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Author: Joan Marr

ISBN: 978-0-9925217-3-8

Previous books in this series

Book One: Magic Tides

Cover: Irish Bridge, pastel painting by Joan Marr

Centuries ago human beings were dependent on the extraordinary. Their abilities to heal, see into the future, communicate mind to mind and sense danger, were commonly used, but were much stronger in some. Witches, born with these gifts, were important to society, as was belief in the magic they wielded.

Can the rings reunite as two people of a new generation are drawn towards their destiny?

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A young girl was studying the smooth, shiny pebbles which she carefully chose from the river. A woolly, grey pup splashed in the water, put his nose in, and then raced up and down in excitement. The tinkling waters flowed around an overgrown island in the middle. The girl looked up to see him wading across towards the island. The water did not look shallow enough.

“Come back Rhyn. You mustn‘t go over there, it’s too deep,” she called. She knew that the spirit of the white lady lived there, and they should not go near. She did not think anyone could cross the deep river anyway, so was quite surprised to see Rhyn wade over without difficulty.

Rhyn looked back with a mischievous glint in his eye and ignored her. He floundered over the smooth stones and stepped onto solid ground, shook himself vigorously and disappeared into the low bushy growth which seemed to cover the whole island.

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, shook her fair, curly head in mild exasperation, and continued to pick out the shiny, coloured pebbles which attracted her from beneath the water.

Rhyn did not return, so she called again to no avail. I must be going home. He can’t have gone far. It’s only a tiny island.

She went to the place where the puppy had crossed. She could not see the bottom, but Rhyn had walked over had he not? Tentatively, after taking off her leather sandals and placing them beside the river, she made her way across, step by careful step, on slippery stones which she could only feel with her feet.

Caitlyn lived on a nearby farm with her family of two sisters, two brothers, and their parents, who worked the small holding with help from the children. If Caitlyn had time to occupy herself after she had completed her chores, this was her favourite place. She imagined faery people here in this secluded spot. She talked to them and played games with Rhyn, her wolfhound pup.

Right now she was worried. She should not be on this island. Her parents had warned her that strange beings were seen, voices and barking heard during the night, and horses galloping. No one should dare to cross the narrow river.

She stood uncertainly on the bank, then followed the direction she saw the pup take. Caitlyn was tall for her fourteen years, so she had to crawl on hands and knees to penetrate the thick foliage. Clear of the bushes she stood, and as her eyes adjusted to the shadows created by tall oak trees, she gasped.

A tiny old cottage stood there, climbing roses with a delicate pink flower, clung to the verandah posts, and the garden out front was overgrown with a few straggly flowers poking their heads up through the weeds.

Rhyn raced from behind the cottage, tongue flapping and excitement shining in his eyes. “What a place!” he seemed to say.

Caitlyn was relieved to find him, but her curiosity prevented her from returning home immediately. The front door beckoned from beneath the low, shabby verandah. She tried the handle and it opened easily.

Nervously, she peered around the door, expecting the interior to be dark and full of cobwebs, or at least to see a person standing there. But amazingly, the cosy room looked clean and bright. There were herbs hanging, and bottles lined the shelves, together with stark white bones and some feathers.

Quickly Caitlyn withdrew. Someone must live here. It is too clean to be abandoned. We had better go.

“Come on Rhyn,” she nervously called, and ran as fast as she could to the hole in the bushes where she had crawled in. She expected someone to call out to her from the cottage, but apart from Rhyn scampering along with her, she heard nothing. Gathering her sandals she ran all the way along the road to her home.

“Where have you been Caitlyn?” Her mother, Celia, sounded cross.

“Just playing with Rhyn near the river,” she replied anxiously. “I haven’t brought the milk in yet. I’ll do it now,” she said hurriedly, hoping to get out of the house before she was chastised. Celia watched her run out of the kitchen. This daughter of hers was such a dreamer; she could never knuckle down to help them on the farm.

Over the next few days, concealed in shrubs near the stream, Caitlyn watched the island. There was no sign of anyone coming or going during the day, and she was too afraid to go there in the dark.

Eventually, one fine sunny day, she couldn’t resist the temptation to cross over again. There can’t be anyone living here…. But how is it the cottage is so clean? she wondered. ”Will we go over again Rhyn?” she asked daringly. He wagged his tail and led the way, sloshing through the water to the other side. “Come on,” said his excited bark.

This time they both went inside after cautiously approaching and opening the door. Everything was as she had left it. Rhyn investigated the room. He sniffed around the hearth, the floor and the neatly made little bed in the corner. Several times he gave a little whine and looked around as if expecting to see another like himself.

Caitlyn was busy looking at everything, opening little boxes and peering into baskets. There were books on the shelves, but she couldn’t read. She became so lost in her wanderings that she failed to notice the dimming light until it was quite hard to see.

“Oh,” her hand flew to her mouth. “Now I’ll truly be in trouble. Come on Rhyn, we’ve got to run.”

Thereafter, when Caitlyn crossed to the island, she made sure her jobs were done, and restricted her time there so that none of her siblings would find out her secret. She curiously looked into every nook and cranny, moving nothing, but mesmerised by the variety of artefacts the little cottage contained.

She made up her mind to tell no-one. Not even her closest sister, for fear of having to share this wondrous place. She wanted to keep it as it was. There was something special about ‘her cottage’, which would be violated if intruders were to come here. Caitlyn was entranced with the books. She slowly turned the pages, studying the illustrations which were mostly plants, but there were some animals and pictures of people. How could anybody draw so finely? she wondered. Oh how I wish I could read.

As she moved along the shelves she found a small wooden box which she had not noticed before. It was tied with a narrow blue ribbon. Carefully Caitlyn took it from the shelf. It was so delicate, so tiny, so light, she was almost afraid to hold it. Of course her curiosity got the better of her and she untied the ribbon and opened the lid.

There, nestled in a bed of soft blue cloth, was a silver ring, shiny and beautiful. Lifting it out she was able to see the leafy design carved on it. She slipped it onto her middle finger. It was too big, but she admired it there. It felt warm and comfortable, almost glowing against her fair skin. Images flashed through her mind of two old people sitting by a cottage in the sun, other different looking people in a forest, a golden horse and a lady dressed in white.

Feeling dizzy, Caitlyn hurriedly took off the ring, replaced it in its box and put it back between the two books where she found it. She rushed outside and sat on the doorstep to regain her equilibrium. The realisation struck her that the images were definitely caused by putting on the ring, as they vanished immediately she took it off.

What are these pictures in my mind? I’ve never seen such people before. It was like magic, and stopped as soon as I took the ring off. I wonder who left it here in the cottage?

“Maim, I wish I could learn to read,” Caitlyn said to her mother at breakfast next morning.

“Whatever for?” her mother asked. “You’ve no books to read, and what benefit would that be to us, eh, child? You’re such a dreamer you are; you need to put your mind more to helping on the farm.”

But Caitlyn was not put off so easily. I will learn to read, she said determinedly to herself.

At table that night she approached her father. “Daid, I want to learn to read. Maim says it would be a waste of time, but it wouldn’t. Do you know where I could learn to read?”

Her father looked at her solemnly. Her mother turned to her. She was still young looking even after five children, her pretty face and fair hair were features that her husband, Denis, still commented on to express his love for her.

“You are so like my maithair and my mamo,” she said. “They could both read. They said everyone should be able to read, but with no schools it is not easy.”

Then abruptly Caitlyn’s father said, “At first light I need you to lead the brown calf along to Merryn. You know where she is, don’t you, up on the hill above the road? A good half a morning’s walk. There is a path which joins the road at the giant oak. Take that one.”

“Yes Daid,” Caitlyn said, disappointment showing on her face that they should cast aside so easily her desire to learn.

Early next morning she set off leading the young heifer. It was cold, but wrapped up warm in her cloak she looked forward to a pleasant walk anyway, and maybe Merryn would have fresh honey cakes.

She stopped at the giant oak to put her hands on its immense trunk and peer up through the huge boughs. She imagined she could feel life beating within the tree. It had been here forever some said, and must be protected for it carried the history of the Gaelic folk in its fibre. Her name was Elwyn.

Caitlyn proceeded up the hill, complex thoughts of the ancient tree turning over in her mind. How could she have stood there forever? One day she must die. What will happen to us when she does? That thought was quite disturbing.

Before the cottage came into sight, Caitlyn could smell the honey cakes. She hurried on around the bend and there standing on the front porch was Merryn waiting for her.

She had met Merryn before, many times, but had only been here to her house once. She looked like a witch, as imagined from the stories her mother told them. To Caitlyn she seemed quite old; her hair was black and unruly, the wild strands floating around her shoulders. Her ankle-length skirt was dirty around the bottom from the mud, she wore solid boots and had a thick black shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“Come in child,” she beckoned with her long thin fingers. “Tie the heifer to the post there, and come and have a cake. I’ve been watching for you.”

“Ah! Your daid is a kind man, he is,” Merryn said, her wrinkled face lighting up with a smile, dark eyes twinkling merrily. “My old cow is producing very little milk now, so this heifer will be able to take her place.”

Caitlyn looked around the room. How strange that she should know I was coming, she thought. There was a comfortable fire burning in the hearth, a kettle gently puffing steam, and two soft old chairs by the fire. A plate of honey cakes stood on the small table, the smell delicious. In a narrow shelf there were books. They looked very old, and were lying awry, placed there indiscriminately after being read.

It was fascinating. She was hardly able to take her eyes from the pile of knowledge that lay there.

Merryn watched her knowingly. “Can you read Caitlyn?” she asked.

“No, but I wish with all my heart that I could. Where did those books come from?”

“I’ve gathered them from various places during my travels. They tell us about the plants and herbs, and some have stories about history and ancient battles,” Merryn said. She brought the cakes over and they sat by the fire to eat.

“Maim says it’s a waste of time me learning to read, but I must learn. I want to read books,” Caitlyn said vehemently. Then she stopped and looked seriously at Merryn, an idea forming in her mind.

“You wouldn’t teach me, would you?” she whispered. “I could do some work for you in return,” she went on, looking hopefully at the older lady.

Captain Reginald Brown addressed his men, a platoon of English Redcoats, as they sat around several fires eating an evening meal. Their tents were already struck, and the horses picketed among the trees munching on piles of hay. Several service wagons were drawn up in a line close to the tents. It was a quiet night in early April, cool but clear, with the scent of blossoms drifting on the air. Below them in the distance, they could just make out several farms, lights dim in the cottage windows. It was a peaceful scene, thin tendrils of smoke from the chimneys dissipating gently in the still air.

“These peasants are too ignorant to live the civilized way of life that we do. They are little better than animals. They’re illiterate, and rely on their Catholic priests to help them.” Captain Brown went on passionately. “It’s our job to move them on and pass this good farming land to English gentry. They will employ the peasants to work on the farms, make sure they speak the proper English language and convert to the Church of England. First thing in the morning we will visit each farm and give them a choice. They can renounce their religion and stay on to work as servants, or they will be put off the land to fend for themselves. If they cause trouble we will deal with them.”

The Captain was a strongly-built man, with tobacco-stained moustache and beard. He presented a stern and upright demeanour in his uniform. Pale eyes blazed with intense dislike for the people of Ireland, who had the cheek to stand up to the superior nation of England.

The soldiers mostly nodded their heads in acknowledgement, some smirking with the thought of what might come their way as they made the rounds. Despite their uniforms, many of them were uncouth ruffians, maintaining their service jobs for the rewards of scavenging.

Caitlyn’s mother was just tidying up after breakfast the following morning, taking a few scraps out to the chickens, when she saw the mounted column of soldiers advancing along the road, having come out of the trees at the foothills. They were a wonderful sight in their red uniforms, but Celia O’Toole could smell danger.

“Caitlyn, quickly, get out of sight!” she called urgently to her daughter in the house. “See if you can warn Daid and the others out in the field.”

Caitlyn saw the army approaching and hearing the alarm in her mother’s voice she quickly slipped out the back of the cottage, calling Rhyn after her. She sped to the meadow nearby where her father and two sisters were milking the cows, and her brothers were forking hay from the small shed.

“There are soldiers coming! Maim said to hide quickly!” she cried as she kept running, heading for the river.

Her father leapt to his feet, knocking over the half-filled pail of milk. “Go, all of you!” he said firmly to his children, and strode off to join his wife. His two sons, Tom, twelve, and Sean, seventeen, ran after him despite the warning, but the two girls hurried off in the direction Caitlyn had taken.

I can hide in my cottage, Caitlyn was thinking as she ran, making sure she was hidden by the trees. Turning, she could see her sisters not far behind. The eldest girl in the family, Bridgit, was sixteen. Her long legs carried her faster than Tom’s twin, twelve-year-old Lucy, whose hand she held to help her. Caitlyn thought, I can’t leave them. I’ll have to take them too. She realised the time had come to reveal her precious discovery, to save her kin.

Their parents had spoken of the raids which used to happen earlier in their own lives. It had been peaceful around Limerick for two decades now, and they thought the English had forgotten about them. However, the children had been warned that in the unlikely event of soldiers appearing again, they should hide, for fear the atrocities inflicted on earlier generations should be repeated.

“Come this way,” Caitlyn called to her sisters. “I have a place to hide. There’s a cottage …” but the two girls shook their heads, and Bridgit waved her away.

“Don’t be silly, there’s no cottage in there. We’re going up the hill to the caves. They won’t find us. You would be better to come too.”

Caitlyn simply turned and ran. She and Rhyn crossed the river and hurried inside the tiny house. She slumped against the door and caught her breath and sat in a chair and began to think about what to do.

Where will Maim and Daid and the boys hide? They might not have been able to hide if they stayed behind to confront the soldiers. Perhaps they are back in the farmhouse by now. Surely the soldiers would see that they were only farmers and will be gone. What would they want? Maybe they wanted food, but how could we feed all of them? I’ll wait until evening then I will go back home. It should be safe by then.

At dusk she and her pup carefully picked their way from the trees towards the farm. It was very quiet. So quiet that Caitlyn became a little frightened, and shivered in the cold air. She could see the house, its windows still dark, a smokeless chimney, back door wide open. Maim should be getting supper by now. Where are they?

She bent close to the ground and crept closer. Still, there was no sound. The three cows were not in the field. There was no noise from the chickens. At the side of the cottage she could see two small mounds on the ground. What were they? As she got close enough to make out some detail she realised that they were two people lying in the dirt. Fear clutched at her heart. She couldn’t take a breath. She recognised the clothing. Rushing across the intervening ground she fell to her knees between her parents.

“Maim, Daid,” she cried, taking their hands in hers. They were cold and stiff. She shook them. “Wake up!” Rhyn was crouched down, whining, his hair standing up on his neck. He dragged himself closer and stretched his nose out to sniff. He gave a quick howl.

Caitlyn sat there in shock. She knew they were dead. She had lived on a farm all her life and had seen death. But why were they dead? What could she do? And where were her brothers and sisters? She slowly stood and made her way to the open doorway. Cautiously she crept in, softly calling her siblings’ names. There was no sound.

Suddenly she became so afraid she tore from the house, and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, back towards the river and the safety of her cottage.

That night she and Rhyn curled up together on the little bed and kept each other warm. Caitlyn was so exhausted she slept until after sunrise, when she awoke disoriented. When the memories flooded back, she dissolved into tears. Rhyn whined and licked her face, pressing his warm body close to her as if he would look after her.

What can I do? Where will I go?

She decided she had to go back to her home at least to get some warm clothes and some food. Then she would come back here until her brothers and sisters appeared from wherever they had hidden.

Once again, stealthily, Caitlyn approached the farm. She could see the bodies of her parents still lying where they were the night before. She wouldn’t be able to move them, or bury them. Inside, she found a blanket and took it outside to throw over the bodies. She felt like screaming in agony at the sight of them, but stopped herself as she realised that could be dangerous. Somebody might hear her. But she could not stop the torrents of tears, the sobbing, which threatened to tear her heart out of her chest.

After a while Caitlyn forced herself to find food in the kitchen. There was a basket, into which she put the loaf of bread her mother had baked the previous day. There was some cheese, honey cakes and some fruit. She wrapped in a cloth her boots and items of clothing she thought she would need, and tied the corners over the top. As she bent to tie the cloth, she thought she heard a scratching from the doorway. Her heart leapt. Rhyn jumped to his feet with a tiny growl. Then he put his nose in the air, and wagged his tail. He ran to the door, and a voice which Caitlyn recognised spoke to him.

“Merryn. Merryn!” she cried out loudly, rushing out. There stood her old friend. “Oh Merryn. Maim and Daid are dead, and I don’t know where my brothers and sisters are. I was so scared. What will I do Merryn?” Caitlyn sobbed.

Merryn wrapped the girl in her scrawny arms. “Oh my dear,” she wailed, tears flowing. “Did you hide somewhere?” she asked.

Caitlyn told the old woman what had happened from the previous morning up to the present time. “I hid in my cottage by the river,” she said without thinking.

Merryn looked a little shocked. “You can cross to the cottage?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes I can. I found it a long time ago. No-one seems to know it is there. Perhaps you could come with me, and we’ll go back there now.”

Merryn simply nodded her head. She helped Caitlyn gather up her belongings, and they went from the house, quietly closing the door behind them. The old woman also had a basket with a few things in it. She picked it up from where she had left it at the door.

“Did you have to leave your home too?” queried Caitlyn when she saw this. At once she also realised that Merryn was dirty and scraggy, as if she had run through the forest. They both needed somewhere to go.

When they reached the river Caitlyn took the baskets and clothes across, then went back and took Merryn’s hand. “Perhaps if I hold your hand you can cross too,” she said. “Can you see the cottage?”

“Well, sometimes I can and sometimes I can’t,” she replied. “I know it’s there, but over the years it has wavered in and out of my vision, and I have often wondered if I was dreaming.”

“Come on then. Walk after me,” said Caitlyn pulling Merryn by the hand.

Merryn was further surprised when, although she could not see the bottom, she found a footing and crossed safely. When they passed through the perimeter of trees, there stood the cottage in full view. She was quite overcome.

Inside they lit a fire in the hearth to warm the air, and making themselves some tea, they sat down to recover.

Merryn had sensed danger the day the soldiers came. From her vantage point on the hill she saw them coming up the road driving the three cows from Caitlyn O’Toole’s family farm. She immediately gathered a few things in a basket, threw on her cloak and left, threading her way through little-known forest paths behind her dwelling, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the road.

She knew of the soldiers from her experiences in other parts of the country, but, like Caitlyn’s parents, she had not expected to see them again, considering the well-established, and settled nature of English rule from Limerick. But you never know what they might be wanting now, they were never satisfied, she thought.

The woman worked her way warily back to the O’Toole’s farm. It was evening by the time she got there. Hearing no sound and seeing no-one about, she approached the farm house and found the bodies. Shocked, Merryn cast her senses about, but felt no other presence. At a loss as to know what to do she went back into the forest and hid for the night.

Next morning she watched as Caitlyn covered her parents with the blanket, and when the girl went into the house, Merryn decided to go to her.

Now, here they sat in the mysterious old cottage, Caitlyn numb with grief, and both wondering what they should do next.

“What am I going to do Merryn?” whispered Caitlyn. “Where are my brothers and sisters? Maithair and Daida should be buried, but I can’t do it by myself. My sisters wouldn’t come with me and went to the caves up on the hill behind the farm. They might still be there. I’ll go up and see.” She stood up with determination, but Merryn stood too and placing a hand gently on Caitlyn’s shoulder she pressed her back into the chair.

“I think you and I should stay together until we sort things out, so I will come with you to search for your sisters. But firstly we must eat or we’ll lose our strength. You sit there while I prepare some soup. The English are obviously up to something, and until we know what, it is not safe for us to be seen.”

Merryn went to put some food together while she quietly kept talking. “We will see if your sisters are still at the caves shortly, then I will find a way into the city tomorrow to see what I can discover. I’m sure that your brothers and sisters are still alive, but we must be very careful not to be caught ourselves.”

It made Caitlyn feel better hearing Merryn’s sensible plans. “We will be safe here in my cottage,” she said. “I think it is magic and that no-one else can see it but me. I wonder why?”

Merryn asked her how she discovered the little house, and listened while Caitlyn recounted her tale.

“I didn’t tell anyone, because I wanted to keep it a secret,” she said. “Also, when I mentioned going near the river everyone in my family warned me not to, because there are stories of spirits there, and because the river is very deep and no-one could cross. They all seemed to be afraid. It was strange when Rhyn found the way over, and I did too, but I didn’t think they would believe me at home.”

“You are right in thinking that no-one else can see it. I have writings which indicate that this belonged to an elven witch centuries ago. She used to be a healer and when the English started their attacks she had to hide to protect herself. She warded the island so that nobody could see her house. Later I believe she had a young woman there who continued the work. She was a priestess and a healer, and used to ride her golden horse around the country helping those in need. I’ve heard tales from travellers who say they saw the ‘White Lady’ in the forest, and many have heard the galloping of a horse and the barking of her dog.”

Caitlyn was entranced by Merryn’s story. Her soup remained untouched on her lap while she gaped at her friend. Why then can I see the cottage? she wondered.

They began to discuss this phenomenon. Merryn offered the suggestion that perhaps there were only a select few, some who had inherited certain senses, or who still had a little of the fabled elven blood in their veins. It was obviously stronger in Caitlyn than the other members of her family. “And perhaps,” she thought, “I have been chosen to protect and help this young lady, for some purpose beyond my understanding.”

“Well, whatever the reasoning, we need to do what we must at the moment, to survive, so let’s first concentrate on these sisters of yours,” Merryn said, rising to ready herself for the walk up to the caves.

The foothills of the mountain range were a good hour’s walk from the farmhouse. In the middle of the day, with sunshine, they looked a lot further, the trees and hillside seemed to merge together in the soft, hazy air. New, bright leaves were forming, and Merryn remarked how beautiful it was, unreal in the light of their present situation. The two were able to stay under cover for most of the way, but then they must come into the open to climb. They could see no-one about, so took the risk, and up they went, their feet whispering through the layers of grass and old leaves.

Rhyn was anxious to run fast, and periodically put his nose to the ground to see what he could scent. It took some time to reach the caves, which they cautiously approached. In the dirt at the entrance they saw footprints that looked like they could match the two girls. Some were going in and some coming out. Rhyn could get the smell of the girls he knew, and rushed inside to see where they were.

Inside the entrance they listened, but there was no sound. Caitlyn softly called their names. “Bridgit, Lucy!” There was no reply. She cried louder, but still no answer. Rhyn ran back and forth, scenting the earthen floor, dashing in and out of other passageways leading off to the side. Merryn and Caitlyn ventured a little way into the darkness of these tunnels and then, after further calling, decided not to go on. Rhyn was also at a loss, and ran back to the mouth of the cave, his nose in the air, then started back down the hill.

“Perhaps they went back down to the farm later, and the soldiers saw them and took them,” said a fearful Caitlyn, her voice shaking. “What would they do with them Merryn?” she said, turning her tear-filled eyes towards her.

“I don’t know, my sweet,” Merryn replied, putting a reassuring arm around the girl. “But it would seem that they are alive. They must have been taken to the city. Tomorrow I hope to find out where and why.”

“I will come too, I can help you look,” said Caitlyn quickly.

“That would not be a good idea. If they are watching for young girls, you would be in danger, but no-one would take much notice of a beggarly old woman, now would they? And people talk freely in front of those they think will not understand.”

Caitlyn’s head hung in her disappointment. She felt so useless, but she knew that Merryn was right. There might be something else she could do.

The next morning Merryn prepared herself to walk to the city.

“I wish I could do something to help,” lamented Caitlyn. “What could I do?” she asked.

“Do you feel like going back to your farmhouse and gather anything you think might be of use, any food and some extra clothing? When I return, we will go to my cottage while I pack my herbs and remedies, and whatever else I need.”

She took her basket as if going to the market, and left. As soon as she had gone Caitlyn took Rhyn and the two retraced their steps to her former home. When they were almost there, she saw an old man, whom she recognised as a neighbour, on the road. He was looking towards the house, and was moving furtively as if he was afraid of being seen.

“Mr. O’Meara, Mr. O’Meara!” she called out.

The man immediately looked up and quickly made his way to the side of the house. His eyes fell on the blanket-covered mound. He looked questioningly at Caitlyn.

“Are you all right girl?” he asked. “Is your family all right?”

Caitlyn wondered how she could tell him what had happened, as he was a kindly man, and had always been a good neighbour. He was very fond of her mother and father.

“Oh Mr. O’Meara, they are dead,” she blurted out, pointing to the covered bodies. “I don’t know where my sisters and brothers are, and I found my Maim and Daid dead here after I had hidden from the soldiers. They should be buried but I cannot do it.” She began to cry, standing there looking so alone.

“My child,” he said in a shocked, husky voice. “What are we going to do? Where have you been? Are you all right?”

“I have been hiding with Merryn. She has gone into the city to find out what she can.”

“Well perhaps I can get to work and bury your parents decently. Is there a spade here?” he asked, positive suddenly, finding something important to do.

While he dug the earth further down behind the house, where Caitlyn’s mother used to like to stand in the morning sun, he told Caitlyn that the soldiers had given him only a few days to leave his holdings. It was to be passed on to some English gentleman. He had been told that if he wished he could work for the new owners, otherwise he must find his own way, or if he made things difficult…. He understood now what his fate could be. Tears ran down his cheeks as he worked.

“I have a son and a daughter in Limerick, so I can perhaps ask them the best thing to do,” he said eventually. “I’ve no mind to work for someone on my own land.”

Caitlyn wondered what was happening to their world. Why were people like this? Her family and Mr. O’Meara had never hurt anyone, or disobeyed any English rules. How was it that they could just take their land from them? These things were beyond her; she who had had such a happy childhood here, until now.

As best she could, Caitlyn helped Mr. O’Meara move the bodies to the graves when he had finished digging. It had begun to rain, so they wrapped them up together in the blanket, and said some prayers over the open graves, then threw in some flowers and a handful of fresh dirt. They were both sobbing, the old man holding the girl close to him to comfort her.

After they had recovered some composure they filled in the graves, Caitlyn helping push some dirt in with her bare hands. At last, exhausted, they sat on the grass to rest.

“Thank you Mr. O’Meara. I feel so much better now that they are not laying there in the open. I wonder what they did for the soldiers to kill them?” Caitlyn said as she accompanied him back to the road.

“I suspect your parents defied the soldiers, told them they would not move, nor would they hand over their farm. The soldiers would use any excuse to get rid of them. But my main worry is what happened to Bridgit and Lucy, Tom and Sean. Let’s hope that Merryn will find out today. I will also keep my ears open when I go to Limerick on the morrow to find my son,” Mr. O’Meara said. “Goodbye now, you and Merryn must be careful, and if I hear any news I’ll come down here to tell you.”

When he had gone Caitlyn hurried to the house. The whole morning must have gone by while they attended to the long job of the burial. Gathering everything as Merryn had suggested, she found there was enough for two trips so she filled in her time carrying them to the cottage, Rhyn keeping her close company every step of the way.

Caitlyn was drained after such an emotional day, so she put on dry clothes and slept, dreaming, on the little bed for the rest of the afternoon.

She was looking for someone. She did not know who, but it was important. She was wandering through the countryside searching and the ring on her finger was very cold. It worried her as she felt she was in danger. She must hide.

CHAPTER TWO

It was pouring with rain. Merryn dragged her dirty, sodden cloak around herself, tucked her hair back and drew her old hat close over her face, before she reached the gates of the city. There were many beggars there, mostly ignored. She looked equally as wretched as they did, and with a slight stoop she could pass as a harmless old lady looking for food. She slowly shuffled through the gates, not so much as drawing a glance from the ever-present guards, and made her way up the cobbled street toward the market square. She had felt nervous until she was inside the walls and then a great deal of relief.

Although it was busy there were not so many people around as usual. Those who were out in town sloshed through the puddles and mud to do their purchasing as quickly as possible. They looked around furtively, wary of any move which might be misconstrued by the king’s men who watched. Merryn had a few coins in her pocket, so she bought two eggs and some bread, which she put into her basket and held under her cloak to keep dry. Making her visit look legitimate she paused over some stalls and examined the goods, water dripping from the ends of her fingers. While she wandered she occasionally loitered in the shelter of buildings and listened carefully to the whispered comments, passed from one to the other, of the few who came there for respite from the rain.

Watching for a familiar face doing business in the square, Merryn soon came across young Alice O’Rourke, whose wares included oat and honey cakes, pies and bread. As if making a choice she lingered until she was sure no-one could hear and spoke to the woman.

“Alice. Do you recognise me? I am trying to find out what is happening. Why are the soldiers here and what they are doing with our children?”

Alice bent down to gather some more goods from her baskets, which she had to keep under the rickety little table in front of her. While there she answered quietly.

“Yes Merryn. We are all afraid. The English crown has changed and the new queen is sweeping Ireland with reforms. She wants to convert everyone to the Church of England, and drive Catholicism out for good”.

Just at that moment two soldiers came along laughing and jostling each other. They stopped at the stall, eyed Alice with a smirk and asked for two cakes each.

“That will be one copper coin each thank you,” Alice said, holding out her hand.

“You don’t think we’re going to pay do you?” said one of the men. “We’re entitled to anything we want here. Want to do something about it?” he sneered, leaning his face close to Alice’s across the table.

Alice said nothing. She just put her hand down and stood quietly until they walked away, laughing to themselves.

Merryn had wandered away a little, and now she came back looking angrily at the backs of the two soldiers who swaggered down the street.

“How do you stand it?” she asked Alice.

“I have to. There are small children to feed, and soon even the hovel we live in will be beyond our means,” the young woman replied. “But about your queries, the queen is also taking good land to redistribute among lesser English nobles to establish a greater English influence here. Those of us who don’t renounce our faith and land are either thrown into the streets or killed. They have gathered the older children to disperse among the new landholders as servants.”

“Do you know where the children are being held?” Merryn asked.

“The ones they have so far are in the dungeons at the castle until the land is settled. It would be your death if you went there,” Alice said.

“What are you going to do?” the old lady asked.

“When we get the opportunity, Conor and I are taking our two children and going up north. We will have to get away without being caught, but there are some people here who are organising to get us and others, out of the city unseen.”

“Well may God help you,” Merryn said fervently. “I have young Caitlyn O’Toole to look after. Her four siblings have been taken and her parents killed. We may have to move too,” she added.

“Goodbye Merryn, and good luck to you too,” said Alice sadly, as she quickly turned away to serve some customers.

Seeing no good reason to linger, Merryn retraced her steps towards the gates. As she tottered along she cast her eyes towards the castle up on the hill and noted its fortifications. There would be no way to get in there. I might have to come back when they are being moved. I wonder how long that will be, she mused.

At the gates she mingled with the poor crowd there until she saw the opportunity to slip away into the trees nearby, and begin the return to the cottage. Her face was set in angry lines as she thought about what was happening in this country of theirs.

Caitlyn woke to the sound of Rhyn barking. Disoriented, she sat up as the door opened and Merryn came in accompanied by the wet, excited pup.

“Oh Merryn, you’re back!” Caitlyn cried, jumping off the bed and rushing over to her friend. “What did you find out?”

“Let me get these wet clothes off and put on some dry ones, make some tea and sit down and I’ll tell you all about it, but it is not that good I’m afraid,” Merryn said as she put down her basket, took off her cloak and hung it behind the door.

“The fire has gone out. I fell asleep. I’ll go out and collect some kindling to get it going,” Caitlyn said, and hurried out the door.

As soon as the fire was blazing and the kettle set to boil, Merryn sat down and related the events of her day.

“We must think seriously about what to do Caitlyn,” she said. “At least your brothers and sisters are together, and being fed, though I don’t know how well they are being treated. I imagine they will have to be kept in reasonable health if they are to work for these English gentry, but I don’t know how long it will be before that happens. As I see it there is no way we can contact them until they are out of the castle.”

They sat there looking at each other, both of them with thoughts and the beginnings of ideas running through their heads, but nothing with any substance. It seemed quite hopeless.

“We are safe here, so perhaps if we wait for a while, days, weeks, I don’t know, something may happen that will give us some ideas,” Merryn finally said, getting up to take the boiling kettle off the fire to make her long-awaited tea.

Caitlyn told Merryn how Mr. O’Meara had dug graves for her parents, and how they had buried them. The tears coursed down her cheeks as she spoke, her grief newly awoken with the telling. Merryn held her close, comforting her as she thought her mother would. However Caitlyn was heartened to hear that her siblings were most likely still alive.

They began to organise themselves in their new temporary life at the cottage. Temporary because Caitlyn was ‘not going to stay here forever’, soon she would do something to rescue what family she had left, and ‘they would go somewhere safe’.

A few days after Merryn’s journey to Limerick, the two of them took the forest paths up to Merryn’s old house to see what they could find. She needed her herbs and remedies and her precious books.

They walked close enough to Caitlyn’s family farm too see if anything had changed. There were four soldiers there, lounging outside the back door. Their horses were in the meadow behind, looking very sleek, munching away at the ankle-deep grass. Caitlyn had the urge to rush over and scream at them to leave her house, to get their horses out of her field, and to go away and leave them alone. Sobbing silently she stood there, Merryn holding her arm, realising how impotent they were.

The soldiers must have been put on each property to guard it until it was re-inhabited. It was as well that Caitlyn and Merryn had retrieved what they needed from the house as they were quite certain that these men would leave it in a mess, even destroy what was left.

Caitlyn reluctantly let herself be led away and into the forest. They walked on the barely worn path that Merryn chose and soon the old woman and the girl approached Merryn’s place on top of the hill with great care.

Bidding Caitlyn to stay hidden, Merryn circled her cottage as quietly as a wild animal. The door was open but she could not see or hear anyone. The heifer calf was lying under the trees nearby, chewing her cud, unfazed by any movement. Merryn crept up to a windowless wall and edged her way along it towards the doorway. She listened intently before leaning around to peer inside. There appeared to be no-one there, so she quietly went in. Her things were strewn everywhere, mingled on the floor with men’s boots, clothing and armour. For a moment she stood, her heart saddened to see her home in such a state.

Shortly she reappeared to beckon Caitlyn, and the two of them quickly gathered what they could. While Merryn packed her herbs and bottled remedies into one bag, Caitlyn put the eight books into another. Very quickly they worked, and as soon as Merryn had everything she wanted they quietly left and disappeared into the trees.

Down the path some way, where they would not be heard, Merryn at last spoke. “There has been someone there, as you could see, but I cannot understand why they are so destructive. Whoever was placed there must have ridden into the city today, as there are no horses either, but I can see where they have been. We will not be able to come back here again, so I have collected everything I need. Are you all right carrying those books Caitlyn? Thank God those wicked soldiers didn’t see the need to destroy them.”

“Yes. They are a little heavy, but I will carry them as far as I have to. We must not lose them,” Caitlyn replied.

Old Mr. O’Meara had found refuge with his son in the city. From there he was able to keep his eyes and ears open, for he was concerned for Caitlyn’s family, and would dearly like to bring her some information. He wandered the streets, often near the castle in case there was something happening. In the last few days he saw children going off with a soldier, or in a cart driven by a well-dressed servant. He surmised that these were being taken to their new homes. Somehow, he thought, Merryn and Caitlyn should be able to watch these departures in case it was a brother or sister who was sent off.