Chapter 1 #3
Caitlin melted into that familiar embrace, wanting desperately to trust in its shelter as she always had before.
"Doubtless he was some wandering villain," Reverend Mother murmured with relief. "Some warrior who has already gone off in search of easier prey. Still, we must send word to the outlying farms so they can guard against him, and we must warn the other sisters. It is better to be careful."
"Wait, you do not understand. This man will not ride away. He came in search of someone." Caitlin swallowed hard, raised her tear-streaked face to stare into Reverend Mother's eyes. "He came for me."
The older woman stilled. "For you?" She said it as if she could not believe it. Said it as if, someplace in her heart of hearts, she had been expecting it forever.
Caitlin's stomach wrenched, all of this suddenly, terribly real. "He said he had come to—to claim a worthless wench by the name of Caitlin of the Lilies."
Troubled, Reverend Mother released her, then turned away. Her weathered hand stroked the exquisite folds of embroidered cloth that spilled out of the chest, the wondrous colors faded now but still beautiful.
"I always feared this day would come. Knew it would.
The robe was so fine, the lily left for you every year.
I tried to prepare myself. And to prepare you.
" She turned, an expression Caitlin had never seen before on her face, a fierce, almost feral love, the earthy love that made a mother fling herself before a charging stag to save her child.
"But this I promise you, Caitlin, my own. My soul will be damned before I let some cruel brute drag you away from here, despite the claims of fate and destiny!"
Relief spilled through Caitlin, and she clung to the tiniest thread of hope. She almost believed Reverend Mother could keep her safe, as long as she kept the image of the enraged warrior from her mind.
"Reverend Mother?" a timid voice interrupted from beyond the doorway.
Both Reverend Mother and Caitlin straightened, attempting to banish the signs of their distress.
"What is it?" Reverend Mother asked.
Sister Luca poked her head into the chamber, her lips trembling.
"There is a man pounding upon the gates.
I told him we are a cloistered order. No one from the outside world is supposed to be allowed within the abbey walls, but he says he brings word from the chieftain.
If we refuse to allow him entrance, he will break down the gates.
I—I am quite certain he can do it, may Saint Patrick preserve us. "
"Do not be distressed by his threats, Sister. I will deal with this messenger. You will take our Caitlin out to the clochán hut at the rear of the abbey grounds. Wait with her there until I send someone to fetch you."
"Aye, Mother."
Caitlin felt the warmth of Reverend Mother's hands against her hair, the quick, bracing kiss upon her cheek.
Then the abbess was gone in a whirl of coarse habit and stony determination.
Frightened for the first time in her life, Caitlin fled out the back of the abbey into the sunshine, to the small stone hut where she had played as a girl.
For a lone child, it had been transformed into the castle of the fairy king, the belly of some mythic beast that had swallowed her whole. More often still, the hut was a magic fortress where her imaginary brothers and sisters had frolicked under the watchful eye of the mother she had never seen.
Even long after she had abandoned such childish games, Caitlin had returned to the hut in an effort to stem the growing restlessness inside her. She had sought out the quiet of the stone walls, finding an ineffable serenity there, left perhaps by the first holy order to build on this site.
Always, Caitlin had loved the sense of peace that seemed to seep from the very walls, the feeling that here, nothing evil could touch her.
Closing her eyes, she recalled all the tales the abbess had told her, of miracles carried down by angels, astonishing feats of saintly magic.
She could use a miracle now.
With Sister Luca sniffling beside her, she fell to her knees, uttering the most heartfelt prayers she had ever said. Please, make this go away, make it all vanish, she begged the saints in the Irish heavens. I did not know. I was a fool not to understand...
A fool? No, too protected, too much a child to understand that the hands of fate were merciless. She had loved the glorious tales of destiny and bright mysterious futures Reverend Mother had spun. It had made Caitlin feel special to know that such a future waited for her beyond the abbey walls.
It had sounded so romantic, not to face a prospect that was the same as all the other women. She had cherished the thought that she was unique, held it close to her heart.
She had never suspected the price she would have to pay—that she could be torn away from a life she loved, flung onto a path she never wished to follow.
She had not guessed there would be terror, uncertainty. Had not known she would want to cling to Reverend Mother's skirts, hide in the familiar haven of the abbey forever.
But such doubts did not matter. Caitlin could feel her mysterious fate thundering toward her, a force that could never be turned away—certainly not by Reverend Mother, despite the abbess's vow. Caitlin trembled. Was there nothing, no one who could help her?
The wind threaded through the square stone door, whispering of other powers, the Tuatha de Danaan of the earth.
Desperate, Caitlin pleaded with them. Listen to me—if I belong to you.
The lilies and the dreams, this destiny Reverend Mother spoke of.
It is too real. Make it go away. I cannot leave here. Cannot leave her.
Caitlin swallowed hard, whispering words she had never spoken before. "I am afraid."