The Hunter's Moon (13 page)

“You had a rough night,” her friend said quietly. “Fever and bad dreams. Mam said to call the doctor if you didn’t improve today. I’m really ashamed of myself. You were acting so odd, but it didn’t occur to me that you might be coming down with something. I’m a right
amadán
.”

“I don’t know what that is but I’m sure you’re not.” Gwen managed to smile. “And your suspicions weren’t totally wrong. Something
is
going on, but not what you thought.”

A silence fell between them, resonant with unspoken questions and answers. It was obvious that Katie sensed some mystery afoot but didn’t want to burden Gwen with her curiosity. Gwen, in turn, was debating on how much she would or could say. After the fiasco at the fairy banquet, she badly needed advice. She had no idea what to do next.

“I’m going to ask you something, Katie,” she said tentatively. It was a hunch but she was thinking of Mattie, and also of Katie’s red hair. “It’ll sound crazy, but I’m not joking. Okay?”

“You’re on,” said Katie. “I’m all ears.”

“Do you believe in fairies?”

Katie’s eyes widened but to Gwen’s relief she didn’t laugh, nor did she look scornful.

“Yes,” she said simply. “Ever since I was a little girl. I still leave a saucer of cream or milk on the windowsill at night, or some wine if we have it for dinner. It’s an old tradition, a courtesy. The family thinks I’m daft, but I do it anyway.”

“Have you ever seen them?”

“No, but things happen. I’ve never told a soul.” She lowered her voice. “The Good People don’t like being talked about.”

“What kind of things?” Gwen whispered.

“Ach, well, you could put it down to fancy or coincidence. Little things. Sometimes breaches in the walls are mended overnight. And once I couldn’t find a ewe, and her with a lamb inside her. I was worried sick. Searched everywhere. It was nearly dark, and I was almost at the top of Slievecarron and still no sign of her, when I heard the music. A sweet piping sound, high up in the air. It seemed to beckon to me, so I followed after it. It led me right to her, where she lay caught in barbed wire. Maybe it’s all in the head, but I believe they look out for me.”

“You’re the kind of person they would help.”

“How would you know that?”

A hush fell over them. Both had reached the point where secrets could be aired without fear of judgment.

Gwen told her story to date, leaving out nothing. After describing the calamity at the banquet, she finished dismally.

“I’ve screwed everything up. I haven’t a clue how to get back, but I’ve got to reach Findabhair. There’s something wrong with Faerie. She knows it herself. Something creepy hiding in the dark. I’ve got to get her out of there before it’s too late. Before something bad happens.”

Katie was listening in stunned silence. She rummaged in her pockets to find a cigarette.

“Sorry for polluting your air, but I can’t manage this without a smoke. I can hardly get my head around it!”

Gwen got out of bed and dressed herself, but she was moving slowly. She felt weak and dizzy.

“I’ll make you a big fry for your breakfast,” Katie offered.

“Ugh, no. The thought of food makes me ill. And that’s not right!”

“Shouldn’t you rest then?”

“There’s no time. I must get after them. They’re probably doing this to hold me back, but it won’t work.”

“That’s the spirit!” said Katie. “What’ll we do? Where shall we go?”

Gwen noted the “we” gratefully. Despite her brave words she was wondering if she had the strength to do anything.

“Back to the Ancient Eating Place. Midir met me there before. He’s my best bet in a crunch.”

“We’ll take the motorbike.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Gwen said guiltily. “I shouldn’t be dragging you into this.”

“Mam and the girls are at it. I’m supposed to be looking after you and that’s what I’m doing, right?”

As they sped down the road, Gwen was revived by the cool rush of air. The Burren looked worn and bedraggled after the storm. The road was littered with branches and twigs. The limestone pavements glistened with rainfall. A turlough had risen to flood a field.

When they reached the
Fulacht Fia
, their hopes were quashed. The site was empty, nothing but wet grass and sodden ground. A cold wind blew over the ring of stones.

“He promised to help.”

Disappointed, Gwen sat down wearily on a rock.

Undaunted, Katie continued to scout the area until she, too, gave up and joined her friend.

“This is hopeless,” sighed Gwen. “How to find a fairy in a haystack?”

“
Ssh,
” said Katie suddenly. “Do you hear something?”

Both were suddenly still and alert. The sounds came from behind them. Slowly they turned to face the clump of bushes a short distance away. Nothing could be seen through the dense tangle of hazel, but the noises came from the other side. A low crunching and munching, accompanied by little sighs and snorts.

Katie let out a low laugh. She was about to stand up to see whose goats had strayed, when the voices began. Gwen grabbed her arm and they both sat frozen, hardly daring to breathe.

“She made a right hames of the feast last night.”

“Bejapers and she did. Ruptions and ructions to beat the band. The place nearly burst asunder.”

“There’ll be talk of it for ages to come.”

“That’s what they get for letting the likes of them into the manor house.”

“Asha, they’re not all bad. What about our Katie?”

“Our good neighbor?”

“The best there is.”

“She’s a friend of your one, you know.”

“She is that.”

“I’m sure she’d want us to lend a hand and all.”

“Oh aye. And we’d have the wrath of the Boss down about our ears before you could say ‘taw shay mahogany gaspipes.’”

“He’d leave us as we are for another hundred years.”

“Ah now, he’d get over it.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He would.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“He would.”

“And he would not.”

“Well, who then is going to tell the
girseach
that the Court has upped and gone to Boyle?”

“Boyle in the County of Roscommon?”

“Aye.”

“Sure who would tell her that?”

“Not me.”

“Me neither.”

“But she might overhear us and if she did, I’m thinking, bedad, it wouldn’t be our fault now would it?”

“Not at’all. Not at’all. We couldn’t be held accountable if them ones takes to eavesdropping.”

“Right you are then.”

“And that’s that.”

The voices fell silent.

Katie uttered a little cry and made a dash for her bike, with Gwen close behind. Engine roaring, they sped away. Only when she had put some distance between herself and the Eating Place did Katie stop to look back. Behind the bushes, a herd of feral goats were grazing. With their scraggly beards, crescent-shaped horns, and shaggy coats they looked like old wizards crawling about on all fours. One raised its head to stare at her fixedly.

“Lord God above,” Katie swore softly.

She was gripping the handlebars so hard her knuckles were white.

Gwen understood.

“Scary, isn’t it?”

The first encounter was always a deep shock.

When they reached the farmhouse, Katie was still too shaken to talk. Sinking into the sofa, she stared into space.

Gwen brought her a cup of tea, then went to pack. Consulting her map, she found the town of Boyle in County Roscommon, though at first she had been looking for a place called “Boil.” When she returned to the living room, her friend was at the window, gazing over the mountains.

“I’m off, Katie. I’m sure you know why. Thanks so much for everything. Especially this. You heard what they said. If it wasn’t for you they wouldn’t have helped me.”

“No, no. Thank
you
, Gwen!”

Katie’s eyes shone with a startling light. Now that her initial terror had subsided, in its wake brimmed an irrepressible awe and delight.

Gwen saw how she herself must have appeared to Mattie and decided that “touched” didn’t look so bad after all.

“You can’t know what this means to me.” Katie’s voice shook. “To know that they are really and truly here. Sometimes I wonder why I bother to keep going. There’s so much work to do and never enough hands to do it. You build a wall, it falls down. You tend your cattle day in and day out, then one of them contracts TB and you can’t sell any. You sit up all night with a sick lamb and she dies in the morning. And now there’s the threat of mad cow disease as well. This year’s been the worst of all, with Da in the hospital and us not knowing if he’ll get well.”

“Oh Katie,” Gwen said. “I’m so sorry.”

Only now did she realize how hard her friend’s life was.

Katie waved away the sympathy and held her head proudly. “That’s farming. Nobody said it would be easy. I love it and I wouldn’t want to do anything else. But sometimes you need something to keep you going. A dream, or a vision of the future maybe. The fairies have always been my consolation.” Katie looked out the window. “And they called me their good neighbor!”

“They know a good thing when they see it.” Gwen smiled.

“I want to come with you.”

“No way. I’ve already got one to haul out of Faerie. I’m not going for two.”

Katie looked crestfallen, but Gwen’s words made sense.

“You’re right. I’d never come back. But promise me this. I said it before and I’ll say it again—if you ever need help you’re to call on me, right?” Katie pretended to spit on her hand and then held it out. “Make it a deal, like a true farmer.”

Laughing, Gwen mimicked her actions and they shook on the agreement.

“I’ll drive you to the main road. Do you know where you’re going?”

“Not really. But that hasn’t stopped me yet.”

ere you are now, love. Boyle.”

The truck driver pulled up the long vehicle on a narrow street. The air brakes hissed like a snake.

Gwen surfaced with a jolt.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

It had happened again! One minute she was sitting there, looking out the window. The next, she was in a forest with shafts of sunlight falling around her and voices calling through the air.

“It’s Boyle you want, isn’t it?” said the driver.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

Gwen climbed down from the high cab, and wandered aimlessly through the town. The streets followed the hilly contours of the landscape. Houses, shops, and pubs creeped up and down the road. When she came to a stone bridge, she stopped to gaze at the river below. Long stems of green starwort streamed under the water. Mesmerized, she watched as they were tugged and swayed by the flow of the current.

What was she doing here?

The day had been a blur of faces and places. She had barely managed to keep on track. Images from the banquet hall kept flashing through her mind, along with giddy colors and leering features. Sometimes her ears throbbed with music, or the raucous sounds of revelry. Worse was the sudden shift of scene, when she found herself somewhere else entirely. A green meadow filled with light, or that early morning forest. She would have been worried, but for the vagueness that muffled her. Like a leaf drifting downstream, she felt drawn inexorably by some invisible force.

On the outskirts of Boyle, Gwen came upon the ruins of a medieval monastery. As if lost in a dream, she entered through the gatehouse and rambled around. The site was grand and airy with arches spanning rows of stone pillars and fluted columns. High lancet windows looked out on leafy trees. Overhead shone the blue canopy of sky. The graveled cloister walk trimmed a wide square of lawn. To her left a great vaulted aisle led to the church tower, transept, and presbytery. The altars were in the east, to face the rising sun. Ahead and to her right were the remnants of the chapter house, infirmary, book room, kitchens, refectory, and dormitories.

Gwen shielded her eyes against the glare of sunlit stone. Why was she here? Church bells pealed in the distance. She felt sleepy, and her sight began to waver. For a brief frightening moment she saw ghostly figures pad past her. They were monks in long habits, with their arms tucked into their sleeves and heads bowed in prayer.