| “Saol na saol…tus go deireadh…ta muid beo..go deo. Ta muid beo, go deo. Go deo. Go deo…Dia go deo…(Life of lives, beginning to end, we are alive forever. We are alive forever. Forever. Forever. God, forever.)” She mumbled to herself and she violently trembled and took a step. |
| “It’s the conclusion to the sacred Our Father, Catelyn. Kyle, stop distracting her.” Kyle paused from sweeping runaway ashes into his little sister. “I already know the Our Father,” he said in a haughty, high English accent and gripped the wooden cross strung around his neck in a ridiculous manner, sending Catelyn into a fit of laughter. Her father’s usually jovial face gave them a stern look. “Sorry,” they both mumbled through grins. “Now Cat,” her father quickly resumed, “I promise that whenever you are in trouble God will listen, and he will send me to come help you, no matter what. I promise.” “What about Kyle?” the child asked inquisitively. “Kyle…” her father murmured dramatically, “that boy has already gone to the Devil.” Kyle threw down the broom with a loud smack. “Well if that’s the case then Edana and I had better stick together!” he cried and swept up his little sister, using the nickname that he had given her practically at birth. She exploded into another convulsion of giggles and he hoisted her on his back. “Come on Edana, we’d better sing it! Saol na saol…” Her tiny voice screamed in chorus and her father threw up his hands in utter exasperation. The smell of her mother’s bread wafted through from the distant kitchen and Kyle raced to it with her on his shoulders. “Saol na saol…” he roared. |
| The door had been opened by some unknown cause and she could see that the kitchen was already flaming. Still, her feet would not shuffle any faster. The grass was yellow, and burning. |
| “Go n-ithe an cat thú is go n-ithe an diabhal an cat! (May the cat eat you, and may the cat be eaten by the Devil!)” she screamed at the little boy as Kyle raced to pull her off of him.
“Easy now Edana,” he said, lifting her straight off the ground and holding her arms back. “I swear I’ll kill you!” she continued to scream at the shocked, small freckled thing still sitting on the ground. “Go on home now Ben,” Kyle instructed over his sister’s yelling. He waited as the child bolted up and scampered off into the distance.
“You let him get away, how could you?!” Catelyn accused as she attempted to kick Kyle’s shin. He continued to restrict her. “Edana I-,” he stopped short as her elbow made contact with his stomach. “That’s it,” he wheezed as he doubled over, barely grabbing her ankle as she began to run. She fell to the ground in anger and the two glared at each other in the deep emerald grass of the Irish moors. Silence fell between them. The small rushing of the stream that ran around their little township could be heard, as well as the roar of the ocean from the far off cliffs. Finally Kyle sighed. “You know I had to. I’m almost 15 years old now. I have to be responsible for little heathen sisters.” Catelyn stayed silent. “So,” Kyle slowly ventured, “what did he do this time?” After a pause, she murmured, “He said I was ugly, and that I looked English, and that when the time comes our men will kill me with the rest of them.” Her bright green eyes were brimmed with tears. Kyle stayed motionless for a moment, then burst out laughing. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard!” he yelped. “No sister of mine could ever be ugly, let alone English! The town ought to hang that child for blasphemy, or better yet, idiocy. Don’t worry Cat. You’re the prettiest little imp I know.” He mussed her deep black hair and she smiled then. They sat for the afternoon and laughed in the grass, and the sky was clear and blue. |
| The sky was clogged with smoke and she squinted at it, but could not find the sun. She paused in the doorway, afraid to linger and afraid to proceed. She could hear voices from somewhere distant and metal clashing. The smoke crept into her eyes and she coughed. |
| Kyle burst through her door, picked her up out of bed and waltzed with her around the room. He suddenly let go and fell into a graceful bow, presenting her with a single sky blue wild flower. “For you,” he said grandly. She laughed and coughed at the same time, took it and put it in her hair.
“Will the feary queen do me the honor of being my escort outside,” he proclaimed, offering a stately arm. “But of course,” she said in an equally grand manner, gracefully curtseyed, and accepted his arm. He led her royally outside to the small shed in her sick gown. Once inside he whispered excitedly, “you’ll never guess,” and checked around carefully to make sure they were alone. “What?” she asked eagerly, curious by his secretive behavior. He checked one more time, and then quickly reached behind the large stack of wood standing in the corner to reveal a heap of rags. “Umm…laundry?” she timidly asked. He laughed and removed the cloth to reveal sparkling metal. “It’s a sword!” he cried excitedly taking out the long, shiny weapon, “It’s only a knight’s apprentice sword, but it’s practically real! Doesn’t it look just like fathers?! Eremon made it special for me,” he puffed out his chest. Catelyn looked at it in awe and speculation. “Didn’t father say-,” she slowly began. “I know Cat I know!” he quickly interrupted. “But Father doesn’t have to know,” he said slyly with a wink. “He’s just overprotective. I’m 15 years old now. Everyone agrees that I’m old enough to protect my family and country, don’t you think?” Catelyn looked at him. Standing there with a sword, he did look rather strong, for someone as tall and wiry as he was. She smiled as he continued chattering, “Anyway, Eremon told me that his ‘prentice would practice with me every day, and I can’t wait, I know that I’m going to be the best swordsman of Ireland,” he said, taking a practice swing that almost sliced her arm off. He didn’t even notice. “And-you’ll really like this-the best part of all,” his blue eyes twinkled, “is that her name is…Edana!” Catelyn laughed and clapped her hands at the ultimate compliment. “Kyle!” they heard their mother screech from inside their home. “You did Not take Catelyn out in this weather!” And Catelyn laughed as the strong man jumped, threw his sword back in the woodpile, and scurried off to hide from his mother. |
| She could hear a harsh voice scream out the holy mother’s name, and then all was silent. Her stomach turned in the stillness. She was only a few steps away from her doorway, but she already felt miles away from her home. The silence was smothering. |
| Outside it was a quiet night, and the stars were shining through the clouds. Inside everything was golden and bright. Her father sat in the chair in front of the fire, his dark black hair soaking in the light like the black forests of his homeland. Across from him knitting was her mother, whose deep red hair and green eyes reflected the fire and whispered of Irish ancestors who had lived on the island before the Gaels came. The two exchanged loving looks between their son’s curses as he cut his finger trying to wittle. Catelyn often wished that Kyle looked more like her and consequently her father, but instead Kyle had taken his mothers red hair and had surprised them all with deep blue eyes. Their father was apt to bemoan the nonexistence of brown eyes in his family. “I’m a marked man,” he cried and then, sighing, “your mother always does get her own way.” Her father was always one for being dramatic. Tonight he had entertained her with 4 stories, and was finishing her favorite about Amergin the Bard. “Blast!” came another exclamation from the corner. “Kyle,” her mother warned as Catelyn held back a laugh. “And so Amergin and Shinnahn went off to the forest together, where they live still,” her father concluded. Catelyn sighed dreamily. “I can’t wait until I can do that,” she murmured. “Neither can we,” Kyle teased, receiving another look from his mother. Catelyn stuck out her tongue. “Careful Cat, a gnome’ll get ya,” her father joked. “Or I will!” Kyle exclaimed, throwing a deformed and lumpy wooden turtle in Catelyn’s direction. She grimaced and ran after him. “Careful!” their mother warned, as the two raced through the house. “You know what?” Catelyn screamed as Kyle jumped in front of her and tagged her. “What?” he said, obviously victorious. “I love you.” She grinned. “I love you too lil imp,” he grinned back, “now no running into the forest you hear?” “I won’t leave if you wont,” she promised. “Ok, it’s a deal,” he hugged her. |
| She had nowhere to hide. Still shaking, she took a few more steps, unsure of which direction would be safest. There seemed to be nowhere to go anymore. |
| She lingered in the open doorway of the pub, her hands grasping a wreath of tiny, sky blue flowers. Kyle was inside somberly talking to Eremon and a few other boys over untouched mugs of ale. She strained to listen, but all she could hear was Butler…Fitzgerald…and English. Always English. The soldiers were drawing closer. No one had told her, but she had observed the tension in every muscle in the town. The feary stories had been hushed, the singing quieted, and Kyle had suddenly become distant and reactionary. |
| She timidly moved toward him with her gift. The group spotted her, and the whispers increased as Kyle jumped up and approached her angrily. “Caitlyn!” he said, sweeping her outside. “Why did you come here? Don’t you understand? I can’t talk to you now. Go home.” He stalked quickly back inside. She stood there motionless, her hands trembling around her wreath. She held it later that night when he came home, and their Father hugged them goodbye. “Why so sad,” he grinned at her. “Englishmen are easy to kill, all you have to do is spit on them and they collapse.” She smiled a little then. “Remember the Our Father. I’ll come back for you.” The flowers fell from her hands and were crushed as the door slammed, and her mother wept and wept and wept and wept. |
| She continued to shuffle over the yellow grass, her stomach twisting even more. Her hand grasped the cross around her neck until it punctured the skin and it bled. She didn’t notice. She was numb. |
| “Mother’s not coming back.” Kyle said flatly. She had known it since last night, but to hear him say it sent a ragged shudder of fear that wracked her small frame. Ever since their father left, their mother’s face had slowly become thin and haggard, her once deep green eyes pale and nervous. “Kyle, take care of Catelyn, always,” she had whispered when she left to go find him, and slowly, calmly, walked out of their lives. They had stayed in the small attic while they heard the screaming of battle outside. Kyle told her stories, about Amerigin, about the feary queen, and sometimes just rambling ones to stay awake. At night they sang the Our Father over and over and trembled and prayed. But after, after it was silent. “I…I have to go down,” he said in the same flat tone. “We can’t live up here forever.” She didn’t know what else to do, so she quietly nodded, and moved to join him outside. “No.” he stopped her firmly, like she knew he would. “Edana,” he said softly, “remember the Father, and don’t leave the attic,” his hand was shaking as he gave her his wooden crucifix. Around her neck it came almost to her belly button, but she did not smile. “If…if…I don’t come back…soon…go as far as you can, go to the ocean and get on the first boat. Tell them your German, or English, or anything, just get on a boat. Do not look back. Run.” She just looked at him. “Ok?” he said, still holding her hand with the cross in it. She just looked at him, and did not say a word. |
| As soon as she heard a sound she stopped. Immediately. Then, louder, a scream. Kyle. She began to run, faster and fiercer and blindingly, her feet pounding against the grass. Kyle…Kyle…Kyle. She passed dying men, bleeding men, and somewhere a baby screamed. The world around her was red and smoky and dieing. She ran and ran as the screaming got louder and stopped. |
| He laid before her while his stomach bled out his life. Beside him Edana was thrown to the ground haphazardly. Next to it an English soldier was trying to get up after it had slashed his leg almost in half. Catelyn trembled, and everything around them was still. She couldn’t speak, and frantically falling to her knees took his hand, smoothed his hair, trembled. He smiled his usual half smile. “Edana,” he said as he looked at her weakly, “I love you.” A slow, single tear fell from her cheek. |
| After she watched him leave her she was strangely calm. She stood up, and glanced at the English soldier who was almost up and walking. Slowly, steadily, she bent down to retrieve Edana. Calmly, gracefully, she kicked the soldier’s knee, and his chest, until he lay on the ground shuddering in pain. And then slowly, carefully, she slashed his throat, and shoved the sword through his chest, again and again. And red over came her eyesight, and she couldn’t breathe. |