Ó Máille is thankful to find himself once again within the walls of a church. He acts polite despite the purpose of their mission. He is a priest of God first and a citizen of Largay second.
Padraic stops before entering. "Is there no way we can get your people inside? Have yeh no tents or way to get them out of the rain? Can we make fires and get food?" He looks annoyed at how these so called Kings and royalty are treating their little folk.
Bridget glares at Padraic.
"We're doing our best. This storm is worse than most," the nun sighs and crosses herself. "They say that spring storms make for bloody summers."
"Brother, would you do us the honour of giving mass? It might help us through the night?" she proposes.
"I would be honored."
Padraic glares at the woman before walking put the door and calling to the crowd. "Any of you got an axe? Any strong enough to swing it? Follow me!"
With that he walks off to the edge of the closest free line and begins to look for wood that will burn.
If any of the people have followed him, he turns to speak to them.
"We cut as much wood as we can till we can't see no more, then I'll light a torch and we'll haul it back and make some damn fires. Get some heat in to your peoples bones. Right?" He moved to the closest person with an axe and held his hand out for it.
"I'll start and you can take over for me. Rotate so no one gets too tired."
"Go with him," the nun whispers to a young man, who follows Padraic.
The villagers watch incredulously as Padraic and the young man gather wet wood into a pile. Padraic shows the young man how to peel away the wet bark to expose dry wood, which he then splits into thin strips for kindling and shavings for tinder. He finds a covered area, there stacks the kindling, and finally lights the tinder. It's a small fire, but it's a start, and it will burn despite the rain.
The villagers who at first though Padraic's work to be futile, now join in to help. Many grab axes and knives and get to work. If anything, the labor will help them through the night. It takes a long time, but eventually, there are a few small fires going here and there, which make the weather almost endurable.
Bridget watches from the chapel, almost smiling.
Inside, Brother Ó Máille recites mass. Many have gathered to hear his prayers, and receive His blessings. Mary, the nun, assists the brother.
"Holy Lord, be so kind as to bless this bread with Your holy spiritual blessing. May it be a guard against all illnesses through Jesus Christ our Lord," he blesses the bread. He takes a bite, then sets the blessed bread on the altar.
"Bless, O Lord, this drink which Thou hast created, that it may be a salutary remedy for all who partake of it, and grant that all who taste of it may, by invoking Thy holy name, receive health for body and soul. Through Christ our Lord. Amen." he raises the cup of water, which was drawn from the holy well.
He drinks the ice cold spring water, the blood of Christ...
...and collapses. The clay cup crashes on the stone floor. Mary catches Brother Ó Máille just as he falls, and holds him close as he convulses. Others rush forward, but she keeps them at bay.
Fintan stays quiet for most of the process, but as he and Braeden speak with Bridget Fintan seems to remember something.
"No," he tells her. "Six cows, six heifers. Belcoo boys attacked us. Pay for that." He speaks in a slow, no-nonsense fashion, but also seems invested in this business. He is, after all, fairly knowledgeable in herding (if nothing else).
------------------
Later, Fintan is outside helping Padraic and the peasants with starting fires. He's a huge, burly man, and this is exactly the kind of work he's happy to do.
"No," he tells her. "Six cows, six heifers. Belcoo boys attacked us. Pay for that."
"Our boys attacked you?" Bridget fumes. "You came to our home to raid our cattle! And now my father is dead!"
She takes a deep breath, and calms herself. "Still, your price is fair. Will you guarantee that Largay will not attack again?"
The spasms cease, and Brother Ó Máille slowly recovers from his seizure. Mary Murphy is relieved, and tends to him as best she can. She asks for hot poppy tea, which will calm his nerves and sooth his aches.
Brother Ó Máille wonders… Was this the voice of God, or some ancient demon come to haunt him? The wailing woman was both beautiful and terrorizing; and she was definitely not of this world.
His companions look upon him with worried looks. He wants to tell them what he saw, but decides to wait until morning, until they are alone. He is sore and tired, and the day has shaken his spirit. He needs to rest, and pray.
Outside, the rain has stopped as quickly as it came. The villagers warm themselves by the fires, trying in vain to dry their wet clothes. The worst has passed, but it will be a sleepless night for most.
You can’t help but think upon your role in all of this. Some semblance of peace has been agreed upon, but these people will not soon forget this night. Could it all have been avoided? Or is this simply the way of your people?
Brother Ó Máille sleeps, and his dreams are haunted by nightmares. The rest of you wait for morning, and greet the sunrise with a sigh of relief.
As day breaks, you drive six cows and six heifers out of Holywell.
”I had a vision,” Brother Ó Máille breaks the silence. He attempts to describe what he saw…
The priest recounts his vision. His eyes stare past his companions as if the vision is replaying itself behind them. "There was an arch of white marble at the peak of a mountain. Then a woman robed also in white. She was wailing. She - I - I don't know if I'll every forget that sound. She was surrounded by four swans. Then, I saw five wolves howling under the light of a full moon. The last thing I saw was a High Cross."
He hides his weary face in his hands. "I don't know what it means.. Is the Lord speaking to me? Am I being tormented by demons? I need to talk to my father when we return."
Aoife rubbed her eyes as dawn came. She had remained awake all night to watch over Finton and Braeden. So that morning when they left Aoife seemed a little on the sluggish side.
"So, we're heading right back home right?" She asked with a yawn.
When Brother Ó Máille mentioned a vision, the half-breed woman rolled her eyes. "You drank something right? They may have drugged you." She stated.
You drive the cattle into Tuaim. A few young men come running when they see you cross the river, to help you herd the cows and heifers into stalls.
The sun is shining, and last night's storm seems already forgotten. In the village, warriors from throughout the kingdom are gathering already. Kin and old companions greet each other cheerfully. Soon, they will march to join the army of the King of Breifne.
You find the King and Queen, the nobles, and Father Ó'Máille, all in the king's hall. Perhaps you expected to be greeted as heroes, but instead the king meets you with contempt.
"Was I not clear?" he asks. "Fintan, did I not specifically say that you should go with Padraic? Did I not say that Braeden was to stay here, at my side? And Brother Ó'Máille? And Aoife? You had no right to put them in harm's way!"
"Please," the Queen intercedes. "Your son's intention was only to honour you, and he has returned with a fitting tribute. We should applaud his achievement. And thank God that he, and his brother, have returned safe and sound."
The King hears his wife, calms himself, and pretends a smile.
"Very well. Tell us the story of your raid on Belcoo."
Fintan relaxes when the King smiles. He seems to see it as genuine, and he takes a deep breath before speaking:
"We went to Belcoo," he begins in slow speech. "It was empty. We only found an old man. He led us into an ambush. We won."
Fintan seems ready to go on like this, but it would probably be for the best if someone else started speaking in his stead. Otherwise, important details could be glossed over, or the story would continue to be spoken in short clips of sentences.
Aoife squeaked out a sound but then thought it was better not to talk as she pointed to Braeden, her face saying it all. He told me to.
When the King asked of their raid she bowed to the King and let Fintan and Braeden speak of the raid. Her input would mean next to nothing anyways. "I'll just go back to the kitchens... Where I am suppose to be... If you'll allow it."
"You do not know your place, slave girl," the queen states plainly, disdainfully. "And you suffer for it. Perhaps I should cut off your feet, to keep you from running away again?"
"I will punish her myself," the king decides. "For now, you may go to the kitchen and tend to your duties."
The queen can barely conceal her fury. The locals know why the king looks kindly upon the pretty girl, and why the queen wishes her dead. But the outsiders do not, and they gossip. Given the king's reputation, most assume that the slave is his favourite toy, and that the queen is jealous.
"What an epic tale!" the king teases Fintan. A few in the assembly snicker. The king is annoyed. "Out! Go tend to your horses!"
The king turns to Braeden: "Braeden, I will expect you at remain at my side. If you disobey again, I will whip you myself."
In the crowd, Brother Ó'Máille finds his father, who whispers: "Go. Take Padraic with you. I will meet you at home."
Aoife just bowed and quickly left. When to got to the hall she punched the wall. Oh pardon me b##~%! Sorry I actually cared what might happen to your sons! Or that one of them told me to go! Not like I can say no! She screamed in her head as she went to change before making her way back to the kitchen.
She gave most within the kitchen the death glare, thus they stayed away from her, but that didn't stop her from getting to work like normal.
Padraic sighed before looking at the Priest, "Forgive me Father but..." with that said, he moves forward to the front of the crowd and steps out, just behind Fintan.
"My King, if I may speak?" He stepped forward and bowed, waiting to be told before he rose.
The king nods.
"You were called upon to guide my son and keep him safe. And you did. I thank you. As a reward, I offer you four cows and four heifers, to be tended to on my lands, so long as proper tributes are made yearly," the king speaks, and his words are more than just.
"That is of course, if Father Ó'Máille allows it?" the king asks, as is proper. After all, as a semi-freeman, Padraic cannot enter into a contract without the approval of his master.
"Padraic is a good young man who will honour your kingdom," Father Ó'Máille speaks, and bows.
Suddenly, Padraic is no longer a semi-freeman. He is a fer midboth. He can now find a wife and lands, and build a home.
"You may speak," the king continues.
Padraic stands there awe struck for a moment, before bowing even deeper. "My King you honour me far more than I could ever dream. I did not do this for reward but out of duty. Thank you. Your son is a strong man, your Majesty, and an honourable man. Both of them. The old man who died, during our trip was none other than Fiacre Quinn." He paused, letting this sink in before continuing.
"There is more to this story your majesty but it should be only for your ears. I do not know the whole story, only my part of it, but Braedan and the Brother can fill you in more, them as being the learned men." He paused again, thinking long and hard, before speaking grudgingly.
"Your majesty, if I may be so bold, Aoife was invaluable during this trip. She is a stout hearted woman who is dedicated to keeping your sons alive, even at the cost of her own life. I ask that you take that in to account when you punish her!" With that said, he bowed and fell silent.
"Fiacre Quinn is dead! That is excellent news," the king gushes, veritably happy. "Braedan, I will expect you to tell me the entire story, later."
"As for Aoife, he continues, "she must pay the price for her insubordination."
Later, when the guests have gone and only the household remains, Aoife is called into the hall. The tension between the king and the queen is palpable, and everyone is quiet. Braedan and Fintan stand behind the king's throne, with sad eyes.
Aoife is made to stand alone, in the middle of the room. The king rises and looks to his sons as if to say: this is on you. He approaches Aoife with a leather whip in his hand.
"I am sorry, Aoife," he whispers sorrowfully in her ear so only she can hear. "This pains me. I know that you did the right thing, but I have no choice."
"Take off your dress," he commands. The queen grins cruelly. Aoife blushes, but has no choice but to obey. She disrobes, and stands there naked for all to see. It's both embarrassing and infuriating.
The king steps away, turns, and cracks the whip. Most recoil, but the queen actually giggles, surprised and seduced by the sound.
And then he strikes. Aoife grunts, surprised by the sharp pain. But she doesn't cry out. She knows that he is whipping her with a soft hand, but each lash remains a test of her resolve not to break, not to give the queen the satisfaction...
Fintan leaves when the King bids, but pauses near the door when he hears Padraic giving a better explanation of the events of the night before. Then he hears the king say: "As for Aoife, she must pay the price for her insubordination."
For a moment, Fintan considers going back and saying something. Perhaps he could sway his father, convince him that Aoife didn't do anything wrong, explain that she had cautioned them to be careful every step of the way.
But Fintan knows he's no good with words. He understands, at least, that he might just make things worse. He looks over at Braedan, as if putting his trust in his brother, and steps out the door to tend to the horses as he was bid.
When he is called back to the throne room, Fintan doesn't understand what is happening immediately. But when Aoife is brought in and stands alone in the center of the room, Fintan comprehends what is about to happen. His eyes glaze over and he turns away, not wanting to watch.
He hears the crack of the whip, then the sound of it swishing through the air and snapping against Aoife's back. He hears that sound a few times more, and he grimaces, before stepping up to Queen - his mother - and setting a hand on the arm of her throne.
"Please," he begins, his tone pleading and quiet at first. It grows a little louder. "Mother, she did not... Uh, she doesn't - she didn't -" He tries for a moment to find the right words to say that might put a stop to things. He comes upon a thought, and blurts it out.
"I should've made her go home! It's my fault," he says, and perhaps really thinks it. "She don't deserve so many lashes. I should've made her go home. Don't let her be whipped so much, Mother. Please."
Ó Máille's face fails to conceal his horror upon hearing the punishment to befall Aoife. He even moves as if to interject, but he manages to control his actions and avoid saying something everyone would regret.
The young priest leaves the hall still filled with anger as his mind races. How could the king do this? Are we not all God's children? She just did as she was told. Braedan is the one who asked her to follow. This is all his fault. His thoughts are consumed by the injustice that Ó Máille is powerless to prevent.
Padraic catches up to the Brother and grins at him, elbowing him gently. "Come on Brother, I am a freeman tonight. We all got home and all are alive. It could always be worse!"
The king stops his hand, and turns to Fintan: "It's your fault? Then you may take the lashings for her."
The queen pales. It is now the king's turn to grin.
Fintan doesn't even stop to consider saying 'no' to that. He removes his tunic and drops it to the floor, then grumbles out, "Can Aoife please wear her dress now?" as he prepares to take the lashes.
Ó Máille responds in a distant manner, very unlike the man Padraic knows. "I - I'm sorry. I'm happy for you, truly. I just think I need some time to recover after our journey and reflect on what's happened the past few days. I - I need to pray."
Padraic eyes the man sideways, before nodding and patting him on the back. "Let's get you back to the Church then. You can begin to pray. I'll get us some dinner cooking, for all of us and we will await your father and the words he wishes to share with us!"
Aoife looked from Fintan to the King and back. "My King! Wait please!" Aoife called out, she had said it before she even thought. "Fintan wasn't the one who told me to go. Braeden was the one who found me in the kitchen and told me that Fintan need me. As both are your sons I cannot deny what they order from me any more then I could a word from your own lips. Braeden only did that our of worry for his brother's life, must you punish that?" She plead. "Please my King, help me understand what went wrong?"
"Fintan was in command. He is responsible. He should have told you to stay here. And as you say, Braedan was simply trying to protect his brother. No. Fintan disobeyed his king's command. He must pay the price," the king decides.
"No! The slave girl ran away. She is guilty!" the queen protests.
"Fifteen lashes is nothing," the king reassures her.
Aoife dresses, and Fintan takes her place.
This time, the king strikes hard. The whip cracks again and again, drawing blood. The king seems to find pleasure in torturing his son and heir.
Aoife shook her head and backed away as the King brought the first lash down. She quickly turned and ran out of the room to the kitchen and gathered a bowl of water and a clean rag.
She returned to the hall in time to see the last few lashing. I'll never forget this... She silently promised Fintan. When the King finished his lashing Aoife was first to Fintan's side.
"Why did you do that?" She asked softly as she began to clean his wounds to ensure they wouldn't get infected. "You shouldn't have gotten hurt because of me..." She whispered. "I'm sorry...
The king strikes with all his might, and Fintan yelps. As the lashing continues, Fintan's yelp becomes a howl, and then fades into a whimper. Truth be told, he could withstand far more - more than most men. But he has no pride, and cannot fathom how and why his father would strike him so - him or anyone.
When the king has finished, both the queen and Aoife run to Fintan's side.
"This is your fault," the queen hisses to Aoife. And yet, oddly, she allows Aoife to help. The two women accompany Fintan to his room, where they tend to his wounds.
"Lean on me Fintan." Aoife told him as she helped him up. She shot a glare to the Queen but said nothing, but that glare was a simple glace compared to the glare she sent to the King. Her mother had always spoke highly of the man, and right now she couldn't see why.
She helped Fintan to his room and tended to his wounds. "Get some rest." She said softly to him. "I'm going to change out the water and rags." She told him before she left.
Though she did stop by to see if the King was busy with something, if not she'd ask to speak with him.
The large man gladly accepts the help his mother and friend offer him, letting them guide him back to his room. He slowly sits himself down and lets them nurse his torn-up back.
Fintan doesn't speak, at least not at first. He just furrows his brow and wipes away a few tears of confusion, mulling over what has just happened. In the end, all he mutters is, "It's okay. It's okay. I will be okay."
And then, before they leave, he adds, "Your back, too. It's bloody." Then, "Thank you, mother."
"My poor boy," the queen cries at seeing her son so brutally abused. While allowing Aoife to tend to her son's wounds, she barks orders at the other slaves to fetch food and ale.
"The king will pay dearly for what he has done to you," she promises.
Aoife finds the king in the kitchen where he often hides to escape the queen, and his responsibilities. He orders everyone away when she arrives.
"I was waiting for you," he admits. "I am sorry, Aoife. Really. Are you alright?"
In the meantime, Father Ó'Máille meets his son and Padraic at the church. He embraces his son without restraint.
"Praised be God for having kept you safe," the old priest says as he invites them both to sit. "You could have been killed!"
"Thanks to your son, I am perfectly fine." She said as she tossed the water out of the window and began to clean out the rag she had been using on his wounds. "If... I may? She asked as she advoided looking at him. "Would you... Ever consider selling me" She asked in a low tone before she finally turned to look at him. "Your son would not be injured right now if it wasn't for me... And with the hatred your Queen feels for me... Would it not be better for your family if you sold me?" Her eyes had began to water at the thought of leaving Fintan to the mercy of his parents, but she seemed to only case him more pain the longer she was here. "I... Don't want to be the reason he's in pain..." She quietly admitted as she hung her head.
"If it was up to me, you would have been freed a long time ago. But the queen has insisted that you remain a slave in our household," the king explains.
He looks at her with tears in his eyes, and continues: "I loved your mother very much. She was an amazing woman."
He sighs.
"I am sorry. I wish..." The though lingers, full of promise and sorrow.
"So I have to remain in the house of the woman who would have my head if she was able, all alone." Aoife spoke, her voice full of frustration and sadness. "I don't even have mother help me through it... And don't speak of my mother with any compassion when you allow her kin to suffer for no reason other than a sick woman's entertainment!" She hissed at him.
Though soon after she said that she brought her hand to her mouth and bit down on her thumb to keep herself from saying anything more. After a few moments of that and a couple deep breaths she said "I do apologize my King... My emotions got the better of me... Am I correct in saying that I am a slave that belongs to you and not the Queen. Of you agree to sell me there is nothing she could do. Save be angry about it... But I think that would change little..." She leaned onto one of the kitchen tables as she muttered, "I am just... So tired... Of being hated. Not knowing why...."
Braedan watches the events with detached horror. He seems pained but understanding at the activities of court. He really has nothing to say during the proceedings though seems ready to defend himself at times but remains quiet.
He does manage a whisper 'Father...." as the kings rage is loosed on Fintan who's not of his blood. "...he's just a full grown, simple boy."
Later, after he's finished in the kitchens speaking with Aoife, he speaks privately
"My King" he begins, and relates the entire story from the time they aarrived in Belcoo until they returned with the cattle. Making special emphasis on the vial and the changes that came over Fiacre..
"I believe if we act quickly the fragment of the spear is within our reach. Those that accompanied me would make great travelling companions. You know what would happen if I were able to collect the pieces that have been lost and scattered. We must make our way to the Tuath soon before a new agreement is reached. The law would not look kindly on another raid then. What say you father? Do you know where they may be hiding the fragment of the spear?"
"The king will pay dearly for what he has done to you," she promises.
"The king? Father?" Fintan starts to ask more, but the servants arrive with mutton and ale, and he waits until they leave. His brain works, and he remembers that for some reason his mother has never liked him calling his father... Father.
"I'm sorry," Fintan says quietly. "It was my fault. I..." He goes silent, thinking long and hard, slowly convincing himself to ask questions he does not like asking. "Why did you laugh when he hurt Aoife? And..." He pauses again. "Me, Braedan, we are always in the middle of these fights. Why?"
"Am I correct in saying that I am a slave that belongs to you and not the Queen. Of you agree to sell me there is nothing she could do. Save be angry about it... But I think that would change little..." She leaned onto one of the kitchen tables as she muttered, "I am just... So tired... Of being hated. Not knowing why...."
"It's not that simple," the king answers, shaking his head. "Her family is very powerful, and very rich."
He moves to take her in his arms, but decides otherwise.
"Goodnight, Aoife," he speaks softly on his way out.
"What say you father? Do you know where they may be hiding the fragment of the spear?"
The king, Brandon's father, thinks upon it. The Tuatha Ratha are powerful and this would be no simple cattle raid, but the prospect of recovering this fabled fragment is alluring to say the least.
"I do not know where the fragment could be," he answers, shaking his head. "And you're assuming that Fiacre was telling you the truth, which is far from certain. Still..."
He thinks upon it. "I cannot send our entire army to Boho as the King of Breifne will be expecting us to join with him. However, assuming that Airghialla also will be moving to march the circuit with the King of Connaught, perhaps a small group of warriors would suffice?"
"Why did you laugh when he hurt Aoife? And..." He pauses again. "Me, Braedan, we are always in the middle of these fights. Why?""It's not your fault," she reassures her son. "Don't worry about Aoife. She's just a slave girl. She's meaningless."
She kisses him, and steps out. "Get some rest."
Aoife stepped away from him the moment he made a move towards her. "Good night my King..." She muttered in reply before remembered what the Queen had said. "Um, my King... the Queen made a, statement I feel you should be warned off. She said you'd pay for what you did to Fintan... please be careful." Aoife told him before she returned to the work and hand.
She refilled the bowl with water and grabbed up another few rags and returned to Fintan's room. "I see they brought you something to eat, I was going to ask if you'd want me to cook something up but I guess that won't be needed now." she said as she dipped the rag into the water before twisting it to get excess out before laying it over Fintan's back to cool the wounds. "Is that helping any?" She asked.
"Will you send us out again father? Brother O'mallie, Padraic, Aoife and Fintan all performed well. You think the fragment is in Tuath Ratha or somewhere else? Is that where we should begin our search?"
Braedan tries to persuade his father to let them go insearch of the fragment being mindful of the the other needs of the kingdom.