She sat up and reached for the soap. She washed her hair and her body, dabbing gingerly at her wounds, and lying back squeezed water from her rag onto her face, soaking the dirt out of the wounds.
As Darcy climbed up on the bank, the cold air hit her wet skin and she quickly toweled herself off, getting dressed. After she covered her wounds with bandages, she gathered up her things and stepped out into the open meadow.
As quickly as she could, Darcy limped back down the bluff breathing a sigh of relief when she ducked inside the cottage at last. She was relieved that she did not run into Father Etienne returning from his nightly rounds, cornering her and insisting on answers. This was a minor problem, but what terrified her was that Liam would return and renew his assault.
For days Darcy lay on her bed, growing ever weaker and more saturated with infection, eating nothing and sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning. She couldn't tell if she had been there for minutes or days, and her dreams turned to bizarre nightmares as she sank deeply into delirium, dreams of walking in the freezing sunshine, naked and humiliated in front of the villagers or being beaten by monks in the Abbey.
Darcy's head was pounding from fever; it became so intense it sounded as if someone was drumming on her head. In reality someone was banging on the door. There was a rush of air, muffled voices, and then she had the sensation of being lifted. Someone ran icy cloths up and down her arms, and she wished they would stop, but people returned choking her with foul tasting drinks and more wet compresses. When Darcy finally awakened, her eyes focused on a glowing peat fire. People nearby were talking in hushed tones.
Suddenly a child screeched, "That's mine!"
"Shhh!" and the room fell silent once more.
Darcy stared at the fire and after some time realized someone was watching her. With difficulty she rolled over and spied a toddler standing at the end of the bed, sucking her thumb, staring at her.
"Brianna?" she murmured.
Hearing Darcy’s voice, Teila and the others came running to the bed. Her friend dropped to her knees, crossing herself by the bed saying, "The saints be praised! I thought you were going to die." She put her hand on Darcy's forehead and announced to the children that the fever had broken.
"How long have I been here?" Darcy whispered.
"Over a week, I can't tell you how happy I am. There is something I must do, before we talk, Darcy. Rowena will take care of you. I'll be back in a few minutes,” and Teila dashed out the door.
Teila’s daughter gave Darcy some broth. It was the first bit of sustenance she had taken in days, and she felt it revive her with a warm glow.
"Well, this is an improvement indeed! We've been very worried," said Father Etienne walking in the room, followed by Teila.
He patted Darcy's hand, as she asked in a raspy voice, "How did I get here?"
"I found you at the cottage. I knew something must be wrong when you missed your lessons, and after banging on the door repeatedly, I found you drenched in sweat and fever. Keenan came and helped me move you to their cottage."
Suddenly his expression turned serious, and he said, "Who did this to you?"
Darcy said nothing; fear of retaliation kept her mute. She could not risk another beating.
"I found the burned volume of Don Quixote on the floor of your cottage, Darcy. It was Liam, wasn't it?" When there was still no reply from Darcy, he continued. "I wanted to wait until you were awake to be sure that I didn't unjustly accuse him, but now my suspicions are confirmed. Darcy, it is your moral obligation to tell me now if Liam is innocent."
Father Etienne paused, waiting for an answer, and Darcy still said nothing, staring down at the quilt.
"So be it," he said and left the cottage.
The priest walked briskly down the road toward the outskirts of town. The rain soaked his black cassock and ran down into his eyes. He wiped his face impatiently. He heard raucous laughter as he approached a small rundown cottage. He banged several times on the door with a heavy fist until a large man with a bright shock of red hair answered the door.
Father Etienne was not acquainted with Joseph Tierney. Like Liam, he stayed away from the priest, never attending Mass preferring the company of a bottle. He curled his lip as he regarded Father Etienne. Blue smoke and the smell of stale beer rolled out from the door. The priest demanded, "I want to talk to McBride!"
Teirney stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth, wiped his greasy hands on his shirt and shouted with his mouth full, "McBride, get out here!"
Father Etienne could hear laughing, and Liam thrust his head out the door saying, "I got no business with you!"
"But I have with you!" said Father Etienne. He reached in, grabbed Liam’s shirt and pulled him out into the rain, slamming the cottage door shut with his foot.
The men stood face to face in the downpour. Although the priest was a head shorter than Liam, he looked him squarely in the eye and said, "I'm here to save your pathetic soul, McBride. Give me your confession, now!"
"I’m not sorry for beating that uppity bitch. I was doing her a favor. I knocked some sense into her!" snarled Liam.
"What was her crime? Trying to learn?" demanded Father Etienne.
Liam poked his finger in the priest's face and said, "Thinking she was better than us,” he said, spraying spittle in Father Etienne’s face. “That was her crime. Get something straight, you candy-assed meddler. You breeze in here to preach to us ignorant bastards, and the whole time you think you’re better than us. We don't need your books or your God."
Liam turned and staggered back toward the Tierney cottage, but stopped when he heard Father Etienne say, "You'll not beat her again, McBride."
"I'll beat her whenever I want," he said, impudently.
As Liam put his hand on the latch of the door, Father Etienne warned, "Touch her again and I'll tell your friends about the young man you meet at the abbey at night.”
Liam turned with his mouth open. Father Etienne added, "I assure you, it won't be me they'll be calling the candy-ass.”
Chapter 7
Over the next few days, Darcy spent most of her time sleeping. She was too weak to rise from bed for almost a week after the fever had broken. Fighting the infection sapped her strength, and she lost a great deal of weight. There was little she could do for herself, and it was hard to allow the Mullins to wait on her, but the children loved the responsibility, and Teila enjoyed the company. She would bustle around the kitchen talking to her best friend about everything.
This atmosphere of warmth and love did more for Darcy's healing than any medicine, when Tiela tended the sheep, Darcy helped by entertaining the children. She told stories of the glorious days of Brian Boru and the High Kings of Tara. They would listen intently, as she told of their ancient adventures and daring deeds.
Darcy healed physically, but emotionally the cure took longer. For a long time, she feared Liam's retaliation, but gradually as her strength returned so did her resolve. She had survived more difficult ordeals, and no brute force was going to beat her into submission. With renewed determination she pursued her love of learning and devoured the books that Father Etienne left for her on the nightstand.
It took more than a month for Darcy to completely recover, and she and Teila spent hours together speaking of many things. Teila saw the profound change come over her friend, and although Darcy had always been unique, she now spoke in what seemed like a foreign language. Although the two women were different, they loved each other like sisters. Teila knew that ever since she was a child, Darcy stood apart from everyone else.
On countless occasions she witnessed Darcy staring out to the sea, as if she were bewitched, or during a conversation, Darcy's eyes would drift out the window as if some secret lover was beckoning. All of this saddened Teila. She knew that she would never truly know her best friend.
Darcy's strength grew quickly, and her wounds healed. Her complexion returned to its smooth texture, and except for a small scar above her left eyebrow, the effe
cts of the beating were no longer apparent. She worked hard in the cottage and out in the pastures, eating heartily, returning her figure to its appealing curves.
Teila was filling out as well, entering the final months of her pregnancy, and she needed Darcy's help more than ever. One summer evening after a meal of potato leek soup, there was a sharp knock at the door. It was Father Etienne standing in the bright sunshine.
"What are you doing," Darcy scolded, pulling him inside. "Someone will see you."
Darcy’s eyes narrowed, as he said to Teila, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Mullin. The good woman who was to attend to my supper tonight forgot about me. Might I find a bite to eat with you this evening?"
"But, of course! You are welcome here anytime," she said. "Darcy, take Father Etienne to the fire for a brandy while I get his supper."
Darcy ushered Father Etienne to a chair and after handing him a drink, took a seat beside him. She knew something was wrong as she watched him raise the mug to his lips, his movements wooden.
He said nothing, staring into the fire.
"Do you have a busy evening ahead?” Darcy asked.
He made no reply. She saw dark circles under his eyes as he emptied his mug without stopping.
"Twas a grand day today, wasn't it, Father?" said Teila handing him a bowl of soup.
"Indeed it was, Mrs. Mullin," he returned flatly.
Darcy saw tears began to roll down his face. Startled, she told Teila that they were going out to enjoy the summer evening, and Darcy directed him behind the cottage where she pulled him down on a stone bench.
The evening was fair, and the setting sun cast a golden hue on them. Darcy touched Father Etienne's arm. He closed his eyes took a deep breath and said, "The ship brought a letter last night. My mother was massacred in an Abenaki raid."
Darcy gasped and clutched her bodice.
"My brother would give no details, but every time I try to sleep, Darcy, I see her running. She's terrified, and at last they catch her, and I see her struggling." He looked at Darcy. "Did they take her long, beautiful hair? Did they rip it savagely from her head while she still lived?"
"Oh, you can't, Etienne!" gasped Darcy, unaware that she had dropped his title. "Don't do this! You can't know what happened. It is between God and your mother."
He sat with his head in his hands for along time. At last, he rubbed his brow and said, "If only I could get some sleep, I think I could open myself to the comfort of the Holy Spirit, but it seems now when I need it the most, I cannot feel the light."
"Come," said Darcy. "We shall walk the cliffs tonight, and I promise you will sleep,"
"No, I cannot, Darcy," he said, shaking his head. "I must make my rounds."
"Do you have anyone in particular expecting you?"
"No, but--"
"Then no one will miss you," said Darcy taking charge. She disappeared into the house giving a hasty explanation to Teila who handed Darcy a basket of buns, saying tenderly, "Give this to the poor darlin'."
The full moon flooded the coastline with a pale light which guided their footsteps along the steep bluffs. They walked in silence for an hour, and at last Darcy said breathlessly, "Please, I must rest for a short while."
Father Etienne said with a start, "Oh, Darcy, you are still recovering. I have been so self-absorbed that I didn't think of your fatigue."
Darcy shook her head. "Being up here is the best medicine in the world for me. You, of all people, should know that. The air is so much sweeter here, and it makes me strong."
They sat on the rocks, watching the moonbeams glisten on the breaking water. Father Etienne looked out to sea and said, "This reminds me of my mother's favorite poem."
"What is it?" asked Darcy, as she hugged her knees.
He paused a moment, sorting through the words and said, "There, now I have it." He closed his eyes and began,
'To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.’, “
He smiled wistfully. "How she loved that little piece. I don't know how I ever remembered it. It was like she was here whispering it in my ear."
After a while he said, "I never realized it until now, but I didn't lose my mother three months ago to a raiding party. I lost my mother the day I left for Europe. I knew in my heart I would never see her again, and now with no ocean to part us, she is closer to me than ever."
Father Etienne rose to his feet, and pulled Darcy up. "Let's go home,” he said. “I know that I can sleep now."
“I am glad,” she replied.
At the descent to the cave, he took Darcy's hand and said, "One day I will leave Kilkerry and have to find my way alone. As much as that saddens me, I know that I will carry you in my heart for all eternity."
* * *
It was Michael O’Hearn’s wedding day. Darcy rose before the sun, crawling out of the loft where she slept with the children and walked up to Glinnish Stream. Father Etienne had at last convinced her to bathe regularly. After scrubbing her body and scalp until it tingled, she stepped lightly out of the water and dried herself. Looking up, she could see the day was going to be mild and cloudless.
For over a week, Darcy had been collecting petals from the roses which grew wild in the meadow, and she rubbed them onto her skin, capturing their scent. After scrubbing her teeth with a small frayed sapling branch, she combed through her long, dark hair and caught up only the tresses around her face, leaving the rest to tumble down loosely over her shoulders. Darcy slipped a red gown over her head, and although it fit tightly over her round breasts, it fell all the way to her ankles and molded to her figure gracefully. The gown had been her mother's best dress, and she ran her hands over the fabric lovingly. To complete her ensemble, she put on her only pair of shoes, soft black slippers which had also belonged to her mother.
Darcy gathered her things and returned to the Mullin cottage. Teila would need plenty of help cooking and getting the children ready before the wedding. There was an air of excitement when Darcy walked through the door, and she could see everyone busy with preparations. Teila was frantically packing food in tin pails while Keenan struggled with his buttons in front of the mirror. "I can't do this!" he burst out, still holding his pipe between his teeth.
Two of the children wrestled on the floor while Brianna, the toddler, was climbing onto the cupboard looking for food. It was chaos, but it was good-natured excitement. It had been a long time since Kilkerry had anything to celebrate, and a wedding on a sunny afternoon made spirits high.
Keenan bellowed, "Why, Darcy McBride! You're a sight for sore eyes. I'm betting that you'll be married yourself before the day is over."
Teila looked up, and said, "You look beautiful today, Darcy. It seems like only yesterday your mother was wearing that dress."
Keenan grabbed Teila around the waist and roared, "Speaking of beauties, just look at me bride!"
He gave Teila a squeeze, and she snapped a towel at him laughing, "Settle down, you old fool. That sort of attitude is why I'm the size of a cow today!"
Teila was dressed in a soft yellow gown, which draped loosely over her generous belly, and her light hair was gathered into a knot at the back of her head with a green ribbon.
Darcy opened a basket and double-checked the number of bowls. Everyone attending the wedding was expected to provide their own eating utensils as well as food to share. There was no one wealthy enough in these parts to provide a feast for an entire village, so it was expected that everyone bring enough food to feed the number of family members they brought to the celebration.
Darcy packed several stews, puddings and breads into baskets, as Teila finished dressing the last child. In a flurry they set out for the wedding on the village green. The ceremony would be performed at the O'Hearn family cottage by Father Etienne then the feasting and celebration would begin.
Those who were aware of the priest's presence in Kilkerry knew of th
is arrangement, but those who could not be trusted were told the bride and groom had taken their vows earlier in the week by an existing priest in Granager.
The green was alive with activity when they arrived. Tables were being arranged and carts were beginning to pull up, filled with excited guests. Everyone commented on the beautiful sunshine, and spirits were running high.
The interior of the O'Hearn home resembled most cottages, but today it had a look of celebration. It had been recently scrubbed and whitewashed, and it sparkled with the nervous excitement of its inhabitants. Michael and Bridget stood by the fireplace, anxiously watching Father Etienne place an altar cloth over the kitchen table. He winked at them to put them at ease.
Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry Page 6
