Celtic Shores (6 page)

O’Malley Territory — Sick-House

“
Please Vynae, I need to keep this just between us for now,” Kyra said to the healer. “I need time to prepare meself before I inform my parents, and Murchadh.”

“What manner of secret are ye hiding from us now, dear cousin?” interjected Darina’s sister, Dervilla, from the doorway to the sick-house. Smiling as usual, she interrupted her cousin’s train of thought and caught Vynae off guard.

“Dervilla, dear, how are ye?” asked the aged healer, wringing her hands and wiping Kyra’s forehead with a cool linen.

“I am fine, Vynae. What is this secret Kyra wishes to hide from her parents?” she added as she walked across the table area towards the bench where Kyra reclined. “’Tis no’ a big one I hope?”

“Never mind now, Dervilla. What do ye need?” Vynae shot back. aggravation in her voice.

“I’m here for the potion,” she responded in a whisper.

Vynae shook her head indicating she wasn’t clear what Dervilla was after; and continued wiping Kyra’s forehead. “Here lass, drink the last of this, it should help.”

“The elixir, ye ken? The potion, for Darina to drink?” Dervilla pressed. “She needs the drink, Vynae. So…ye know…she will no’ end up with…”

“Aye, I know what ye are after!” said Vynae. “Give me just one second, I’ll be back in a jif,” she added as she gathered a basket and walked down the corridor and in to one of the chambers.

“Kyra, are ye feeling poorly?” asked Dervilla, now concerned after seeing the pallor of Kyra’s face. She kicked at the chamberpot at her feet and knew she most likely had been throwing up all afternoon. Dervilla sat down on the bench beside Kyra and took her hand in her own, wiping Kyra’s sweat-drenched brow with the sleeve of her tunic.

“I ken I have a stomach ache, that is all,” Kyra said and lowered herself back down to the pillow on the bench. When she crawled into the fetal position, Dervilla grew wary.

“Kyra, what troubles ye? What can I do?” Dervilla asked.

“Ye can start with keeping yer mouth shut,” growled Kyra between dry heaves towards the pot on the floor in front of her. Now on all fours, Kyra looked up at Dervilla with a stern warning glance.

“Kyra, eat ye some of that bread on the table there,” yelled Vynae from down the hall. “It should soak up the worst of the vapors.”

“What’s going on?” whispered Dervilla. “Have ye been poisoned?” she gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth.

“Dervilla, ye can no’ tell anyone about this, ye ken?” demanded Kyra. Dervilla nodded and placed a hand on Kyra’s back.

“Dervilla, I am with child.”

***

“Parkin, come in here son,” called Breacan MacCahan from his solar. “We have much to discuss and Macklin here has some things he wishes to say.”

Airard pulled a stool from the corner and motioned for Parkin to sit beside Macklin and himself. they being positioned on the bench in front of the MacCahan clan leader’s large, table desk. Light snoring rose from the small straw mat where Winnie slept under the window, a purring kitten curled up near her right shoulder.

“Parkin, I have informed Macklin that his mathair has expired,” said the elder MacCahan. Macklin let loose with another flow of sorrowful tears and continued to pull at the hole in the top of his truis. Parkin feigned sympathy, and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed as if to comfort him. Macklin rebuffed his gesture and edged further down the bench to avoid him.

“Parkin, Winnie is yer daughter, and ye’ve admitted as much. She is nearly two summers old, and has no other family, save for Macklin,” continued Breacan. “When Macklin’s da passed, ye wasted no time making the acquaintance of Isadore…”

“And filling her belly with yer seed,” snorted Macklin. “And ye hadn’t the decency to make an honest woman of me mam,” he added, glaring at Parkin with disdain. “She was good to ye, she was…and ye scorned her …and put her out…and refused her hand, and…”

Airard interrupted this time, “Hold on now, me boy, let’s no’ dishonor yer mam thus. She has just passed. We have to plan a future for ye sister, ye ken? We can no’ do that if we are bickering about the past.”

“Macklin, ye are but a lad still and yer not ready to, nor are ye able, to care for a babe like Winnie,” said Breacan. “No’ by yerself anyway. And ye haven’t any family local, now do ye?”

Macklin shook his head back and forth indicating he was, in fact, alone in the world after the death of his mother.

“Parkin, pray tell what ye plan to do about this…situation?” Breacan asked his middle son.

Parkin shot up off of the stool and folded his arms across his chest in defiance. “What am I going to do about this? What does that mean?”

“It means ye have a child with no one to raise her now Parkin, that’s what that means. And it means, I mean to hear what ye intend to do about caring for her.”

“Well, I’ve no good idea what is to become of her, she has no mammy,” replied Parkin, matter-of-factly, with a dumbfounded look on his face that dared his father to push him further.

“Parkin, ye’ve left me no other choice here son.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Parkin responded.

“I’ll take care of me seesta,” spat Macklin. “Parkin is no kind of mon and has no honor about him. He is no’ capable of caring for himself, let alone another person. Will ye no’ honor me mam’s rents on her cottage and land?” asked Macklin to the Laird earnestly.

“Of course I will honor the rents; ye needn’t worry about that Macklin. But Macklin, ye can no’ care for a babe and work for the rents too, ye need someone to help ye raise Winnie. Ye need to continue yer schooling as well, son.”

“I can raise Winnie just fine. Tara watched Winnie while me mam worked; she will do it for me too, I’m sure. And Parkin can pay her wages for keeping Winnie.”

“I will no’!” shouted Parkin. “I will no’ pay to have some servant girl set with Winnie while ye pretend to work, Macklin. Ye are just a boy!”

“Well then, Parkin. What is yer plan?” asked his father.

“I’ve an idea. I think we should send Winnie to Skye. She can be there with mam’s family, and they will raise her up right,” said Parkin. “I can send coin for her keep and make sure she is educated.”

“Ye will not send me seesta to Skye! She is my seesta and I will have yer useless head before ye send her off like some unwanted piece of livestock. She stays with me,” commanded Macklin, now standing face to face with Parkin, challenging him to make a move.

Breacan let out a long-held breath and took a drink from his ale. “I was afraid it might come to this,” he said out loud to no one in particular.

Airard stood and went to the now waking Winnie. He pulled her into his arms, picked up her kitten and excused himself from the chamber, knowing his presence would only distract Laird MacCahan.

“Ye’ve done it now,” Parkin quipped to Macklin under his breath.

Macklin turned and addressed the Laird. “Me Lord, Winnie is the only living relative I have. Please do not think to separate us. I will work day and night to see her raised and to pay yer rents and to take care of whatever debts me mam may have left, I swear I will.”

Breacan shook his head in despair and trepidation. “Macklin, ye are a noble lad. I would be proud if I were yer da. I hate to do this to ye, I truly do. But Parkin has left me no other choice.”

“Ye see, Macklin, I was right all…” began Parkin. Until his Father placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and bade him to sit down.

“Parkin, I have coddled ye all yer life. Mayhap it is time ye act like an honorable mon. I want no discussion from ye after I make my decision. There will be no questions, there will be no negotiating, and there will be nothing but doing what ye are told. Ye ken?” he asked. “If ye don’t like me dictate, ye are welcome to join yer mam’s people on the Island of Skye, ye ken?”

Parkin nodded.

“Parkin, ye are to leave for yer brathair’s territory on the morrow. Ye are taking the first small vessel ye completed. Ye will be taking goods back with ye, two ship hands and ye will be taking Winnie
and
Macklin with ye.”

Parkin gasped and stood up, ready to rebut his father’s dictate before he thought better of it. Breacan raised a warning hand to his son and motioned for him to sit back down.

“Parkin, Winnie is yer daughter, yer own flesh and blood. It’s time ye became a worthy father to her. Macklin is yer son as well; mayhap not by blood, but yers anyway, on account of Winnie. Ye owe it to him to provide a home for them. Macklin will make a good stevedore and he will learn a trade on account of yer new enterprise. Train him well.”

“I canna raise a child on me own, da. I’m no’ married.”

“Parkin, ye should have thought of that before. Mayhap ye can fix that, if ye think any lass will have ye now.”

“Da, I can’t take care of them if I am away and sailing between ports all the time,” Parkin said, waiving his hand towards Macklin.

“Parkin, ‘tis time ye figured out a plan and made it work. Ye can hire a nurse in O’Malley lands just like ye can here. Find ye a good nanny for Winnie for when ye are away. Macklin will travel with ye… always…between ports. And, if I were ye, I’d be nice to me brathair. He can help ye find a cottage of yer own, and make yer acquaintance with some nice lasses, I hope.”

Parkin cried real tears this time, for the first time in a long time.

“And Parkin, don’t ye be thinking ye can treat my new grandson like chattel. Ye will be paying him a fair wage for his labors. And, I will be hearing from him every time he comes to port.” Breacan smiled and wrapped his arm around Macklin’s shoulder and hugged him. “A fine mon ye will make Macklin, a fine mon indeed.”

O’Malley High Castle — Wedding Ceremony

Darina entered the master’s banqueting hall on the arm of her betrothed, keenly aware that all eyes were on them. They breathed deeply in unison, as if they had planned it that way from the beginning. The harpist played a somber melody and the wedding guests bowed and nodded as they passed between them on their way to the dais.

“Galen?” asked Darina to Patrick, realizing Lucian stood with Galen at the platform, and not alone as she presumed he would.

Aye
, he whispered back to her with his mind.
I knew ye would prefer a wedding in the chapel, but since the priest is missing, I asked Lucian to have Galen assist him. They will both preside over the ceremony, if that is to yer liking, me lady?

“I like that verra much,” she said, as she followed his lead to stand beside him on the platform before Lucian and Galen. The harpist tamped down her playing until only a soft strumming was heard; and Lucian and Galen lit a candelabra spaced between them on the dais.

Lucian raised his robed arms high above his head and bade the wedding guests gather near to hear. “What a fine evening it is to join these two together in the sacred rite of marriage.” He continued,

“We beseech the spirits of the north, the south, the east and the west, to breathe over our gathering a breath of anointing, and to witness the covenant these two make with each other. We bid the spirits bind and seal the vows they take in duty to this clan, their clan, our clan.”

The guests replied with a hallowed, “Aye,” in response, and formed a line to the right of Patrick. Then, one at a time, they stepped forward onto the dais and lay bouquets of lavender-colored minscoth in a spherical pattern around the two, until a perfect circle was formed about them, with only Patrick and Darina inside.

Lucian continued,

“We pray to the powers of the earth, the sea and the sky—our beacons of life. The earth, which feeds us and shelters us—may it continue to bring bountiful harvest upon not just these two, but also to our lands and all of O’Malley territory. The sea, which washes us new every morning and upon whom the sun rises and descends; may every mortal blessing ride upon yer waves until they have made their home, here with us. The sky, whose sun lights our way during the day and whose stars brighten our path at night—continue to reign over us and guide us with yer all-knowing presence. As our ancestors honor the three beacons of life; so we shall do the same.”

Galen passed two goblets of elderberry wine to Patrick and took Lucian’s place at the altar.

“Patrick and Darina; may these two goblets of wine represent each of yer souls; full, fresh and alive.” He gestured for Patrick to mix them and continued as Patrick poured part of his into her goblet and then poured part of hers into his goblet. Galen continued,

“May yer marriage be filled with every miracle and blessing that Father God will endow to ye. May yer light be like the wine ye held— perfect alone, but complete when together. These guests are witnesses to the sacred oath ye two make to one another and to yer people. Drink now, and taste that the union is good,” he said as he raised his goblet in a toast, as did the other guests in the hall.

Patrick and Darina drank their fill from the goblets and turned to stand facing one another, hands clasped together, their eyes meeting.

“Let us pray,” Galen instructed and clasped his hand with Lucian’s. All the guests in the hall formed a circle around the ring of lavender-colored minscoth that set the two apart from the rest of the hall.

“We c-call upon the sp-spirits of l-love, hum-hum-humility and hon-honor to guide our hear-hearts to do wh-what is ri-right in all th-things.”

Darina’s heart leapt in her chest.
Patrick is praying?

Aye luv,
he responded with his mind, as he clasped her hand tighter, reassuring her of his sincerity before he raised his right hand to the sky in petition.

“We invoke the bl-blessings of the sp-spirits of the north, the south, the east and the w-we-west; and the beacons of our l-liv-lives—the earth, the sea and the sk-sky—and we c-ca-call upon the Chr-Christ-Christian G-God to consecr-crate our union f-for the s-service of all that is n-no-noble and j-just. May our j-joining br-bring with it, p-peace to our l-land, pr-prosperity to our p-people and passion for our p-pur-purpose.”

“So be it,” said Galen. “So be it,” replied the guests. When every head was once again raised and turned towards the couple on the dais, Lucian spoke again.

“Darina O’Malley, be it yer wish to join with Patrick MacCahan this day? To be his wife, companion and champion all the days of yer life? Do ye heretofore take him to wed and pledge to him yer heart, yer hand and yer spirit in the name of the god that resides with ye?”

“It is me wish,” Darina said with a bright smile and happy tears pooling in her eyes.

Galen spoke, “Patrick MacCahan, is it yer wish to join with Darina O’Malley this day? To be her husband, companion and champion all the days of yer life? Do ye heretofore take her to wed and pledge to her yer heart, yer hand and yer spirit in the name of the god that resides with ye? And do ye further, Patrick, take the name of O’Malley as yer own, and pledge to carry the noble line of the O’Malley clan for generations to come?”

“It. Is. My. Wish,” he stated slowly, loudly, and deliberately with pride on his face. Darina turned and removed the MacCahan tartan from his shoulder, replaced it with her own O’Malley plaid, and secured it with the brooch her father left her.

Patrick let his left hand cup her chin and cheek and leaned down to kiss his new bride. Not an innocent brotherly kiss; that just wouldn’t do. He meant to claim her, in front of the gods and every guest in the room. She was his and she would know it, and they would too.

***

“Where are ye taking me?” Braeden demanded of the burly man carrying him over his shoulders like a bag of wool. “I demand ye take me to yer leader at once!” he shouted, now banging the man’s backside as fiercely as he could with his childlike fists.

“Culver, I swear mon, lest ye get a grip o’ that boy he will fall, and Odetta won’t like that ye’ve marred her sacrifice—she won’t,” said another man Braeden presumed was not far from them. But he couldn’t be sure because they had covered his face with some type of sack so he couldn’t see.

“Hush child,” the first man demanded, as he straightened Braeden’s position over his shoulder after applying a swift pat on his bottom meant to threaten him.

Braeden giggled under his breath.
This will be all too easy,
he said to himself, remembering the training in self-defense that both Airard and Patrick insisted upon.
Just give me time
, he thought.

After leaving the boat on the shore, the men forced Braeden to walk beside them, head covered and holding a rope for balance for what seemed hours. Then it began to storm and they agreed, reluctantly at first, to allow him to remove the cover; permitting him to count off steps and make notations in his mind as to where they were going and where they came from. Little did they know that his observations began hours before when they first left the safety of the watercraft.

Braeden was no fool. He was drilled his entire life about what to do if he were to be captured, kidnapped, or come upon a hazardous situation. For a boy his age, he was well-educated in hand-to-hand combat, and was even able to wield a small sword without much problem—provided it was light weight, of course.

Patrick and Parkin took him hunting and fishing regularly; and sleeping out under the stars was a favorite activity for which Braeden looked forward with much anticipation. He knew how to select a slumber spot, start a fire, hunt for game, clean and dress the food, find the right herbs to season, and how to set up a campsite to avoid predatory animals. He was skilled in tracking as well, and won two contests in a row the prior year during the annual huntsman games.

No fool indeed. These men have no idea who they are dealing with,
he thought to himself as he feigned submission.
No idea.