Church of the Oak by Sheila R. Lamb

Author:Sheila R. Lamb [Sheila R. Lamb]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Triple Fire Press
Published: 2022-08-05T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

Brigid and Patrick

Clover plodded south, as I wallowed in selfish, inconsolable sadness, stung with the pain of rejection. I refused the Armagh monks’ offer of shelter for another night and instead stayed in guest lodges along the way. I wanted to return to Cill Dara as soon as I could. It was hopeless. He didn’t want our past, or me. I reviewed the conversation with Patrick a million times as I traveled, punishing myself by imagining what I should have done or said differently.

The bog land gave way to gentle hills. I sighed with exhausted relief at the familiar landscape. I skirted around Fotharit and kept to the back forest paths. Even with the title of bishop and recognition of Cill Dara, I didn’t trust what Maithghean might do.

The road split in a Y, leading to Cill Dara or Dun Ailenn. Clover shied at the crossroad, refusing to turn as he should.

“Clover, what’s the matter?” The mule didn’t stand still to chew on the clover patch as he usually did. Instead, he pawed at the ground and brayed. Shouts and screams penetrated my haze of fatigue and I woke from the daze I’d been in. The distant noise broke my contemplation of Patrick. Battle. I knew the sound from my childhood. Warriors beat their shields and bards beat their drums. Women keened as their men were slain, heads dismembered, and bodies left to dry in their own blood.

I snapped Clover with the reins, and, out of fear, he refused to budge. The battlefield on the horizon was wide, encompassing the entire stretch of land between the two roads. Dun Ailenn cattle grazed here. A cattle raid on Dun Ailenn.

As I reached the next hill, I saw a contingent of warriors who strayed far from the battlefield. I tried to go around the fighting, blending into the tall trees of the landscape. Every few steps, I stumbled into another plain of battle. I tried to goad the mule to avoid the fighters, but that path would take me farther away from Cill Dara.

“Damn you, mule, go!” Clover stood stubbornly still. I jumped out and ran away. Instead, I found another band of warriors as they fought along the far border of the forest. The crash of iron and bronze reverberated in the distance, shields and swords striking on one another. Please don’t let them kill me, I pleaded to whatever gods or goddesses would listen. I double checked that my copper dagger was tied to my waist.

I should try to blend with the elements, I thought. I know how to do this now. Dar had seen me sink into stone. I could go into the grass. Into the earth. But I couldn’t stop and focus. Now was not the time to stop running.

A tall warrior neared me and I saw his ragged kilt and shield. Uí Neill men. They had come from the north to raid Dun Ailenn. I was so close. I could see Cill Dara in the distance. It had yet to be touched by the fighting.

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