Riona (48 page)

Today was the day, as new as the man whom friends and family turned out to bid farewell. Instead of craving liquor, Colga thirsted now for the Word. His exile would begin with journeying to Scotia Minor to study for the priesthood. With a letter from Cromyn to commend him, he hoped to eventually join an expedition into the unknown with the light of God’s Word as Brendan and others had done.

Behind Colga and Cromyn, leading his shaggy steed Bantan, was Bran, who was not only Gleannmara’s official academic master, but who also wore the Dromin brooch as its elected chief. It was agreed that since Bran had more children in house than Gleannmara, the new school would be constructed by default on the border between the royal Niall land and the O’Cuillin Dromin. Six of the rescued orphans, including Siony’s Naal, were now under the bard’s foster care and tutelage.

Conspicuously without a steed was Gleannmara himself. Kieran kept the others company and jested with the men, but he would remain behind this time. He would not march with the Dromin and the other clan troops breaking camp outside the outer rath, readying for their mission to put down a rebellion in Scotia Minor. Kieran’s captains went in his stead to the call of the high kings of Ireland and Scotland to squash an invasion of Scottish Dalraidi soil by the Ulster king.

“And did you ever see such a fine covey of ladies,” Kieran exclaimed, upon reaching them. He slipped his arm about Riona’s
waist and gave her a kiss. “Or a more beautiful queen?”

“Milord, you babble,” she demurred, her face growing hot as the men fell in with their lord in agreement. How she loved her husband! The old Kieran would have been the first on his horse, sword raised, at the hint of a battle. But like Colga, he had changed, as if made new.

“Colga,” she said, walking up to her cousin. “We shall miss you.”

“And I you, milady,” Colga responded. “But I shall have good company all the way to Scotia Minor,” he said, nodding toward the outer rath where the troops awaited.

She’d not been very close to her youngest cousin. Bran was more her and Heber’s contemporary, both in age and interest. The last months at Gleannmara had changed that as she watched a broken soul, who believed not even God could forgive him for what he’d done, mend with the nourishment of love and the work of the Holy Spirit.

“I thank God that the wolf of Tara has finally shed his sheep’s clothing so that he might be dealt with,” Kieran remarked wryly. “This day has been long due.”

Although there’d been no tangible proof, Baetan, the Ulster king who’d hidden safely in his court at the cursed and abandoned Tara of the high kings, was undoubtedly one of the driving forces behind the failed attempt to assassinate Aidan. Maille had been no more than a pawn whose chest rose and fell with Baetan’s breath.

“Thank you, Riona, for everything,” Colga said, kissing her on the cheek.

She returned the gesture chastely. “God’s speed. I will expect letters of wonderful tales of faraway places.”

Foiled at every turn, Baetan at last showed his true colors and launched troops to force the Scottish Dalraidi to pay homage and tribute to him. So once again the high king Aedh, as obliged to protect Aidan’s kingdom as Aidan was Erin’s, called upon his nobles to send troops to Scotia Minor. Gleannmara’s forces would be among the warriors.

“Now isn’t this a twist of fate?” Bran chuckled. “He’s off to become a priest
and
seek new experiences to give him tales to tell. While I, the
would-be bard and ill-fitted cleric, find myself the chief he aspired to be with a wife and my own congregation of children.”

“You’re not complaining, are you?” Siony sidled up to her husband and gave him a beguiling glance.

“Hmm,” Bran said, pretending to ponder his answer carefully. “Let me see. I could be trapped in a boat filled with quarrelsome men, heaving my insides out, or in a warm home with a good wife and smiling, red-cheeked mites.” He took Aine from Siony and tossed the infant into the air. The baby girl giggled ecstatically as he caught her and hoisted her to his shoulder. “You’re a lucky man, Colga.”

Colga laughed along with the others, including Siony, who pinched Bran for his mischief.

“Don’t forget now to give that ham and summer food to Kermod,” Riona reminded the happy father as Bran swung onto Bantan’s back.

Every time someone passed close to Kilmare, she sent a gift to the sympathetic farmer whom Bran had talked out of the pony for their escape from Maille. A distant cousin had been elected lord of Maille’s estate, at least keeping it in Riona’s maternal family.

“And I’ll give him your love.” Bran patted the basket of food strapped behind him.

A dozen more good-byes were said before the party was mounted and on its way. Even so, Riona stood next to Kieran, glad for his added warmth, and waved to any of the men who looked back. Everyone else had drifted away to his or her own course for the day. Dallan, Finella, and the boys juggled balls for the amusement of the stable hands and guards. Siony and Mebh tossed a ball in the rath to the older children while the smallest children bounced and squealed in the goat cart.

“There was a time I’d rather have heard pigs slaughtered than the noise of children’s frolic,” Kieran confessed to Riona with a wistful tip of his mouth. “It sounded much the same to me.”

She snuggled under his arm as they turned and headed for the inner yard. “It’s a joyous noise indeed.”

“Remember the first day we arrived and the hordes of giggling that charged us?” He laughed. “Sheer horror clutched at my chest. I thought all semblance of order had gone, vanished … that poor Benin
had expired, overwhelmed and overrun.”

“You’ve grown much as a father since then.”

Kieran smirked. “Aye, I’ve got the gist of it now.”

“But you haven’t mastered infants.”

“Who has? The wee creatures just pass food through one end and out the other, what doesn’t leak out their mouth on the intake, that is. They cry and sleep and sleep and cry at will. I sometimes think the old ones were right in thinkin’ babes don’t become human till they learn to walk and talk. Till then, they’re as unpredictable as the Sidhe.”

“Well, milord.” Riona tried hard not let her excitement bubble up through her stern countenance. “I would suggest that you apply yourself most heartily to learn what you can of the “wee creatures.”

Kingly grace failing him, Kieran nearly stumbled on the smooth, well-worn yard, spooking a nearby family of ducklings. He turned Riona to face him, eyeing her warily. “Are you trying to tell me something, wife?”

“I’m just telling you that come spring, God willing, I’ll need a new sapphire for my brooch.”

“You’re sure?” He shook her and then, catching himself, rubbed her arms as if to make up for any harm it might have caused.

Riona nodded, smiling, as she watched excitement fill her husband’s gaze.

He looked about frantically and lifted his arm as if to call back the travelers who’d already disappeared in the fields beyond. With his other hand he clutched a fist of golden hair in frustration. “Faith, woman, you should have told me earlier! I’d have Bran know the school might move back to our rath yet.”

“I’m having a child … not a litter,” she added, remembering his observation the night they’d found their nuptial bed draped in a garland of mistletoe. “And I wanted us to be alone when I told you.”

“Have you told the children?” Kieran sought out Fynn and the twins in the yard with his eager gaze. He was fit to burst with the news. Like Lady Gray about to pounce, he all but wiggled in anticipation.

“I wanted you to be the first,” she told him, “once I was sure.”

“So I can tell them now?”

Riona’s laughter sent him scurrying off, but he stopped suddenly.

“No,” he shouted back to her. “I want to tell everyone.”

He climbed to the top of a dirt pile. It and the straw beside it were kept on hand to fill mud holes dug by weather and traffic.

“Hear me, Gleannmara!” he shouted, waving his arms over his head like a madman rather than a king. “I’m going to be a
father!”

Riona saw Finella bend over in laughter. The ring Liex tossed to her flew by uncaught. Dallan tossed his aside and started toward the dancing king. From the guardhouse, men came out, approaching slowly at first. Like as not, they thought he’d lost his wits.

“I’m going to be a father!”

The alarm on the guards’ faces gave way to grins. This time they understood what their king was carrying on about.

To the cheers of “Huzzah!” and the delighted titter coming from the washwomen gathered round their tubs, Kieran hopped down off the pile. He raced back to her, scattering a feeding cluster of fowl in the process.

“You are crazy as a swineherd, milord,” Riona chided as he scooped her up in his arms and swung her around.

“Aye, lass, that I am!” He put her down and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ve been crazy since I first saw you, nothing but a wee thing like Leila.” He planted another kiss on her nose. “And I grew crazier when you came back from fosterage in the first bloom of maidenhood.”

He held her face between his hands and claimed her lips, lifting her spirit even higher until she had no idea whether her feet still touched the ground or danced on the clouds. All she knew was that this sweet madness of his was infectious. She still floated when he pulled away and caressed her still with his gaze.

“And if either of us goes to the other side ahead of the other,” he vowed fervently, “then look for me to be dancing on the clouds, crazy as ever over you, Riona O’Cuillin.”

She reached up and touched his lips. “You mean, Riona of Gleannmara.”

Kieran pressed his forehead to hers. “I mean love of my life,” he
whispered, brushing aside her finger so that his lips met hers in a hint of a kiss. “I mean light of my heart,” he went on, making with yet another gentle pass. “I mean soul of my soul.”

The words came from deep within, carried to her on his breath, sealed with a completeness ordained at the beginning of time, when the Creator made man and woman to be as one.

And above them, dear hearts, the good Lord surely smiled and said, “It is good.” The Fires of Gleannmara still burn like a candle in the wind with a flame that cannot be extinguished from without nor—so long as faith is its wick and love its fuel—from within. For all that, I’m pure bustin’ to get on with the next tale in this tellin’ of me children’s illustrious and adventuresome past. Just wait till ye read about me next daughter—the willful and daring Deirdre—and the man she’ll have, sure as Erin’s grass is green
.

But don’t be putting this book aside now. If ye haven’t already taken a gander at it, help yerself to me very own version of a glossary and reference. ’Tis filled with more interestin’ tidbits of academic and legendary note regardin’ me and mine
.

Now, until we meet again, may the Almighty keep ye in the palm of His blessed hand
.

The publisher and author would love to hear your
comments about this book.
Please contact us at:
www.multnomah.net

Fer yer entertainment as well as enlightenment, below is a list o’ tidbits regardin’ me past and me people’s ways, just for them what yearns for a taste o’ the Salmon o’ Knowledge.

adart
(ey-art): a pillow o’ feathers encased in deer skin.

Aedh
(ed): The high king of Ireland during Riona’s time. Many significant accomplishments. (See
Aidan, bard’s dilemma, Baetan, Columcille, Drumceatt, to each cow its own calf.
)

aiccid
(ay-sid): heir apparent to kingship or clan chief.

Aidan
(ay’-dan): the first Christian king of Scotia Minor (Scotland), which earned its recognition as a full province of Ireland with homage due only to Erin’s high king rather than an Ulster ruled subkingdom the likes of his Ulster Dalraidi kin’s lands. (See
Baetan, Drumceatt, Columcille
.)

aire
(ayre): a noble, most often in literary reference, but can refer to a free man.

Airmed’s blanket
(r-med): In the DeDanan legend, Airmed gathered and sorted the herbs gathered by her brother Midach, a gifted healer, after their father, the healer Diancecht, slew his son and fearing his healing powers even in death, mixed them up and scattered them all over the earth.

athair
(a’-the): father.

anmchara
(ahn-ca-rah): soul friend, confessor, soul mate.

ard rí
(ard righ): high king.

Baetan:
King of Ulster and would-be high king of Ireland and Scotland: Now here was a pompous example of bein’ too big for one’s trews (britches). Baetan grew in power after fightin’ at Culdreime with his northern Niall cousins—High King Aedh’s father, Scot King Aidan’s father, and relative and saint-to-be Columcille agin the then High King Diarmait o’ the opposin’ clan. Baetan set up his court at Tara, which was abandoned by the high kings who came along after it was cursed out o’ the sense the good Lord gave ’em, but this fool thought himself high and mightier than reality. Then, when Aedh (high king) wouldn’t make their cousin Aidan (Scot king) pay homage to Baetan as the Dalraidi kin in Ulster did, this blusterin’ banty rooster up and attacks Aidan’s shores. (And ye think
your
family quarrels are foolish?)

Well, he failed, but what can a soul expect when they try to defeat a king divinely appointed by God Himself? Ye see, even Saint Columcille was favorin’ Aidan’s brother, but an angel appeared and smote the headstrong saint to make him see the light. Columcille ordained Aidan as the
rightful king, and the rest is pure history. As for Baetan, his foolish greed and temper got him killed in battle not long after he was run from Scotland’s shores. (See
Aidan, Columcille, Aedh
.)

Bantan
(bahn’-tan): Bran’s horse.