Celtic Storms (15 page)

“I see,” stated Patrick.
Tis unfortunate indeed.
Patrick’s last experience with a priest had been a bitter reminder that England’s influence on Ireland had brought with it a type of bondage unfamiliar to most. The infiltration of the Catholic Church had nearly driven out all but a few who worshiped the old gods and practiced the old ways. Even then, of the ones left who worshiped the old gods; many were terrified of being found out or being persecuted by the others.

“Is the c-clan – Catholic?” he inquired.

Carbry chuckled and Patrick grew hesitant. “Nay,” he replied. “Nay – we offered the priest sanctuary and provided him with a chapel that befits his persuasion. That is all. The Laird’s wife held a soft spot for the poor man as he had just lost his home and his friends.”

“Ah…”

“Many attend services regularly, and the chapel is used for baptisms, weddings, last rites, and other meetings. However, there are still those that practice the old ways. Lucian is a druid you know.”

“Lu-Lucian?” asked Patrick.

“Lucian – the eldest member of our clan. He is the clan scribe and record keeper. He works on the nautical maps and territorial boundaries as well. He is training Dervilla, Darina’s younger sister, to follow in his footsteps.”

“He is a dr-druid?”

“Yes, he practices the old ways. Many say he is the arch-druid for our region. Although – I’ve never once spoken of it with him before. I do know he is well educated in herbal matters, and assists the healer quite a lot. I’m really surprised you’ve never heard of him.”

“Wh-why is th-that?” Patrick asked.

“Because if I am not mistaken, his brother lives in MacCahan territory. His name is Airard I believe.”

O’Malley Castle

Him again. Insolent bastard
.

You don’t mean it. I believe you’ve grown fond of my visitations and look forward to seeing me.

“Get out of my head,” she said.

There he stood, in all his naked glory – before her fireplace – mere steps from her bed.

“And what do you plan on doing now?” she asked hostilely; knowing full well the manner of his intentions - as they were written all over his – well – his – his intentions were clear.

Move over and let me in, it’s awfully chilly tonight.

I’ll do no such thing. This is my bed and you are not welcome here.

A wicked grin replaced his seductive glance and he crossed his arms over his chest waiting for her to respond.

“Wait!” She stopped to cover her mouth with the back of her right hand and then shot him an accusing glance. “Did I just say that out loud or did I – I mean – did you – hear me?”

I heard you lass.

By the stars. How did I do that?

You did it because you wanted to, Darina.

How do you know my name? How do you know me?“
Excuse me. I wish to speak audibly with you.”

Why?

Darina shot up from her reclined position on her bed and pointed a chilled finger in his direction. “You – get out! Now!” With that – he was gone.

***

Darina awoke to the sounds of pounding footsteps in the hallways and people moving up and about the stair wells. The familiar creaking of the water trolley outside her windows told her water was being brought up the floors. The sounds of muffled voices mixed with footsteps above her confirmed that someone was in her father’s chambers.

By the stars it must be nearly midnight. What on earth is going on?

She hazily peeked about her bed chambers and confirmed to her satisfaction that it was indeed night time. She was alone. The moonlight shined brightly on the eastern wall of her room and lightning flashes peeked across the fireplace. The flame had all but gone out. A thunder clap hastened her waking and she sat up and rubbed her eyes tiredly.
Who in the world is making such a racket?

No one had been in her Father’s chambers since his passing and she wasn’t sure who would be going up to his tower at this hour. She set about to find Odhran, surely he would know what was going on.

Too tired to fully dress; she slipped onto her floor on bare feet and in her thin ivory shift.
I’ll just peek about the door.
The door to her bedchamber made an ominous creaking sound and she hesitated to open it, as if she were doing something wrong.

What on earth am I hiding for? I’m doing nothing wrong. It’s these other discourteous hellions that are making all the noise.

When she had managed to open her door a few inches, she was alarmed at the amounts of people going up and down the stairs and the busyness of the hallway. Although everyone looked to be attempting some form of quiet; none were successful. There were no less than three maidservants bustling about as if the keep were on fire, and several men carrying loaded chests and other belongings. Finally, she saw Deasum in the hallway.

She reached her head around her door, attempting not to display more of her body than necessary. “Deasum,” she called. Deasum fidgeted from his post manning the stairs and assisting the maidservants with their heavy packages. He looked around and shrugged his shoulders.

“Deasum!” she said more loudly. “Deasum – over here.” She had finally caught his attention and he turned to walk towards her door. “My lady, what are you doing up at this hour?”

“I should ask you the same thing. What is all this noise about?” she inquired.

“Ah – we have just arrived. I mean our guests have arrived; just now - at this late hour. Odhran has set the servants to preparing the master’s chambers. Patrick - I mean the Laird, I mean your betrothed; has requested a bath before retiring. He means for Mavis and Braeden to bathe as well before retiring in the adjoining chamber.”

“In the adjoining chamber?”

“Aye.”

“Well – who is this Mavis and Braeden?”

“Braeden is a boy about eleven summers I believe.”

“A boy?”

“Aye - And Mavis is his nurse.”

“The boy has a nurse?”

“Aye - a might bonnie lass indeed,” he answered with a visible blush flushing his cheeks.

“I’ve got to see this.”

“Nay – you’ll do no such thing, Darina. Give them until morn to settle in. You can see them when you break your fast. Now go on back to sleep. We shan’t make much more noise tonight. You’ll see.”

Darina nodded her head and moved to shut her chamber door. Deasum was an ornery cuss and she had no intentions of battling wills with him tonight.
I’ll just give them an hour or so and then I’ll go see for myself.

***

Odetta paced back in forth in front of the altar, wringing her hands as if in worry. Smoke billowed from the hearth and filled the air with a putrid aroma which made her eyes burn and water.

“Naelyn! Come see to the fire,” she called.

Her maidservant and high cleric joined her near the hearth and added wood and scented pine needles to the fire which she quickly had roaring.

“Well – what did he say?” Odetta asked.

“He said, he can probably remember most of it, but most assuredly will need to retrieve the scrolls from his chapel.”

“He did – did he?”

“Aye.”

“And what else did he say?”

“He said that he is in need of his spirits as the storms make his bones ache.”

“Petulant fool! You tell him he will get no ale, until I have my curse!”

“Nay. ‘Tis no reason to shout, my lady,” came the reply from the doorway of the storage room looking into the great chamber of the monastery. “I have need of sustenance and drink; and I will tell you what of the curse I can remember,” said Father MacArtrey as he strode towards the large table in the middle of the room and sat down as if waiting to be served.

Odetta’s mouth dropped open in disbelief at the man’s brazen attitude and she mumbled something under her breath.

“Verra well. Naelyn, see he is brought refreshment; and some ale,” she said and directed her gaze at the arrogant priest who sat at her table.

“You will tell me what you know – this moment – or you will go below with the others. I will not hesitate to chain you to the stone wall like an animal.”

“I ken ye,” he replied and nodded, stroking his beard.

“From what I can remember, the curse went something like this,”

“A curse upon the land is ripening;

storms of rain, thunder and lightning.

Wherever the last known male resides;

the storms shan’t stop ‘til eventide.

Upon the winds this curse shall ride;

and follow the last of the O’Malley pride.”

‘Til death befalls the cursed eyes;

the last known male shall n’more abide.

“That sounds like it. There may be some small variations but I think you have the most of it,” said Odetta as she sat down across the table from the priest.

“Aye,” he replied. “That is what you bade me record. It is.”

“Odetta,” interjected Naelyn, “What does the curse mean?”

Odetta stood and walked towards the hearth, casting a wary glance towards Naelyn was seated at the scribe’s bench under the window working on her registry.

“It means nothing – now,” she said.

Naelyn rose to stand beside her. “What do you mean it means nothing now? If I understand it correctly, wherever the last O’Malley male is – there will be constant storms.”

“Aye. ‘Tis what it means indeed,” interrupted the priest.

“But it’s stopped raining you fool!” shouted Odetta. “Throw him below with the others,” she ordered Easal as he entered the great room.

“And what of his food?” asked Naelyn.

“Give it to the dogs.”

O’Malley Castle

Darina grew more impatient by the minute. When she felt it was finally safe to leave her chamber she sunk her feet into her silk slippers and peered around the door.
Good - all clear. Not even a sentry at my door? I see how much value they place on my chamber.
She chuckled at the thought.

O’Malley castle was near impenetrable. There hadn’t been soldiers placed at chamber doors in decades. It was nigh impossible to gain entry through the castle doors without being seen, so there was seldom any need for extra security.

After she had made it halfway down the hallway towards the back stairs; she realized she had forgotten her linen robe and was clothed only in her thin shift. “Jaysus! It’s cold out here,” she muttered under her breath which sent steam pouring into the air. While her first thought was to turn back to her room, she quickly changed her mind when she heard footsteps coming up the third floor stairs.
By the gods, I must look the harlot dressed thus at this hour.

Seeing no other means of escape, she quickly bounded up the stairs to the fifth floor and spotted light beaming out from underneath the door to her father’s masters’ chamber.
I’ll just take a peek inside.

Halt.

Darina looked around her for the voice but saw no one. She walked a few steps down the hallway and surveyed the empty stairway.
I must be addled. Too much of that elderberry wine.
She crept back towards the chamber door and made to open it.

Halt.

I know I heard that; didn’t I?
She pinched herself.
I know I’m awake. There’s no one here. I must definitely give up the spirits.

She opened the door to the chamber slowly and meticulously; lest she make a sound. All the servants had left and Odhran had long since retired, she mused. The fire was burning hot inside the chamber and the window had been thrust open overlooking the balcony atop the battlements. She could hear snoring from the adjoining room and steam rose in her peripheral vision.

Halt. Come no further.

But – no one is here.

Then she saw him. At least two sizes too large for the wooden tub he lay in the bath with his knees atop it and his feet nearly touching the floor. Froth floated atop the water and steam rose, a testament to the heat of it. He lay, she assumed, asleep inside with a linen cloth tossed over his face.

No one indeed.

What?
“What?” she asked verbally this time.

Patrick grinned from beneath his wash towel, knowing full well who she was and why she was there. “
This shall be fun
,” he thought to himself.

If you come any closer, I fear you may get wet.

“
Who’s there?” she asked aloud, but saw no one.

Light snoring interrupted her train of thought and forced her to gaze towards the large bed against the northern wall of the chamber. A young boy slept soundly in the middle of the gigantic goose down mattress, slobbering on the pillow bere.

Unable to contain herself - Darina tip-toed towards the corner of the room, where Patrick lay in the bathing tub. The back of his neck lay on the edge of the tub and his freshly washed hair dripped into a shallow clay vessel Odhran had no doubt laid there for just such a purpose. She reached towards him as if she might try to look under the linen cloth.

Don’t.

She hesitated and removed her hand.
I am such an eejit. What am I doing? I am hearing things.

Don’t let your curiosity git the better o’ye.

“Alright – that’s it. I’ve nay lost me mind,” she said as she reached for the washing cloth which covered his face.

Before she could touch the wash cloth, a golden muscular arm ascended from the tub and grabbed her about her right wrist spilling water everywhere. She lost her balance in the water and attempted to grab hold of the side of the tub but was unmercifully thrust into the water and on top of the bathing man.

A hearty baritone chuckle rose in her ears as she struggled to right herself atop the tub. Instead, her arms slipped from the sides of the tub and she found herself grasping a large male chest; seated atop him with her knees about his hips. Her eyes met his briefly and she turned away. He could not contain his laughter. The corners of his lips rose and his eyes crinkled while the motion of his laughter continued to spill water upon the floor beside them.