Anna shrieked again.
She heard the blacksmith step away.
“Now lads, this is how we turn her loose. We want to keep all of our parts, and she’s drunk enough and mad enough to rip out your hearts as well as parts south. First I walk out. Next, you there, Timothy, let go of her head. Gerry, let go of her legs. Lastly, we’ll leave Donal to contend with the furies of his sweetheart. You’ll pray she wants to go to sleep. A few more drops of drink at this point could turn the tide in your favor.”
The three men left, beating a retreat of self-preservation. Donal remained. John had disappeared.
“Anna, you were brave. Shatteringly loud, but brave. I hope you remember none of this. I’m going to get off you now, and I don’t want you to kill me straightaway.”
Donal lifted one knee off her arm and then the other, slipping each foot to one side of the table. Then he stepped back quickly.
Anna rolled to her side in a limp heap, exhausted from the pain, from screeching, from crying. A mighty drumbeat had taken up residence in her jaw. When she pushed up from her horizontal position, Donal was there with a glass of the clear liquid.
“Sip a wee bit more.”
He handed her the poultice and said, “Press this in the gap.” She pressed the sodden cloth and found that it didn’t hurt any more than it already had. Good, she thought, I have gone through the worst of this. I’m surviving this. I should be getting medals.
She woke the next day with a wretched taste in her mouth, as if mice had camped out in her cheeks. Ah, the poteen: a full-out, white-lightning hangover. Anna desperately wanted water. She rolled over and felt the immediate lack of red-hot pain in her jaw. The pain was a dull throb, a manageable dull throb. She sat up and touched her face with both hands.
She rose up on her knees and shouted, “Donal, wake up. The big lump on my jaw, it’s gone. Or it’s mostly gone and it’s no longer red hot.”
“Anna, you’ll wake snakes at this hour. We Irish like to sleep if we can.” He reached up with his arm and circled her waist, then tugged her back to the bed. His eyes were etched with red lines. “Let’s get all on one stick about something.”
“Oh, yes, let’s,” said Anna without knowing what he meant.
He rubbed his legs against hers until they were well braided together. He placed his hand on her jaw.
“The blacksmith did a magnificent extraction. May I look, please?”
Anna opened her mouth and gently pulled up her top lip.
“God bless Biddy Early. I’ve heard her name more in the last weeks than in all my life. This is going to heal well.”
Anna waggled her tongue in the gap where her teeth had been.
“I’ve an idea. Now that your face is no longer swollen up like a blowfish, this is a perfectly good time to tell you.”
Anna pressed her nose into his neck and smelled the scent of hope.
“Anna, once we latch your nephew, once that part is done, and once he is released from that Mitford chap, well, what I’m coming to is that I want you to come back to Skibbereen with me. Or to Kinsale if you’ve taken to Kinsale more than Skib. But let’s say we go together. We are both free to marry.”
Donal twisted so that he faced her, nose to nose on the bed.
“You fit with me. When I look at us, we make this thing that’s altogether new from either you or me. Me old mum would have called us a huckleberry above a persimmon, but she was old-fashioned, she was.”
Anna was open and soft all over, and she had never been both at one time before. Her body was new and rearranged by what passed between them, by the third thing they created from her breath and his skin. She had never been more scraped, terrified, battle scarred, toothless, hungry, and hung-over from home brew than now. And more loved; she had never been more loved.
“The last words on Glennie’s lips told me to go home. The first words on your lips tell me to stay here forever. I’m going to pray that our Glenis was wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“That means that I want more than anything to stay with you. I may not be able to go home, even after we rescue my nephew. Is that what we’re calling it, a rescue?”
She heard a hard rain and wind crash into the house.
“Tell me we don’t have to smuggle anything, meet sailors on frozen beaches, or find each other at smoky taverns today. Please tell me that we don’t have to go out in this rainstorm.”
“There are two beautiful kinds of rain in Ireland. One is the mist, which keeps the isle green, gives us flowers and crops of potatoes. We call it liquid gold, and we all praise it. The other is a rain like today, hard and forbidding, that makes it impossible to venture out the door. All who can will find excuses to stay inside. And that is just what we shall do.”
Anna relaxed deeper into the bed.
“Now tell me everything about my nephew and your journey,” she said, changing the topic slightly, pressing close to him, swinging one leg over his.
“We have an insider working on the colonel’s estate. I met him at the docks in Tramore. Don’t ask me his name; it is all the better that his name remains unspoken. There is no telling what any of us will say under the force of capture. Even under the foolishness of drink, we’ll tell the most horrendous tales and someone will think they’re true. You thought you were from the future after four glasses of poteen,” he said with a wink.
“No kidding? Imagine that,” said Anna, wrapping a stand of hair around her finger.
“So his name remains unspoken. He said the colonel’s father was awarded the entire estate by the English for his service in the military, gobbling up an immense amount of Irish land and running people out of their homes, tumbling their cottages. The great irony is that the estate is now run by Irish cooks, stonemasons, servants, farmers, stablemen, and a host of other Irish who, for the most part, keep the colonel from causing a fearsome amount of trouble. For years, he has hunted with his English mates, bet on horse races, and traveled to England more often than not, leaving the Irish be. Until your nephew washed up onshore.”
“Glenis never thought to search that far away,” she said.
“Aye. He came ashore a good seventy miles from where you were found. She never would have thought that was possible. The colonel is using the lad as his wrestling champion as further proof that Irish men are inferior. He has plans to take him to England and promote him. He may even give up betting on horses. And he had no qualms about your nephew’s life and limb. The fellow I talked with said that Joseph is valuable to him, but no more so than a good racehorse.”
“So how do we get him?”
“We’re going to book passage out of Cork and go to Tramore. If he’ll come willingly, we could simply meet him and make off with him for Cork, then Skibbereen. But there’s a complication. The lad is in love.”
Anna sat up. “He’s sixteen! How much in love can he be?”
She knew the answer to this as soon as she said it. Horribly, impossibly, over the top in love, that’s how much.
“Do you mean that he won’t leave because he’s in love?” she asked.
“The fellow I talked with said there is tragedy brewing; the lad is in love with an Irish girl. The colonel is violently opposed to the upper class fraternizing with the Irish.”
For the rest of the day, while the rain pounded along the southern edge of Ireland, Anna and Donal planned their approach to Tramore and shared a grateful meal with John. Anna drank a thin soup, nursing the absence of two lovely teeth.
Chapter 32
By the time Anna woke, Donal was already gone, having left word with their obliging host that she should meet him at a small church.
“Where has he gone?” asked Anna.
“Booking passage for the two of you to Tramore. It’s far easier than by land. He says you have family there—a lad,” said John.
“Should I be prepared to leave directly from the church?”
“Aye. And our maid has located a skirt and a jacket that
is not torn to shreds. She left it for you.”
Anna could not imagine the sacrifice that had gone into acquiring a skirt and a jacket for her. The jacket fit too snugly across her shoulders and the skirt truly needed to be let down, but they would have to do. Her boots had been polished, and they were greatly improved. She let a freshly laundered linen shift fall over her head and slide along her body. She paused to take stock. She had a glaring scar on one leg, which was well healed but still plum; her inner thighs had healed nicely from a full day of riding with a skirt on; she was shy two teeth; and the swelling in her jaw was all but gone. Not bad, she thought, trying to cheer herself, not bad at all.
Leaving John’s house swiftly was the kindest thing she could do for him.
“You are a saint of a man. And I have never loved taking a bath as much as I have at your house,” she said as she solemnly kissed his cheek. She knew people thought baths were an extravagance, or at least frequent bathers were suspect. But Anna had left frequent bathing behind and was now on to infrequent bathing.
“The English are good people,” he said. “We don’t all agree with strangling the Irish and their trades….” His eyes reddened, and Anna saw his passion flare. She took his hand and nodded.
John had hired a coach for her, another extravagance that she gratefully accepted.
The small Catholic church was hardly a church at all, but it was a building of sorts, and someone had filled a tray with sand to hold a few candles. There was no fireplace, and the inside was like a cave: damp and cold. The barren walls and altar were just as the church’s young priest explained.
“Our churches are as plain as we can make them; it is all the better for us to deny attentions to the church and put our attentions into our people and the liberation of our country,” he whispered to her, guiding her to a rough pew.
Anna knelt in the unforgiving pew, waiting for Donal to appear. She knew that she might have to wait an hour—or perhaps she might have to wait four hours. Time was more fluid here, less tethered to a glowing, digital clock. To occupy her time-constrained thinking, she got up and walked to the far side of the altar to light a candle in memory of all who were going to die between now and when she was born. She lit one candle for all those destined to die in the Famine. She knelt in front of the candles and rested her head on the bar, polished to a dull gleam by the palms of many. Another woman knelt beside her.
“Hello, Anna,” said the woman.
Anna looked sharply at her, taking in her rich mahogany hair, her firm skin dusted with freckles, her diminutive frame, and her confident air.
“Excuse me?” Anna said, dodging for time.
“I’ve been sent by Donal. Well, not exactly, but on his behalf. Excuse me manners. I’m Biddy Early.”
Anna’s heart leaped, and a sound like a mewling kitten escaped her lips. She didn’t want to make another mistake. There was already a dead man in the ocean because of her. She was losing her grip; she had to be careful. She cleared her throat. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
“I know a bit about you. And it is not safe for us to stay here. You must come with me.”
Biddy paused, and Anna saw an appraising look come over her, not unlike one a good lawyer would exhibit.
“There are too many ears in this church. Walk away from the others and step into this alcove.” Biddy nodded with her head to a darkened nook.
Anna stood up abruptly. When she did, she towered over Biddy. The two women moved to the privacy of the alcove. Even in her panic, Anna noted the tiny creases around the woman’s eyes, which were deep ocean blue, and the corners of her mouth. Anna imagined that Biddy was in her forties, although it was not easy to judge age in the harsh world of uncertain food.
“Did Glenis not tell you about me before she died?”
At the sound of Glenis’s name, Anna crumbled and held her hands up to her face.
“Give me a reason to trust you, because I long to trust another person,” said Anna. “She was unable to tell me anything.” This was a lie, but one that Anna decided to keep tucked inside, with all of the precious parts of Glennie.
“I’ll tell you about dear Glenis,” said Biddy, pressing a shoulder lightly against the cold slab of stone in the alcove. “I can tell you that she loved you like her sister and that the two of you dreamed each other’s dreams, sleeping out by a sacred spring. Is that enough for you?”
Anna swallowed hard. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Glenis said you were from another time, that you had traveled from the future. You’re searching for another, a lad, who came with you. I’ve seen and heard more than you can imagine, so take heart; I believe you. And Glenis brought this with her.” Biddy pulled a bit of cloth out of her pocket. It was the shred of silk marked with the Man Silk tag.
Anna gasped and shot out her hand to grab the cloth. She pulled it to her face.
“When Glenis showed this to me, I was struck hard by a thing that had only been flimsy vapors, a memory. I know this cloth from somewhere, I’ve had it in me hands before. And the second I touched it, I heard a man’s voice, as clear and pure as any voice I’ve ever heard. ‘Mine the coin,’ he said.”
Anna gasped. That’s why Glennie knew, Biddy had told her.
“My brother said something about a coin right after he was hurt. But it was the last thing that he said, before…I don’t know if he’ll survive,” said Anna.
“Time is pockmarked and fluid to be sure, but if you’re here, there’s a reason. And I know part of what it is.”
Anna sank into Biddy’s assuredness. Finally.
“It’s a curse as sure as I’ve ever seen. They can last for centuries, starting like a bad speck of dust and once they start rolling, they can pick up fearsome speed, and a hundred and sixty-four years later you have trouble that is thick and deep as stone. I don’t know what’s become of people in your time that you can’t tell a curse when clearly you’re living every day under its ugly breath.”
“And that’s why I’m here? But there’s nothing special about my family, we’re not world leaders or famous in any way. We are the plainest people around. Why us?”
Biddy rolled her eyes and sighed.
“You and I will not have time to say all that needs be said about curses. In the world of healing, we are taught that to save a single life is to save the whole world in time. These are the truest and the most ancient words that I know.”
Anna nodded, unable to take her eyes off the woman.
“I am a seventh daughter, and that is how the sight passes in my people. But for all those who touch skin and know it as skin, we touch skin and know it as sound and story. Here, give me your hand.”
Anna instinctively pulled her hands back, as if she’d felt the flame of a torch. With a jerky movement, she held out her right hand.
“Aye. You and the boy are from the same line. Wait, I can’t decipher this, hold still, woman, you’re shaking. There is a turning, a spiral where a direct line should be. You are from here and not from here, and yet he precedes you. He stands in front and you are behind him in the distance….”
Anna snatched her hand away. She suddenly remembered the strange vision of Joseph from her frozen night on Beara.
“Donal and I know where Joseph is. Donal is booking passage for us to go to Tramore this very day. He’s meeting me here,” said Anna.
Biddy Early took Anna’s hand again, and welcome warmth spread up her arms.
“I’ve saved the worst for last. Donal has been taken by the British. He’s in Cork prison for murder and treason. There was an informer in the Passage West who somehow connected Donal to the death of the soldier.”
Anna’s knees gave out and Biddy caught her.
“Here now, lean against me.”
“Donal wasn’t even there! Where is the prison? We need to get him released. I can speak on his behalf.”
“I feel time dwindling. We can try to salvage Donal or find your nephew. I’m not at all sure we can do both.�
��
“I’m not losing either of them. If time is dwindling, then tell me what to do.”
Chapter 33
“Get me a dress, the finest dress you can manage. And shoes. Get me shoes that a lady would wear,” said Anna.
It was December, and even along the southern shores of Ireland, the air did not warm during the fleetingly short hours of daylight. Anna had full faith in Biddy Early’s stealth empire of subversive power and sight. The two women had taken over the priest’s meager quarters behind the church.
Biddy took time to examine Anna’s gums where the two teeth had been extracted. Or where the stubs of her teeth had been extracted.
“That’s sterling work by the blacksmith. And you took good care with the poultice. I don’t like to brag, but it could have gone far worse for you. Would you care for a cup of poteen? It could settle your nerves,” she said with a smile.
“I never want to taste poteen again. Let’s get this done, and then I need to think quietly about meeting with the governor of the prison.”
“Don’t let your nerves run off with you. You’ll be no help to Donal or the boy in an agitated state of mind.”
Within hours, a dress appeared, fresh from a British estate in Cork, delivered by a chambermaid, who gave it to the kitchen help, who packed it in a crate for a gardener, who delivered it to a stonemason, who appeared in the doorway and handed it over without a word. Biddy pried the crate open.
“This will do. This will make a titled lady out of you.”
There were no undergarments for this dress (an unfortunate omission) except for a corset. Biddy made quick work of the corset, placing a knee in Anna’s back and yanking hard on the ties. Then Anna let the finely woven wool dress pour over her head, a disarming blue, with a tightly striped bodice, flaring below her waist, coming to a provocative point below her belly button, directing the eye downward. The dress had a jacket with slightly puffed shoulders and a velvet blue collar of a darker, richer blue.
Now & Then Page 27
