Storm Maker

by Erin O'Quinn

  He put his arm around my shoulder and drew me to the fire pit. Ryan said, “Please sit down, lass. I think we can all three talk a bit.”

  I nodded and sat on a small bench. Liam sat on the floor next to me. He looked up at me, waiting, and I began to talk to him. Ryan translated quietly to Liam as I spoke. “I have known Kevan for almost three years. When I escaped to Faerie, fleeing from the Duke—I told you that tale, so I will just say that Kevan and his brother Shawn were assigned to Brindl and me as escorts. They were ordered to stay by our side, so much so that I felt cankerous and smothered by their attention.

  “Back then, I was a very self-absorbed and spoiled little girl. Even much worse than I am now.” I spoke bitterly, thinking of how until recently I had fancied the people around me were there only for my amusement or my torment. “It so happened that both Kevan and his twin brother became smitten with me. I knew that Shawn was attracted, and it rankled me, made me feel annoyed. But not until a week before I left for Éire did I discover that Kevan, too, held strong feelings for me. He had never let his feelings show, and back then I had no stirrings of—of womanhood, as I started to feel later.

  “The week before I left, I made a trip to Elfland to help save the poor elves, who were about to succumb to the black nightfall of Faerie. And Kevan and Shawn—sons of the king and queen—drew straws to see who would go, for Jay could take only me and one other. Kevan ended up going, and he told me one night that he had secretly been attracted to me all that long time. But he had never shown it at all. And that next morning, at Jay’s, we kissed. It was the second kiss of my young life. I did not even know how to kiss back. But that kiss started something that led to today.”

  Liam had started to lean into me, listening to my tale. His eyes were bright and curious, and I could see that he clearly was not jealous. But he needed an explanation, and so I continued.

  “The night before I left on my pilgrimage, Kevan appeared in Newport from his command post in Deva. He had decided to throw aside his commitments and follow me to Éire, even against all his better judgment. But when he arrived, he found me in the company of a young man. And that young man was so tormented and jealous of Kevan that he sundered our growing attachment, and he absolutely drove me into the arms of his rival. Kevan and I did not…take our emotions too far. But he did kiss me again, Liam. And that time yes, I kissed back. And I promised him that I would come to him after one year and give him an answer.

  “You found me on the longship Brigid after I went back to visit Kevan. And my answer to him then was simple. I was too young and not ready to pledge my troth to him or to any man. I was looking for someone, for something, and I did not know when I would end my search. That is exactly what I told you also, if you remember.

  “But something happened between the Brigid and today. I found a young man named Liam O’Neill. And one day, in the bogs and forest lands between the Lough Neagh and the Lough Foyle, I woke up with the answer. I knew that my search had ended, and I told him. And I pledged my troth to him, I promised to marry him.”

  This was the hard part, the shameful part that I did not know how to talk about. My sentences were halting and uncertain as I groped for words to explain an enigma. “But I did something…very wrong. I did not tell my former lover. And I am—I cannot even explain why. I do not want to give excuses. I only know that the young clansman drove all thoughts of anybody else so far from my mind that I seldom thought of Kevan again, or any other man I had ever known.

  “Kevan tells me that he can now release himself from waiting for me. I feel very shamed. I know not how long he would have waited, or how long it would have taken me to tell him I had found my mate at last.”

  I could not talk any longer, for a bitterness had risen into my throat that choked off any other words I might try to speak.

  Ryan and Liam spoke briefly, and his cousin said, “Liam would know just one thing from ye, lass. Do ye love him for his kisses, or for something more?”

  I did not answer Liam, but I extended my hand down to him as he sat at my feet. The palm was no longer festered, but the scar stood out clearly—two crescents, almost joined, UU. It was the mark my nails had made biting into my own skin as I stood next to the stone heap that could have been Liam’s grave. I had already told him what they meant to me. Liam and Caylith, side by side.

  He took my hand and turned the scar up, bringing it to his mouth. Then he kissed it very tenderly, very slowly. Then he lowered his head, and I felt his tears on my hand. I did not rise from the bench so much as crumple on the floor next to Liam. I could not stop the tears, and I could not find my voice in my swollen throat.

  I know not how long we would have sat there if Torin had not gotten up at that moment. “Caylith, Liam. By Finn’s thighs, let us see a few smiles. I did not come all this way for a funeral but for a wedding.”

  Liam raised his head and put his finger under my chin, drawing my mouth to his. “Hello, I love ye.” And he kissed me as though his kin were nowhere in sight—the same long, searching hello he had greeted me with long ago, when first we began to delight each other.

  Chapter 30:

  The Waiting Ends

  Father Patrick’s arresting eyes moved from Liam and me to Brigid, then Michael. We were arrayed on benches in front of him while he stood calmly, dressed in a simple white léine. The altar candles were making lights dance on the clay church walls around us, and the early rays of the sun were just beginning to move along the bright-polished floors.

  “I need to ask, Caylith—and you, Brigid—both daughters of Christ, do you come to this union free from the sin we talked about? I would still perform the holy rite but would first absolve you of the sins of the flesh, in the name of our Lord.”

  “Yes, Father,” I said. “I have tried to follow your counsel.” Liam stirred beside me, and I added, “We have both been mindful of your words.”

  Brigid and Michael sat closely together on the bench in front of Father Patrick, their hands intertwined. At Brigid’s insistence, they too had forsworn the very act of love. I knew how difficult it had to be for them, especially after Michael’s long absence. I could almost feel the restless spirit humming and throbbing between them.

  “Michael and I likewise have…refrained,” said Brigid.

  “And do you cast off the bib of childhood, entering a holy union with the clear eyes of adults?”

  I saw that Patrick was looking straight at me. And I was aware that he had dropped the carefree lilt of his adopted Éire. This was a serious moment indeed.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Let us take two days to publish the banns instead of the customary three weeks. That will give all your friends notice to gather here. I think none will object to your union. Shall we say two hours after sunrise?”

  After our counseling, we four stood with the priest and with Brother Galen. I asked Patrick, “What think you of Fergus MacCool, Father? Will you—can you help him?”

  We all paused to make sure the monk had a chance to translate to Liam.

  “Of course, Caylith. His soul is as precious to me as my own.”

  Michael said, “Thank you, Pádraig. I want me brother to be whole and well again.”

  “And so do I,” said Brigid. I saw that she had at last forgiven him.

  But I was still worried. “What if I told you I have a murderer in tow? A man who killed his wife, one who enslaved my mother? Is his soul as precious as your own, Father?”

  “You have pledged to help me in my mission, and yet you know me not, Caylith, nor the ways of the Lord. I know you speak of Owen Sweeney. His soul is in dire peril of being lost to our Father. So in a way, he is even more precious to me, and to our Lord.”

  “What shall I do with him? The Glaed Keepers hold him, but I fear he will find a way to escape, and perhaps to commit more grievous acts, if I loose his bonds.”

  “I think I shall place him in the capable hands of the former Séamas Gallagher—our own Brother Galen. What think you
, brother?” Father Patrick’s eyes gazed solemnly on Galen.

  “Can one great sinner help another? Father, I am honored by your trust in me.”

  “Then, my friends, I will see you exactly two days from now.” And he turned to the altar and knelt.

  “Brother,” I said to Galen, “we also have a merry band of clansmen named O’Duhann. As it happens, they may be part of the great clans Gallagher. Would you have a chance to meet them also?”

  “Aye, Caylith, I will speak to them. Who knows? Mayhap they are long-lost brothers.” I saw by his dancing brows and shining, dark eyes that he was jesting with me. Or perhaps he thought they really were brothers, and he was rejoicing in advance.

  Liam and I rode home, our horses cantering easily, both of us immersed in the deep silence of easy companionship. I was thinking of the myriad tasks I needed to finish before our wedding. I needed to freshen my wedding clothes, which I had left rolled up in a blanket near my pony’s saddle. I really must find fresh rushes and plants to prepare a new bed for our wedding night. Of course I had to arrange a great feast for our wedding day. And I had promised myself I would introduce Torin to a special friend of mine…

  When we entered our holdings, we saw Luke, Raven, and Magpie standing near the hay haggard. Luke was just pouring water into the trough, and Magpie and Raven were pulling fresh fodder from the haggard. We dismounted, and I ran to my friends. “Aha!” I said. “I think I have caught the culprits who took care of our horses while we were away.” I hugged each of them.

  “And the culprits who have brought you and Liam a few surprises,” said Magpie. “Shall we be invited into your teach?”

  It struck me then that Liam had never met either Raven or Luke. I did the best I could at the introductions, and we all five entered the clay-and-wattle house.

  Thunderstruck, I saw a new bed. It was not just a bed, but an enormous sleeping couch, similar to the one where Glaed and Mama slept. It stood two feet high, and it was made all of burnished oak, spread with soft animal furs. It must have been fashioned in two pieces or three pieces just so it could get through our door.

  I gazed at Luke, too overcome at first to speak. “My—my friend, how can I ever—?”

  Luke said roughly, “Say nothing, Cay. I have told you how my hands need to stay busy as I solve the riddles of life. It is merely a token.”

  Liam walked to Luke, a man he had only just met, and he put his large arms around him. I stood stunned as he picked Luke up from the floor by at least a foot and set him back down again. It was a gesture of deep thanks, and both he and Luke stood red faced in its aftermath.

  “Caylith,” said Raven. “Liam.” I gazed at his face, handsome and beguiling, and he flushed deeply. “The clan and I have prepared a little food for your wedding day. We thought you could celebrate in the great room of the clan’s new enclave. Some guests may have to spill out into the area all around, but…”

  “I know not how to thank you, all of you—” I began.

  “Shush, Cay,” said Magpie. “I think you forgot your wedding clothes.” I followed her gaze and saw my new léine and gown spread out on a new, deep chest. And besides my own frocks, I saw a large woolen léine draped over the clothes cabinet. It was fashioned from wool and silk, like my gown, and it was the soft-blue color of a robin’s egg. The sleeves were layered with checks and bars, all in orange and red and saffron.

  Liam saw at once that it had been fashioned for him, and he bent down to Magpie’s freckled cheek and kissed her fondly. Not at all embarrassed, she grinned and flashed her lovely jade eyes. “No one ever looks at the groom. So this léine will be adequate.”

  Then our friends left us. I said to Liam, “Our new bed. We wait, Liam. We wait.” I told him in sign language and halting words that we would lie in it starting on our wedding night.

  At first he seemed puzzled. “We…wait? Cén fáth?”

  “Because…special. It will be the special place for us to lie together…after we are married.”

  He shook his head, but I saw that his eyes had become dark with the hunger he always showed when we were alone together. “Very well,” he said at last, and I suppressed a smile, for that was one of my catchphrases. “Then this bed.” And he picked me up and lay me on our old bed of reeds and rushes.

  We were both fully dressed, and the morning had just begun. But I thought we could take just a few moments to greet the new day together. I opened my mouth, very slightly, and his tongue found its way inside.

  * * * *

  The ceremony did not last long, but it was one I would replay in my memory over and over for many years to come. The church was full of our friends, every bench taken. The crowd murmured and laughed in low tones, and it sounded like a ribbon of bright sound winding around the five of us—really seven of us—standing before the altar.

  Father Patrick stood resplendent in a léine all of white linen whose sleeves touched the polished wood floor. Over the tunic he wore a mantle of wool, light brown, fringed with darker tassels. His prayer shawl was arranged carefully around his shoulders.

  Michael’s dark hair and blue eyes were set off by his woven léine of straw yellow, almost the color of his cunning round-house by the lake. Brigid favored blue, as usual. Her gown was blue as midnight, worn over a léine blue as the waters of the Lough Neagh, or as blue as her deep eyes.

  Beside me, Liam stood in his new tunic of robin’s-egg blue. My breath caught in my throat as I admired the way his léine draped and fell from his shoulders, and the way his carefully plaited leather belt held the tunic up from his pliant leather leggings.

  I knew Magpie’s wedding clothes for me were unique. My léine, the color of eggshells, had been woven no doubt by her mother, the master weaver GoldenFinch. Although made of wool, it was the special cloud-soft wool I had chosen in a fair booth in Tara. It seemed to rise and float as I moved. The over-gown, or gúna, was wool interlaid with silk and dyed from violets, perhaps, or even loosestrife.

  Brother Jericho, who had just returned to Derry, stood on one side of the bishop, and Brother Galen’s great bulk stood on the other. Brother Galen raised one hand, and the low drone of the crowd stopped abruptly.

  Father Patrick raised both hands in front of us and began to speak.

  “Cherished sons and daughters of Christ, ye have sought the holy bonds of matrimony in his eyes and in his very name. Ye have come before him cleansed of sins of the flesh, asking him to join ye as loving companions, as Adam to Eve, cleaving one to the other, renouncing all others until ye wake in the glory of his kingdom come.

  “Michael MacCool and Brigid O’Kelly, do ye promise to take each other in loving embrace, in the sight of God, to cleave one to the other as husband and wife, for the rest of your days?”

  “I do so promise,” they said, speaking as one.

  “Liam O’Neill and Caylith Vilton, do ye promise to take each other in loving embrace, in the sight of God, to cleave one to the other as husband and wife, for the rest of your days?

  “I do so promise,” I said, and Liam’s voice joined in clearly.

  “Ye are henceforth joined in the eyes and the heart’s joy of our Lord Jesus Christ. Ye are now husband and wife.”

  I heard everyone around me murmur, “Amen.”

  “Amen,” I said, and I turned to Liam. “I love you.”

  “Oh, love ye, a mo chuisle,” he said. He enfolded me in his strong arms and we stood close a minute or two, cherishing the moment.

  We and our guests did not linger long outside the church door, for the cold winds of October had begun to bluster and whip at our long, full-skirted clothing. I called out, “Let us all meet at Jay’s enclave,” and the wind threatened to blow my words away.

  Glaedwine, standing near me with Mama, raised his mighty voice. “Go. To. Jay’s,” he roared, and everyone laughed, moving to their tethered horses.

  * * * *

  We stood under the lintel of our little house, letting the chill wind lift our hair and scrape its
cold fingers across our skin. I stepped close to his woolen léine and leaned into to his chest, but neither of us made a move to open the door. We knew that as soon as the door shut behind us, we would be alone there for the first time as man and wife. It was a moment we had played with and teased out and longed for. Yet now that it was here at last, we still put off entering as though it were part of our love play.

  “Wait, wait,” I said as he reached for the handle, and his voice, all husky, sang in my ear, “Now, Caitlín,” and he reached across me, opening the door.

  We entered at the same time, and he closed the door against the tumult of the wind. Then he turned and latched it. I stood, unsure, waiting for his next move. He went to the stone pit and stirred the almost-dead fire, then began to feed kindling into the growing flames. The little house was cold. I joined him next to the fire, and we stood watching the flames lick and eat at the wood until I started to feel warm again.

  I held my hands over the growing fire, thinking about our grand feast and celebration at Jay’s enclave earlier today. The underground great room was surprisingly large, for I had counted at least fifty people standing or sitting, and still the room did not seem too crowded. The twisting tree roots, all bedecked in glittering bits of gemstones, lent an air of ancient magic to our festivities.

  As soon as I entered, Mama had greeted me, her wide, hazel-brown eyes full of deep joy. “At last, Caylith.”

  I teased her. “At last what, Mama—at last you can let me play outside by myself? At last you can stop fretting that I may end up with an itinerant storyteller, as Auntie Marrie feared? At last you may have grandchildren?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  We both laughed and embraced closely. “You look beautiful, darling,” she said. “I am very happy for you.”