seconds, finally, he spoke again. 

“
This
you will take heed of right now, lass.  Marry a right man you
will
.  And
you’ll stand behind him as his wife, bear all his children, tend his house, and
fix the meals fer him and his brood the whole of the day, each and every one! 
‘Twas this you were meant to do.  Now cast them notions outa yer head and forge
ahead and prepare yerself to attend to yer duty without grumbles!”

From
the severity in his eyes and gravity of his tone, I did not doubt he meant all
he said.  Nevertheless, how could I back down, and allow him dictate the
outcome of
me
life.  What did it matter to him at all? 

Darting
through me head were these thoughts when I burst out, “I’ll
not
be or do
as you say!” 

Before
I knew what had happened, his ensuing blow to me head had knocked me right off
me feet, landing upon me side.  This time, I knew well not to utter another
word, lest I wished fer more of the same.
 

Stunned,
I lay still upon the ground.  Although I felt the rage rising up in me, I dared
not stir ‘til he be gone. 

As he
moved away, me mama knelt down to the ground by me side, empathy clear in her
eyes as she looked upon me.  I struggled to hold back me tears as her fingers
moved through the disarrayed curls of me hair, brushing the area he had
bruised.   And whence she withdrew her fingers from me hair, the tips of them they
be covered with blood. 

Gently
she whispered, “Aislinn.  Now why must you provoke yer father so?  I understand
you did not like what say he, but mind yerself now and be a good lass, won’t
you?”

I only
looked back at her with quiet frustration as on to bed she gently helped me. 
As she looked back upon me, I could see she be fully knowing I did not intend
to back down and submit to the demands of me father.  That troubled her, fer she
be aware the path I chose would be uncertain and fraught with difficulties. 
Nevertheless, as she tucked me in and kissed me head goodnight, I knew that she
loved me no matter what path I did choose, and more than all else, wished
genuinely fer me contentment.

The
next morn’, arose early I did and made sharp time of me chores as I felt the
restlessness that was besetting me more frequently, gnawing at me.  A
remarkably lovely day it be— even fer this early May— the sun shining
brilliantly, as if striving to lift me from this morose mood I did carry. 
Before going, I climbed atop the bales of hay to fetch me fiddle from its usual
hiding place in the barn— lodged up atop of a rafter.  Never did I journey
without me fiddle.  It inhabited perhaps the most vital role in me retreats. 

Across
the pasture I did skip, endeavouring to leave behind the harsh words of me
father.  The vibrant yellows and purples and pinks of the petite wildflowers
which tickled at me ankles cheered me.  I reached the wooden gate at the fence bordering
our land and swinging it open, stole away from the confinement of me father’s
to the rugged lands that were me habitual refuge. 

As I
carefully trekked over the craggy expanse, I be able to let me thoughts drift
where they may, without disruption.  This is when truly I could be at me utmost
peace.

I
mulled over the denunciations of me father from the night prior. 

Perhaps
the truth be what he alleged, and I be a child of the sidhe.  Sensical it would
be.  Never have I felt fitted to me family.  Although me mama loves me and kind
she be, still I do not in essence feel belonged, not in the way I imagine it
should be.  Always so unalike them have I seemed.  Not one of them has ever
understood me, and even though Mama did attempt, still in actuality, she has
not.

I
fancied over this fer quite a spell, imagining one of the many
raths
on
the land to be me birthplace— the
sidhe
bringing me out from within it,
me merely a few days old, to bequeath me upon this human family. 

And then,
whilst seeking to discover the purpose fer their severe oversight, me foot
unexpectedly slipped down between a gryke in the boulder I be climbing atop. 
Quite trapped I be, so I plopped down straining to relieve me foot.

If only
I be able to dislodge this lesser rock jammed amidst the two greater sides,
I’ll be free.
 I thrust at it, and after just a few seconds,
me hands slipped and were scraped raw.  Feeling exasperated, more from me
failure than the pain, I cried out furiously.
 

This
stone, it be so heavy I do not see how I’ll ever be able to budge it.  I’ll
almost certainly be ensnared here forever!   At least then Father cannot
require me to submit to his orders.  After all, if I be imprisoned here, I not
be his burden any longer, which is all he stresses, besides!  Besides, ‘tis so
famished I be, surely I’ll succumb quite soon!

After
tiring of feeling sorry fer meself, and reminded of me alleged mystical
lineage, I opted to give the stone another try.  I induced meself to evoke all
of me hitherto unrevealed powers.  I crouched down as low as I be able, and
shoved at the stone with all me strength— though not actually expecting
anything to happen. 

Approaching
surrender from exhaustion I was, when to me absolute astonishment, it did
shift; though not nearly enough.  Still, the slight repositioning be enough to
allow me better access under the stone.

That
minute accomplishment provided me the willpower to muster the strength needed
to conquer this seemingly impossible task.  Upon freeing me self, rather than
jump up straightaway, motionless I remained fer a moment, awestruck at me
formerly unknown ability to substantially move such a weighty piece.

Considering
all of this, I proudly beheld the displaced stone at me side, when unexpectedly
I detected something within the inner recesses of the gryke.  Then, at once I recognised
what ‘twas I did study.

What
that be down there?
 Fer a moment I strained me eyes
as I
peered down into the dark area to discern what it might be. 

Oh!  Bones
‘tis . . . of a person!  How very intriguing! 

I
examined them fer a while, taking in their form and deterioration. 

Human
bones.  And from the looks of them, they be quite ancient ones, at that.

Really
not the faintest idea have I as to how long ‘twas I lingered there reflecting
on those bones.  Though, quite the impression they did make upon me, of that I
do know.

As me
eyes rested upon the spot where once another’s eyes had gazed out, I remarked
over the size of the small skull.