Manannan Trilogy

by Michele McGrath

  6

  The next morning, I awoke with a feeling of foreboding. The day was fine with a blue sky, sunshine and scudding white clouds. For a moment, I wondered why I felt so uneasy and then I remembered what had happened. The good weather lifted my spirits, though, and the shock of my discovery faded a little in the daylight. But I was left wondering - what else did I not know about McLir? I felt shy and awkward around him and, for the first time in weeks, tongue-tied.

  My initial task was to fetch some water from the stream. McLir turned his head to look at me as I carried the heavy jug and set it onto the table. I had not used my crutch at all.

  “Soon you must return to your father’s house,” he told me quietly. “There’s no risk now of undoing the cure.”

  “Everything is so peaceful here,” I replied after a slight hesitation, “and I’m learning so much. I’ll miss you and Shea when I go.” I gazed around the cave, at its meagre, wonderful, yet dangerous, contents. I thought of what he had said about the lack of welcome my father would give me. I also feared the other danger he had foreseen. I patted Shea’s huge head, but I avoided his master’s eyes. I was unsure whether my confused feelings showed on my face clearly enough for him to read.

  Later in the afternoon, McLir helped me into his boat and we paddled through the rocks to the shore. It was the first time I had left the cave. He said I needed to strengthen my wasted muscles, so I would be able to undertake the journey home. We walked along the strand gathering seaweed. Shea ran around us in joyous circles, his tail wagging energetically. The wind blew strongly, and I began to shiver despite my heavy cloak, unaccustomed for so long to being outside. I was fleetingly happy to be walking in the world again. We met nobody, that first time. We did not go far, because my leg and side ached by the time we returned to the cave. After supper, I fell into bed and slept heavily, without dreams.

  From then on, McLir took me to the shore each day. I was able to walk for longer distances, with less fatigue. Our village is more than five miles from the river’s mouth and I would have to walk all the way. McLir wanted to be sure that I could manage the distance without strain before we undertook the journey. When he first took the splint off, my muscles had withered. My leg looked wrinkled, like a badly cured sheepskin. As I looked at this stick-like thing, I admit I again doubted his word. I did not believe I would be able to walk properly but I was wrong. He knew what he was talking about and, indeed, everything happened just as he said. It took time to make my muscles strong but, before long, I was well enough to be ready for the journey. McLir confirmed this by telling me he could do no more and now the time had come for me to go. I made no objections, because he was right. I also had a longing for a normal life again, to see my mother and my friends. I wanted to be where no one had visions, or things happened unexpectedly, without explanations.

  I will always remember the journey back. We stood out from the shore and rounded the cliffs in a welter of shining spray. The sun shone, the sky was blue and the breeze cold but fair. The gusts filled the sails and drove us forward, so fast we leapt over the waves like a spawning salmon. I laughed from the sheer joy of riding the foaming sea, and McLir smiled as he watched me.

  He headed for the fisherman’s shelter where he usually landed to tend the sick. I had been to the place before, but not since my accident. I felt a little shy, for I had not spoken to anyone, save McLir and his dog, for many weeks. When our boat approached the shore, a group of people came out to meet us. McLir told me this usually happened when he arrived. People watched for his ship, waiting for him to come and hoping his remedies would cure them of the winter agues. But they were obviously nervous of him, as he had also told me. No one met our eyes as they took in the mooring ropes and made our boat fast. Everyone waited silently while we carried our bundles ashore, not daring to help without being asked. At first, as I glanced around, I thought they were all strangers. Then I recognised a face I knew well.

  “Lilee!” I cried out in glad recognition. She sidled away from me, clutching at her skirts, to make sure my shadow did not fall upon them.

  “Lilee!” I repeated, starting forwards towards her. She backed off, like a startled horse and then turned round and ran, until the huts hid her from my sight.

  “What’s up with her? Why did she run away?” I asked McLir, stupefied by her behaviour, for I had known her all of my life.

  “She won’t come near you, because you’re with me and you’ve been away so long.” He sighed. “She doesn’t think you’re the same girl you were before and she’s frightened of you.”

  “But I haven’t changed!” I could not believe anyone would run away from me. Yet Lilee had just done so. If she did, would my own people run from me too?

  “She thinks you changed and she’s unlikely to be alone in her opinion, but it won’t always be so. When this woman becomes used to you, she’ll forget her fear and accept you again.”

  After that, we had no opportunity for further talk. McLir spoke with those people who had waited for him and gave out his medicines. Quite a few had gathered since he came before, so it took some time before he had treated the last one. Then we had to load the unused remedies on board his boat. We lashed everything down so nothing would shift in the tossing waves. We had finished and were about to start on our journey, when I spied a figure in the distance. He was running towards us.

  “Look, here’s another one! He’s almost too late.”

  McLir peered at him. “He’s certainly coming this way.”

  “I think I recognise him,” I said. He was too far away to be sure, but something about him seemed familiar to me and I was right. The man was Mian. He looked weary and his clothes were soiled and torn, as if he had fallen more than once upon the way. He must have run fast to get here. He would have started as soon as the news of McLir’s ship had reached the village. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He squinted, trying to avoid our eyes. I realised, with another shock, how apprehensive he must be. Mian and I have always been friends and I hated to think he was scared of me now.

  “This is Mian, my cousin,” I introduced him to McLir.

  “Did you come to speak to McLir?” I asked Mian, and he nodded. He looked apprehensively at Shea, who stood beside us with his hackles raised. I stroked the dog comfortingly, but he did not relax his guard.

  “Verona sent me to you, sir. Renny’s mother is ill and asking for her,” Mian said when he had recovered his breath and was able to speak again.

  “Oh no!” Instinctively my hand went up to my mouth, as Mummig’s face flashed into my mind.

  “How bad is she?” McLir asked.

  “Bad and she’s not the only one.”

  “Who else?”

  “Old Jole and Cristen, Cissolt’s boy.” Mian turned to McLir. “Is Renny well enough to come back now, sir? I was told to ask.”

  “We were on our way to you in any case. Let’s go at once.”

  “Verona said, if Renny could travel, I should help her make the journey home. I was asked to thank you for your care and to give you this gift from Feena.” Mian pulled a small parcel from his tunic and handed it to McLir. McLir undid the wrappings carefully, disclosing a dagger in an elaborate case. I recognised it immediately and I must have made some sound, because McLir looked at me quizzically.

  “The dagger belonged to my grandsire, my mother’s father. Mummig has always cherished it.”

  “Then I am doubly honoured by her gift.”

  “I’ll give Feena your thanks,” Mian said, making him a small bow.

  “No need, I’m coming with you and I’ll thank her myself.”

  Mian fidgeted uncomfortably, but he clearly did not know what to say. I did not try to help him in his difficulty, because I wanted McLir to come. If my mother was sick, perhaps he might be able to cure her, as he had helped so many others. If Mian had tried to stop McLir, I would have argued with him, but I had no need. He did not say anything further, although he still moved about uneasily, stan
ding first on one leg and then the other. As we left, I realised McLir had brought not only his staff but also his sword. I wondered what sort of trouble he expected and all my fears returned.

  “You’re young and swift,” McLir said to Mian as we turned down the river path. “Go ahead and tell them we are coming. I’ll stay with Renny and give her any help she needs.” Mian looked relieved to be given a good excuse to leave us and promptly took him at his word.

  McLir and I walked together in silence for a while. We had often done so before, when we had strolled along the strand. This time, my thoughts and emotions choked me and I found it difficult to speak. I was distressed for my mother, afraid of what I would find at home and unhappy about seeing my father again. I worried that McLir felt he needed to bring his sword with him. I also realised how much I’d miss him, in spite of my uneasiness about his visions. He had given my life stability; I had relied on him for all my needs and now we would soon part. In the last few days, the knowledge of his true magic had driven a wedge between us but this now seemed more like a fitful dream.

  The sun shone and the day stayed fine. Thankfully, we had no need to struggle against the wind, which often makes walking so difficult. McLir would not let me hurry and stopped me when I increased my pace.

  “We’ll be there soon enough. Mind where you walk and preserve your strength. Don’t overtax yourself.”

  The path was moist and needed care, but at no time did I trip or hurt myself. We walked across the meadows and through woods still stark and bare from winter. I rejoiced to see the patches of green starting to sprout in the cold ground. The air held an icy promise of spring.

  After a while, the exercise warmed me and, I began to throw off my uneasiness and step out confidently. Shea bounded ahead of us. He delighted to be out, tearing back and forward, making nothing of the rocks, which dotted the grassland. He cleared them in great leaps and barked happily. He obviously rejoiced in the unaccustomed journey, and I smiled as I watched him. He darted through the brush, hunting rabbits and displaying an amazing turn of speed. Soon his hunt ended successfully and he left us for a while. I realised this might be the last time I would be alone with McLir and Shea, unless McLir’s dream really did come true. My eyes began to water. Unexpected tears blurred my sight and my chest tightened as I tried to hold them back.

  From the start, McLir had adapted himself to my mood. He kept silence at first and then distracted my thoughts when they needed distraction. He began to question me about the places we were passing. He pointed out some far away object and asked me what it was. For once, I became his teacher. I told him about the things we passed, as far as I was able. I named the hills, the point of the land to the north and the villages. Their smoke rose up into the cold still air. I repeated the stories I had listened to round the fire in childhood and they helped to pass the journey.

  The grassy track was much easier to walk on than the sands. I rejoiced to be able to move so freely once again. McLir gave me a hand in some of the more difficult, boggy places. I found I had little need of his help, if I moved carefully. Our progress, however, began to slow as my leg became tired. After a while, it started to ache and I had to grit my teeth against the pain.

  McLir was watching me closely, for he stopped and pulled out his flask. “Drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something to ease the pain in your leg.” I took a sip and recognised the taste. The sweet syrup was one of the more complex mixtures, which I had helped him to prepare. His father had brought the seeds of this strange plant back with him from the south and McLir had planted it in pots. It had a red flower. A syrup made from it stopped pain but it could also do damage if a person drank too much.

  “Poppy juice?” I asked and frowned.

  He nodded. “Well remembered.” Once again, he read my thoughts. “I have only given you enough to still the aching. You need not worry that it will do you harm. You are tired, but walking so far has not done your leg any lasting damage. The pain will pass when you are rested.”

  “How did you know what I was afraid of?”

  “You show your emotions on your face.”

  “You say that, as if showing my emotions is a bad thing.”

  “In certain circumstances it can be. A word of warning to you. We have been friends while we lived together. I would not be too eager to let the rest of the world find out too much about our friendship. Don’t talk about anything you learned from me. Do not defend me, when others criticise. Their criticism cannot injure me, but they might harm you. My father suffered persecution for his knowledge, as I do at times. I would not want you to suffer for it too. Keep your thoughts hidden and guard your tongue. The less you say the better, for everyone will be curious about the time you have spent with me.”

  I nodded, for I understood and agreed with him, yet it would be a new thing to me. “Keeping silence will be difficult,” I murmured.

  “But not impossible. Consider this as another lesson, a very important one, which you have also learned from me.”

  I knew he had given me good advice, and I silently vowed to heed his words. It would be difficult with Fritha, Verona, and all the rest around me, questioning me. To them I had always spoken freely, but why should they watch their words if I did not? If they said the wrong thing, what was to prevent their words being overheard by others like my father? Yes, despite the difficulty, I would have to keep silent and it would hurt us all.

  As we walked on, our talk returned to simple things, which did not matter. Soon we saw the smoke rising from the village houses. As we approached, alarmingly, we heard the sound of women weeping.

  7

  Several women stood together, watching their men stacking muddy shovels into a pile. Why would they be digging in the winter? Strained faces turned towards us, as white as sea foam. Something dreadful must have happened. I ran towards them, suddenly afraid.

  “Renny!” Verona stepped away from the group and came forward to greet me, her arms outstretched. “I’m so glad you’re here!” Tears stained her face. She took my hands and squeezed them hard.

  “Mummig?” I demanded, seriously alarmed, for Verona never weeps without a good reason.

  “No, not her. Jole died this morning. We’ve just returned from burying him.”

  She snuffled, and hot tears flooded into my eyes. I had not expected him to die so quickly; I had only just found out he was ill. He was an old man, it’s true, but he had always been strong and healthy. He was kind and a wonderful storyteller. We would all miss him in the long winter nights. His tales took us far away, making us forget the cold and the shrieking wind. I tried to understand he had left us forever, and hugged myself for comfort.

  Verona sighed. “At his age, he couldn’t fight the sickness. He was as old as your grandfather, don’t forget, and he died over twenty years ago. Jole just faded away. We couldn’t save him.” She raised her head and became aware of my two companions. She looked at Shea’s size and flinched. Then she turned to McLir and made him a small curtsey.

  “Thank you for bringing Renny home, sir. Her mother is fretting for her and won’t rest until she’s seen her safe.”

  “Where is she?” I exclaimed. “Let me go to her now.”

  “Not yet. She’s sleeping at the moment - don’t disturb her. She’s so restless, she rarely sleeps and she needs all the rest she can get.”

  I hesitated, but McLir stepped forward and said, “I am sorry for your loss.” He bowed to her, his face grave. “And for the trouble which has come to you.”

  “You must think me graceless indeed, to be so concerned with my own problems. I thank you for bringing Renny back at my request. Feena and Oshin are very grateful to you for your care of her.” I made an unbelieving noise and she turned on me sharply. “They are!”

  “Where is my father then? Shouldn’t he be here to greet me?” I looked round but could not spot him anywhere.

  “He’s not in the village.”

  “Oh?”


  “He went fishing last night and he took Conal with him. Jole was still alive when they left.” I must have looked upset by his callousness, because she reminded me, “Your father doesn’t like to be around sick people, especially those he cares for.”

  “Like Mummig?”

  “Yes, like your mother.”

  I turned to McLir. “Will you look at my mother please and tell me what you think is wrong with her?”

  “Yes, if I can.”

  Verona stepped to one side blocking our way to the entrance of the house. She glanced up at McLir. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t allow you to go in to her. Oshin will be displeased enough with me for sending Mian to fetch Renny back home. He’d never allow me to ask you to come for anything else. I dare not let you examine his wife.”

  “Verona!” I almost screamed, and she smiled a tired smile.

  “The sickness is only the winter ague. Feena is a strong woman and she’ll survive.”

  “Jole died!”

  “Jole was old. Please believe this isn’t my wish but Oshin is my headman. I must do as he says. I hope you understand.”

  McLir nodded. “I do.”

  “We’re already so much in your debt,” she continued. “Oshin will want to repay you for your kindness.”

  “The gift Renny’s mother sent me is ample repayment, when I expected none at all. Would you give her my thanks for sending something so personal and cherished?”