Chapter 13 #3
"Give me one reason why I should trust you!
" Fiona demanded. "For years, as I wandered the hills, I have heard stories of your mysterious quests from those journeying through—what little could be spoken aloud.
Tales of encounters with the Queen of the Fairies, turning back the charge of a full army with only your sword, crossing the sea to pluck the harp of the Tuatha de Danaan out of enemies' hands—the tales reached us even here. "
"Fiona, most of it is nonsense. Stories other people made up to entertain wee ones about the fire. Surely, you must have known that. I am forbidden by oath to speak of the quests."
"And were the other stories I heard nonsense as well? Tales of the feasts held in your honor while Mother and I went hungry? You cared nothing for either of us then. You came to Daire only because you found a reason to use us."
Shame darkened Niall's cheeks. "I will never forget what I have cost you," he said.
"But what is past is past. I can never change it.
I will not lie. I came here because I had no other choice.
I hated this place. Everything about it.
It was too raw, Fiona, too painful. But now, I do not regret riding into Daire any longer. When I did, I found you."
He looked into her face, so strong yet suddenly so fragile. Pain too great. Betrayal too deep. Aye, Niall thought with a sick jolt. He had begged forgiveness too late. She was afraid to trust him, because he had failed her so terribly before.
"We were strangers before you came here," Fiona said in a cold, hard voice. "That is how we will part." She turned her back to him, walked away, and it was as if he had lost her again for the very first time.
Niall stared down at the box, closed the lid he had carved with such rare hope. Good things he had asked Fiona to store away inside it, but all his sister had left was pain.
Stars scattered the heavens, the new moon beaming silvery approval down on the earth below, ground bursting with the power of life renewing itself.
It seemed all of Daire was heavy with the weight of that mystic spell—green things flourishing at impossible speed, wild creatures who had fled the bedraggled lands once again daring to creep about the old castle, trailed by their enchanting wee babes.
The sight had lifted Caitlin's spirits as little else could have, each soft-eared baby rabbit or gangly, tottering fawn giving her a sense of hope, something she had needed in the days since Fiona had cast the newly carved spear at her feet.
Caitlin stroked the wooden shaft she so often carried with her of late, taking comfort in the feel of the weapon in her hand.
The balance and suppleness of the wood, the promise of flight that emanated from the spear, in a way, so like herself.
For no matter how carefully fashioned the spear might be, it would never soar through the air as it was meant to, just as she would never soar into the life of freedom and love and joy she had dreamed of for so long.
Both of them were earthbound, hidden away. Imprisoned without bars to hold them.
But she was not the only one suffering loss, she thought with a sigh. Despite all her hopes and all her entreaties, things had gone awry between Niall and his sister again.
She leaned her cheek against the smooth length of wood and closed her eyes.
It was painfully evident her pleas that Fiona try to forgive her brother had fallen on deaf ears.
The girl's resentment boiled beneath the surface, while Niall's silent pain etched even darker circles beneath haunted glen-green eyes.
Yet he had soldiered on with heartbreaking determination. He kept watch over his mother with an attentiveness that made Aniera seem to grow younger with each day, and he still attempted to reach out to his bitter young sister no matter how many times she pushed him away.
Caitlin prayed she had not made things worse for Niall by her interference, making him hope for things that could never be.
But this was the season for miracles, and she could feel the awakening of Daire all around her. Why should she not hope for the healing of hearts as well?
A loud quack startled Caitlin from her musings, and she could not help but smile at the droll sight of a mother duck settling her fluffy yellow babies for the night in their nest among the reeds.
It had taken a deal of persuading to keep Fiona from scavenging the eggs the morning they had found the duck's nest, Caitlin remembered. But in the end, they had broken their fast with greens from the garden and berries Niall had found, and left the nest alone.
It was good to have a bit of company, especially tonight, Caitlin thought, even if the ducklings could not talk back to her. For this was not a night to be alone.
It was Imbolc. A time of festival for all who dwelled west of the Slieve Mish Mountains. Fiona had babbled on about it for a week. Bonfires and feasting, dancing and singing, a celebration so sweeping it was even open to the destitute outcast women of Castle Daire.
Fiona had tantalized Caitlin with descriptions of the revels for days, entreating her to come along. After all, Fiona had badgered her, what life had she seen in a convent? It was past time Caitlin opened her eyes and gazed at the world around her.
In the hours before Niall had ridden off hunting that morning, he had only seemed all the more weary at Fiona's assault against the rules he had set for their safety, but his quiet fear for her had unsettled Caitlin far more than his imperious commands of weeks before.
So, even though she was sorely tempted, Caitlin had remained behind at the deserted castle while Aniera and Fiona had gone off without her, flowers woven in their hair.
It was better this way, Caitlin assured herself. She was beginning to love Daire, and no mere festival was worth putting her newfound friends at risk. Even more surprising was the fact that every day that passed made it harder to think of leaving the castle and the family she had found there.
It was as if their lives, their loss, their love, were winding about her like a silken thread until she wanted to believe their hopes and dreams and fears were her own.
Her eyes burned at the memory of Aniera, mere moments before she and Fiona had left, the older woman stroking Caitlin's hair with the same innate tenderness the abbess had. Aniera's voice had grown soft, filled with affection more precious to Caitlin than she could say.
I remember how Ronan and I danced upon this night so many years ago.
Always we dreamed of the day our son would swirl his love about the fires.
Then, one day, Ronan was gone. Niall was gone.
And I stopped hoping, until the first time I saw Niall with you.
Do not despair, child. The fires of Imbolc will burn for you yet.
The words had left Caitlin puzzled, encouraged. How much did Aniera truly see? How much did she remember? Such a sensitive heart lay in Niall's mother's breast, and it had seen such tragedy. Yet there was love and hope in her as well. A heart so like her son's.
What would it be like if all these troubles could be banished?
If Daire could truly come alive again and Niall could lead her to the bonfires, letting the golden light illuminate both their faces without fear?
How marvelous would it be to listen to music she had never heard, to have such a man teach her the steps of dancing she had never seen before?
But she could not even imagine the festival Aniera and Fiona were enjoying, Caitlin thought sadly. Her mind did not know what kind of image to paint.
She sighed, her eyes straining toward the faint glow atop a hill she could barely see.
If only Niall would come back so she could explain to him how much she wished to catch a glimpse of the celebration, just a peep that would harm no one.
But there was no way of guessing when Niall would return, if he would ride in too late to grant her wish.
And he would if he were able, Caitlin knew. He had been gentler with her since the secrets they had shared near his father's cairn, more understanding. Surely, if she kept herself hidden, took only the shortest peek at the revelers, he would not mind so very much.
But how to let him know where she had gone?
She glimpsed the flowers left over from the crowns Fiona had woven earlier that day.
Niall must have memories of the festival from his childhood.
With Fiona's anticipation still echoing in his ear, surely he would remember and guess Caitlin had gone to the celebration, too.
Gathering the discarded blossoms tenderly, Caitlin left them upon the scarred wood table, where he would see them the moment he entered the hall.
Just as she started to turn away, she paused, taking up one sweet white bloom to tuck in her hair.
Inhaling its rich perfume, she stole away into the gathering darkness, following the path she had watched Fiona and Aniera take hours earlier.
After a while, she caught the faint sound of music, glimpsed the glow of flame high on a hilltop, the light guiding her on her way.
The sky was blue-black by the time she neared the edge of the celebration, the faint music reaching out to tease her with its unnamed beauty.
Like the jewels on the abbey's chalice, the bonfire glowed against the soft cup of night's hand.
And rich, unfamiliar scents that made Caitlin's mouth water drifted from where the feast spread out beyond her sight.
Yet as she crept nearer, it was the swaying bodies of the people that held her in thrall.
Laughter rippled, jests rang out between the couples feeding an intensity hotter than any fire that ever burned.
Even in her innocence, she sensed there was not mere lust between those who swirled in the dance but, rather, passion for life primitive and unfettered, fierce and consuming.