The Witch's Journey

by Leigh Ann Edwards

  “Have you nothin’ cheerful?” Conor asked.

  She began with “The Rocky Road to Dublin.” Danhoul sang again, too. He knew every song she could think of. They played and sang for what must’ve been hours. Conor kept her ale well replenished. Her headache gone, she was drunk and admittedly having fun.

  When Sinead sat with Faolan, Angelique didn’t permit herself to be jealous, for Faolan scarcely looked away from Angelique. Perhaps he was feeling a little like she had this afternoon—seeing a very different side of him.

  “I’d say it’s closin’ time, but sure I’d meet opposition,” Conor stated.

  “Everyone really should be leaving,” Angelique said. “There’s a thick fog rolling in. Before you can’t see to get to your homes, you should leave.”

  “Maybe she’s a witch if she has the sight,” Sinead suggested starting a bit of a stir.

  “It’s my belief she’s an angel,” the priest said, “so leave her be and go off to your beds.”

  The priest’s word was obviously respected. The pub cleared out in a reasonably orderly fashion considering most of the men were noticeably drunk. The only people remaining were Conor, the priest, Danhoul, Faolan and the annoying Sinead, who still sat eyeing him.

  “Best you be goin’, too, Sinead,” Conor said.

  She looked at Faolan who gave her no cause to stay. She sighed dramatically, started off, but stared back at Faolan with a sultry, inviting glance.

  “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” Angelique called.

  “You lot stay and drink as you like. The coin taken in tonight is more than typically procured in a week or more. Thank you, Madam Mahoney.”

  “I was glad to be here,” Angelique said, meaning it.

  “The room upstairs is yours long as you want, no charge if you’ll sing and play sometimes—and a daily bath; twice a day if you wish.”

  She tried not to look pretentious when Faolan stared.

  “I suppose I’ll be gettin’ back to my ship then.” Faolan stood.

  “Before you leave I’ll introduce you to Father Sionaidh,” Danhoul said.

  “How do you know a priest from…here?” Faolan asked after Conor left to do his duties.

  “He isn’t a priest, nor from here,” Danhoul replied. “He’s a Celtic god apparently assigned as Angelique’s guardian.”

  “Why?” Angelique asked.

  “The gods believe you need extra guidance and protection.”

  “Where’s Wolf disappeared to?”

  “Aine thinks it’s best she and Wolf avoid you for a time,” Sionaidh admitted.

  “You’re posin’ as a priest?” Faolan said.

  “Most Irishmen respect or fear priests.”

  “Aren’t you a Scottish deity?” Angelique asked.

  “There’s one realm for all Celtic gods.”

  “Keep my wife safe,” Faolan said, gently touching her hand before walking away.

  She wanted to tell him to come upstairs with her or to stay away from Sinead, but she did neither.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Faolan awoke. Feeling the empty bed, his heart ached. He supposed he’d need to get used to waking without Angelique beside him. How could he accept that? Whether it was the gods’ plan or Angelique’s jealousy that kept them apart, he didn’t intend to give up easily.

  The unusually thick fog left dampness dripping down the ships and covering the docks. The air remained heavy as he walked to the inn, barely acknowledging Coates and the other men. He couldn’t attend to routine activities with his mind consumed with finding a way to have Angelique stay or making a decision to go back with her. Sinead now joined him.

  “Word about the village is your new wife doesn’t even share your bed. Does she sleep with the very handsome man she sings with then?”

  “She does not!” Faolan blared, infuriated anyone would believe that.

  “Where did you meet this peculiar woman who stole your affections so readily?”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Just because you’ve found another, that doesn’t end my longin’ for you.”

  “We never made commitments, Sinead. That was the arrangement from the beginning.”

  “I’d gladly attend to your desires even now, if it pleases you?” she said pulling back her shawl and gown, exposing her erect nipples, which had absolutely no effect on him.

  “Sinead, I’m married. You’ll find another to share your bed.”

  “None as fine as you, Captain.”

  “I’m goin’ to speak with my wife. It’d be best for both of us if you’re nowhere near.”

  “You’ll not find her at the inn. She’s off with her fine, brawny protector.”

  “Off where?”

  “Couldn’t say.”

  Faolan opened the inn’s door more forcefully than intended then strode in where many were eating.

  “Is my wife upstairs?”

  “She left earlier,” Conor replied.

  “Did she break her fast?”

  “Only had tea. Martha worries with her lack of eatin’.”

  “As so I,” Faolan admitted. “Do you know where she’s gone?”

  “I didn’t purposely overhear, you understand, but she told her singin’ companion, she was after sittin’ by the sea.”

  Faolan nodded. Starting back out, he encountered Coates.

  “Do we sail this day, Captain? Fog’s mostly lifted.”

  “Not today. Tomorrow or perhaps the following day. I’m determining whether my wife sails with me.”

  “Shouldn’t you order her to do so if you wish her there?”

  “You’re attemptin’ to tell me how to handle my wife?” Faolan said.

  “Wouldn’t think of it, Captain. But the crew’s talkin’ as are half the villagers.”

  “Until I have them all talkin’ I suppose I needn’t fret.”

  “The ship’s already loaded. We’re to be takin’ the tea to the other ship as arranged.”

  “It’ll be done soon enough,” Faolan said.

  “Aye, Captain.”

  *

  Faolan found her sitting upon a rock, her feet dangling in the icy sea, her unbound hair windswept. She turned to face him, her expression maudlin, but so remarkably beautiful his heart sped.

  “Angelique, where’s Danhoul? You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “He’s just there.” She pointed down the beach. “He recognizes my need for time alone.”

  “Unlike me,” he whispered, feeling rueful even as he said it.

  “Danhoul’s nothing like you, Faolan.”

  “Why’ve you eaten no breakfast?”

  “Do you have spies and snitches everywhere?”

  “You’ll become ill if you don’t eat. That’s a certainty, more than becomin’ sick from what you do eat.”

  “I’d prefer to cook my own food. I’m not hungry anyway. Are you sailing today?” she questioned.

  “Not today—not till we decide what’s to be done about…us.”

  Her eyes were so sorrowful, he longed to take her in his arms, to do or say whatever might make her smile, to hear that amusing wee snort she’d once been prone to.

  “I apologize, Faolan. If I’d known what pain this would cause us—my foolish spell would never have been done.”

  “You’d wish it all away then—the love, the passion, our vows so easily undone?”

  “Easily? Is that what you think?”

  “In truth, I’m weary of thinkin’.”

  “I met with some women this morning,” she said.

  “Women? What women?”

  “The ones who hope to wed you or whose families hope to snag you.”

  “Why would you…?”

  “When I’m gone, you’ll need someone. If I discover who’s most compatible, give you my blessing, it might make your decision easier.”

  He wanted to scold or shake her, but did neither.

  “Coates’s sister might be the best match. Accustomed to life as
a seaman’s wife, with her mother and sister here, she’d be content. I sense she could give you children.”

  Angelique stopped speaking, apparently waiting for him to offer his opinion, which he did not.

  “The Merganser’s captain’s daughter’s lovely and yes, virginal, but already in love with the blacksmith’s son. It mightn’t be a good pairing. Maybe you wouldn’t expect her fidelity if you intend to have other women.

  “The O’Reardon woman prefers women, but wants children. That might be an agreeable arrangement. She’d bear your children, have female lovers, and you could take a gazillion lovers.

  “The others are either too timid or too overbearing. Of course, there’s Sinead who’s apparently kept your interest for some time. You’re obviously compatible in bed or on a desk at the very least, which would be important in a marriage, especially since I’m aware of your very healthy sex drive.”

  “Are you quite through?” he said so bloody riled he wanted to shake her or take her here and now—show her she was the only woman he’d ever want.

  “You think the talk of my galleon only wanting to be moored in one harbor evermore was just a metaphor as you implied?”

  That brought tears, which he hadn’t wanted to cause, but when he stepped nearer, Angelique put her hands up.

  “Don’t, Faolan. It’s easier if we keep our distance. If the gods have their way we won’t be together much longer anyway.”

  “You intend to waste what time we do have then, being angry or indifferent—by planning my life after you’re gone?”

  “You think fucking our brains out now will make it easier when we’ll soon have to say good-bye?”

  He knew she spoke crudely to anger him, perhaps cheapen what they shared, but it only made him want her more.

  “It was never only fucking with you, Angel,” he replied.

  That clearly startled her. She wouldn’t have heard him say that word before.

  “Sure your feet must be like ice, Angelique,” he said, his voice breaking.

  He could see his emotion deeply affected her. She turned away, her tears falling readily.

  “If you sail tomorrow, don’t take Coates,” she managed. “You can’t trust him. It might also be best for me to leave your time before you sail. Seas would be stormy if you go when I’m still here.”

  “Come with me; stay with me,” he said, again stepping nearer.

  She pulled her legs from the water, sat tightly clutching her knees.

  “Until I have to leave to go fight in a damn battle of good and evil or until the gods determine we can’t be together anymore? Won’t it be easier if…”

  “Nothin’ will be easy without you. Breathin’s a bloody struggle. Sleepin’ without you last night was torturous.”

  “Even if I talked with Aine or the god posing as a priest—begged or bargained for us to be together—there’s still the matter of you not wanting to give up this life and me not fitting in here.”

  “If the gods permit me to be your guardian, to fight in this battle together,” Faolan said, “the decision might be made for us.”

  “If one or both of us die?” she said.

  “You’ll think I’m bein’ dramatic, but honestly, Angelique—if I can’t have a life with you, I find myself not carin’ so very much. Come back to the inn with me and break fast. I’ll be with you in whatever capacity you’ll agree.”

  She took his outstretched hand, gathered her stockings and boots.

  “You’re shiverin’, Angel, and by God I want to warm you,” he said catching the lovely scent of her hair blowing in the breeze.

  She signaled to Danhoul. He waved back, but walked the other way. He was giving them time alone, which Faolan appreciated. Danhoul was a good man. He had the strongest inclination if Angelique went back and ensured they never met, she and Danhoul would one day do more than hook up. They might fall in love. Should Faolan bow out so she’d have a happy life with Danhoul? Clearly he wasn’t as honorable as her. He tightened his hand on hers and she glanced at him in question.

  “You want to know what I’m thinkin’ now?”

  She nodded.

  “The notion of you with anyone else makes me nearly mad with jealousy. I cannot think straight. My ship, crew and cargo, the wealth and reputation I’ve built mean absolutely nothin’ just now.”

  “Perhaps you could be like the Dread Pirate Roberts from The Princess Bride and simply pass it to someone else.” She sighed heavily. “Sorry, I had good intentions of not suggesting you give up your life for me. You’d end up resenting me. Besides Aine did say one of us would die if we remain together.”

  “Captain and Madam Mahoney,” Faolan’s second mate said as he approached.

  “What is it, Fitzsimmons?”

  “Do you intend to take your lady when we sail? Some say it’ll curse the voyage, for if she possesses the gift of prophecy, she might be a witch. Others say she could bring favor, for she has an angelic presence and the priest approves of her.”

  “Why’ve you come and not Coates?” Faolan asked.

  “Coates isn’t speakin’ so favorably about either of ye.”

  “I’ll talk to the men later,” Faolan said. “For now, I’ll break fast with my wife.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  When he walked away, Angelique looked at Faolan with worry.

  “I’ve already made trouble and you’ve yet to sail.”

  “Cause two stormy days, Angelique. Then walk upon the ship and make the sun shine. That’d convince them you’ll bring good fortune.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true.”

  “It’d make your captain more astute in his duties if his heart isn’t left ashore or in another time.”

  “Perhaps I should summon Aine, try to reason with her.”

  “Did she look as though she could be reasoned with?”

  “No,” Angelique admitted.

  *

  Entering the inn, Sinead smiled at Faolan.

  “She might as well have a sign that reads come hither, Captain.”

  “We’ll go elsewhere,” Faolan said.

  “No, I’ll just sit with my back to her.”

  “Perhaps bacon, eggs and biscuits,” Faolan suggested.

  She nodded, trying not to think of the cleanliness or lack thereof in the kitchen and wishing she could just let go of that worry at least. Newt used to tease her about being a germaphobe. She hadn’t thought it was true till now.

  When a group of British soldiers in red coats came inside, Angelique tensed. She’d nearly forgotten about Charles Fort located here in Kinsale. As a tourist she’d visited there in modern times, but in 1773 it would be occupied by the British army. Like with any number of men together, they probably tended to be raucous. Faolan was tall and powerful-looking, often the only inducement necessary to provoke men looking for a fight.

  Faolan nodded to the men as they came in. Most simply nodded back and passed them, pulling tables together. A couple of soldiers stopped and sat with Sinead obviously saying something she didn’t like.

  Faolan closed his eyes and shook his head, clearly knowing he’d need to stop their boorish behavior. Angelique nodded and he seemed relieved.

  “I’m thinkin’ the lady doesn’t really care for your attention,” Faolan said as he stood but didn’t approach.

  The two that were bothering Sinead looked perturbed he’d interfered. That brought the attention of the other soldiers who then noticed Angelique.

  “Why does it matter to you, Mahoney? You already have a lady sitting with you. Don’t be greedy.”

  “This is my wife,” Faolan said.

  That clearly got their attention.

  “The much sought-after Captain Mahoney has married? You must be a special lady indeed,” the one who was an officer said.

  “She is,” Faolan said.

  Angelique certainly didn’t want their attention.

  “Does she not speak?” he asked.

  “Would you wish your wif
e to speak to a group of unfamiliar men?” she asked in a hopefully passable Irish accent.

  “Probably not,” the man said eyeing Angelique closer as Faolan’s hand hovered by his sword.

  “Surely, you’d hope an honorable man might speak for her or any other woman if they’re bein’ forayed by men.”

  The officer stared harder at Angelique, but spoke to the other soldiers.

  “Leave her alone.” He gestured to Sinead and they obeyed, scowling at Angelique and Faolan as they moved away.

  Faolan sat down and took Angelique’s hand possessively.

  *

  “You’ll definitely not stay behind while I sail. I’d rather you go back to your time than to be left here to deal with the likes of those men.”

  “They can’t all be unscrupulous?”

  “You must realize how men are when they get together. Soldiers believe they’re above the laws or make laws to suit them, which isn’t good for anyone who isn’t English.”

  “You’ve had run-ins with them before?”

  “Off and on.”

  “The officer seems to respect you.”

  “Likely not if he knew I was intercepting British ships going to America and stealing weapons and gunpowder or taking tea from the Dutch and sending it to America so the colonists can disregard the tea sent by the English.”

  “Probably not. That’s the first time I’ve heard you say you’d be okay with me going back to my time.”

  “I didn’t say that, Angelique. I said I’d rather have you where you’re perhaps relatively safe, than have to deal with men—here in this time without me.”

  He came to her and knelt on one knee.

  “I’d see you safe, my angel, even if it is not with me. I must go back to the ship now, but please create a squall.”

  *

  Through the inn’s window Angelique looked out at the stormy sea. She hadn’t created thunder and lightning but the rain and winds were fierce; the moored ships rocked wildly.

  Downstairs there was pandemonium with rowdiness and loud fighting. She prayed Faolan wasn’t involved.