Frustrated beyond measure, Tristan felt the muscles in his face twitch as he tried to restrain his growing temper. “You know not what you speak of, Seerah. Brigit has no need of affection from me."
“Och—she does, so,” Seerah whispered fervently. “Everyone needs affection, Tristan! When you be ... well, alone together. Do you not embrace her and whisper sweet words in her ear?"
“Certainly not! And, you have no idea of what you be talking about."
“Oh, but I do. Most certainly.” Seerah nodded. “I learned all about the intimacies between men and women when I was but a wee lass of seven. ‘Twas the first time I helped deliver a bairn."
Despite his growing frustration, Tristan couldn't help being curious. Crossing his arms over his chest, he cocked his brow at her. “Oh? Do tell."
“Well, when Maureen MacBain began her laboring, I was the only one around to help. I had no idea what to do. Why, I feared for her life. Alas, she'd born three other children and she was na’ feared a'tall. Actually, she acted quite dauntless.” When Seerah tilted her head, Tristan noticed the fond, far away look glazing her eyes.
“She told me exactly what to do,” Seerah continued. “Honestly, though, I did na’ do anything special compared to what she did. She was so brave, and quite cheerful under the circumstances. Once the miracle had come to pass, I was filled with joy and I so wanted to have a child of me own. ‘Twas all I spoke of for days.” She chuckled. “Aye, Gran finally decided to tell me how babes came to be.” Pausing she glanced timidly up at Tristan, then quickly averted her eyes to her hands. “I still find the whole notion to be quite unsettling. I mean, to endure such trials of the flesh, then suffer the trauma of child-bearing.” Seerah trembled. “For some, bringing forth life is quite hazardous. Why, I've seen many a lass nearly die from the pain. ‘Tis the burden of women I suppose.” She shrugged. “But, Gran assured me that the right man would be gentle and speak kind words of love when he sheathed his..."
“Seerah!” Tristan bellowed, unable to hide his dismay at her candid manner.
“Aye!” Startled, Seerah blinked innocently up at him. “Do you na’ ... speak kind words of love when you be alone with Brigit?"
“Certainly not!” Tristan scowled.
“Och! Why does the thought of uttering kind words to a woman distress you so? Oooh! You behave as if you have no desire or...” Seerah faltered. A shocked, knowing look crossed her face, “Oh—be you plague by a flaccid member as well as irritable bowel, Tristan?"
Stunned by Seerah's bluntness, and utterly appalled by her absurd speculation, Tristan felt his face grow hot.
“Do you suffer such an ailment Tristan?” Brigit moved to the doorway. “Speak up. Seerah's a healer, mayhap she can remedy such an affliction."
Turning ever so slowly, Tristan glared at Brigit. “If you were na’ me sister, I would take you across me lap and throttle you within an inch of your life!” Disregarding the hounds, he strode past Seerah and marched off into the night.
“You and what army, little brother?” Brigit chuckled.
* * * *
“B-brother?” Seerah stammered.
“Aye.” Brigit smiled. “And, have no fear. According to some of the more generous young lasses around these parts, Tristan suffers no such ailment.” Brigit smiled.
Gareth and the other warriors snickered.
“Oh, dear. They heard everything? I've embarrassed Tristan horribly, and in front of his men.” Seerah shook her head with despair.
“Aye.” Brigit nodded. “'Tis not a simple feat. You should be proud. He's been a might arrogant and pushy as of late. Why if Mother still lived...” Brigit faltered.
Seerah groaned. “You truly be his sister, then? I thought..."
“Aye, I know what you thought. Me ... his wife.” Brigit giggled. “'Tis what made your conversation so amusing. Come. I'll tell you everything you need to know about me loving, baby brother.” Brigit locked her arm in Seerah's.
“But.” Seerah peered back over her shoulder into the darkness.
“He needs time alone, to calm down. He'll come back.” With a wave of her arm Brigit dismissed the hounds, then ushered Seerah inside and closed the door.
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
“Make yourself to home and I'll fix you something to eat.” Brigit motioned to a chair Colin was already occupying. “Have none of you any manners? Colin, move your fat rump and offer Seerah your seat. Greum, take her cloak and hang it on the wall. Zeth, fetch the lass something to drink, then you all best pull up a mat and get some rest. I have a feeling you'll be needing it. Gareth—"
“Stoke the fire?” Gareth smiled.
“Aye.” Brigit chuckled.
Colin relinquished his chair to Seerah. Then, muttering beneath his breath, he moved to the far side of the room where he sank down in the corner and closed his eyes.
Brigit handed Seerah a heaping trencher of food. “There now,” she said, as Zeth and Greum hurried to do her bidding.
“Thank you, Brigit. I'm most grateful.” Seerah placed the trencher it in her lap.
“Go on with you, now,” Brigit said. “You're more than welcome to whatever I have. If there's anything else you'll be needin', help yourself. We do na’ stand on ceremonies, here. Do we, lads?"
The warriors grinned and shook their heads in reply.
Brigit smiled. “See?” She winked at Seerah. “How about a spot of me homemade Irish whiskey to go with me fine mutton stew?"
“Thank you, but I've no head for spirits. Water is fine."
“Well, dig in, then. That food isn't going to get any hotter sitting ‘round waiting for you to eat it."
Seerah smiled and lifted her spoon to her mouth. “Mmmm.” She chewed slowly, savoring the tasty fare. “Delicious it is, indeed."
Brigit beamed. “Och. Did you expect anything less?"
“Nay.” Seerah chuckled and lifted the spoon to her mouth again. She devoured the small portion of stew, then frowned thoughtfully. “I am curious, though. How did you come to be alone here, in Ireland, without any kin, and with Tristan off in Scotland?"
“Well...” Brigit glanced at the warriors.
The men glanced seriously from one to another looking as if they had been asked to divulge some deep dark secret. Finally, Gareth nodded as if granting his permission
When Brigit gazed into the fire, she sighed warily as if fighting some inner torment.
“'Tis obvious the subject causes you great pain,” Seerah said. “I'm sorry. I did na’ mean to pry. ‘Tis just ... I have na’ seen me own parents since I was barely five. I remember little about them, and I've no brothers or sisters. I thought—sometimes I wonder...” She shrugged.
“Of course you do.” A look of understanding lit Brigit's eyes. She smiled and nodded like a doting grandmother. “Do na’ censure yourself so. Wondering and asking questions be the only way to learn what you need to know.” She sat in the chair opposite Seerah. Then, in a manner that seemed almost second nature, she pulled some dry rushes from a basket beneath her seat. Without looking down, she placed them in her lap and began weaving them together. “And you do need to know about the past to better understand Tristan. It all just seems so very long ago."
“He's suffered greatly,” Seerah commented.
“Aye. He has.” Brigit said, a curious frown creasing her face.
“He's told you then? About his past?"
“Nay. Tristan is na’ the type. I doubt he even realizes how much his past rules his fate, or how much his need for revenge dominates his every action,” Seerah said.
“Aye, ‘tis true. But ... how could you know such things if he did not tell you about..."
Seerah shrugged. “I ... I've seen—things. I've also experienced the pain he carries deep in his soul. I know someone close to him betrayed him. And I know that he seeks vengeance, but why and against whom remains a mystery."
“Indeed,” Brigit whispered, her fingers diligently working the straw, almost
of their own accord. “Hmmm. You've the sight then?"
“In a manner of speaking, Aye,” Seerah began. “Me powers and spells often seem to have a mind of their own, though. The only knowledge concerning Tristan that I've gained from me visions is that he suffers greatly. I believe I could help him if only ... Please, Brigit, tell me what you can. Mayhap you words will shed light on what I've already come to know about Tristan."
“Aye. Mayhap, indeed.” Brigit nodded, then launched into the story about her and Tristan's past. “Twas our older brother, D-De ... forgive me, but even after all these years I can na’ seem to bring meself to utter the evil bastard's given name.
Seerah's eyes went wide with utter disbelief. “His own brother betrayed him? How? Why? I can na’ image any human-being—"
“'Tis where you are wrong. Our brother is na’ human. The devil's own spawn he is.” Brigit nodded curtly. “Why, I'd wager that he's the spitting image of the Norse raider who raped our dear mother, Kaleah O'Malley, and left her for dead when she was barely ten and three."
“Faith!” Seerah gasped.
“Indeed,” Brigit said. “And despite the consequences of his birth, our mother tried to love her eldest son. Aye, she truly did. But she never quite found the strength in her heart. Even after she married me own father, a kindly man by the name of Dennis Donahue, she just couldn't bring herself to love her first-born child like a mother should."
“Donahue?” Seerah asked. “But I thought ... You call yourself Kincaid."
“Aye. I was barely a sparkle in me da's eyes when the fever took him. Rinald Kincaid, Tristan's father, accepted me as his own though. Our half-brother as well.” Brigit paused, a woeful look seeming to dampen her already cheerless expression. “The lad took to Rinald, too. Well, for a time. It wasn't until Tristan's birth that his true evilness began to show itself. He hid his feelings well from our mother, and Rinald as well. But I always knew he was sorely jealous of Tristan.” Brigit pulled harshly at the straw, her hands working swiftly now, with a brutal, almost punishing energy. “And Tristan idolized him. Even after his attempt to murder Tristan."
Seerah's hand flew to her mouth, stifling her astonished gasp. “Murder? His own brother?"
“Aye.” Brigit sighed heavily. “'Tis not even the worst of his misdeeds. But at the time, even though a young lass had witnessed his attempt to push Tristan off a high cliff, Tristan refused to believe him capable. When the elders of the clan sentenced him to death, Tristan helped him escape. He was such and innocent lad then. So full of love and...” Brigit wagged her head with apparent regret.
“When Tristan was but nine summers old, he developed a serious crush on a bonny lass named Catrin. Even at her young age, she was considered the most beautiful lass among the clan. This became one more thorn in our brother's side. Catrin was much too young for him. And she showed no interest in him a'tall. Even back then ‘twas believed Tristan and Catrin would one day wed."
Seerah asked, “Was she the lass—the witness to your brother's attempt on Tristan's life?"
“Aye.” Brigit nodded. “'Tristan believed she was merely being over-protective, and that her open dislike for our brother had somehow tainted her judgment. ‘Twas na’ until five years later, when Tristan learned the true extent of his evilness.” Brigit paused as if reflecting.
“Aye,” she whispered. “'Twas the summer Tristan turned five and nine. One day, after Tristan and I had ventured off high into the mountains to hunt and gather herbs, the raiders attacked. We did na’ learn until much later, when Tristan found his own dirk buried deep in Catrin's chest, that our brother had been a part of the raid. You see, Tristan had given the dirk to him, as a good luck charm, in the hopes that he would find happiness and one day return, so they could be brothers in the true sense of the word."
As Colin's soft snoring filtered through the room. Gareth, Zeth and Greum simply sat there listening, their solemn expressions suggesting the story was all too familiar.
Seerah swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening her already failing composure.
Brigit stared into the firelight, her hands working fervently, weaving the straw.
“Apparently, he always planned to return, one day—to slay Tristan. His hatred ran deeper than anyone could have imagined. When we returned from our herb collecting, the message was clear; only a select few had been harmed; Catrin had been raped and murdered; Rinald had been savagely beaten and hung; Kaleah had also been raped and murdered—his dirk remained embedded in her chest where he—the evil bastard—had carved out her heart."
Seerah fought to keep the emotion from her voice, to no avail. “H-how ... devastating,” her voice wavered and her lips trembled. “'Tis no wonder Tristan blames—"
“Aye, he blames himself. If he had not helped our brother to escape—"
“But there was no way he could have known how truly evil—was it then that Tristan struck out on his mission of revenge?"
“Aye. That very eve. I knew he was about something. I also knew that he'd never confide in me because I would have tried to talk him out of it, or insisted on going with him. As it was, when night fell and Tristan crept away in the darkness, I took all I could carry and followed after him. When we arrived at the docks near Donrobin, however, word of raiders had already spread. So many people crowded the area, all hoping to gain passage before the raiders could strike again. I lost sight of Tristan in the crush.
“Eventually I ended up in Eire, Baile Brigin, to be exact. And Tristan ... the skiff he was on got caught in a Norse ambush just off the coast of Eire, in St. George's Channel."
A vivid image flashed in Seerah's brain; she saw the ships and the raiders from her dream as clear as daylight. “Aye.” Seerah whispered. “I remember."
* * *
Chapter Eighteen
“You remember?” Brigit frowned.
“I-I do.” Seerah stammered. “I remember ... the raid. I was but a wee lass, barely five summers old when me family was set upon.” She blinked at the memories flooding her mind. “Why, everything happened so fast. When the raiders attacked, I became separated from me Gran. And I was just about to be run through when ... when Tristan saved me life."
Brigit's eyes went wide. Her hands stilled in her lap and she stared at Seerah in disbelief. “Tristan? It can na’ be so. There must have been dozens of—"
“'Twas indeed Tristan.” Seerah nodded. “Because of his courage then, the gods chose him to be me protector, now. Although I did not understand at the time, Gran told me that the Lord of Thunder was to help me on my journey. Aye, Tristan be the Lord of Thunder and the fates have brought us together, again. I'm most certain."
Brigit scrunched her face skeptically. “Lord of Thunder? Does Tristan know of this?"
Seerah nodded. “He's aware of the prophecy, but he does na’ believe. Tell me, what became of him after the raid?"
“He was captured and put aboard a Norse war-ship, the Odious, I believe.” Brigit looked from Seerah to the warriors, her gaze settling on Gareth.
Gareth nodded. “'Twas the very night I was born. ‘Tis also where Tristan, Colin and Greum first met the man who was to become our laird. Tristan, Colin, and Greum had been taken prisoner aboard the Odious," he explained. “According to what I was told years later, the laird was badly injured. Me own parents had been killed in the attack, but an old woman named Cordelia rescued me. There were many injured men and young lads. Tristan, Colin and Greum were among them. Cordelia saw to all of us as if we were her own flesh and blood. Eventually we all escaped the Norsemen, and most ended up at Gairloch castle with our laird. Cordelia as well."
“'Tis miraculous, indeed.” Seerah sighed with a sense of renewed hope. Then she glanced at Brigit. “But, what became of you?"
“I found work in Baile Brigin. And I waited, hoping and praying that Tristan would turn up. After I heard about the raid, however ... I lost all hope. ‘Tis when I met me dear-heart, Ryan McCarthy. He brought me here, where we lived and
loved together as man and wife."
“You were married then?"
Brigit shook her head. “Not in the eyes of the church, but we were in our hearts. Aye, me Ryan was a looker, and a good man to boot. I loved him dearly, indeed, but he fell ill and died our first year together."
“I'm so sorry,” Seerah whispered.
“No need to be. It was our fate. I've all that I need here. And, if not for our brief time together I may never have found Tristan. ‘Twas almost five years later when Colin came knocking on me door carrying Tristan. Even bleeding and near to death I took one look at him and knew who he was. But it wasn't until after he recovered from his injuries that I realized how much he'd changed. Aye, he was quite different than I remembered—harder and colder. You see, to this day he has not forgiven..."
“Your half-brother?"
“Aye.” Brigit nodded. “But, more importantly he has not forgiven himself or accepted his fate. He still holds himself responsible for the deaths of our parents, and Catrin. And he seeks revenge with every fiber of his being. Why, hate and anger fester in his spirit like an infected wound. I was lucky. I found Ryan and his love helped me find peace. Tristan refuses to accept love from anyone, even from me. ‘Tis why he's so cross all the time. And ‘tis why I live here alone. Though I love Tristan, dearly, I find his temperament too harsh to bear for more than a day or two at a time."
Seerah sighed. “'Tis obvious that his heart needs to be healed,” she whispered.
“Aye.” Brigit nodded her agreement. “And believe me, I've tried to penetrate the thick walls he's built up, but..."
“'Tis a great task."
“Aye. Perhaps an impossible one."
Seerah smiled, warmly. “You do na’ believe that."
“Do na’ take me wrong. I love Tristan with all my heart and soul, but it drains me to be with him."
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