Cissolt’s death affected us all, but Verona was distraught. She would sit looking into the fire, taking no notice of what was happening around her. Her mind was lost in her memories and she could not find a way back to the real world. She seemed to have no knowledge of what we did or said to her. She even forgot she had another daughter who lay sick. Verona had always been such a strong capable woman. I cried to see her so diminished. We did not tell Fritha about her sister’s death. We did not dare. She was already grieving for Cristen, whom she adored. We were afraid that the news of Cissolt’s passing would make her give up her own fight. Sharry, Fritha’s husband, defied the fear of infection and stayed beside her. He held her hand and lifted her in his arms whenever we needed to wash or change her wraps. He did not believe the girl he loved was being taken away from him. We warned him he would be likely to catch the sickness himself, as Payl had done, if he stayed with her. But he said,
“If Fritha dies, I don’t want to live. Leave me alone.”
Between caring for my mother and helping Sharry to look after Fritha, I was becoming distracted. Mummig drifted in and out of consciousness. She rarely spoke. My fear increased, as she got worse. She was dying and did not have long to live. Then, one day, when I was nearby, she seemed more aware of her surroundings than she had been for some time. She smiled at me and said in a faint voice,
“A strange homecoming for you, girl. Better for you, if you had stayed away until this sickness was over.”
Although I secretly agreed with her, I shook my head. She took my hand and continued, “I am glad you didn’t.” She fell silent for a while and I thought she had fallen asleep. Then she whispered, “I wish Father Peddyr was here. My sins lie heavy on my soul. I would confess them before I die.”
I wondered if she was speaking to me or to herself.
“You have so few sins, Mummig. You’re one of the best people I know!” I said, tears filling my eyes and running down my face. I did not stop them, because I meant every word. I had always given my mother a child’s unthinking love, for she had been a kind and gentle parent. Then I had been so rudely snatched away from her. When I returned and found her ill, I understood for the first time how much she meant to me.
She smiled at my words, but said simply, “I have sins of which you know nothing. If the priest were here, he could hear my confession, and all the rest of us, before we go. Too many people have died without the comfort of having their sins forgiven.”
Her wish was in vain. We both knew he would not come. I could not help saying,
“Father Peddyr only comes to us at Lughnasa. At this time of year, who knows where he will be? At his keeil or somewhere else entirely?”
“Yes. That’s true,” she sighed and turned her face away from me.
The look in her eyes chilled me, but there was little I could do to comfort her. Whatever there was though, I decided I would try. I made up my mind to ask my father to send for Father Peddyr, although I expected him to refuse me. It was unlikely the priest would be easily found; or would come if he were. As evening fell, I waited for the men and beasts to return home.
Conal came skipping down the path and reached me first. Very little troubles an eight year old boy, I’ve noticed. He ran to greet me as he usually did. He threw his arms round me and gave me a big hug, before he saw the look on my face. I gently put him to one side and he drew back from me, frowning at something he did not understand.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Mummig’s worse. Where’s Father?”
“Coming.”
I walked forward and spied him in the distance, following the animals. I stood and waited, Conal by my side and, for once, he kept silent. Father frowned as he saw us waiting together.
“Conal, come here. Keep away from him, girl, do you want to give him the sickness?”
“I’m sorry, Father.” Indeed, I hadn’t thought about the possibility of infecting him, for my mind was on other things.
“What are you standing here idly for? Don’t you have anything to do?”
“I needed to speak to you. Mummig is asking for the priest. Could one of the men go and ask Father Peddyr to come to her?”
“Don’t be stupid, girl. You know he won’t come. Are you telling me your mother is dying?”
“No, not yet, but she’s very ill and in constant pain. No one has recovered from this sickness and Mummig says her sins lie heavy on her.”
He stopped and passed a hand shakily across his eyes. As his arm dropped, I caught a fleeting look of grief, before he wiped the expression from his face.
“Mian can go,” he said slowly, as if he found the words with difficulty. “Father Peddyr won’t come, but it may make her happier to know he’s been sent for. Your mother is a good woman, with fewer sins than most of us to regret. If God desires her to come to Him at this time, she’ll die in a state of grace. Tell her I said so.”
“Thank you, Father. I’ll repeat your words to her if you want me to. I am sure, though, she would prefer you to say them to her yourself.”
I spoke without thinking, responding to the fleeting sorrow I had seen in my father’s eyes. But I should not have said such a thing to him. He had never been anywhere near her, since she had started to sicken. His face clouded with sudden anger and I realised I had, unwittingly, called him a coward for staying apart from her. I hurriedly stepped back and then turned and ran into the house.
All the lines on my mother’s brow smoothed away when I gave her Father’s message. That night, she slept less restlessly than she had done for some time. However, this small flash of a recovery did not last. Like all the others who were sick, she was drifting from me, slowly but surely. She could not live much longer.
Many times, as I worked among the sick, I wished McLir were with me to tell me what I should do. Perhaps he had some treatment, which might cure this terrible scourge. I had heard little or nothing about him, since he had brought me home. All the markets had been closed for fear of the infection. Travellers were few and not made welcome. News of any sort had become scarce and gossip even scarcer. I did not have the time or the energy to seek McLir out, even if my father had given me permission. He might send a message to Father Peddyr, but he would never ask the magician for help. I comforted myself with the knowledge that, if she had to decide between them, Mummig would unhesitatingly choose the priest.
All our treatments were failing now and both my mother and Fritha drifted nearer and nearer to death. I began to steel myself to cope with the inevitable. But I would not be able to live without regret if I had not, at least, tried to change Father’s mind. I had to be brave. McLir might not be able to save them. Yet if I asked for him, I would have done everything possible to save their lives.
I was still trying to find the courage to approach my father again, when Lilee came past the village. She shouted to us that McLir was at Creena’s house. Jony had the illness and Creena had sent for him to come and help her and the others in their settlement. Whatever he had done seemed to be working for they were getting better. I gasped as I listened to her words, the first bit of hope we had had for days. I looked around wildly, my thoughts whirling. If McLir stayed at Creena’s, then he was only a few miles away! If Creena had asked him to help her, surely we should be able to ask him too.
The news gave me the spur I needed. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to find to my father. He had heard Lilee – we all had – she has such a loud voice. He had just snorted and kept on chopping wood, ignoring her.
“Ayr? Father?”
“What do you want now?”
He wanted to take no notice of me as usual, but, for once, I stood my ground and spoke up. “Mummig is much worse and I can do little more for her. She will die in a few days, maybe even in a few hours.”
“Well, what to you expect me to do? I don’t know how to cure her sickness.”
“No one here does, but she cannot survive now without a miracle.”
“A miracle you say? I
am no miracle worker. None of us are.”
“McLir might be. He understands so many things about illness that we don’t. You heard Lilee. He’s only in the next village and he’s curing people there. He might be able to save her, even now.” I let the words tumble out quickly before he stopped me. I could feel my chest going tight and I was almost gasping in terror. “Please let me go...”
“No!” The word thundered out with so much force I flinched away from him, as if he had actually struck me. “I want no further dealings with that man. The priest told us his magic is evil. That’s good enough for me. I won’t put our souls in peril, especially now, when we all might die. It’s dangerous to meddle with things you don’t understand.”
“He cured me.”
“He changed you for the worse! Magic is forbidden on the island, by both the king and the church. This man uses magic; you know that even better than I do. Anything might happen if he came here. I forbid you to go anywhere near him, do you understand me, Renny?”
“His magic harms no one; he seeks only to cure...”
“Enough. You understand me and I mean what I say. No one is to go anywhere near him or they’ll feel my displeasure.” He started to turn away from me again.
“Not even to save Mummig’s life?” Fear gave me unusual courage. I shouted the words into his face, although I knew exactly what I was provoking and I had no time to say any more. He drew back his fist and left me sprawling on the ground.
My senses swam and a sudden weight on my chest made it difficult for me to breathe. I had no idea how long I lay in my stupor, until my mind began to clear at last. When my eyes focussed again, my father had gone and old Margaid was bending over me, dripping water onto my face.
“How stupid of you to say that to him,” she told me, as she helped me to scramble to my feet. “You ought to have learned by now to hold your tongue and keep out of his reach.”
“Did you hear everything?”
“I heard enough. He’s split your lip for you. Hold still and let me get the dirt out.” She held my head firmly and washed me, as she used to do, when I was a child who had slipped and hurt my knee.
“He’s done that before, often enough,” I mumbled. The water stung and I became aware of the pain in my smarting cheek. “I can’t believe he refused to let me go for help. Surely he’d want to try everything possible to save Mummig’s life?”
Margaid gave me a shake. “You foolish girl. He’s knocked out whatever few wits you ever had in your head. Grow up! Don’t you realise there are worse things in life for a man than the death of his wife when she’s no longer young?”
I jerked away from her with the shock. “What are you saying to me?” I almost screamed at her.
“Ssh!” she hissed. “If Feena dies, there are others who are younger and stronger to take her place. Oshin is much like other men and he’s always had an eye for a pretty face. He’ll marry again soon; mark my words. A man wants sons to fight for him and to look after him in his old age. Conal is the only one he has and he’s unlikely to get any more unless he finds someone younger. Feena is too old to have more children now, but he can’t just discard her. She has powerful kin and she knows how to get her own way with him. He resents her sometimes. He didn’t when they were both young, but he does now; believe me. He loved her for a long time, longer than I ever thought him capable. But that part of their lives has been over for many years. He’ll grieve when she dies, because he remembers her as she once was, but memories don’t last. Feena’s death would allow him to take another wife who’ll be able to give him more sons. Maybe she wouldn’t make him dance to her tune so often. Oshin wouldn’t cause Feena’s death, but don’t expect him to mourn her for the rest of his life!”
“No! No!” I screamed. “You’re mistaken!”
“Keep your voice down, you fool. I’m not wrong; it’s true what I tell you. This is the way of the world, and it’s time you grew up and accepted these things. Oshin isn’t the first man to think such thoughts, nor is he likely to be the last.”
But I did not accept it, even though her words rang true. I remembered other men who had grieved for their wives, yet replaced them within the year, sometimes within weeks. Anger boiled up inside me. Why had I been so blind I did not realise it for myself? Yet whatever my father might want, I wanted, above everything, for my mother to live and Fritha too.
Fritha! Sharry needed Fritha to live, even more than I wanted Mummig to do so. He would do anything to keep her alive. I was certain of that. The idea leapt shining into my battered mind. Without another word, I broke away from Margaid’s grasp and ran off down the street.
“Where are you going?” she cried after me, but I did not answer her. I burst through the door of Fritha’s house, tripping over a stool and falling headlong in my haste.
“Sharry!”
His hand gripped me and pulled me roughly to my feet. “Shut up, you’ll wake her.” Then he gave me a shake as I clung to him.
When I was able to speak, I asked softly, “Sharry, do you love Fritha?”
“Of course I love Fritha, what sort of a stupid question is that?” He hissed at me in anger.
“You’d do anything to keep her alive, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, I would! What’s all this about?” He must have been sitting inside the hut, with Fritha. So perhaps he hadn’t heard Lilee and nobody had come to tell him the things she had said.
“McLir’s at Creena’s. I want you to go to him and bring him here.”
“Why?”
“Lilee says he’s got a cure for this illness. He’s been treating Jony and she’s getting better.”
“A cure? I don’t believe there is one and you know what Lilee’s like with her tales.”
“But there might be one, and, even if there isn’t, we don’t have anything else, do we?”
“I can’t leave Fritha, while she’s so restless. Why don’t you go yourself if you’re so keen? He knows you, he doesn’t know me.”
“I asked my father to let me go and he refused. He knocked me down, when I didn’t accept what he said and tried to argue with him.”
“So you want me to go instead? Oshin’s my headman too, in case you’ve forgotten, and I also have to do what he says.”
“But Fritha’s your love and she’s dying! Who’s more important to you, my father or your wife and unborn child? Do you want to lose them both like Payl did?”
Instinctively his eyes sought the pale face lying on the bed with its mass of golden hair and his eyes hardened. I realised, in that second, I had won and I pressed my victory home.
“Sharry, you’re a grown man. You can make up your own mind. I can’t go. He’ll be watching me now because I asked. If I try to leave the village, he’ll stop me. But he couldn’t hinder you from taking a walk, even if you went in that direction. Margaid is in my house taking care of Mummig. I can stay with Fritha while you go for both of us. Please? McLir will come if you ask him to.”
His eyes sought mine as he nodded and I saw a small hope dawn in them. “All right, I’ll go,” he said.
9
Fritha tossed and turned. Nothing I did made her comfortable. I was worried, but caring for her took my mind off what Sharry was doing. He seemed to be gone hours, although the sun’s rays had barely moved when I heard his tread approaching the entrance.
“Where’s McLir?” I asked, jumping to my feet and looking for his tall figure.
“He isn’t here.”
“Hasn’t he come with you? He’s got to come!” I couldn’t believe McLir would refuse my request.
“Listen to me!” Sharry gripped my arms hard and gave me a shake. “He hasn’t come, because I told him what your father did to you. He doesn’t want to make any more trouble.”
“Why did you tell him? I don’t care about that...”
“Will you listen to me?” His voice rose to a roar and stopped me dead, then it dropped and he continued in a whisper. “He didn’t come, but he told me what we had
to do. We’re going to start, just as soon as you shut up and let me tell you. He’ll come down to the dead tree on the river bank, when the moon sets tomorrow night. He says we should see some sign that the cure is working by then. He’ll wait for you, if you can get away undetected, and he’ll tell you what to do next.” Sharry relaxed his grip on me a little. “I didn’t understand everything he told me, but I’m going to do the best I can. You’re going to help me. I’ll say I can’t manage alone and I need you here to lend a hand with Fritha.”
“Of course. Just tell everyone she’s worse and they’ll believe you.”
Sharry nodded.
Even I heard the impatience in my voice as I said, “What do we have to do?”
“Something weird.”
“Most of the things McLir does are strange.”
“Well, he said to go into all the houses and gather up any scraps of bread which are green with age. Also he wants us to open up the storage sacks and find grain which has gone mouldy.”
“What on earth for?”
“I’m only repeating the things he said.”
I nodded. “What do we do with the bread and grain when we’ve got them?”
“He told me to grind everything into a fine powder and mix it with warm water to form a thick paste. We’re to put some of the paste onto Fritha’s lips and make sure she licks everything off. If she doesn’t lick, we must mix in more water to brew a drink and dribble it into her mouth. He says that should work too.”
“But isn’t that poisonous? We always scrape the mould off bread.”
“I asked him about that. He says not. He thinks mould has something in it that fights this sickness. He doesn’t know how, but he’s sure it works on some people. You’re the one who told me he had found the cure. Don’t you trust him now?”
Manannan's Magic Page 8
