Celtic Storms (20 page)

No response.

“I have a qu-que-question about Da-Darina,” he spoke audibly.

“About Darina?” he replied.

“Aye. I d-do,” said Patrick as he turned around to face the scribe. He walked slowly towards him and clasped forearms with Lucian, now adorned in his full priest attire. A gleam caught Patrick’s eye and he looked down to see that Lucian wore the same shamrock crested ring as he did.

“Where did you get that?” asked Lucian hesitantly.

Get what?

No response came from Lucian.

“Well?” he asked again.

“My r-ring?” asked Patrick.

“Yes your ring Patrick. Where did you get that?” demanded Lucian.

“’Twas given to me by an old friend,” he replied looking at the matching ring on Lucian’s right hand. It was an intricate piece of artwork indeed. A signet ring of sterling silver with a dragon lain across the background of a shamrock. Two small rubies made the dragon’s eye and fire thrust from his nostrils.

“Would this old friend have a name?” inquired Lucian further.

“Air-Airard - he is the blacksmith of my clan. The MacCahan clan,” he clarified.

“You know Airard well, do you?” pried Lucian further.

“Aye, he is like me second father. He has trained me as a blacksmith for many years.”

“What else has he trained ye for Patrick?” pressed Lucian, now standing only inches from Patrick.

Tell me.

Patrick’s eyes shot up in astonishment and gripped Lucian’s arms harder. They looked at each other for what seemed hours and then their arms dropped to their sides.

Patrick walked back towards the looking glass and straightened the MacCahan plaid about his shoulder and re-positioned the brooch holding it together.

Tell me son.

I think ye know verra well, Lucian. Airard is your brother, is he not?

Aye – he is. You must say it, my son.

Say what?

Ye know – say it.

Patrick grew uncomfortable with the questioning and fumbled with the ring on his hand, looking down and away from Lucian in what seemed like humiliation or fear – Lucian wasn’t sure.

Ye are the last. Say it.

Nay - I’ll not say it. I have no evidence ye are correct, Lucian.

You wear the ring Patrick. There are only three of the Dragon Crest rings - you know. I have one, Airard has one and you wear the other. I can only assume Airard conferred that to you.

“You are wr-wrong a-b-about that,” spoke Patrick audibly.

“What do you mean?” asked Lucian confused. “You said it was a gift from an old friend.”

“It belonged to m-m-my m-mo-mother,” he replied and turned to sit upon the short three legged stool in front of Lucian. “‘Twas given to me when she passed; my father insisted. Airard had it repaired and cleaned prior to giving it to me. Parkin was given her silver torc; and Payton was given her diadem. I was given my mother’s hair comb and this” he said glancing at the ring on his right hand. “I am the only one who didn’t receive a MacCahan clan crest.”

Ye sound defeated lad. Mayhap ye mother knew ye wouldna always be a MacCahan.

Patrick locked eyes with him again.
How could she have known I’d take the O’Malley name?

Yer mother wore that ring for a reason son. Do you ken?

What do you mean?

You know what the rings represent, do you not?

Aye - I think I do.

“Patrick, your mother was a druid priestess. Not just any priestess - mind you.”

“How s-s-ss-so?” he asked standing up to face Lucian.

Your mother was one of only three. There are only three Dragonian’s remaining Patrick; myself, my brathair and you. Patrick, ye are one of us.

And what are ye?

Patrick, I’ve no doubt Airard has prepared you. Don’t pretend to misunderstand me. You know what I am saying.

“
I’ve no such idea,”he stated aloud, slowly and audibly. He hadn’t stuttered and for that he was thankful.

“I s-sum-summoned you to speak of D-Darina,” he stated sternly having twisted his ring wrong side with his left hand so that the crest faced his palm. “I’ve a question, and I w-wi-wish to k-kn-know the truth of it.”

“Aye –Patrick; I will speak the truth. What do ye wish to know?

“I w-wi-wish to kn-know why she blames her-herself for her-her sister’s d-death.”

Ye’ve been using yer gift with the lass?

Patrick nodded affirmatively
.

She won’t like that. She’s a bit skeptical.

Patrick nodded again and grinned.

“
I see ye’ve spoken with her - in a manner of speaking,” Lucian chuckled and straightened his robe. So you know of the boy’s identity?” he asked.

Patrick nodded again.

Why doesn’t she know? ‘Tis nay fair to keep her in the dark of such things.

Tis what her da requested. We could only do what our Laird asked. Even his own wife went to her grave not knowing her youngest child remained alive and well in MacCahan castle.

‘Tis nay right, Lucian. I mean to rectify it immediately. Why does she believe she is responsible for the death of this child who is very much alive?

Patrick rose and grasped arms with Lucian again, searching his face for the answer, demanding a response.

“Because before the child was born; Darina had fallen into the river and was being swept downstream. Anya went in after her and pulled her out. Saved her life she did.”

“However?” asked Patrick.

“However, Anya took a fever from the cold water and was sick in bed for days. She went into early labor. The healer was terrified. We all were. We thought we had lost her.”

“S-so ye l-let D’rina think it was her f-fault th-that the bairn died?”

“We had no other choice Patrick; we had to protect the child.”

“Of course you had a choice. There is always a choice,”
he rebuked Lucian with his mind and stepped around him and into the banquet hall.

O’Malley Castle –
Six Nights Later

It had been many moons since Darina ventured underground towards the clan council chamber. It was situated two floors under the castle proper; under the cold rooms, and between the dungeons and caves which led to the exterior of the keep near the shoreline.

Thankfully, they had never had need to, nor would her da permit the keeping of slaves or prisoners below. It was a barbaric practice which the elder O’Malley despised. Besides, her mother wouldn’t have suffered it lightly. The doors to the cells had been removed and the dungeons had been used on a few occasions to shelter women and children during raids and for that the people were thankful.

Keeping pace with her as fast as his fat, furry feet could carry him was Fanai a copper eyed red and white spaniel that Patrick had given her on their wedding night. A gift, he said, to compliment her hunting efforts with Riann.

An experienced falconry hound that hadn’t quite won the affections of Riann yet; he was slowly growing on Darina. Although less than thrilled with the gift in the beginning; Fanai had proven himself a suitable companion and warm bed mate over the past days in Patrick’s absence.

She slowed down her insistent march as she neared the chamber doors to find it blocked by two MacCahan soldiers. She held out a rolled parchment to the biggest one roughly and returned her fists to her hips.

“I wish to speak to the council,” she stated abruptly, “now,” she pointed at him.

The soldier on her right nodded his acknowledgement and motioned for her to sit on the bench next to the heavy wooden doors. He entered the chamber and returned shortly.

“The council is discussing important matters at the present and cannot be disturbed,” he said to the air straight in front of him - never letting his eyes meet her.

“Tell them I will be heard now; I insist upon it.”

“And what may I say do you wish to discuss with them?” he asked.

“The matter of my annulment,” she responded stoically and bent to stroke Fanai who lay at her feet panting.

It had taken some time for her to come to her decision. She hadn’t wanted to take it this far, but she saw no alternative. Six nights had passed since her wedding. Six nights has passed since he had left her. Alone, afraid and humiliated – a woman scorned.

“Six nights”
that was enough time
, she thought out loud.

“Bring her in,” rang her uncle Ruarc’s voice loud and clear through the chamber. The soldier motioned for her to rise and enter the chamber while the other sentry motioned for Fanai to stay put, not wanting the dog to follow her inside.

Fanai returned the sentiment by hiking his leg against the soldier and dousing his boots and truis. Darina cackled and spoke under her breath, “Well, ye might be of some use to me yet, Fanai.” He followed her into the council chamber.

A large hearth stood at the back wall and a raging fire warmed the room. The triangular shaped council table sat in the middle of the room; two members seated on each of the three sides.

Guards watched the door and stood on each side of the hearth and servants carried trays of food and filled mugs with ale while the council members discussed clan business. Several parchments were laid across the table having been recently unrolled.

“What is this nonsense you speak of Darina?” Ruarc demanded angrily.

“’Tis not nonsense, dear uncle, and you ken what I am about.”

Ruarc sat on one side of the table next to Gemma; Lucian sat next to Murchadh on the other side and Atilde sat in Rory’s stead on the other – an empty chair to her right - the Laird’s chair - or his wife’s in his absence.

“I bring before the high council my petition for an annulment and I mean to make it happen,” she responded sternly.

“On what grounds do ye bring this petition?” asked Gemma confused.

“On the grounds of abandonment, my lady,” she sighed now looking at Gemma, “and I have proof enough. The MacCahan has been gone nigh to six eves and has not returned and has not sent word. I wish to dispose myself of this farce of a marriage. He left me on our wedding night and he hasn’t returned.” Tears welled up in eyes that were met with sympathy.

“Darina, to petition for abandonment, yer spouse must be gone more than two bliadains. Ye know this,” said Atilde.

“Nay – there is another way,” she retorted hanging her head in embarrassment. Lucian gave her an empathetic knowing glance and rose to speak. “I should like to address the council privately,” he said. “Forthwith,” he exclaimed raising his hands.

Ruarc acknowledged his request and sent the servants and soldiers out of the council room with a tilt of his head. Darina followed them to wait outside on the bench and the heavy wooden doors were barred from the inside once again.

She reclined on the wooden bench before realizing Fanai had not come out with her. The guards blocked her attempt to regain entry; all she could hope was that he wouldn’t cause too much of a fuss. She sat alone on the bench, clenching her fists in her lap; hoping her memories wouldn’t cause a flux of tears again.

Thiers’s was a lovely ceremony. Lucian and Galen had seen to that; a mixture of old and new traditions that seemed to have pleased everyone. Her father would have been proud, her mother too. Her sisters were overjoyed and celebrated nearly the night long. The celebration of Samhain and the harvest coupled with their wedding had brought much peace and joy to the clan. The feasting had last nearly until sun up.

She and Patrick had run through the bonfires and danced and frolicked all night. He had indulged the children who had created a mask for him by wearing it most of the eve. Fittingly it was a red dragon and hers was a falcon.

Stop it. He tricked you.

He had forsworn the wine and even refused ale and mead at the reception. No doubt to prove a point with her, and he had insisted that she be served no more than two goblets of watered down elderberry wine.

A tussle against the chamber doors and raised voices indicated things were getting a might testy inside. The guard which stood on the right excused himself to make entry and the remaining guard raised his shoulders and tilted his head indicating he wasn’t sure what was going on. She sat up straight and leaned her ear to the door to listen. All she could make out was the muffled sounds of loud argument.

Inside the chamber, things were becoming unruly. After hiding in the shadows; Payton resumed his seat next to Atilde, representing his brother the Laird who was not present. Patrick had named Payton his second in command during his absence and the council had no choice but to honor his request.

“Payton, what have you to say of your brother?” asked Ruarc staring angrily at him and visibly shaken.

“I don’t get your meaning?” Payton replied confused.

Gemma spoke up, “Payton, the only alternative method for gaining an annulment for abandonment…” her words halted and she faltered for a moment before looking to Lucian to continue.

Payton sat forward in his chair laying his arms across the table and stared directly at Lucian who didn’t speak.

“Well, Lucian, is somebody going to tell me what is going on here?” he asked.

Lucian grunted and pulled at his beard. He grunted at Gemma and spoke. “Payton there are only two ways to obtain an annulment by abandonment.”

“And?” asked Payton.

“And the first is for the spouse to be missing more than two bliadains; with no word or missives about their whereabouts, safety, life or death. This is essential in times of war and travel, life and our clan must go on.”

Payton leaned back in his chair, nodded in response and made a circular motion with his right hand in the air for him to continue.

“If one is missing two years Payton, with no word, they are presumed dead or having had abandoned their clan. They are pronounced banished and their spouse is released from the bonds of the marriage,” interjected Gemma.

“I ken,” said Payton. “But what has this to do with my brother?”