The group I am traveling with is mostly quiet, as if they are sneaking through the countryside on their unsaddled horses. Liam said they travel freely, but it feels odd that we are avoiding the main road and using trees for cover.
We skirt bogs and marshes and stay on dry land as much as possible. It starts raining. Not a hard rain, but a constant drizzle. Enough to soak my hair. I am so glad I was wearing leather pants and a vest, which kept most of the rain off, but I certainly could use a ball cap to keep it off my face. This would be worse if I were wearing my glasses, but this boy has excellent vision.
The rain does not seem to affect these warriors. A few of them even removed their shirts and are sitting on them. They have seen battle, some with scars across their backs and arms. Liam is older and is wearing a cloak, staying covered. He pulls up his hood and seems deep in thought. He leads us with two other warriors in front of me and three behind.
Only Liam knows enough English to speak, as the others communicate solely in Gaelic. Sometimes I recognize a word, trying to decipher its meaning, but it evaporates soon after I hear another word.
I am happy that Aisling packed something extra for the road. I wonder if she knew this would happen. Maybe she doesn’t know the purpose. She asked for my attention only yesterday as if I could marry her. But now I think she may have something to do with this. Or maybe I don’t remember the other times I left for the country, where she may have handed me provisions for the road. I really hope I am wrong about her.
Up ahead, a horse-drawn carriage is coming our way. Liam drops back, grabs my horse’s reins, and leads us into the forest at a gallop with the other warriors. I hold on to the pommel, trying to stay upright as Liam pulls my horse deep into the forest. A few of the warriors stay behind to watch the carriage. We stop and listen as the carriage passes. It keeps on going without hesitation.
“Why are we hiding?” I ask. “Isn’t this the king’s land?”
When the carriage has passed far enough that we can no longer hear it, Liam turns to look at me, furrowing his brow. “It should be. The English king had granted rule of this territory to the Fitzgeralds. We do not honor the English rule. Donal MacCarthy is the rightful owner. We have had many battles to reclaim this land and are trying to avoid further bloodshed.”
The two warriors return and speak to Liam. He holds onto my horse’s reins as the group ventures deeper into the forest.
“Was something wrong?” I ask.
“No. It was only travelers. But we will need to stay hidden for a while longer. There may be more.”
I realize this is more complicated than I thought. Liam confirms my suspicion that the Gaelic warriors are trespassing. He gives me back the reins when we come upon a stream, where we stop and water our horses. Mine is thirsty after riding for most of the day.
I should have asked where we were going. I thought it was just over the hill, but we have been traveling until sunset.
The forest opens into a clearing where several upright pillars of stone are standing near a huge mound. It looks like a golden light is coming from its opening, or it could be reflecting the sunlight. The warriors stop and dismount their horses.
“We will camp here this evening,” Liam says.
I dismount and walk my horse over to the mound. The light has gone. I peer within and could still make out the stone walls and ceiling. It goes back several feet before I can no longer see because of the dim light. The warriors start a campfire by the stone pillars, a little distance from the mound.
I sit near the crackling fire, holding my hands up for warmth and wishing I had brought a cloak. Although it stopped raining a while back, my clothes are still damp. This is going to be a long night as I have no blanket to stay warm.
The other warriors are pulling blankets off their horses and lying on them. Then I remember that my horse also had a blanket under its saddle. He is grazing on the moist grass near the mound when I approach. I consider leaving, but it would have been foolish since I know nothing of this country and can’t see enough to ride through the forest.
I pull up his head and look into his dark brown eyes. “It looks like we will be away from home for a little longer. Thank you for carrying me today.” My horse nods and whinnies as if he understands. He seems in good spirits, lowering his head and chomping away at the grass.
I unstrap his saddle and remove it, then lift off the woolen blanket, grateful that it isn’t soaked. After putting the saddle next to the fire, I unfold the blanket, laying it on the ground and smoothing it out.
I stretch out on the blanket and lean my head up against the saddle. The blanket is wide enough to wrap up in.
I count six warriors in the group. Some with markings on their arms and faces. Why would anyone mark their face?
They speak quietly in the Gaelic tongue and start passing around a waterskin. One, who has a partially shaved head and rear braid passes me the waterskin. “Drink.”
I uncork the waterskin and smell its contents. It smelled of river water. I replace the cork. “I have my own,” I say, patting my wineskin.
“Humph,” he says, taking it back briskly and returning to his seat at the campfire.
I take a swig from the wineskin, not sharing any of it. My stomach is talking to me. I watch the others passing around some dried meat. Then I remember that Aisling had packed something for me. I open up the saddlebag and find the bag she gave me. I open it and find bread, dried meat, and cheese. Pulling out a chunk of bread, I eat slowly, watching the others watching me. I wish I knew some way of communicating, but I don’t. However, to be nice, I pull out another chunk of bread and offer it.
They laugh and pass around their own meat.
“We appreciate the gesture,” Liam says from across the fire. “But we have our own.”
I eat enough bread and meat to satisfy my stomach. The chunk of cheese smells of mold, and I wasn’t desperate enough to eat it. I wrap it back up and put the bag of food into the saddlebag. Then I uncork the wineskin and swallow enough to fill my mouth, hoping it will help me fall asleep.
I get up to relieve myself. I don’t feel right using the standing stones, so I walk out to the nearest tree to water it. When I return, I notice one man returning after I do. They must be keeping an eye on me. That confirms I am their hostage.
I lay back on the blanket, arranging the sword next to me to get comfortable. I should take it off, but I want to keep it close, just in case.
The stars are out tonight. A full moon is rising above the eastern horizon. The stars are brighter than I had seen in years since I moved to the city. I spot the Big Dipper and follow its ladle pointing to Polaris, the northern star. Orion, the hunter constellation, is setting in the west.
The conversation dies down as the men turn in. They take turns on watch around camp. Liam keeps his eye on me, I guess to make sure I don’t escape. I am still confused about all of this, whether I am a prisoner or going on my own accord. I am playing their game as if it were my choice to go with them, but I wonder what would have happened if I didn’t come along.
Liam comes over and sits beside me. “How are you so calm?”
I sit up. “What do you mean?”
“You look relaxed for a boy so young.”
“Am I?” I ask. “I don’t feel young.”
“Your spirit is strong. You’re carrying an old soul.”
I wonder if he knows how true that is. “Could be,” I say, not wanting to share too much.
“But there is one thing I don’t understand.”
“What’s that?”
“When I knew your family, they spoke both Gaelic and English. But you don’t know our language.”
My nerves go on edge. He figured out I am an impostor, but I decide to keep up the disguise. “I haven’t used it since childhood. I have forgotten most of it.”
“That is disappointing. You should pick it back up. It’s an insult to the Irish.”
“Until today, I had no need, but I see it would have made a difference. How come you speak English so well?”
“I served an English lord, hunting and trading in furs. That’s how I knew your family. I used to trade with your family years ago and even visited your home. Isn’t your mother called Anna?”
“That is Lady Anna,” I say. “Even I call her that.” I realize he knows my family. Or it could be the knowledge he was given.
“I think titles serve as barriers.”
“You may be right, but it is expected,” I say, remembering when I received my doctorate and not wanting to use the title since I also thought it was a barrier.
“Well, Oíche mhaith,” he says, getting up and looking at me.
I had no idea what he said, but it sounded like ‘eeha wah.’ I respond with, “Good night.”
“See, I knew you understood the language.” He smiles and goes back to his place across the fire.
That night, I sleep a little. It isn’t even close to the feather bed I slept on last night. The ground is hard and rocky. I wake up when someone adds another branch to the fire. My eyes burn from the smoke. That’s when I feel a breeze coming from the mound. I roll over, pulling the blanket over me, and just stare at its opening. The moon is up high, and I hear something whispering. Glimmers of light flash around the mound like fireflies, but they are here and gone. I can’t make out the whispering but feel called to the opening.
I get up and look around. Everyone else seems to be asleep. I go to the fire and grab a branch where only one end is on fire. This will have to work since I don’t have a flashlight. I walk to the opening and peer inside.