Her County: Part 3

PART 1

PART 2

The stream trickled over a craggy bed, darkened by trailing wisps of silt, flicking their spindly tails like long, muddy leeches. For most of the trek, I had to skip between either bank of this stream, as the descent gradually became steeper and steeper, with the overgrowth swallowing much of the path. I placed my feet in such a way as to dig my heel into the waterlogged earth to keep my balance. Perhaps it was a good thing, after all, that scribes aren’t given sandals like the elder monks. But, then again, the monks hardly expected me to be outside of the abbey. There were a lot of the things the monks didn’t know about me. Thankfully, they never would.

The stream widened as I finally came to the base of a hill; I erred to the right of the stream, now a wide river in its own right. The bank had cleared and flattened, sheltered by heavy trees on either side. Aside from the exposed, slithering roots swimming through the eroded mud like biblical sea monsters I’ve transcribed alongside my uncle, the rest of the day was unencumbered.

I ignored my aching, churning stomach as best as I could. Aside from the fish, I hadn’t eaten much since I’ve begun my journey. I had tried drinking my fill of ale at the monastery before I left, thinking that would have kept my hunger at bay for the next few days... but I threw up a little way outside of the monastery grounds. I was lucky I hadn’t fallen into a stupor, as Brother Raymond so often did when he tapped the monastery’s ale and mead. To pass the time, I thought more of the monastery. I wondered how they would have reacted once they realised I wasn’t there. I had a narrow opening of time to escape, as first prayers begin before sunrise and breakfast, and I needed to ensure the monks, the ones who weren’t on watch, were asleep. I lay in the same room as my uncle, listening to his snores, struggling not to doze off myself. It was funny, lying there, awake, fighting the comfort of the familiar, steeling myself against the only life I’ve ever known. I wondered, as I continued down the bank, steadying myself by kicking off rocks and grabbing hold of low branches, would my uncle have made excuses for me, or would he have thought the Christian thing to do was to tell them the truth. Would they have sent someone after me, or would they not care? They have more than enough scribes. What’s one less? But if they did come looking, and they did come across the monastery in Oughter Ard, would Dubhthach tell them where I was going? What reason would he have not to?

I was so lost in these thoughts that I almost walked right into the river. I was pulled back from my reverie by Abhainn na Life, its brushing, cold current chilling my toes just as I was about to step further in and be swept along with its rushing, dark waves crowned by cresting, grey foam. I must have been deeper in thought than I had realised, for no sooner had I found myself where the stream joins the river, my senses were drowned in a cavalcade of cascading water, surging past ceaselessly.

I stood on that sharp corner, watching the strong, swarthy current carry away fallen branches, bubbled air, and the light of the dying afternoon; the sun was past the treetops now, and the cerulean sky was stewing into a peach dusk. I stared off into the distance, where the river took a turn to the left, vanishing behind the bend. If I was right, I thought, the river would lead back into the kingdom of Meath. After I find Brigid, I could take a currach and save myself days walking. I had almost forgotten about what Dubhthach had told me, until I noticed a little girl on the bank up ahead.

She wasn’t much further ahead. In fact, it was surprising I hadn’t noticed her at first, since she seemed to have been reeling in fish traps this whole time, pulling in and grounding a squirming, drenched net, adding it to the three similar, though subdued, netted bags already stranded. She was thin, with her tunic fastened tightly to her slim frame and limbs. The thickest part of her was her hair, a bushy, nest of black curls, as alive and rippling as the waves with her movements. She looked about my age.

Once she had reeled in the third trap, she surveyed the catch and lifted her head, staring straight at me. For one eternal second, her shining, golden-brown eyes locked onto my blue ones. Neither of us reacted in that moment of acknowledgement. Looking straight at her, I noticed she had a birth mark, the exact thickness and shape of a cut, only puffy and pink, sloping from the bridge of her nose to her right cheek.

I went to raise my hand, thinking I could wave to her, but she took off her, turning and racing along the bank, leaving her catch behind. Caught up in the mystery of this girl, I forgot myself and rushed forward, immediately slipping on a dislodged rock, falling sideways, submerged completely in the water. Shocked, both by the frigid pain and the sudden, swallowing darkness, I panicked. Desperate to pull myself out, I thrashed and flailed, like one of those stranded fish. My feet kicked and splashed, twisting painfully as the current dragged me forward, bending the arch of my back, scraping across the ragged riverbed. I turned and rolled, grasping to break the surface, but any effort made to stand was wasted with the depth. My senses were warped by the humming rush of underwater forces carrying me around, the pounding drum of blood in my ears, and the sharp, stabbing sensation of choking on the unexpected intake of water. It could have been minutes, hours, or only seconds, but in that hell, that all-consuming, smothering, binding, asphyxiating nothing, my life was dragged out, figuratively and literally, by the helplessly animalistic terror, the brutal, uncaring force of nature, and, as I was fading into oblivion, the shimmering, hazy, green visage of someone, cloaked and looming, staring down upon me before, the last thing I remember seeing, plunging their slender, thin fingers into the water, and grabbing me by the throat. The world became black and quiet.

Death had introduced themselves to me that day.

...

From the darkness, hours later, came a band of sounds. A clink, a crack, a shush, and... a hum. A melodic, strange sequence of notes singing me back to my senses. A shimmer of amber flickered as my eyelids strained, burning brighter, stinging my pupils with harsh shards of light dancing, encircling a billowing, squirming blackness rising up from a sweltering heart. Slowly, as my eyes open, the smells reached my nose, and I am overcome by repulsion.

I rolled over to my side and vomited a murky mess of river water and bile. I choked on the thick mucus, but it was nothing compared to the stench surrounding me. The scent of sweat and urine hung heavy in the air, forced down upon me by the suffocating heat. My vision came into focus, though still struggling to see through the shadows quivering in the flickering light. I saw before me a pair of small, bare, mud encrusted feet, soaked in my putrid vomit.

I snapped my head up, and saw those same golden-brown eyes from the other side of the river looking down on me. But it wasn’t the same girl. This one was much younger, probably five or so, shorter, rounder in the face, and clutched, in her hands, a doll made from woven reeds, with two daisy florets for, what I imagined were supposed to be, eyes. Both sets of eyes were peering down upon me. In fact, a third, behind the girl, at the far wall of this shelter I was in, were staring as well, just as golden-brown, and from a similarly featured girl, again of a different age. And then there was another set. And another. And another. I turned my head slowly around at the surrounding circle of young girls, all pale, dark haired, and with bright, shining brown eyes, dressed in shabby, fastened tunics, all staring directly at me. Only when I had scanned my left, my back, and my right had I found the source of the light in this wooden shelter topped by a thatched roof, was coming from a cooking fire, licking the bottom of a simmering stew pot, tended to by a man, feeding the flames shavings of wood, humming the tune that stirred me. I hadn’t noticed the girl before me had crossed over to this man and tugged on his sleeve. He turned to her, smiling.

“Hmm? What is it, dear?”

The girl simply pointed back, staring me down; her and her doll. The man turned around, and his bearded, red-haired face cracked into a smile, showing off a unfilled smile, crinkling his beady, blue eyes.

“Ah! We’re awake, are we? And just in time too! Supper’s almost ready. Quite a compliment to be giving me! I’ve never had someone come back from the brink of death just for my cooking! Isn’t that right dear!”

The man had thrown his voice over to the far side of the room. I looked over and, half-hidden behind more young girls and women, found a tall woman standing as close to the wall as possible with her back to us. Her head hung slightly, her black hair was stringy, lank, and patchy, and her body hunched and drooped. No wonder I hadn’t noticed her despite scanning the room; I couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

“You gave us a nasty surprised!”

I pulled back to the man, who returned to stirring the pot.

“I was just sitting here, assembling the fire, when one of my daughters comes running in, telling me she’s seen a boy. Next thing I know, I’m running up along the riverbank and sure enough there you were, washed up onto the mud and all, soaked head to foot, like a drowned rat. I could feel a pulse, but it was weak. And here was me thinking I’d need to dig a hole in the morning. Awfully queer a scribe like yourself being so far from Oughter Ard.”

“... Was... Was it you who pulled me out of the river?”

“Me? No. No, like I said; you were already ashore by the time I found you. Did someone pull you out?”

“... I... No... Where are we?”

“Oh, goodness! Where are my manners? Introductions are in order. We don’t often get guests, you see. I am Lugair. And this is our humble home. We’re actually in a crannog on the same river you fell in.”

Lugair gestures to the surrounding girls.

“These are my daughters. There’s Aoife, Clodagh, Saoirse, Niamh, Cara, Maeve, Colina, Orla, Roisin, Sadhbh, Aisling, Shauna, Eilis, Caoimhe---”

“You have a lot of children.”

“Oh... I suppose I do... Anyway, over there is Deirdre, Aibhe, Ciara, Aifric, Moire, Brona, Neasa, Sorcha, Una, Siobhan, Sinead, Grainne, Auraya, Doireann, Cliona, Blath---”

My attention drifted and I began to take in my surroundings. I should have recognised the shushing as the sound of rushing water. The fire filled the crannog with a suffused haze of orange and black, making the hewn wood shaping the walls and supports shimmer, as though they shook. The effect, along with the concentrated smell of dirt and filth, was nauseating. The trickle of smoke from the fire, which seemed so thick and alive in my blurry vision as I awoke, rose and slithered up, coiling around and sliding across the fat bottom of the stewing pot before rising up and through the hole in the roof, which doubled as a way to smoke and dry the flanks of fish and eels hanging above us. Judging by the ones that still shone, dripping in their fatty oils, I imagine those were from today’s catch. My attention was pulled back to Lugair when I mistakenly thought he called me.

“Pólina, Erin, Brig, Fiona, Mona, Fedelma, Etain, and Orlagh. And... I think I got all of them.”

The girl with the doll beside Lugair pulled his tunic once again.

“Hmm? OH! How could I forget!”

Lugair placed his hands upon her shoulders. As he smiled, she, and, again, her doll, continued to stare me down.

“This wee darling is Dervla. And her doll, Brigid. They were keeping an eye on you while I made supper.”

“Well... I’ll try to remember all of those names. How many children do you have?”

“Well, let’s see...”

Lugair mumbled to himself as he counted, flicking his fingers, as if using an invisible abacus.

“I’d say... a hundred and six in total.”

“A HUNDRED AND SIX!”

“Yes... Wait... Yes, a hundred and six. Now they’re not all here, obviously. Not all of them made it through childhood sadly, and the eldest ones are all married off now and are having children themselves. No, of the ones here, I’d say there’s only... Who did I point out again? Aoife, Clodagh, Saoirse, Niamh---”

I quickly did a head count to save time.

“Forty-three! There’s forty-three.”

“Ah, yes! That’s right. Forty-three wonderful miracles. All because of my beloved in the corner over there.”

Lugair gestured once more to the living statue with a doting smile. She didn’t move a muscle. She barely seemed alive.

“The love of my life. The wife of my dreams. The mother to my beautiful daughters. My life has been nothing but bliss ever since we met.”

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know.”

“... You don’t... know?”

“No.”

“... I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t understand.”

“No need for the formalities, young lad. Lugair will suffice. And I was never told her name.”

“... But... she’s your wife. Did she not tell you?”

“No. She can’t.”

“... Why can’t she?”

“She’s a moron.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!”

“Not at all, my... I never caught your name.”

“My name is Pól.”

“Well, Pól, you don’t need to apologise. But yes, she’s unable to do every much, let alone tell me her name. She can’t speak or walk without direction. I found her on more than one occasionally nearly drowning herself in the river. But I love her all the same, don’t I, dear!”

Lugair turned to wait for a response from the standing figure. I politely waited before asking my next question.

“You said you were never told? Did someone introduce you two?”

“Oh yes! In fact, it was Brigid.”

“Brigid! Brigid of Kildare?”

“Yes! The very same. Oh, it’s a marvellous story! Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please.”

“Oh perfect! Wait just a moment!”

Lugair jumped to his feet and hurried off, vanishing into the crowd of daughters, who all continued to stare at me, unblinkingly. I glanced once more to Lugair’s wife, still unaware of her surroundings, before he returned with two stools, offering me one and sitting on his own, bouncing his knees excitedly.

“Sit, sit! Oh, it’s a wonderful tale! It was some twenty years ago, wasn’t it dear?”

Lugair’s wife didn’t reply. I sat down.

“Twenty years ago is right. And I was about twenty myself. I was a woodsman back in those days. In fact, I built this crannog myself. Anyway, I was a woodsman. I used to barter my services for shelter and food. Only the odd time I’d be paid. Sure, who carries gold and silver around with them, eh? But whether it was bed and board or silver, I always took pride in my work. Lugair the logger, they used to call me, isn’t that right dear?”

Again, the woman stood unresponsive.

“She’s been feeling a little under the weather lately. Anyway, Lugair the logger, people used to say. So long as it was wood, I could build you anything. Kings and queens used to send for me to build them stables for their steeds, or archer towers on the dawn of battles. I reckon I’m the only man on this island to serve every king without losing his head. When it wasn’t kings, it would be lords needing fencing for their stock, or serfs needing a home for the winter, or, like your lot, missionaries coming over and needing a church erected. My name travelled further and faster than I’ve ever done. So, imagine my surprise when I hear my name called out, by a soft whisper, and I turn around and see her.”

“...Your wife?”

“No, no! I’ll get to her, don’t you worry, lad. No, her. Brigid. Oh! I was entranced the second I lay eyes on her. Hair as bright as daffodils, stretching the length of her body, with her skin as radiant as snow in sunlight. Her eyes were like sapphires sparkling in the cleanest pools, as vibrant as her cloak and tunic. And her features were as slim and graceful as a flower’s stem. Oh, I thought I was about to whisked off to Tír na nÓg! She was a goddess. I fell in love there and then. That was of course before I had met my beloved, but how was I to know. My senses were enraptured. I invited her in, and she told me she was the new lady of this kingdom. This all used to be part of Leinster, you see. Word was only beginning to spread of a miracle worker who was bequeathed land by the king, Fincath. This was before he died, of course. This was all new to me, but to be honest, I was only half paying attention. I was looking, dazed, imagining our future together. I recall her snapping her fingers to bring me back to my senses. She said she needed a monastery built.”

“Wait... what do you mean a monastery?”

“A monastery. She said this whole county was hers now, and she wanted a monastery built in the middle of the woods by this river. She said she wanted somewhere for them to go.”

“... For who to go?”

“Oh, no one special, just women in need. That doesn’t matter. The point is I was smitten. Oh, young fella, when I tell you I was head over heel for this beauty, I mean it. You’ve ever been in love?”

“... I’m ten.”

“Ah, that’s no excuse. I said yes to the prospect of spending months with a beautiful young woman, all alone in the woods. So, I saddled up the next day, and trekked out into the woods to where she told me; go west as soon as the dawn breaks, and don’t stop until you meet a gravemarker called Dubhthach in Oughter Ard. He’ll give you directions after that.”

I swore under my breath. Dubhthach had sent me the wrong way on purpose!

“So, off I went and sure enough there he was, piling up rocks for the cairns. So, I says to him I was sent by Brigid. He looks at me real nasty like, and sends me on; across the stream, across some hills, across a meadow, and there I’ll find a thicket of trees, and I was to go in. So, I do, takes nearly the rest of the day and by the time I was within the ticket of trees, I start getting very sleeping, and night was approaching. Next thing I know, I fall to my knees, and everything just goes black, and I had the strangest dream. It wasn’t of anything in particular. In fact, it was almost... abstract. It was like this...”

Lugair hummed the melody I awoke to. When he had finished, he allowed the silence to fill the crannog.

“I haven’t had such a restful sleep since... But that wasn’t even the most peculiar part. When I awoke, I found myself in a clearing. The tress that had surrounded me, stretching up to the night sky, were now fallen and off to the side. The earth had been turned and flattened. And lying on the ground were tools; hatchets, saws, hewing axes, chisels, mallets. I immediately go to work.”

“Did you not think that was odd? A whole plot of woodland just upended as you slept?”

“Oh? Well, I suppose it was, but they called me Lugair the logger, not Lugair the stands-around-all-day-and-asks-questions-er, eh? Besides, my mind was elsewhere. I wanted to make a good impression on Brigid when she arrived. And she did, a little later that day, around high noon. She had this heavy sack with her, full of tomes and scrolls. I’m not one for reading myself, on account of me being illiterate. But, oh, beauty and intelligence! I was smitten! Oh, but she was playing hard to get. No matter how many times I tried striking up a conversation, she kept playing coy and saying stuff like ‘I’m studying’ or ‘go away!’ But I know... I know she wanted me. No one can resist the rugged allure of a man who knows how to handle his tool, isn’t that right, my love!”

Lugair’s wife remained stock still. Lugair stared at her before looking off to one of the girls by her side.

“Clodagh, dear, could you please check on your mother?”

The girl, Clodagh, who seemed to be one of the oldest, leaned over, studying her mother’s face, before looking back to her father and simply nodding.

“Ah, good! I was beginning to worry. Where was I?”

“You were building the monastery for Brigid.”

“OH! Yes! Days went by. I focused first on quarters; sleeping, meals, a fireplace. And I was just about done with that when, one day, a woman came, right out of the woods. Says she was looking for Brigid. I brought her to the quarters, Brigid excuses me, and I was just getting a start on a shelter for firewood when she called me down and asked me to construct more lodging quarters. I asked her how many more, and she said as many as I can within the next week. Well, I told her that’s going to cost her. And she tells me to stretch out my hands, cup them, and close my eyes. I do, and the next thing I feel is a weight pushing down upon them, and the trickle of clinks ringing out. So, I open my eyes and I see gold and silver, glistening in my hands, overflowing like a waterfall of sunlight, as if a spring had broken from my palms. I was terribly shocked. Who wouldn’t? But I told her no. I said I didn’t want gold for my services. And she asks me what I want, and I says her hand in marriage.”

“Sorry!”

“I knelt down and I told her the price was her hand in marriage, to be my wedded wife.”

“... You proposed?”

“Yes.”

“... And you lived?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, it’s just... I’ve heard things... um... what did she say?”

“Well, she said she’ll think about it. But that didn’t matter, because I was determined to build her the best quarters imaginable. I spent days hewing and joining wood together. And with each passing day, more and more women kept joining. Old women, young women, girls, babies, serfs, maids, ladies. I even saw women I’ve never seen before, from far off lands, speaking strange languages and yet Brigid welcomed them in and spoke their tongue. Soon, enough time between new arrivals had passed and I was able to make a start on a small church for Brigid, but I made sure she knew I still wouldn’t take payment for my services. I even started fasting and sleeping outside, just so she couldn’t say she gave be bed and board. No. Every morning I’d get down on my knees again and propose to her. Some of the women would laugh at me, the wee ones would giggle excitedly, and the auld ones would call me an eejit! But I didn’t care. And she, Brigid, that is, would tell me just to get back to it. Now as I said, I was smitten with this one, but I thought if I just keep asking at some point she’d have to say yes. Men can’t be told no forever, otherwise that would be all we’re ever told. And then one day, I got my boon.”

“She said yes?”

“Well, not exactly. See, months had gone by at this point, and I was coming to the end of my services. Word that there was this commune of nothing but women was starting to attract unsavoury types. Thankful no one was hurt, but there were a few close calls, so my last job was to secure the area. I was staking fences down along the outskirts of the forest, joining a post together, when I heard this horrible scream. Oh, I’ve never heard anything like it. Banshees don’t even wail the way this poor thing cried. I didn’t even stop to think who it was. The possibility that it was Brigid was enough to have me racing into the woods, darting from mossy billow to rocky incline to fallen trunk. I heard it again, clearer now. I ran and ran and ran. I could feel my breath stretch painfully in my chest, and my legs burned with cuts. And then I found this young woman, struggling to claw herself out from under this brute clambering on top of her. I just ran right into him and we both tumbled down a slope. I don’t know where the woman ran off to, but I was back on my feet as soon as I saw the man try to go after her. He was huge, muscular, and in his prime. His tunic was torn, showing his ripe, thick arms and chest. What a fool I was. I jumped onto his back but he flung me off. I grabbed his ankles, but he kicked me in the face. I lost some bottom teeth that day because of it. I think me throwing a rock at his head is what really angered him, because he kicked me in the bollocks and straggled me with those huge, dirty hands. I tried everything to get him off me. The world was fading away fast. I grasped for my belt and unsheathed a chisel I had on me. It was a strange feeling... coming back to life, feeling the squirt of bleed splatter across my face as I stabbed him in the face.”

Dervla, the little girl beside Lugair, took a step forward. Lugair was too lost in his memories to notice. I couldn’t help but stare at the scar shaped birthmark. In fact, I couldn’t help but stare at all the birthmarks staring back at me from the shadow edges of the fire’s light.

“I gasped for air, my vision was blurry, and the only sound I could make out was the calls of that man, bleeding out. That was... until I heard her speak... It was Brigid, and she was saying something, in a language I never heard before. It sounded like... ‘stree ock air’, or something similar. The man went silent. I couldn’t see him. I was on my back, struggling to catch my breath. But I could just make out Brigid, looking down on me. I couldn’t help myself... I had to propose to her again. She must have thought I had lost my senses, but I didn’t care. I had come running, thinking she was in danger. I had built her a home. And now, I was lying there, winded and beaten, and I still wanted her. And for the second time, I passed out in those woods. When I woke up, I was here, in my home. Brigid was by my side. She said I had saved one of her guests, and that I had done an amazing job on the monastery, and she wanted to show her gratitude. But before I could ask her, she said no, she could not marry me... but... she offered me something else.”

“... What?”

“A wife who would always obey me. A wife who would never leave me. A wife who would never tell me no. But she made me promise her something in return. In exchange, I had to promise we’d have as many children as possible. And as you’ve seen, we’ve been blessed. Every time my beloved has fallen with child, it’s been quadruplets. And every time she’s given birth, I’ve done my part to keep my promise to Brigid. She’s a wonderful, amazing woman, that Brigid. Isn’t she dear?”

Lugair turned once again to his wife, only now she did move. In fact... she spoke.

Lugair looked at her, raising his eyebrows, leaning forward, smiling, straining to hear.

“What was that dear?”

Lugair’s wife, shuddered, shaking jerkily, slowly turning on her heels. Her gaunt frame, draped lazily in a dirty, blood stained and soiled tunic, frayed to threads, stood at odds with her bulbous and dropping stomach, squirming and bubbling with movement from within. It was only then that I noticed the thick, woven rope that was slung tightly around her neck, trailing from a post along the side of the crannog. She stared straight at me when she spoke again. Staring with her heavily scared face, as though she was stabbed by a blade... or chisel. Her mouth parted, revealing blackened and decayed teeth, and she said, barely audible;

“... Kill... me...”

Struck with terror, I scrambled to my feet and ran for the door, ignoring Lugair calling after me. My feet drummed across the wooden crannog bridge, slapping back onto the sodden bank, and into the woods by the river. I ran into the night, unsure of where I was going, but knowing exactly where I didn’t want to be.

#HI