Storm Maker

by Erin O'Quinn

  “Therefore I propose that we immediately begin the construction of a defensive enclosure around our entire settlement. If any of you have seen the deep trench that Caylith and Liam are having built on their property, you will know what I have in mind. It would be a trench wide and deep, stone lined, yet built to look like a delightful stream encircling our bally. Its waters would run with the ever-flowing, swift currents of the River Foyle. And the entire eastern wall would be natural as the very trees and hills—it would be the river itself, so swift and dangerous that none dare cross it, not even our own people. We will expand the ford across the river, the Áth Doire, where it is most shallow, and that place will be guarded carefully.”

  He paused and looked around at the assembly. “I would hear your questions.”

  The room was silent. I saw people looking at each other, smiling, accepting Gristle’s words. At last one man stood, a tall, handsome, pale-skinned man. “My name is Juniper,” he said quietly. “Our terrain is more rugged than any I have seen in any village anywhere. How are we to build a channel into ravines and up the very hills?”

  “We will build the way a river would naturally flow,” said Gristle. “Remember that the force behind it would be the mighty Foyle, whose power is boundless. Where a hill climbs, so will it climb. And where there is a ravine, so we will have a natural waterfall. The effect will be stunning, and the defense will be equally imposing. I promise you.”

  I thrilled to hear his words, for I realized that our new settlement would be one to envy, and to copy, throughout all of Éire, wherever part of a river could be channeled into a defensive trench.

  “Before we leave this day, I will explain how we set up the workforce. But now, I want to turn to a matter most pressing. Jay Feather, would you please join me?”

  Jay stood next to Gristle, seeming all the shorter next to the commander’s imposing height. “We have been fortunate to have Jay as our mayor since we came to Derry. But Jay has let me know that the building of his clan’s extensive homes has become of paramount importance to his family. In short, they need him more than we do. Therefore, I would hear suggestions for a new mayor.”

  It took the assembly all of half an hour to decide on the beautiful BriarThorne, Thom’s mother and Graewith’s wife. She was a former marine captain and, after that, the co-commander of the army post in my old home, Vilton itself.

  I embraced her graceful shoulders. “We are fortunate, my friend,” I said to her quietly, and she smiled at me warmly, returning the embrace.

  At last, we had reached the part of the moot that I most wanted to talk about—the setting up of a school and library. I astonished myself by my own zeal to set up a center of learning. Throughout my life I had thought of libraries and schools as parchment prisons. But ever since I had met Andreas and James, my entire perspective had changed. The dwarf prophecies had foretold that I would somehow be responsible for saving the ancient scrolls of Britannia. Thanks to Andreas, that had happened. Father Patrick’s profound gratitude had been all I needed to decide that learning must be encouraged and set down for all the generations to come after us.

  Gristle gave the floor back to me. I stood and said, “Brother Jericho. Luke. Please join me.” They came forward and stood next to me as I spoke.

  “My friends, there is one feat we can accomplish that will be sung longer and louder than the deeds of the great Finn MacCool himself, or the exploits of my own grandmother, Caylith the Great. I speak of the achievement of learning—reading, writing, and advancement of knowledge to our children, and our children’s children, and well beyond.

  “Father Patrick has already begun to set up schools for learning Latin and for setting down language in a written form, if you can believe it! His monks are teaching everyone from children to adults. And they, in turn, will teach others. To me, it is like a very miracle.

  “Our own Brother Jericho is a man of deep learning. And my old friend Luke is likewise a scholar and a philosopher. I would like them to set up our own school and library here.” I looked at the crowd. “Is there anyone who would tell us that something else is more important than building a school—aside from our own defenses?”

  A woman stood, waiting to be acknowledged. “Tell us your name,” I said.

  “I am called Amber,” she said. “My husband and I have four children, all of them bright as a silver dinar. I would welcome a school. But we have been here only a few months, and we are living in a temporary shelter. What of people like me—the ones who come seeking a haven, but who have no home? Should we not start with homes, not schools?”

  “You are right,” I said slowly. “I did not mean to set schools as a priority over our own people having a home. But why can we not do both? We already have a large workforce building homes. But we have not planned for a school.”

  Brother Jericho asked, “May I speak, Caylith?” I nodded, and he continued. “My friends, those of you who know me also know that I think our children’s story will be our own grand history. I propose that from this day forward we redouble our efforts to build homes, but that we dedicate a workforce to begin to build schools. We can start with a school right here next to our church. We can do both at the same time.”

  I waited as the assembled crowd talked among themselves. The council, too, huddled together and talked. At last, everyone was silent.

  Gristle said, “Very well. It is agreed by acclamation that we shall build a bally trench, redouble our house building, and begin the construction of a school with a library. Now I need to talk with those who will build them. Each of you in this room is responsible for approaching ten different people and procuring the names of those who will be our workforce. We will need, I think, at least three hundred workers. Therefore, out of roughly fifteen hundred pilgrims, you will each bring me the names of two—or even better, three—solid, committed people who will meet me here in two days’ time, right at midday.”

  The rest of the moot was set aside for deciding minor points of law—property lines, disagreements among neighbors, the repudiation or ousting of troublemakers—all the matters that an assembly of citizens could and would decide by majority rule.

  The council remained behind as arbiters of the proceedings, and I left, for the day was growing late. Besides, I was no longer one of the crucial decision makers. I felt more carefree than I had in a very long time—ever since the dwarves had danced around me, their so-called savior, singing their song of deliverance, placing a burden on me that had taken all this long time to lighten.

  Liam was standing next to my pony, waiting for me. I stepped close to him and embraced him. He pulled me tightly against himself for a moment, then released me with a flush spreading across his face.

  He looked at my gown and murmured, “Pretty.”

  I looked at his fine-spun léine, all tucked up exposing his leather leggings, the long multicolored sleeves billowing next to the ground. “Very handsome,” I said, wishing I knew the Gaelic word for “marvelous.”

  He leaned down and kissed me, and we both started to lick and bite each other’s mouths before we drew apart almost at the same moment.

  “We wait,” he said, almost out of habit, and I laughed.

  “Póg dom arís,” I answered, and he kissed me again, as I asked. He rubbed his mustache up and down on my lips, and I took it into my mouth as though I were harboring a small furry animal, licking it, sucking on it and then on the lip underneath.

  “A chuisle,” he said, almost a moan, and I knew it was time to stop.

  Our self-imposed apartness had made even a simple kiss so arousing that my whole body was on fire. I pulled away from him and mounted NimbleFoot.

  Liam had brought Angus and he, too, mounted. We rode home together, silent yet content in each other’s company. We unsaddled our mounts and took turns currying their ready flanks and necks. Then we went inside together.

  Before, we would have embraced as soon as we closed our door to the world. Now, we stood apart, almost abashed at
being alone. “Let us go fishing,” I said, imitating a fisherman with a line. He grinned his assent, and we selected our outdoor clothing from the now-full cabinet.

  Each of us stood at least six feet apart with our back to the other, proper and modest. I secretly wanted to catch a glimpse of his smooth behind, for the sight always made my pulse race. I slipped off my gown, then the léine, then the undertunic. With each shedding of clothes I felt more and more aroused. When at last I stood naked, I turned my head almost imperceptibly and gazed at Liam through my lowered lashes.

  He stood motionless, his breeches in one hand, his tunic discarded on the floor. I saw him in profile, the long muscle of his buttocks flat and smooth. He was looking at me.

  I did not move, either, so full of desire that I struggled to breathe normally. As soon as I had seen him, my nipples stood as high in anticipation as did Liam himself, and I could not bid them behave. And so I stood there, still as a statue, choked with unspoken need.

  It seemed a long time later that Liam stepped into his leather breeches, pulling them up over his muscular legs and butt. I watched the entire procedure, though he knew it not. And then, in one motion, I drew my own deerskin tunic over my head and, wriggling my hips somewhat, let it slide down until I was warrior Caylith again.

  I turned to him, and he was smiling. “Tá tú alainn,” he said, very softly, but I heard him anyway. He thought I was beautiful. Not too much else mattered.

  Now that we were fully dressed, I felt more bold about approaching him. I held out my hand and he took it, drawing me into an embrace. Our mouths touched at first tentatively, then with growing boldness as he began to suckle my tongue and stroke my shoulders and back in the same rhythm as his kiss.

  As before, we both drew back at the same time, embarrassed by our own willfulness.

  “Let us go fishing,” I said. We left our little teach and walked hand in hand to the river.

  An hour later, we were the proud owners of a ten-pound brown trout, speckled and copper brassy, with a creamy-white underbelly. Liam carefully wrapped it in river rushes from the bank, and we floated it on a fish tether in the cold river until we were ready to eat. We walked back to our teach laughing and talking, mostly with our hands. When we reached our doorstep, young Ryan Murphy was waiting for us.

  Chapter 18:

  Coming of the Clans

  I was delighted, pure and simple. Grinning, Liam embraced his cousin and placed a loud kiss on each side of his mustache. I gave him an affectionate hug. “Welcome back. We have missed you,” I told him.

  “Sure an’ I have missed the both of ye,” he said. “But it must be a relief to ye that I am not lingering behind the next tree. Ye have needed to be alone a while.”

  As always, Ryan translated his own words to Liam, and I saw the color rising in Liam’s cheeks, not completely hidden by his beard. I could not believe that the immodest O’Neill was embarrassed by Ryan’s words. And then I realized that it was because of our new uncertain status. He would have laughed at a bawdy jest, but he did not know how to respond to our current state of chastity.

  We all three entered the teach. “Sit and tell us of your adventures these past two months, Ryan, while I prepare a meal for the three of us.”

  “Now there is a bargain. A meal for a simple tale about nothing at all.”

  I saw he was wearing a wineskin, and he removed it now, taking a long swallow before passing it on to Liam. Liam drank and handed the ’skin to me. I squeezed a small amount into my cup and saw that it was a brownish liquid, almost thick. A small sip told me that it was the potent beer favored by all the clansmen. My throat burned as I swallowed, and I felt a warm sensation spread across my shoulders and into my chest.

  I left the men and went to the river to retrieve our prize catch, the brown-speckled trout still wrapped tightly in reeds, tethered in the cold waters of the Foyle. I had to struggle a bit to carry it, and by the time I walked back into our little house, Liam and Ryan were sitting splay-legged on the floor, using the benches as a backrest, taking turns enjoying the rough comfort of the leather wineskin.

  They were talking and laughing, and I decided to let them get reacquainted without the burden of translating every word to me. Seizing the handle of my long knife, I drew it from its sheath and set about cutting and boning a generous portion of trout. I wrapped the remainder back in the reeds and returned it to its cold tether in the river.

  This time when I rejoined the men, I sat, cross-legged, next to Liam. I was ready to join the conversation.

  “…To make short of it, lass, me bum is ready for a bed, for I have been in the saddle every day since I left ye.”

  “Then you and Liam need to gather the materials for a bed,” I told him. “Ours is far and away too small for three.”

  Ryan howled with laughter, sputtering as he translated to Liam, who turned his head away. I saw that once again he was acutely embarrassed.

  “Ryan, what I meant was—please explain to your cousin—that we have not yet completed the teach being built for you. Of course, I did not check today. It may be ready. But a bed must be made fresh, not ahead of time.” I was surprised, and chastened, that Liam apparently would not suffer a simple jest as long as it referred to our own intimacy—or lack of it. Obviously, he had not told Ryan about his bargain with Brother Galen, and I decided to let the matter rest.

  Liam spoke then, and Ryan told me, “Me cousin agrees that we will wait until tomorrow and check on the wattle-and-daub construction. As for tonight, I will gladly use the hay from your haggard and consider it a feather bed.”

  “Tell us, Ryan, if you have been able to contact Michael.”

  “I have spread the word among the clans, lass. By now, Michael and Brigid may already be on the road to Derry. I will begin to look for his smoke signing.”

  I felt almost dizzy with the reality of it, though I had not taken even one more sip of the dark beer. “Then tomorrow when we check on the construction, we may lend our own muscle to the building, in case they may appear at any moment.”

  Liam, hearing Ryan’s translation, began to nod and smile, his eyes bright with anticipation. I saw that the grog was starting to loosen him up a bit, though I wished he did not have to rely on it to return to his natural, straightforward self.

  “Ryan,” I asked after a while, “have you or your kin heard or seen any sign of trouble, or unrest of any kind? I ask because I would have a marriage free of cattle raids and border wars, or forays into our little bally.”

  “I have not, Caylith. But me boys and I have taken to our winter shielings, away from the grazing lands. Other clans will be holed up, too, waiting for the warm weather. If any trouble be a-brewing, we would not see or hear it. Besides, have ye not built stout battlements to ward off danger?”

  “Not really, Ryan. We are too new here. The former settlers in Derry built their settlement one brugh, one teach, at a time. They thought not about defense. It may be another two years before we have the makings of a fortified town.”

  “Then, lass, I think ye need to set a small standing army in place against the day when others covet your lovely little bally.”

  “We have such an army, but they are all part of one workforce or another.” But Ryan’s words had set me to thinking. I would confer with Gristle, and we would make sure that the Glaed Keepers had a signal system in place, just in case we needed to rally them quickly.

  “This conversation is much too serious for the happy occasion of your return,” I told him. “You and Liam continue talking while I prepare our evening meal.”

  By the time supper was ready—tender, flaky trout rubbed with wild garlic, and dark roasted turnips and carrots—Liam and Ryan were on the verge of singing a bawdy ballad. I stood above them, looking down at their disheveled tunics, shaking my head.

  “Eat now,” I told them, “before you get too sober—else you may discover that your meal is blackened and burned and quite inedible.”

  Ryan faithfully translated, n
ot even realizing what he was saying, for he responded, “Aye, lass, an’ I thank ye. If I can just find me other foot, I will stand.”

  We all three sat and ate, silent and content. When our meal was ended, Liam and Ryan pushed back their benches and traded the wineskin between themselves again. This time, I insisted that Ryan tell me their conversation.

  He spoke almost as Liam did, with the result that Liam seemed almost to be speaking to me in my own tongue.

  “Caitlín, me love, I went as ye bade me, straight to the priest Gallagher. We had a merry time of it, for I learned that your own Ard Rí sired a son. The tiny lord lay right in the middle of a hay haggard. He was attended by a strange court—all cattle and sheep, even a pig or two and a brace of chickens. I could see that his humble beginnings were on purpose, for he would grow up among humble men, even like meself.”

  I sat listening, and I bowed my head a little to hide the tears that had begun to burn my eyes. His forthright explanation of the birth of Christ was almost as poignant as reading one of the godspels.

  “Sure an’ he was a carpenter, and the men who followed him were simple fishermen. He talked to them about his father, the Ard Rí, and how the High King would forgive all of them. Even the worst of them, he would forgive. An’ that is how the Christ-lord found his followers like Pádraig. For all men burn and ache to be understood, an’ be forgiven. That is what I learned today, Caitlín. An’ so far I like your Lord well indeed.”

  I looked up then, and I saw that Liam had left his bench again. He was sitting with his back against it, his head back, regarding the smoke as it drifted up through the smoke hole and into the darkness beyond.

  Ryan ended his running translation and pulled at the wineskin again before passing it to Liam. He told me, “What Liam has said is knowledge between ye and me cousin. Until he tells me otherwise, it will not be matter of speculation among his rude kinfolk, perhaps to reach his father’s ears all misunderstood and misshapen. Do ye agree?”