A Toast to Starry Nights (29 page)

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 up 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.