Chapter 16 - Past Lives & Trauma

This chapter contains references to sexual abuse, violence, and emotional/physical trauma in a historical context. Reader discretion is advised.

Of Ona Ni Brahain

"Ona, we have no choice. Your Uncle, the Bishop, gave his word that we will be wed once I return. Banns will be cried within the month. 'Tis a promise he and I make you. Hide in the woods with Moire and Bride. You know where the Druid's Cave is, use it. Once a week, your uncle's cook will have a basket prepared for you to take back to the hidey-hole. I will be back in three month's time, and we will wed before your uncle. You have my word."

The forest we stood in offered no shelter for my feelings of abandonment. I did not wish for Padraic to go a-pirating with the Spanish. Our Earls left us to the English invaders. The men who swore to protect kith and kin threw Ireland to the wolves... and I did not want my beloved to die by cannon, sword or noose. T'would be English ships pillaged, and they were not known to be kind to pirates or the Irish. Letters of Marque were not a guarantee of safety. I felt decidedly ill to my stomach.

"Padraic, why must you leave as well? Can you not hide in the forest with us?" Already the English swarmed upon the countryside, like rats seeking the richest morsels to feed upon. The thought of protecting my younger sisters from hoards of rapacious English seemed impossible.

"Dublin Pale grows, and with it, the want of our new lords to rid Erie of the Irish. If I stay here, I'll be killed like every other able bodied man. If I can make coin by sailing with the Spaniards, we can go to France or Rome... Catholics are still safe there. The greedy hand of England's Henry cannot grasp that far." His sky blue eyes peered into mine. "You are strong Ona. You can do this. Your sisters need you."

At ages eight and ten, yes, my sisters do need me since our parents and brother died from kinepox. Our uncle could shelter us for only so long. Already the English worked to remove his influence in the Church to claim the properties as their own. To settle them with English and deprive my people of their rightful homes and faith.

I swallowed. "I will need blankets and pallets for the three of us. Wood for a fire. I'll ask Mara if she will join us. Ever since her Iain was strung up as a rebel, she has nurtured a fire in her belly against the English. We'll need a knife. I will also take Bran. He will be good to have around."

Padraic nodded. "I will give you my own blade and another for your cousin, a pallet for the wolfhound too. Bran will be good company to the girls." His arms held me against his chest as he kissed my forehead. "We will be together again, never fear it."

My heart lived in my throat as I asked, "When do you leave for Spain?"

"Your uncle says there's a ship sailing within the week. I will be back by Michaelmas. You can carry Michaelmas daisies in your bridal bouquet." He offered me a smile of reassurance.

"I wish there were another way." My eyes searched his face, memorizing every angle as if it were the last time I were to lay eyes on him.

Again, he kissed my forehead and murmured, "As do I. But there is no other way. I shall return for you. My heart will not allow for anything else."

My own heart broke a hundred times with the knowledge that he was to leave us. "Come, let us tell Uncle that we have reached an understanding."

A smile broke forth on his face as his hand held mine. "Your wish, my lady."

We walked over moss-covered stones as we left the wood to my uncle's home, nestled in a wee valley only a few miles from the coast. My mother's younger brother did well when my grandfather placed him in the church. In these volatile times, he was the one constant in my life, next to Padraic.

He met us on the stone steps of his home, hands wringing together below his gaunt and haunted face. He wore not his bishops' robes but boots, breeches and a tunic, with his black hair tied back with a strip of leather. A look of relief washed over Uncle Sean's face as he saw us come into view.

"Good, you found her. Hurry! There is little time." At his words, Padriac started trotting and I picked up my skirts and ran with all my might towards the Churchman.

"Uncle, what is it? What is wrong?"

"That English bastard of a King put a warrant on my head! Treason against the Crown for not surrendering Church lands to his agents! Pah! I will destroy this house and those of the villains before the English can claim them. If they want to live here, let them toil and build their own housing. The Kavanaugh are holding the castle at Wicklow, but how long they can hold it is another matter. The English are intent in expanding the Pale."

"You are leaving, Uncle?" I knew he wouldn't destroy the church, but suspected the invaders would have no such qualms... they would rebuild the houses with the stone from the only unrazed building. The English were perverse like that.

"Aye. We go to France. You and your sisters, too."

I think not, not without having a say in my own fate. "No." If it meant waiting longer to be Padriac's wife, then a thousand noes. The thought of my fate bounced about by sundry people as if it were a sheep's bladder of air irritated and upset me to no end. Aye, I would lose my home. I would lose the man I loved as a father, and I would also lose the man I loved as a best friend and lover. No. I would have Padraic as my husband this night.

Uncle looked confused. "What do you mean, No?"

"I wish to marry Padraic first. I will be his wife this night if not in truth, then in spirit. If he is to go sailing and left to whatever fate lies with that, than so be it. I will not be deprived of him longer than necessary, and every night we have until he leaves will be spent celebrating the wonders of youth and life and all the things I've been holding back." I was certain no misunderstanding could be had of my meaning. "Please Uncle, let us wed tonight. I will go to France with you if it can be done." I hounded him incessantly to approve my betrothal and marriage to Padraic since I was twelve and in his charge after my parents perished. "And best I be wed should I grow a rounded belly while Padraic is at sea."

My betrothed laughed at my audaciousness. If allowed my wants, I would have born Padraic a son or two by now. Only his honor and self-control left me with my chastity intact. No more than kisses and cuddles he and I shared, much to my irritation. Padraic laughed hard, because he more than anyone in the world knew of how much I longed to join myself with him in all ways.

Padraic was an orphaned lordling, as his parents died when the English swarmed Dublin and absorbed his family's ancestral lands for their own on the orders of Henry, Eighth of that name. Padraic was sent to be the Bishop's charge, one day destined to for the church himself since he possessed naught to recommend him for a grand match but for his name. Since the first time we met, Padraic and I have been inseparable, brought together by loneliness and mutual unspoken understanding.

The look in my uncle's green eyes softened. "I will waive the banns. You marry tonight, if that is acceptable to you, Padraic."

There was a short moment of silence. "Aye." Padraic turned to me and said, "You need not hide in a cave. 'Tis safer for you to flee to France with your uncle. I can claim my wife there easier than I can here. I won't have to worry about you all if you are safe with your uncle and tucked away from the English." His eyes shone with the promise of adventure as he asked Uncle, "Where? Paris? Marseille or Avignon?"

My uncle answered. "Paris. 'Tis a shorter voyage and less wearing on my wee birdlets." Uncle put his hands on my shoulders as I stood in shock at how easily life moved around one, whether it was willed or not. "Ona, are you well?"

"When do you believe the English will arrive?" The thoughts of my sisters at the mercy of invaders spurred me to know what our time frame was. Just how hurried would I be to the alter? How long will I have my husband, should the worst happen while sailing with the Spanish? Today was a fateful day, a day of good and terrible things. I could feel it in my soul.

Uncle's eyes spoke all the words a mind can house. "Within four days. They gather from the Pale."

So soon... My heart beat like the wings of a hummingbird. "We haven't much time, have we? Let Mara and my sisters serve as witnesses." I turned to face Padraic and Uncle left us alone as he returned inside the house. "Forgive me for being so bold for demanding you to marry me. Are you certain you are sure you want to do this?"

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life. Your idea of celebrating wonders of youth and life do have certain merits, as there have been certain things I have held back, as well." He winked at me and I flushed with excitement. "It will be easier to reach you in Paris. I won't have to sneak around the English. I didn't want you hiding in the cave in the midst of the invaders, but I couldn't think of another solution with the little funds I have. You deserve a better life than I can give you now... but if you will have me, I will gladly be yours. This night and always."

I would have him if we were naught but paupers with only the rags on our backs and the stars above as our roof. "We can use my dowry to survive so you can go with us to France. If you go sailing, I will miss you dreadfully. That, and I hear the sea is a jealous mistress and I have no want to share you with any other woman."

Padraic laughed.

A knot formed in my throat. "I wish we had more than the next few nights. But I cannot bear the thought of having come so close to being with you to have it taken all away and left to an uncertain fate." I knew him, his sense of honor and duty. He would go. Padraic wouldn't have mentioned sailing if the arrangements hadn't already been made. He would have given his word and once given, never revoked. "You will do what you must do, else you won't be satisfied. And every day you are gone, I will think of you and remember these next few nights."

He smiled and a roguish gleam shone in his eyes. "You will drive yourself mad with longing, as I plan on making the most of these next few days. Nothing but pleasant memories, my dear. You will be intoxicated with lust."

"Or full of your child."

"A blessing, but that it means a longer wait before we can create new memories."

I blushed and smiled shyly at my bridegroom. "I am glad I met you, Padraic De Barra."

He smiled wide and replied, "Likewise, Ona Ni Brahain, soon to be Ona Mhic De Barra. You have been my Evening Star in the darkest of days." Padraic placed a kiss upon my forehead then brushed my lips with his. Footfalls sounded to separate us.

My old nursemaid came outside to join us, my sisters in tow. Maeve, Moire and Bride were followed by my cousin Mara and Uncle Sean.

"If you wish to make the most of your time together, my children, then best you wed now and spend the rest of the day celebrating. We destroy buildings and flee come tomorrow eve."

Mara spoke up with a twinkle in her merry brown eyes, "Finally, cousin? You caught yourself the Stag of Ballycairn? Took you long enough, nearly nine years of hunting."

I smiled wide at Mara. "Aye, I shot him with Cupid's Arrow, lo and behold, the Stag himself. Some things are worth the wait."

Uncle touched my shoulder. "Do you wish to get ready, or do you prefer to do this now? Either way, I must hear both your confessions "

"What say you, Padraic?" I looked up to his face.

"I am ready now if my lady is, but it is your choice, Ona." His hand grasped mine as he brought it to his lips in an ardent kiss.

"One moment, if you will, Uncle. May I speak privily?"

"Aye Ona." He stepped inside the stone house and beckoned me inside. We went to his library and sat in wooden chairs. I would miss the smell of his leather-bound books when we leave Ireland.

With no hesitation I asked him, "What of my dowry?" I knew only that my parents left something for each of their daughters. I knew not what the dowry consisted of, but for my peace of mind, I needed to know that I wouldn't go to Padraic empty handed.

Uncle looked thoughtful. "My sister and her husband left you and your sisters a dowry consisting of five gold coins each, twenty of silver and fifty of copper. Three bolts of linen, two of wool. Two changes of clothes, one pair of shoes and a small bag of salt. It is a very respectable dowry." He cleared his throat. "You three shall divide your mother's jewelry and a necklace of matched pearls from me added to it, so that you have something to remember me by."

I appreciated the grand gift.

My betrothed and Uncle must have spoken about the finer details when they discussed marriage earlier, before Padraic revealed it to me in the forest. "Is Padraic satisfied with the dowry?"

"Yes, but he wishes for it to stay in your hands."

I took a deep breath, well satisfied with Padraic's trust in me. "I am ready to wed him."

Uncle Sean's gaunt face wore a smile. "I am glad you are wedding for love, and wish your mother could have met your bridegroom. She would approve."

"I know, Uncle. I wish she and Da were here to celebrate with us, such as it is."

Bride and Moire ran into the house, calling out my name. "Ona! Ooonnnaaa! Where you be?"

I made for the library's door and opened it wide. "Here I am. What is wrong?"

The two girls bent their heads together and revealed a bouquet of wildflowers bound together with ivy.

"Maeve and Mara are weaving you a circlet! You cannot wed in a mud-stained dress with tangled hair!" Bride scolded me as only an indignant eight-year old could, her mahogany hair bouncing around with each scolding she gave. "You have to change, Ona! 'Tis not proper for you to look like a hoyden. You have a smudge of something on your cheek! Wash your face, at least, Sister." She sounded much the way I do when talking to her and Moire.

I smiled at her childish mothering. "You are right, poppet." I turned to smile at Uncle. "I shall tidy myself before entering the state of matrimony. I shan't be long."

He must have heard the scolding, as he smiled back, "Aye, best you do. I will inform Padraic of this turn of event."

My sisters shooed me up the stairs to our shared chamber. Moire's shiny golden curls tumbled behind her as she rummaged deep in a chest containing our clothing. She pulled out a red gown and a clean linen shift dyed saffron yellow. Bride poured some water from a pitcher into a ewer and tossed a wash rag into it. She tsked as she began to scrub my face. "Sister, one could mistake you for being half your age."

"I would make an awful tall ten year old, Little Sister." I smiled at Bride's clucking over my state of being. "So eager to have me wed, little one?"

"Aye. Your melancholy since Mam and Da died goes away when Padraic is around. You smile more and Moire and I decided Padraic would make a good brother. I would have you weep no more in the dead of night, Ona. You keep us up, though we say naught."

I looked down, ashamed that my sisters knew of my mourning. Ashamed that my sadness touched them. "My apologies to you both. My weeping was not meant to be shared."

"It is what it is, sister. You are older than us and have known more sorrow. I do not even recall our mother's face... just the smell of lavender."

"Our home had gardens that our mother was proud of, she worked them herself. Lavender was her favorite flower. It was the only scent she would allow for soap. " I snatched the washrag out of Bride's hand and scrubbed my arms, neck and upper chest. Sorrow engulfed me. How I wished my parents were here to see me wed. "You have Mother's look about you. Moire is Father, reborn."

"And according to Uncle Sean and Maeve, you and Mara both look like our grandmother. Best you hurry, Sister." She snatched the washcloth from my hands and tossed the awaiting shift over my head. With a yank, she tossed the overdress on, lacing it up the front. With a hard push so I sat on the bed, Bride yanked a brush through my black hair in an effort to tame the wildness of my tresses.

My two sisters worked together to plait my hair and bedeck it with ribbons, gifts from Uncle Sean for Twelfth Night celebrations.

The door to our chamber eased open enough for Mara to slip inside and watch with an arched eyebrow. "Come now, little birds. Time for you each to bathe and ready yourself. Ona, join me in my chamber, please." She handed a circlet woven from flowers and ivy, bedecked with woad-blue ribbons ending in tiny silver bells to Moire. "There, Ona's crowning glory."

Moire placed the crown of woven flowers atop my head and with a dramatic step away, looked at me in awe.

"Tis the first wedding I've been to, Ona. You make a pretty bride."

I smiled at the wistful look upon my sweet sister. "You are too gracious, little one."

A sharp clap of hands and Mara's pithy words to my sisters served as a reminder. "Hurry, you frilly imps! Do you wish to watch your sister wed wearing stained gowns? Weddings wait only for the bride, not the attendants!"

Moire and Bride each dove into the clothing chest and rummaged around for gowns to wear. I slipped out unnoticed and walked arm and arm with Mara to the little room that served as her lair.

Bunches of flowers and herbs were tied with twine and hung from the rafters of her room. Books littered every flat place, the leather bindings brought forth sensation of being in Uncle's library.

Mara was the only child of my eldest uncle. He wed her off to the younger son of a lord, with the stipulation that the bridegroom bear his clan name. Iain did so, becoming Lord of Maidenglow Castle, near the Golden Vale in Munster. When the English king requested fealty, Iain refused. In retaliation, Henry VIII sent a garrison to "convince" his lordship that England would indeed have Ireland, piece by piece.

The day Iain hung from the dule tree was the day Mara escaped to Uncle Sean's with nothing more than two bloodied man at arms and a bairn in her belly. The ride to escape the English invaders caused her to miscarry. Bitterness wore at the edges of her soul when it came to those bastards from across the sea.

After shutting the wooden door, Mara sat upon her bed and beckoned me to sit next to her.

"What do you know of the marriage bed?"

I blushed. "He puts his seed in my belly and I will bear a child."

Mara laughed hard at what I presumed was my innocence. "There is much more to it than that." With a mischievous look in her green eyes, she spoke to me in whispered tones. "There will be pain the first time. But if he takes his time with you, the pain will be but a moment long. After that comes the Pleasures."

"The Pleasures?"

"I know you and Padraic have kissed. Have you touched tongues?"

I was a bit shocked at the blunt honesty of the topic at hand. "No... never... one can do that?" Despite my bold talk of being with child while Padraic is at sea, truth was I knew next to nothing of these Pleasures Mara spoke about with such knowing.

"Oh, one can do a great many things with their tongue, cousin. And a great many of those things will keep for a contented husband." Mara's thick black braid swung over her shoulder as she tilted her head. "The worm betwixt man's legs seeks nothing more than a warm wet place to rest. Give him ample opportunity to rest and your marriage will bloom." She punctuated with another wink.

"You kept Iain content in such manners?"

"I kept him happy with such things. A happy husband is less likely to stray." She looked down at her hands clutched together on her lap. "You can use your tongue on his neck or below his belt. Don't be afraid to touch the worm between his legs. The more excited it gets, the harder it is... and that's a good sign on a bridegroom. That worm will bury itself in you and plant his seed. If his seed takes, you will quicken with child. If not, you get to have more fun." She looked back up at me and winked. "Tell him to touch your titties, if he hasn't already. It is very pleasurable."

"Though you are but three years older than I, Cousin, you seem to have wisdom of the ages."

With a wink Mara replied, "Nay, Ona. Just the wisdom of women." She reached out and grasped my hand. "Just follow his lead and if you don't like something, tell him. And if he doesn't listen, kick him in the shin."

"Is that why Iain would oft times walk with a limp?" I could not resist asking.

"Aye. When a woman speaks, man should listen. Should his ears remain closed, then the next area to assault is the shin, for certain." Mara stated her opinion in a very serious tone with an impish gleam in her eye. After a broad grin and a chuckle at my smile, she asked me gently if I had any questions.

"Nay. The only thing that truly looms on my mind is what the dawn brings. Of that, I am fearful."

Mara's voice lowered to a hush. "I heard from the watchman that Sir Crispin Landross is gathering garrisons from the Pale and ride this way. They will raze from Wicklow to Wexford." Horror echoed in her worried eyes.

"The Demon Lord of Eskerfell?" A name that lurked like a black god of destruction. More fearsome than the Morrigan bent on vengeance.

"Aye. The one and the same."

I swallowed hard. Tales of his raiding horrors have reached far and wide in Ireland. It was said he fed babes still at their mother's breast to his hounds. Enslaved the women and children. Worked the men nigh unto death building siege engines to employ upon their brethren. The clergy members he captured were for his amusement. England cared not what was done, as long as the lands were made the King's dominion.

"Does Uncle still plan on leaving by evening tomorrow?"

"No, we leave at day break. We make for the harbor at Wexford. There we flee to France."

"Padraic plans to sail for the Spanish."

"Aye, I heard. He is a man of honor, Cousin. He wishes to forge his own way in life. He could walk the easier path and flee but that is not in his character."

"I hope he plants a baby in my belly tonight. Should I lose him, at least I would have his child."

"Say no such thing, Ona. I had Iain's babe in my belly and lost it, too. I have nothing of him now but the ring he gave me when we said our vows and the memory of a face that is slowly fading from my mind."

Mara's melancholy touched me deeply. She still mourned the loss of both her husband and child, and it was a wound that went bone deep. "Look at us. First you educate me about the pleasures of the marriage bed and now we discuss death of husbands. Most thorough, aren't we?"

We laughed at my wry observation. "Aye, Cousin, we are very thorough. Wear your husband out in the marriage bed-- that way should he die, it will be with a smile on his face."

"You are naughty, cousin and I love you for it."

"Ah, Ona, you were the sister I never had. I wish nothing but joy for you."

We leaned our dark heads together, then I heard Mara's voice continue, "If you have any questions tomorrow morn about things, just ask."

I flushed bright red. "Oh I shall." With as much grace as I could muster I murmured, "'Tis time I see Uncle for my confession. I thank you for sharing your wisdom with me, Mara."

"Aye, go confess your multitude of sins, you black-hearted heathen. I must see to myself so I can observe your nuptials. It'll be nice that you'll stop gazing at Padraic with cow eyes when you think no one sees."

I laughed at her teasing. "Oh, I'm positive my cow eyes will only get more intense. My bridegroom has promised to make me intoxicated with lust this night to last until I see him again."

"Should be an interesting stay in Paris then."

Again I laughed. "Oh aye, it should be."

I arose from the bed and left Mara's room. Down the dark timbered hallway hung with tapestries, to the stone stairs. On my way down, Padraic walked up. When we reached the same step, he pushed me back against the wall and sought my lips. He kissed me passionately, in a manner I was unused to-- he licked my lower lip before sucking it into his mouth to caress with his own. Instantly my body sang out in joy, but the kiss ended much too quickly. "A promise of what comes later tonight," he whispered against my lips. "I must ready myself. They say it is bad luck to see a bride before the wedding, but I must say you look exquisite, Ona."

I gazed into his blue eyes and smiled. "Surely those imps that control fate will know that us seeing each other before we wed was not planned or intentional. Surely they will forgive us for such a small thing."

A sweet kiss to my brow. "Perhaps. Go now, Ona, see your Uncle. Plans have changed."

"Mara told me Crispin Landross rides this way."

"Aye. He'll steal a night's march on us if he can. A runner came with news. We leave for Wexford at dawn. There must be no one here when the English cross the Slaney river. Two garrisons travel by ship to Wicklow to join three other garrisons to head here. The English king wishes to make an example of us all."

"So we have tonight only, then. You'll sail for Madrid and I to Paris."

Padraic's face changed from concerned to saddened. "Aye. We'll speak of it later. Go, see your Uncle." And with that, another kiss to my forehead and he continued up the stone steps.

I made my way to the small family chapel. It faced south so that the single stained glass window of Jesu raising Lazarus from the tomb, always shone bright. Uncle sat in the pew, gazing up at that window. As I neared him, he spoke, his eyes never wavered from the shards of colored glass.

"When I was younger, I resented the fate arranged for me. Felt I could have done something other than tend to people. I could swing a sword or wield an ax. Marry and beget another generation. But as the youngest son, I was told my path lay before me already, whether I wanted to walk it or not. There was no other choice for me and how I despised it. Yet I did as I was bid and found gratification in bringing peace to those who need it. The thing I wished to escape from was the very thing that I found joy.

"When your parents died, your nurse brought the three of you here before the English discovered you were unprotected. Had they gotten you, you would have been shipped off to England as hostages at best, to be wed to a lordling who would be granted your lands. Your sons would be Englishman, who would in turn bear more English to fill Ireland. At worst, I cannot even fathom."

The Bishop of Ferns sighed deeply and continued. "When Mara's husband was slain while she escaped from Maidenglow's Winter Tower... she too fled here. The four of you lasses were the daughters I never had, and I thank God that you sweetings found a safe nest to weather the English storm. We live in perilous times, dear girl, and never did I think to rain down such terror upon you all. My duty has put you all in danger. I pray to Lord Jesu, Blessed Mother Mary and to God, Himself to save us all from the wickedness of intolerance."

Uncle Sean's thin face seemed to be graven in rock. He heaved a sigh deeper than all the seas. "The Demon Lord of Eskerfell rides this way. Tomorrow is a Raiding Moon. They will use it to ride day and night for us. They will rest in Wicklow, stock supplies and head for us, raiding and burning every croft they pass. We must be gone when they arrive. The tales I have heard... I wish no such fate on any of you dear girls. Tonight we pack, and we pack light. Two changes of clothing and only small trinkets. We ride on horseback, no wagons. We must be swift."

"Do you think we can outrun them to Wexford?" The trembling in my voice betrayed my worry.

Uncle nodded. "Most likely, but there cannot be any delays. Delays will be the death of us all. I mean not to frighten you, girl. But this night you go from maiden to matron. Best you see your future with a woman's eyes."

"I thank you for your trust in me, Uncle." A deep sigh heaved from my lungs. How quickly life can change. A leaf upon the river rapids... that is how I felt. I go where the current of life carries me. "I must say my confession before I marry this night." I knelt upon the hard stone and began my recitation. There was little to confess and telling Uncle of my lust for Padraic seemed a moot point as we were entering the state of matrimony on this evening.

Uncle issued me a small penance for my impatient and sharp tongue. He arose from the pew and walked towards the door. "I will leave you with your thoughts while I seek the others, my dear. We have no time to lose."

The sound of leather soles slapping against flagstone faded as Uncle left me sitting alone upon the worn pew. How many times had this seat seen trouble and strife? Held the heavy thoughts burdening the parishioner?

My mind flew with all that I knew. For a night I would be Padraic's, only to part at dawn for our separate fates. Hopefully the English wouldn't sink his ship, nor would they interfere with our escape to France. Most important were that my sisters would be protected. Ice tore through my limbs at the thought of an English encounter. Getting what I wanted seemed less important then I imagined. To be married to Padraic, only to part so soon, never to know if we would see each other again. It saddened me on what should have been the happiest day of my life.

A hand touched my shoulder whilst I was lost in reverie. I looked up to see Padraic's concerned gaze pass in a blink as a smile appeared. "Having second thoughts?"

"Nay. Merely thinking about an old Pagan goddess who protected a sacred well."

Curiosity creased his brow as he asked, "Going to tell me a tale, Ona?"

"Only if you wish to hear it."

"Tell me." Padraic sat beside me upon the pew and reached for my hand. His large fingers entwined with mine, then brought my hand to his lips to kiss.

"The goddess would grant wishes to any who sought her gifts. But they always came at a cost. She accepted gold and silver, but she preferred lessons as tender. But so coveted was her magic, that many came from far and wide to seek her wisdom.

"One day a braw lad and his lass came across the well, and spying it, wished to see the goddess. They had but one coin between them which they each kissed before tossing it into the pit. They heard a splash of water and then an old woman appeared shrouded in mist before them. The woman was all gray but for her eyes. They were the deep blue of the ocean on a sunlit day and the only color the woman had to her. Before the lass could form a thought, the lad said to the crone, 'Your eyes are the most beautiful I have seen! I would wish my beloved had eyes like yours so I may look upon the beauty always.' Before a moment had passed, the goddess plucked out both her own eyes and placed them in the lass's hands, much to the girl's horror.

The lad asked, 'Why did you do that?' To which the goddess replied, 'To teach you to be more careful what you wish for. Your beloved has eyes like mine now. Will they do her any good? What has your selfish gift gotten you? Your silver could have bought food for a month, yet you spent it for naught.' The lass spoke up and told the goddess that it was her wish to give the eyes back, for she could not replace what her mother given her at birth. The goddess smiled and let them go with their lives, for she could have taken them in exchange for the lad's impertinence."

"Who told you such a tale?" Padraic asked with half a smile upon his face.

"My mother. She told me I should always be careful for what I wish for. She was right."

"Explain." His curt tone surprised me.

" You know how long I've wanted this? To be wed to you? And now it is happening. And then what? We part ways as if we were never married to seek separate fates. I wish you would come with us to France. But I know you will not. Your sense of duty is one of those things I love about you, Padraic, even though it hurts. Your duty is to see me safe... just not by your side."

Padraic began to speak, and I placed my hand over his mouth to stem his words.

"Make no apologies, Padraic. I have no regrets about wedding you. My only wish is that it would be longer than a single night. That is the part that upsets me, and the part we have no control over."

Padraic removed my hand from his mouth. "If I had thought your Uncle would have approved my suit without me enlisting with the Spanish, I would have approached him sooner, Ona. For that I apologize, that I never asked him long ago. Do not be so glum for nothing is writ in stone that water and time cannot erase. Do not assume we will never see each other again. I have hope, and so should you. Through time itself, if need be. I will not let you go."

The chatter of my sisters and Mara broke through the moment of silence after Padraic spoke. He lifted my chin with a finger to look into my eyes. "Smile, lovie. You think too much about things that cannot change. Today is a good day for us both. Let us enjoy it and worry about the morrow, tomorrow, shall we?"

I gave him a wee smile. The Sword of Unknown hung over my head, and no matter how hard I try, not knowing what the dawn would bring sat heavily upon my soul.

Padraic smiled more at the ghost on my lips, and turned to address Uncle, who stood next to the alter straightening his vestments. The cook's son served as Alter Boy and lit the candles. My uncle spoke before Padraic could move his lips.

"Come now, my children."

My heart beat fast as war drums. It felt as thought it would soon break through my chest. My mind, fuzzy with all that the day had wrought, cleared for a brief moment as it all sank in. This is the moment I wanted for so long and now the moment I dread. The beginning of my marriage to Padraic, which would end at the dawn. Somewhere deep in my heart I knew my marriage would not last as long as it should. Perhaps the fates would be kind, perhaps Padraic is right and we will be reunited after I reach France. That thought burned like a bonfire in the darkness of my heart.

The sound of Uncle's softly spoken Latin brought my attention back to the now. Somehow I managed to say my vows with a smile on my face to be rewarded with a warm gleam from Padraic's eyes. Impossibly fast, Uncle asked us to kneel for his blessing. I closed my eyes and let the Bishop's words coat my being.

Uncle Sean asked us to arise. Upon standing, Bride launched herself at Padraic and I. "Finally, I have a brother!"

After a quiet dinner in the hall, Uncle Sean excused Padraic and I from the board. "Enjoy what time you have, for all we know ends in the morning." My sisters were too busy with their baked apples in cream to glance our way. Mara smiled like a pleased cat and winked at me.

As soon as we left the hall, Padraic scooped me up in his arms and walked to his chamber. Once we were inside, he set me down to bolt the door and undress. "I cannot wait."

Nor could I. My hands unlaced my gown so it could slide off my shoulders to pool at my ankles. I stood in my shift and naught else. I closed my eyes and untied the neckline so it too, slid off my body in a hiss of fabric.

I felt the touch of Padraic's hands against my shoulders as he stood behind me. He swept hair from my neck to rain kisses from behind my ear to my shoulder. The heat of his lips incited a quiver which shook me from head to toe. One of his hands slid down to cup my breast. Stoked by his touch, my nipple puckered and ached in a way I never experienced before. All I knew was that I wanted more. Need it like water to quench my thirst and air to fill my lungs. His touch made me feel gloriously alive.

Stepped out of my dress and kicked it to the side so it wouldn't be underfoot. I turned around to face my beloved and raised my lips to his. I wanted to feel him touching me all over. I pressed my body against his, feeling the heat and the hair radiating from him.

Without breaking our kiss, Padraic lifted me up so I straddled his waist. I wrapped my legs around his middle and my arms around his neck. I could feel him walking, then before I realized it, I lay on the bed with he atop me. His lips moved from my mouth to my breast.

I burned beneath Padraic's gaze. With one hand occupied caressing a breast, his other hand moved to capture the other and tease my nipple into standing hard before his mouth took over. The way he suckled made me writhe with pleasure I never knew existed. The apex of my thighs tingled and I moved against Padraic's body. He has what I want. What I need. I craved more.

My hand moved down his chest and stomach, to the hardened part of him jutting toward my attention. Padraic inhaled sharply when I wrapped my hands around his shaft and tried to lead him to my core.

"Not yet, Ona. You'll get hurt."

"I know of the pain, and I want it. To me, it means you are finally inside where I want you most. Where you want most." Padraic didn't argue when I held him and rubbed his tip against my slit. I was slick like honey and although it seemed impossible, Padraic got harder and twitched in my hand. With my chin raised, I offered my lips to my husband while I slipped the tip of him barely inside me.

"You may welcome the pain, but I do not. I would make this as sweet as possible for you, Ona." Padraic withdrew and I felt so cold as he maneuvered himself down my torso, kissing a trail from my neck to my navel. Then lower he sank, trailing his tongue to my center.

Padraic gently spread me and licked my nethers. I didn't know one could do that! It both shocked and delighted me as his tongue worked magic that had me bucking my hips against his face. Then I felt a new sensation as my husband used a finger to taunt my body to the point where I thought I'd break, like a harp sting pulled too tight. I raised my hips to try and work his teasing finger inside where I wanted him.

I could feel how slippery I was as that finger glided into into me then just as swiftly moved out. Then again, but deeper. And deeper. "Please Padraic... no more teasing. I can't take it."

"You'll take it Ona. You'll like it too."

"I like this but I want to love it, Padraic." Spoken low, I writhed hard against his hand.

He laughed at my audacity. "Very well. I'll give you something to love." Padraic knelt back on his knees and reached for my hips to pull me toward him. I closed my eyes as he began rubbing his hardness where his mouth and fingertip had just been. A moan escaped my lips at the wonderful feeling. Moved my hips, hoping he would slide inside where his fingers just explored. It was a success! His tip fit inside my cleft and I wiggled my rump to get him in further.

Just that bit felt delicious, and the feeling grew when he moved his hips to pillage my depths. Slowly at first, then with urgency. A sharp pain, but I didn't mind. The overwhelming sensation of Padraic's lips against mine and his hard shaft moving inside me caused my back to arch off the bed as wave after wave of delight infused me from head to toe.

The remainder of the night was spent intermittently napping between bouts of lovemaking, each time better than the last. There would be plenty of time to sleep on the ships. We had but one night and wished to make the most of it.

Before we left Padraic's room, he and I bid our farewell. I did not wish for him to leave us for a fate so uncertain at sea. I did not wish to leave Ireland like a fugitive. It seemed wrong to leave the soil of my roots.

With a gentle hand, Padraic swept hair from my face and tilted my chin so that I looked deep into his eyes. "I cannot say what the morrow brings, or the morrow after that. I cannot say when I will see you next, but know this; my heart goes with you. Once we reach Wexford, we go our separate ways. But I expect to see you in Paris, sporting the latest in French fashion." He winked.

I hugged him tight, pressing my lips against his in our private farewell. My eyes watered as I thought what future brought. "I will miss you dreadfully, Padraic. Last night.... beyond my ken. The memories you've given me are cherished."

We made our way downstairs, where Uncle pulled me aside and handed me a very heavy pouch. "Do not lose this. 'Tis you and your sister's dowries. Should anything happen and we get parted, use it to support your siblings and get to safety."

"Aye, Uncle."

Dawn barely breached the wooded hills when we made our way to the Wexford road. Mara and I each rode a gelding while Moire and Bride shared a mare. Maeve, the girls' nursemaid, did not look comfortable on her horse. Uncle and Padraic were ahead of us, quietly discussing their plans.

Uncle Sean changed his mind to not destroy the village and its manor house since he did not wish to alert the Englishmen that we were aware of their movements. Let them think we were still in the village. All the folks who called the village home sought out their kin further away from the English wake spreading from the Dublin Pale. The stubborn ones stayed.

We hadn't been on the road more than half an hour before snaps of breaking wood echoed down the muddy road to fill our ears. Instantly, all in our party stopped and turned around in their saddles at the sound. Forty mounted men garbed in leather and bronze breastplates spurred their horses towards us.

Padraic wheeled his dancing horse around and bellowed, "Sassenach! 'Tis Englishmen!"

"Ride, girls!" Uncle Sean's order rang out while we stood stock still and dumbfounded at our impending doom.

Closer the invaders came, more the fear built. Padraic's eyes met mine. "Druid's cave, now! Go!"

I bit my lip and yelled, "Hiyah!" My heels met the horse's side and it leaped forward towards our escape. My sisters and Mara followed suit. After we galloped around a hillside and escaped view, we broke off the road, and threaded our way through the hills carpeted in dense trees. My ears heard the sounds of horses screaming and the thud of things hitting mud. A knot formed in my throat as I hunkered down over my horse and put my heels to its side. I heard Maeve's wail tear through the air. My heart beat faster yet.

Mara led the way to the cave, breakneck and with the knowledge that were were now being hunted. Echoes of "Get them! Find them! Bring them back alive or it'll be your neck!" polluted all of our ears. A look to my sisters galloping away revealed them both to be in terror, Moire's eyes closed and her arms tightly wrapped around Bride's middle. Could we evade them and hide in the cave? We had no food on us, no supplies. How were we to survive?

I recognized the landscape, every tree, boulder and hill. We were close to the cave, so tantalizingly close. We had to be careful, for a stone hidden among the gorse could maim our horses. But still, we neared our secret bower. The entrance was hidden, shrouded by tree and bush. Elation burst through me at the thought we could truly escape them. Englishmen looked for us still, but it sounded as if they were on the road to Wexford, riding towards the home we recently departed. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw a lone rider bolt from the left towards my sisters. He was a hundred paces from us, but his horse seemed tireless. Fear grew in my heart, to consume my head as he neared. Then in a moment, his horse stumbled and fell, throwing the rider. With a sickening thud, his body landed against a mossy boulder. In a blink of an eye, our purser was gone and his mount crippled.

Still we rode fast, no telling how many followed him. The cluster of boulders against a hillside ahead meant we neared the mouth of the cave. Before we could heave a sigh of relief, hoof beats thundered through the hills to taunt our ears. Mara reached the bush-riddled outcropping of stone, dismounted and slapped her horse on the flank, causing it to bolt. I knew what she was thinking... hopefully they would track the horses away from here.

I reached the outcropping, navigating my horse through the rock-strewn forest floor. After dismounting, I did as Mara, and watched my mount gallop away.

Cracking of branches followed by a large red deer bolting in front of my sister's horse, causing it to rear. Both girls tumbled from the saddle. When the horse made contact with the ground, its foreleg caught between some of the half-sunken stones and broke. The horse lost balance and fell upon the prone body of my younger sister.

Time stood still.

It took too long for the horse to arise. It couldn't gallop away like the others. And when it did make it back up, screaming its horse-screams of pain, I saw the hollow shell of my sweet, sweet sister Bride. Less than three paces away, my sister Moire with an unnaturally twisted neck.

Gone. Both of them, in a blink. Dead. I didn't want to accept it, couldn't accept it. A few minutes ago, they both rode for their lives. I failed in protecting them.

Mara grabbed me by the arm to pull my hide into the Druid's Cave, past brambles which snatched at my hair and scratched my cheek. She led me to the cave's recesses and pulled both our gray woolen cloaks around us as we sat facing the wall on the cold ground in the womb of the earth, awaiting our fate. From the back, we looked like a large gray boulder within the cave, so we hoped. Dared not to breathe. Dared not to move. But I shook like a leaf in the wind as the only thought that repeated in my mind happened to be You Are Next.

It did not take long for sounds of men riding close to reach our ears. They stopped, presumably to investigate my sister's bodies. "Two of them are missing. Find them. Report to Lord Landross we found two little girls and a lame horse."

One of those men had a shred of soul. "Shall we bury them, sir?"

"Nay, we search for the missing bogtrotters. The wolves can clean up this mess."

I started sobbing, choking back the sound deep in my throat as much as I could. Oh, sweet Jesus save my sisters' bodies from the ravages of wolves! Such a horrid thought for two little girls. Although the cave was no more than fifteen feet deep and about nine feet high, it felt cavernous to echo the emptiness held in my heart. Then footsteps. The English were getting close to the cave's aperture by the sound of boots upon gravel.

Entry into the cave partially hidden by heavy vegetation and a bottleneck of stone one must weave around to enter the cave proper. Water trickled down one side to a limestone pool. The floor covered in pebble, and the walls with moss. When one enters the cave, the scent of earth, stone, air and water mingled to create a perfume of solemness. 'Tis said the ancient Druid priests brought youths into this cave, representing the womb of life. The Druids would lead the young men out, clothed like their pagan gods to enact rituals to bring fertility to the land and animals.

Now, our trap.

I closed my eyes tight, and prayed to all the saints in the calendar to keep us hidden from those who sought us. How I wanted to draw the cloak tight around me for warmth, but I dared not to move. The sounds of the Englishmen rustling through vegetation, getting closer to the cave's entrance made ice slide down my spine to reach out to my toes and fingers.

They were coming.

"Sir! Here, look..." Dear God, that voice sounded almost like it was within the cave with us.

"What have you found, Jenkins?"

""Looks like we have a wench on the loose, sir. Look here, on this branch... long black hair."

I swallowed. My hair marked the entrance to the cave. I led them here.

Was it the cold inside the cave which made me tremble? Or the knowledge that it was only a matter of time. As much as I willed it, I could not stop shaking from fear.

"Find her. She can't be far. Are there any tracks?"

"Horse, heading East. That is in the direction of the home belonging to Bishop of Ferns."

"Notify his lordship. Take half the men to the Bishop's house, search for the horse or the wench. Other half return to Lord Landross. Keep a few men here in case she shows up again."

"Yes sir." Then the sound of feet walking away. A pause.

My breaths were shallow and quick. A hare lived within me and wished to bolt to safety. Mara squeezed my hard. She tightened her grip when the sounds of more feet came our way, followed by the words of Englishmen.

Another voice spoke. Deeper and more threatening in tone. "If her hair is here, she is here. Look for more evidence! Who taught you to track? Whoever it was should be gutted and fed to pigs."

"I found the hair here, sir."

"Then look there. I want results before Lord Landross comes. Keep your eyes out for disturbed rocks and such."

I began to shake uncontrollably. We have no where to go.

The sounds of boot heels on rocks and of foliage moved aside permeated the cave, an ever-echoing reminder that the only way out from here is being guarded by Englishmen.

I couldn't stop quaking in fright. Mara squeezed my hand more, but even the strength of her grip could not quell the movements. "Calm down, Ona. If they have no torches, they will not see us in the dark." Her words were quieter than a whisper.

Englishmen were nearing the cave's mouth. Their feet scraping against rocks, the rattling of branches, all added to my fear.

"Look here, a hidey hole!" They found the entrance, for the voice echoed loudly in the abyss. What made it worse was the fact Mara and I had our backs to the entrance. We couldn't see, only hear them make their way toward us as they explored the newly-found aperture. Before I knew it, Three men made their way into the cave with Mara and I. Thought they could hear my heart pounding like the hooves of horses.

"Watt, what do you make of it?"

"It's a cave, you dolt."

"Have we any torches left from the ride last night, Hawkins? Go look."

One of them left the cave. The two remaining men slowly ventured further into the cave and closer to where Mara and I sat. The agony of hearing them but not able to see them increased my fright.

They were getting close, so close. Sounded like they were right behind us. "Nothing in here, sir."

"Shut up, you son of a whore. Can you smell that?"

"I don't want to smell your wind, Elmore."

"I smell lavender, you dolt. If I had wind that smelled of flowers, I wouldn't be a foot soldier to the English Crown, now would I, Watt? I'd be a prissy lord with armfuls of fluff from the bridge's bawdy house warming my bed at night. Come smell the air here. Tell me you don't think a lass would smell like lavender."

"Really?" Footsteps in our direction, then the sound of sniffing. "I smell it! She must have been in here."

The men were close enough to Mara and I that their unwashed bodies assaulted our noses. "She is still here. If she were gone, the smell would fade. It hasn't. It's gotten stronger. Where's Hawkins with the damned torches?"

"I'll see what's keeping him." Then the sound of footsteps walking away.

The last man however paced back and forth in the cave. If I believed my ears, he walked from one side of the cave to the other, taking deep lungfuls of air all the while. "I know you are in here. I know I am close. And when I find you, you won't like what I'll do because you made me look."

How could he not hear my heart pound? Surely our cloaks must quiver from our trembling.

Intense unwashed body odor grew more pungent with every step he took in our direction. Rancid onion and rotted meat. Spoiled milk and stale beer. Somehow I found the strength to control my shaking though the atrocious stench increased.

Then the ruse was up.

He kicked Mara when he stepped and fell over her. She and I couldn't budge as his weight had our cloaks pinned to the ground, us wrapped inside them.

The Englishman jumped like a scalded cat and hauled Mara up. I bolted for the entrance out of abject fright and ran straight into a foot soldier's fist.

When I regained consciousness, the reality of my situation sank into my mind. My hands are bound and I'm thrown over the lap of a man on horseback. My face hurt, surely bruised badly by now.

If I felt any other emotion than fright, it would be terror. The sensations escalated when we reached my uncle's house. Hauled off the horse, carried over a burly man's shoulder like a sack of cabbages into the house.

Landross's men filled the hall of what was once my home. Mara and I stood near the hearth, our hands bound behind our backs with rough hempen rope. Our captors bound it tight so that it bit into our wrists.

Smelly men surrounded us. Stinking of sweaty unwashed bodies and horse, the stench wafting from them only added to my need to weep. A thousand times over, my heart broke thinking that it was all for naught. We left early to avoid such a confrontation, but how were we to know Landross's garrison took a ship to Wexford to box us in? I wanted to save my sisters. I failed miserably. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see Moire upon the ground, her neck twisted at an odd angle as it pressed against a boulder splattered with gore. Bride, her vacant stare with blood trickling from the corners of her mouth was the only indication that her mount fell upon her, crushing her beneath its weight.

Our escape meant nothing.

Mara tilted her head towards mine and whispered, "I have wolfbane in my room. We can kill the lot of 'em if we can poison their beer."

How would we get to her room? Its unlikely a roomful of men would allow us free reign of the house.

A man of middling height and muscular build made his way to Mara and I, parting through the sea of men. His nut brown hair shone with golden lights cast off the candles as he neared. He spoke, his voice harsh to my ears. "Who are you two?"

Mara answered him, chin high and voice proud. "I am Mara Ni MacGhuolgal, niece to the Bishop of Ferns. This is my cousin, Ona Ni Brahain, ward of the Bishop."

The man reached out with both hands to raise Mara's and mine gaze to his. Black eyes coldly looked at us, calculating our worth it seemed. "Who were the two girls found in the forest?"

My throat clenched as I answered. "My sisters."

I knew who this man was.

This was the Demon Lord of Eskerfell, Agent of the King.

"And the old man in the road? Was that the Bishop my men gutted with pikes?"

I choked a sob back at the thought that the gentle man who raised me, gutted like a pig. What happened to Padraic? Did he escape? Or did he die as well?

"Yes, that was our Uncle." Mara took a step towards Landross and spat the words out. Her spittle landed on his cheek.

"Look boys, a hellcat!" Landross's smile widened as he used a handkerchief pulled from his lace-embellish cuff to wipe away Mara's hate. "You are a beauty, too. Cleaned up, you'd make even Good King Hal randy as a goat." He slid his hand over Mara's bosom and squeezed. "A nice handful you have there, my pretty."

"Your pig of a King can tup a sheep, he'd get better sport." Mara snarled then spat at Landross's feet.

He leaned in and caressed her cheek with one hand while the other tore her bodice away to reveal her breasts to all. My heart froze in my throat and I strove not to show the terror I felt. "I know how to tame hellcats. I know how to make them purr. You will purr for me."

My fear for Mara's safety increased as Landross continued. "You will serve me any way I please. I will not kill you if you fail to do so. No, my beauty, I will devise a hundred perverse ways to make you wish for death." Landross pulled his knife from the sheath on his belt. The steel blade pressed into the tip of Mara's nipple and she winced. He removed the knife and slid it down her belly to cut away her skirts. Hardly a moment passed before she stood nearly naked in tattered rags before all the men in the hall. The only thing that marred her skin was the tiny rivulet of blood that slid down her breast.

"Unbind her hands and put her on the table." So cold and callus his words which echoed off the stone walls.

The Demon Lord's men did as ordered. Mara said nothing, but kept her head high as the men tore remaining strips of fabric from her body. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of begging them to stop. Every abuse they lay upon her will be remembered and returned tenfold given the chance, if I know my cousin. They forced her down upon the table while four brutish men pinned her limbs to the wood.

"Spread her." Two men pulled her legs apart, grinning at each other as though they were proud of their actions. Landross smiled as she struggled against those pinning her. "You look like you need a good fuck, my pretty. Tell me, are you a virgin? Or have you tumbled some bogtrotters in the woods?" He slid his hand up her leg, digging in his fingers to leave red scratches upon her white flesh.

"I am a respectable widow, you bastard."

"Such a shame, my pretty. I would have liked to have claimed your maidenhead myself." Landross smiled and began to caress her body. Her eyes widened before she squeezed them shut. Mara stopped struggling as his hands moved everywhere, probing. She never whimpered, but a tear streaked down the side of her face.

"Ah, my pretty... it's been a long while since you've been fucked. You like that, don't you? You'd like something between you legs, fucking you hard. Let this be a lesson to you, my pretty. I will be obeyed and respected. Next time you speak in a less genteel manner, I will give you to my men.... and they will take you to the kennels to be mounted by hounds while they make bets and swill beer."

Men jostled me as they watched their leader abuse my cousin with his attention. Random hands grabbed my breasts and behind as my captors became excited at Mara's abuse. I didn't care that their hands were on me. I felt on the brink of two separate emotions, together a potion of madness. My heart and mind felt numb, that this all is unreal. That I will wake up from this nightmare come morning light. But beyond that, most intensely I felt sick to my stomach in a manner I never experienced before. If this was the beginning of our imprisonment, would would be in store for me? I wanted to cry that my happiest thought is that at least my two sweet sisters were spared this horror.

Landross's men cheered him on as he stood over Mara's naked body, one hand crushing her breast while the other pumped away between her thighs. How he could smile as he committed rape was beyond me. He stopped his breast-mauling and used his free hand to untie his breeches, releasing his swollen member. Landross removed removed his hand from Mara.

"Let her up." The men released Mara. Weals of tears broke through the dirt and dust smudged on her face. Landross grabbed a fist full of her hair and held tight while he forced Mara to her knees and thrust between her lips. "Bite me and I'll remove every tooth from your mouth and then continue where we left off."

The Demon Lord of Eskerfell used Mara's mouth a few moments before spurting over her face in a gesture of dominance. Once more he slid into her mouth and barked at Mara to lick him clean. She did as told.

Landross addressed a lanky young soldier next to Mara, nodding in her direction as he spoke. "Take her to the kitchens and see her bathed. She will warm my bed tonight."

The soldier pulled her up to a standing position and led her out of the hall. I could see a small blood trail down her inner thigh. That bastard must have nicked her with his nails during his public abuse. I hated him. If I could get my hands on Mara's wolfbane, I would gladly poison him for what he just did to my sweet cousin. I would poison he, his men and then invite ravens to feast upon the corpses, then eagles to feed upon the ravens.

I swallowed hard at the knowledge that now with Mara out of the room, his attention fell on me. While Landross laced his breeches up again, he spoke. "Why were you carrying coinage and jewels? Steal them from the Church as you fled like rats?"

"That was the dowry for my younger sisters and myself." No, I thought. No, I am not the thief in this room.

"Bogtrotters with coins and pearls? You must have stolen it from the Bishop."

"Nay! Tis as I said. The jewels were my mothers, and the coins are my dowry and that of my sisters before they died."

"A likely story." His hand rested on the hilt of his knife which I eyed with worry. It angered me fiercely how he hurt Mara. "I have plans for you... my men have sailed from Dublin to Wexford and have marched non-stop to keep you bog rats from fleeing. They long for entertainment of the highest sort. We made no stops at bawdy houses... so my men are anxious for womanly comfort."

A lump grew in my throat, seeming to keep my heart from bursting forth as the meaning of his words sank into my ears. Was he going to give me to his men as a camp whore? To be raped unto death, undoubtedly. How my eyes were dry this moment I will never know, for I wanted to crawl into a corner, curl up and wither away into nothingness.

I have no Uncle. No sisters. No husband. My cousin, would she survive the night? Could we seize an opportunity and escape? Where would we go?

Landross continued, his voice seeming to smirk with glee at the idea stewing between his ears. Loudly, he called to another one of his soldiers. "Lynton, bring the priest forth for his punishment."

Priest? They were going to bring Uncle Sean's body to the hall? I choked back the urge to vomit.

A scuffling made its way towards us, three soldiers in leathers dragging a stooped, cloaked man behind them. The poor sot must have been on the road from Wexford and got caught as Landross rode north towards us.

"Tell me, priest, did you serve the Bishop of Ferns, traitor to the English Crown?"

A raspy voice flowed from the hooded figure. "Aye, it was my honor to serve the Bishop, may God grant him peace. He was no traitor to the English Crown. We are in Ireland where England does not rule."

"Your impudent words will be your downfall, priest. For your papist ways you are to be punished in accordance with the laws of our king, Henry the Eighth of that name." With a smile over to me and a nod to one of his lackeys, Landross ordered them to strip the priest of his garb. Two of the guards tore and cut away material, revealing a naked and heavily bruised body. The face, smashed. Broken nose, black and swollen eyes and blood dried around his lips. The man was a mess.

Landross walked behind me and before I knew it, used his knife to cut the gown and shift from my body. Cold metal slid against my skin and I shivered. Brisk air hit me all over. Felt as though I had just leaped into an icy stream but with a hundred eyes on my nakedness to warm me.

"As a man of God, you will do what you can to protect the innocent, will you not?" Landross bent over so he could look the priest in the eyes.

"Aye." The sound of resignation sat heavy in the priest's voice.

"They you will have to fuck her to save her life." Landross looked at me and smiled. "And she will have to like it to save yours."

Sweet Jesu, save me from this madman. Lord God, send your angels to strike down this monster.

Oh, it could be worse, I could be given to his soldiers... but who is to say that fate does not already await me? To be raped publicly and by a holy man forced to do such a thing to save my life, he in effect raped as well, body and soul. Tears slid down my face at the horror of it all.

"What is this? Tears already? We haven't even begun, darlin'."

I gulped back my anguish and spoke softly. "You make a horrid representative for your king." No spittle flecked from my lips, but oh, how I could understand Mara's decision to not hold back her anger.

Landross leaned in and whispered, "I am not here to make friends. I am here to conquer. And sometimes people need a reminder of who is in charge. Tales of this night will burn through the countryside like wildfire. All will tremble at the sound of my name, and that of the King. Let this serve to keep your kind from raising up against the might of England." Louder, he said, "Bring the priest!"

The Demon Lord of Eskerfell strode back to the table that witnessed Mara's debasement, and with a flick of his fingers, ordered his men to haul me forth. Hands lifted me up and put me on the table. Polished wood was warm beneath my backside. Those same hands lingered in places I wish they didn't, groping and caressing things that were not theirs to touch. The naked priest fell to his knees when pushed by a guard. My heart broke for him, to be trapped in the same circumstances as I found myself.

"Spread her wide."

Roughly I was pushed down onto the table and spread eagle. I closed my eyes. Didn't want to see the hoard of men leering at me. Landross's voice slithered in my ear. "If you fail to enjoy the priest's attentions, maybe you will enjoy my garrison. I doubt they will be as gentle as yonder priest. Now open your eyes.... ah, green. Your cousin is prettier but you have bigger titties." His rough hand pinched at my nipple and twisted hard. "Ah, responsive, too. Maybe you will join your cousin in my bed tonight. You can pretend to be sisters."

I wanted to vomit and cover him with my retribution, pitiful as it may be.

The guard hauled the beaten priest back to his feet and nudged him towards the table where I lay. My eyes made for the knife at Landross's side. How I would relish skewering him with it, repeatedly. I hated this man. Crispin Landross, Demon Lord of Eskerfell. Oh, how I hated him.

"Come now, priest! Time to enjoy earthly pleasures of the flesh."

Tears ran silently down my face as Englishmen positioned the holy man between my thighs. Hands everywhere held me down, and some hands were on me simply to grope. It felt as though the room was crashing down around me, the trapped feeling of no where to go, no where to hide.

I wished God would either stop the lot of them or kill me, right now in his infinite mercy.

"Look into your lover's face, wench. Isn't he a handsome priest?"

My eyes were glazed with tears. Indistinct bruises and blood were the only thing I could see of his visage, not that I wanted to view the pity and shame which must have lurked in the holy man's eyes.

Landross unsheathed his knife and held it to my neck so the tip rested in the hollow of my throat. I tried to look past the blurred face of my unwilling rapist to the smoke-stained rafters of the hall.

"You will fuck her, before all in this room. If you do not, her blood is on your hands. And after you come to terms with that, I will let my men have your ass. Ever get fucked in the bum, you papist pig? I hear all educated in a monastery learn such lessons for lack of women."

The priest rasped a reply. "Your source for a Catholic education is sadly wanting, my lord."

Landross sheathed the knife again and then let his fist fly. He hit an already bruised part of the priest's face, causing blood to spray over me. "Keep talking, priest and I'll make you fuck her in the ass like a boy. On second thought, you would enjoy that too much, Sodomite." The English bastard turned and called to one of his men. "Bring me a crossbow. Does this building have a donjon?"

A soldier handed Landross a cocked crossbow and answered, "Nay. Best is a storage room off the kitchens. Has two bolts on the outside and no windows."

The priest rest between my thighs, his arms propping his torso up off mine. Where he and I touched, his skin felt clammy as my own. I shivered at the sense of impending doom which careened down my back. With his raspy voice, the holy man said "I cannot do this, my lord. Kill me if you must, but do not harm this girl. She is innocent of her uncle's crimes against the crown."

"She was caught with a small fortune in coins and jewels. A thief deserves to be punished, and this is the punishment I have chosen. If you do no start fucking her, I will shoot. You will not get another chance to plead for her life. If you wish to protect her, priest, then you better start thinking of alter boy asses and get to fucking the wench who waits beneath you. Help her find God." Landross laughed at his own joke.

Would that the fury I felt inside break forth from my body and strike down each and every Englishman who followed the bastard of all bastards.

"Kiss the pretty girl, priest. She awaits your love."

My eyes were shut as tight as I could manage. First I felt gentle puffs of breath upon my cheek, "I am sorry, but I cannot have the sin of your death upon me," the priest whispered as he kissed my stiff lips.

"Open your mouth, girl! You kiss like a maiden. How do you expect the priest to fuck you if you can't get him hard?" I tried to stem the tears that burned trails down my cheeks at the laughter of Landross's garrison staring at the priest and I.

Hesitant, I did as Landross commanded, opening my mouth to kiss this naked stranger between my legs. Doing my best to ignore the flakes of blood that now tainted my mouth, I pretended with all my heart that it was Padraic I kissed. I did not want this innocent priest's blood on my hands, he would not die because of me. If the Englishman wanted an act, I would give him one.

Imagining it Padraic laying atop me while we frolicked in his bed last night helped to make the reality fade away somewhat. It was easier to bear another man's burgeoning hardness pressing against my nethers if I could convince myself it was indeed my husband.

The Demon Lord's voice crashed through my mind to disturb the escape I crafted from reality. "Look boys! All these Irish bitches get hot for cock if you treat them right."

The priest stopped kissing me enough to whisper, "Ignore him. Do what you must to survive." And with that, he kissed me deeply to be rewarded with catcalls.

"Ah, a priest sports holy wood to crucify the bitch. Fuck her now, priest. Enough with niceties."

I could hear the priest gulp. "Again, forgive me. I have not the courage to sacrifice my self and leave you alone with these men." With that whispered into my ear, I felt the probing of my core and then he buried himself deep within. Drunken hoots and more catcalls shook the walls.

Tears formed and blurred my vision more, a feat I thought impossible. I wasn't ready for his entry, not the same way I was ready for Padraic upon our wedding night. It hurt to be stretched asunder, it hurt to be atop this table and held down by men excited by the entertainment.

I am not Mara. I am not stoic as she. Tears ran freely as I hiccuped my sorrow and shame. A turn of my head away from the priest laboring above me led me me staring in the depths of blackness. The Demon Lord smiled a wicked grin and whispered almost lovingly, "You do not look like you are enjoying his attentions. Do you need some help? Mattins, have you anything to make the lady smile?"

A tall man walked towards the table and released his engorged lust before my eyes. His hand grasped my breast tight, and he lowered his mouth to suckle my nipple.

I hated how he dared touched me, dared to do what my husband did which incited an inferno of lust upon my nuptial night. I despised how he turned something sweet to me into a horror. If only the stinking beast would stop, if only this Mattins would go away, taking his master and English brethren with him. Held down, I could not fight him. The more I writhed away from the Englishman's mouth, the deeper the priest sank inside me.

Please God, stop this horror... please God, Sweet Jesu and his blessed mother Mary.

It was bad enough with just the priest and I forced to act out a farce to save each other. Even though the priest and I participated in this mockery, I knew I would not escape alive. Landross's reputation was well-earned for being equated with demons. The man was Satan himself.

Again, I closed my eyes and tried to lose myself into a better memory. I could not do it. Mattins removed his lips from my person and grabbed my scalp to force himself into my mouth. His grip would not allow me to move my head to dislodge him. Instead he forced himself deeper into my mouth until I choked. He used my mouth as if it were my sheath until his lust spurt down my throat in a disgusting salty reminder of my shame.

"Better, wench? Or do you need another to help you smile?"

At those words, the priest stopped. "I have done as you bid my lord. I can do no more."

"You are not done. But I can see you are limp as an eel, and limp cocks are worthless for my punishments." Landross called to a short, fat man to come forth. "Pidge, take her to the store room off the kitchens. Lock her up."

At his words, his men relented their grip on my person and I was able to sit up. I felt freezing cold, dizzy, ill, and very sore at my thigh's apex. I expelled what little contents I had in my stomach at the feet of Landross. The part of me that wasn't in shock wanted desperately to coat him in my regurgitation. I made do with the few splatters that reached his mud-crusted boots.

"The priest, my lord?" A scruffy dark haired man dressed in leathers stared down at the silently crying churchman.

"I am not done with him." Those evil black eyes looked my way. "Your turn will be soon, girl. You will need your rest for later."

Pidge grabbed my hair, wrapped it around his fist and began to drag me from the hall towards the kitchens. Every time I quickened my pace, my captor would yank harder. Once we reached the store room, he threw the heavy oaken door open and tossed me inside. I fell upon the flagstone floor landing on my bum, my legs thrown apart. That fat, stinking man took it as an invitation to finish what his master started.

I fought him as hard as I could, scratching deep weals down his cheek as I went for his bloodshot eyes. I tried kicking, biting, rolling and doing everything I could to keep that pig off me.

I failed.

Three times he slapped me hard. Then twice, a fist to my middle. My ears rang and my eyes watered from his blows. I had not the heart to fight any more. What was the use? Whatever they wanted, those English bastards took. My consolation was that at least I wasn't raped again before a roomful of swine.

When he was finished, Pidge the human pig left without a word. The door swung shut and plunged me into darkness. The bolts were thrown and I was locked away, awaiting the next torment they awaited to heap upon my soul. Only a tiny ribbon of light leaked beneath the door. Left alone with my thoughts, I began to mourn in earnest. A tear shed for every thought about my sweet sisters and doting nursemaid, my kind uncle, my beloved husband. All torn from me on a single day, within the span of minutes. Now, only Mara and I remained with a priest, the three of us cruelly abused for amusement.

As pitiful as I found my situation, I felt even more sorrow for that poor holy man. To be forced to commit rape under threat of death... who knew such evil could lurk in the hearts of men? Surely not all English were depraved as the demons in hell.

Were they?

I do not know how long I waited in that tiny chamber, naked upon the cold stone floor. After a while, I heard the screaming of women, shouting of men. The door to my prison opened and a body was flung inside before again, the entry locked and our warder gone.

"Ona?"

Thank God, it was Mara. "What is happening? What is the screaming about?"

Mara broke into tears. Wretched sobs which echoed off stone walls to mock us in our plight. "That bastard order the cook's son stripped and the priest to violate the poor lad. The priest refused. The cook screamed, they beat her. She was ordered back to the kitchens to feed them. The boy was whipped and sent to the stables to sleep. The.... the priest, he's... they are taking turns doing to him what they wanted the priest to do to the lad."

Oh sweet Jesu, please stop these monsters and their evil!

I wept for that poor soul, tortured and tormented. For those evil men to heap atrocities upon one's head for any reason was foul.

Mara continued in a whisper, "The cook is going to get the wolfbane from my chamber, She will taint their food. Once they are incapacitated, she will free us. We can collect your dowry and what ever coins we can get from these dead bastards and make our way to France." Hope in her voice shined like a candle in the dark. "We just need to stay alive the night."

Hope dimmed in my heart. Would we last that long?

"Ona, are you well? What did they do to you?"

Since she hadn't been in the hall when Landross set his sights on me, she did not witness my hell. I didn't answer her directly. "Are you well? When you were taken away, I saw blood on your leg...did he...were you hurt?

"Nay. My moon cycle has started. Could not be a better time. I will not have to worry about spawning an English bastard. What did they do to you, Ona? Answer me."

It took a long moment for me to put my thought together. Can one put words to the unspeakable? "That bastard forced the priest to rape me. If the priest did not, the Demon Lord was going to shoot at me with a crossbow. When I failed to enjoy the priest's attentions, he had one of his men do to me what he did to you. While the priest was inside me."

"I shall feel no guilt when I step over that bastard's body when we escape. He raped me with his knife. I will return the favor, but I'll use the pointy end. I want him still awake when I do this. And when he's done being fucked with steel, I will cut off his worm and shove it in his own mouth to lick clean."

The thought of vengeance burned bright. After all that has happened this night, I will feel no guilt helping her achieve her revenge.

We sat in silence, listening to footfalls come and go. The low rumble of voices and boisterous drunken laughter slithered under the door to fill our ears. After a while, the door opened and the naked priest was pushed inside with us. He fell to the floor in a heap, ignored by the Englishman. I recognized the warder. It was the same that took my cousin to be cleaned. "You." He pointed to Mara. "Come with me."

Mara arose with the grace of a queen and walked towards the Englishman.

The door swung shut and bolted tight. Darkness reigned.

I crawled on my hands and knees over cold, worn stone to the priest. I did not know if he was even alive, as he lay upon the floor shrouded in black and silent as the night.

"Are you yet with the world of the living?" I asked gently as I crept forth into the Stygian dark. Finally, I felt a hair-covered leg. The priest moved his limb when I touched it.

"Aye, though I wish I was not." The voice more raspy than before, held a deep sadness far within. A moment of silence. "I am sorry, Ona."

"You had no choice." Desperate people do desperate things, and this was a desperate situation all the way around. Although it was a fine line, rape is preferable to being tortured to death. I forgave this man because he was as much a victim as I.

"Yes I did have a choice. I could have asked you to marry me long ago. Maybe we would have been in Paris by now, Moire, Bride and the Bishop still alive. I failed to act and everyone has paid for it."

My mind froze as knots twisted my innards. Could it be? He wasn't dead? "Padraic?" My throat clenched tight, as my unwilling mind tried soaking in the knowledge he still lived. "You are alive?" Hot tears welled up and poured down my face in a deluge of relief, sorrow and angst. He was beaten to the point I could not even recognize him. My heart wept at what he suffered.

Padraic didn't answer.

"Thank God and all his angels you are alive! I thought they killed you along with Uncle Sean! Oh Padraic...." In the darkness my hand sought his. When I found it, we entwined our fingers and I crawled closer to him. "Tell me what happened after you told us to ride."

"Your Uncle is the bravest man I know. He rode straight for the Englishmen, I think he was trying to buy some time before they rode after you all. The pikes stopped the Bishop in his path. Gutted his horse, did the same to him. I don't think they realized who he was. Some of their men broke off and surrounded Maeve and myself. They ran her through when she ran. I have no idea why they think I'm a priest, other than I traveled with the bishop."

I sat in the darkness with Padraic's head upon my lap, his face turned to the side as he lay upon his belly. That bastard who killed my family and raped my cousin hurt Padraic's backside with his attentions. Sitting hurt him too much.

Padraic's voice broke the silence. "They wanted to me abuse Cook's boy. I wouldn't do it. They beat the boy with a belt and sent him away. Then..." his voice faded away for a moment then returned. "I will kill Landross myself. For what he did to Mara, you and I. For your sisters, their nurse and your uncle."

I spoke in whispers, should a guard lurk outside, "The cook is going to get one of Mara's herbs, a poison. She will mix it into their food tonight. Then we escape."

"As good a plan as any...but will we survive that long?" His question hung in the darkness as an invisible sword over our heads.

It scared me that Padraic's thoughts echoed my own. "I do not know."

Hours passed as my husband and I waited for what was to come. The only warmth we gleaned was from each other as we huddled close to keep the stone's ice from claiming our bones.

The need for creature comforts grew. I banged upon the door and yelled for water until I grew hoarse. It did no good. There were no more sounds of drunken revelry. Hours ago, the house quieted and I knew naught if it were from sleep or poison. Surely though, if Cook were able to slip wolfbane into their food, she would have released us by now. What was going on out there?

We were alone. Trapped. Weakened by thirst and hunger, Padraic more so, from being beaten and abused. Was it day or night? How long had it been... a day or two? We had no bucket to relieve our selves, so I made do with squatting in a corner furthest from the door.

It seemed hours before Padraic spoke again. "We must escape from here. Something is amiss."

"How can we escape? We are barred in here. I don't think Mara's plan worked, else she or Cook would have freed us by now."

"There must be a way. Help me up."

I stood and reached out into the darkness for Padraic's hand. He held tight and I helped pull him into a standing position which led him to releasing an enormous groan that seemed to shake the core of him. He limped toward the light seeping beneath the door while still holding my hand. The beating the English gave him did some terrible hidden injury. Padraic's breath came in rasping pants interspersed with coughs. Did a broken rib stick his lungs?

When we reached the door, Padraic said, "Find the hinges. If they are on this side of the door, we may be in luck."

Hope arose as my hands sought the worn edges of the wooden door. I felt timbers smoothed by time, but no cold iron. Padraic checked the other side, seeking the prize. I could not find what I sought on my side of the door.

Dejected, I spoke. "Nothing here." Tears of fear and frustration welled up in my burning eyes.

"Nor here." Padraic heaved a deep sigh then slid down the wall to the ground.

"What do we do?" I sat next to him, mindful of his hurt body.

"What can we do? We can do naught but wait." Anger seethed in Padraic's voice.

"I thought I would die old and gray with you. Toothless and doddering." Softly I revealed what lurked on my mind. We would die locked in this room. That was the sum of my marriage to Padraic. One night of bliss then a life time of horror.

"I wanted that too, Ona. More than you know. But I did tell you we would be together again." I could almost see him smiling in the dark at the irony. How could he smile still? Landross had not killed his spirit, evidently.

"Not like this! This... this... Oh Padraic!" I burst into soulful tears for all that I knew and lost. Family, ideals, hope... all gone. Ripped away in the span of minutes. How quickly fate can weave a web of destruction around one. Padraic gathered me into his arms. On any other given day I would have enjoyed the touch, but today it was a reminder that I would lose him, too. Already our flesh grew cold. We were weakened by no water or food. Not even a bucket for our waste-- the smell of which grew from the furthest corner to blanket the small chamber in putrescence.

"Whatever happens, Ona, I love you and I am sorry I could not protect you and yours better. Perhaps we will see each other at the Pearly Gates. Perhaps we will get another chance with the odds in our favor, then."

A knot seized my throat. "Perhaps." What else could I say to him? Numbness set into my mind. One minute was an hour long in the cold black. An hour or a day, it was all the same to me.

Padraic and I huddled together in an effort to stay warm, but the stones stole any heat away. We shivered together and tried to sleep. Naught else to do but wait.

As impossible as it seemed, I managed to drift asleep only to arrive in a nightmare land. Death and torture. Violence for the joy of it. Screams and moans. I awoke with a start and reached for Padraic's hand.

It was like ice. "Padraic?"

Nothing.

"Padraic? Padraic? Nooo!" My husband died while we slept. Nothing but the husk of his being left. Perhaps he is already waiting at the Pearly Gates for me to join him.

Perhaps.

Tears I thought I no longer had flowed like a river towards the bay. I do not care any more. What do I have to live for? Did my cousin yet live? Or did they torture her to death? Where was she? Where was anyone? The thought of being locked up in an abandoned building created a shiver bone-deep. Alone with death.

Until I grew too weak to raise my fist, I kept pounding on the door, begging for my freedom. Then, when I could not muster the strength to echo another thud through the house, I sank to the floor and curled next to Padraic's icy body.

There I stayed, three days at least. The raging thirst I once had, faded into dull acceptance of my fate. I welcomed the pain. I welcomed the feeling of my navel nibbling on my backbone. I welcomed the lightheaded feeling, and the anger that my situation gave me a reason to indulge in fury. Glorious fury which reminded me I yet lived.

Most of all, I welcomed death when it finally came to claim me.