Part I
A chill, sly wind buffeted the dark cloak of the furtive figure hurrying through the copse out into the open. Shadows loom eerily across the dewy turf with a waxing moon hanging high above. It was Bog Day – last Sunday in July and unseasonably cool. And twas said thereabouts that strange things took place about the bogs on that day and only errant fools and bold gypsies went about…
Firenze Harried had delivered his load of wood and was making his way quickly home when he heard strange auld music. The unmistakable smell of fire wafted lazily around him and as he drew closer, saw a strange group gathered by a fire at the edge of the copse. Knowing he must warn them of the dangers here, he approached them with caution.
They were all women. One sat on a fallen log playing a whistle while another danced about playing a tune on a fiddle. A dark haired woman sat strumming a guitar and singing a haunting song while another dressed in a long black shirt and skirt cavorted about the fire. A strange, yet compelling group, Firenze decided, but not before they spied him. He took no time in warning them of the dangers; of the Queen, and Lack John, but they merely laughed and introduced themselves one by one.
They offered him up wild hare and spring onion to eat and he was handed a goblet of fine mead they’d acquired from a ‘lively Lord up North’, they’d said. Darkness crept in as the clouds covered the remaining sliver of moon and Firenze shivered in unholy apprehension. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable cough of Black John MacFua –fiercest man in all the bog lands. Fierce because if you tried to diddle him, he’d grow red in the face with apoplexy, and summon Queen Zubana. No person really knew what the relationship was – some said she was his illegitimate daughter of a toothless peasant, others said she is daughter of Medusa herself.
From somewhere above a shrill cry pierced the air and Firenze knew no more.
Part II
The scuttering of rats could be heard nearby in the tiny room in Bog Man’s cottage, causing Black Cat to cry out. Lois Pennyflo slapped her hard. “If it wasna fer you and yer cavorting with Lack John MacFua we’ud not be in this position, Cat!”
“Ye didna hev to hit me.” Cat sobbed, “I cannot hep my wiles…his couch was so comfy…”
“Hush! Ye must forget him!” Vaya Cavoundy leaned across Firenze. “Tshaya are we ready?”
“Aye…” she replied grimly, “Gather yer instruments.”
Firenze became worried at hearing this, and wished that he’d ignored Lack John’s request for firewood this day. Of a sudden there came a burst of flame in the air above them, and at first Firenze thought it was Queen Zubana’s magic, but the flame danced about and grew tiny colourful sparks which flew around their heads, and Cat ceased her quiet sobbing. The women started to sing an auld, forgotten song and from somewhere within, Firenze knew it and sang along – his voice in harmony with the keening wind outside.
The door crashed open and Lack John MacFua stood aghast with the terrifying Queen Zubana who was dressed in a scarlet cape and silver and black crown. Wind buffeted her cloak and her eyes flashed. “Stop them! This is my wedding day!” she howled, but blinding white light enveloped the small room and the captives vanished.
Part III
In a secluded wood many miles away near the sea, the small group fell exhausted to the mossy floor. “Why did you not tell us she wanted you!” Lois Pennyflo asked Firenze.
“I..I did not know…truly!”
“Well ye know now.” Vaya Cavoundy said gently. “But our gypsy magic has protected ye and she cannot bother you again.” Black Cat sat sulking, and crooning nearby, but they knew with her special medicine skills, she would soon find another Black Shirt to mend.
Tshaya Booker looked up into the night. “I fear this is not the end,” she whispered quietly, and they Cat giggled and Firenze stopped mid-stroke as he saw the thundercloud face of Vaya behind her.
‘Will you two ever stop it?’ Vaya cried, clearly frustrated.
Firenze looked sheepish.
‘And put that kitten back into the cave – it stays.
Tshaya loaded the last of the bundles onto the cart and Firenze climbed up to take the reigns as the women settled into the cart, only too aware of the strange energy surrounding them as they headed East, and back toward the Boglands.
Sometime later they stopped to eat. The women sang quietly around the small fire, and lacked the abandon Firenze had first seen. A noise startled them and he drew the old sword given to him by the woman.
Two dark figures emerged into the light of the small fire. ‘Hail!’ he called, ‘Ois there food to share woith us?’
‘Ois? Woith…?’ Cat started.
‘Hush’ Tshaya hissed, ‘Aye. But who might ye be, sirs?’
‘Roimerio milady at yer service.’ He bowed with a flourish. ‘Singer oif foine ballads woith a lute of foine oak,’ said he with a crooked grin. He had a scar across his head and one on his hand, but his smile was genuine.
‘And I be Dessie Marker – urchin of the forest.’ The scraggly youth bowed mockingly and his eyes danced.
Lois Pennyflo gasped, ‘He is said to be the secret love child of the Queen and Lack John!’ she whispered.
‘Bloody Norah!’ exclaimed Cat.
After eating, they sat by the fire playing and sang a haunting song about a King who loved a fish, then Tshaya asked Dessie what he was doing in a forest so far from the forest near the Bog.
‘Seeking answers from tha aul ones,’ he answered.
Her eyes widened. ‘D’ye mean they are here?’
‘Could be.’ Dessie scampered off into the dark.
‘Aul ones?’ Cat cried loudly and shot the others a look. ‘What aul ones? Ye lot are the only aul’ ones round here…’ she snickered, adjusting her black skirts on the log away from Firenze’s bony knees. ‘Git! I said nay.’ Firenze sniffed loudly.
‘Well,’ remarked Tshaya firmly. ‘We’re the same age as you so that makes ye auld as well.’
Vaya gave a rare smile. ‘And if ye paid more attention to the world around ye than to Black Shirts…or breeches,’ she glared from Cat to Firenze.
‘What?’ he said sullenly. ‘Twas her doing..tis anything in black sets her off, I swear….’
Tshaya coughed to hide her mirth. ‘The aul ones are Hevrie Hilltop, the Wise auld One Who Dwelleth in a Cave, and his son, Nellskenn Trigon who is a nomad with special magickal powers but rarely seen.
‘Ohh’ Cat purred, ‘Sounds interesting…he can’t be that auld..the son. I do wonder what he looks like.’
But nobody saw the dark shadow hovering behind the Hawthorne tree.
Part IV
Dessie smiled at his mother. ‘How could they have guessed? And the bard – well he is too quiet. He did not notice me slipping out to search the forest in the night. I am faster than all of them – and more clever.’ He stood with legs akimbo and arms on his hips.
Queen Zubana smiled indulgently at his childishness and twirled in front of the magic mirror. ‘Oh…do you think my bottom looks big in these new Blu Grass jeans?’
MacFua lit his pipe and dragged it slowly in…thinking quickly. ‘Er…do ye think the boy should be looking fer these auld ones?’ he mumbled. ‘We need to locate them before that mob of feral gypsies does. No telling what those auld beggars will tell them to do.’
‘What? Oh…aye…’ If she did not know better, the Queen would think MacFua…jealous? Why was he jealous of some old men who lived in a cave, for heaven sake? She looked over at the boy critically. ‘Ye need a cut of hair, and a wash first…’ But as she turned around, the boy had disappeared. He unnerved her, this child. Not a child, yet not a man and in many ways the cunning of a panther. One day he would usurp her and show no remorse but her train of thought was lost as MacFua started one of his dreadful coughing fits. ‘Hmph…sounds like someone here needs the advice of the wise ones – before we finish them off, that is.’ She was not sure she could trust him anymore. He had been having visits from someone unknown to her up until recently and had been covering it up with untruths. He stopped coughing but would not look her in the eye.
So…twas true…she either had a big bottom, or Lack John MacFua was plotting against her. Trouble was, she was not sure which was worse.
Part V
Roimerio and Firenze waited outside the cave, Roimerio held Dessie Marker tightly – the lad clearly struggling. ‘I wasna’ goin’ t’do nathin. I swear…twas her…Isolde! She made me.’
Roimerio shook the lad roughly. ‘Doina say oit. Ye made yer e’en choice an’ now ye pay fer that choice…’
Firenze wondered at the turn of his life. These women, these nomads had changed his perspective somehow, and for once, he found he did not mind.
A low keening noise came from within the cave, and Firenze turned to Roimerio questioningly, but the balladeer shook his head, and the dark hair covering his eye gave him an intimidating aspect. They had come upon the lad quite by accident—he and Roimerio as they’d been hunting a hare and found the boy stumbling across the top of a partially hidden cave with a bow and arrow.
Something was amiss, for Dessie Marker had been spotted with one of the wild ones the night before in the village. Roimerio’s friends, saw the lad plotting in the Inn with a wild thing called, Isolde Herie Wilda Ursula – a fiery haired Scottish lass whose father was rumoured to have murdered her mother. So they captured him, and discovered that he’d been about to attempt murder of the auld one, Hevrie Hilltop. The women had been so excited at the discovery that they insisted Dessie show them his whereabouts and had entered the cave without a moment of hesitation.
Firenze heard silence in the cave now, and decided to enter. Roimerio said nothing, but watched him with interest as he walked inside. The torches lining the inner walls were casting peculiar shadows across the sandy walls, illuminating carvings of the very auld ones. He shivered and crossed himself, feeling their presence around him.
He heard some low voices and a sound of clinking. When he arrived into the main part of the cave he was astounded at the sight. It was as cosy as any cottage, with a small fire lit in a large chimney pot which reached up and through the roof. There was a multitude of things hanging from the walls – smoking meat, drying skins, and drying herbs. There was a comfortable looking mattress in the corner lifted atop a box, and another across the other side. The women were seated at a table, and an older man sat with them. This was the famed Hevrie Hilltop? He was not as old as Firenze imagined, and standing beside him was a pale, but braw young man holding a small baluster jug.
‘Oh hello Firenze,’ Cat cooed. ‘Join us?’ she batted her eyes at the unknown man, and Firenze was cross.
‘Join you?’ he stammered. ‘In what?’ What had they been doing? Some pagan arts? He resisted the urge to cross himself again.
Lois Pennyflo giggled; the pupils in her eyes were like dark saucers. Lord above…they were drunk!
‘Join us in a cup of the Auld One’s mead, silly.’ Vaya said kindly, fluffing her hair up. ‘The men have told us what we
have to do.’
‘Do?’ he asked protectively. He didn’t like the thought of the women not in control. Vaya was normally so careful. He was a man. He could have told the women what to do. He saw himself as their leader – not that they seemed to need a man for much at all at times.
The young man walked up to him and poured a cup of mead for him, which he took gratefully. ‘They will tell you this night what is to be done to stop the ravaging in your land,’ he said bluntly. ‘I am Nellskenn Trigon. At yer service.’ He bowed curtly, obviously unused to being of service to anyone but himself.
‘Oh. I see.’ Firenze did not. The men were reported to be father and son, yet the son had taken a different name.
The older man spoke for the first time. ‘Ye wonder if he’s my boy.’
‘Uhm…aye.’ Firenze hoped the old man could not read his other thoughts and felt suddenly naked.
‘He was my late sister’s only child. He is mine now. He is good at the Alchemy…’
‘Ah.’ Alchemy? Ha! He looked more like a young Fionn mac Cumhail of the Fianna, but the old man was speaking again.
‘His parents were killed by the Queen, many years ago, when she was no queen. Nellsken’s father owned the Inn. Firenze waited, but he said no more, instead catching his stare and holding it with a powerful gaze.
Suddenly, all sound stopped, and the room grew smaller.
A misty light swirled around them and everyone disappeared. Firenze could not speak, but heard the old man’s voice from far away. The mist dissipated and he found himself standing on the edge of a copse looking out toward the open sea. In the distance, he could see a boat – a boat used many years ago, coming around the headlands towards him. A roaring in his ears closed around his conscious mind and he knew no more…
Part VI
Firenze awoke at dusk on a hill. Scrambling to his feet he saw a multitude of all ranks of people standing around a great fire in some sort of celebration though no one spoke. A great cloud ascended and people’s arms rose to the heavens and with a flurry of sparks and flames, the fire reached inside the cloud and disappeared. The people dropped their arms and walked silently away in every direction.
One man passed close by and Firenze tentatively asked what had been happening. The man blinked as though awakening from sleep. ‘A great man died this day.’ He answered solemnly. ‘He brought something remarkable to this land and its people. A man you do not meet every day.’
The man left him and soon Firenze stood alone on the hill top under a crescent moon and as he lifted his face to the brightness, the ground under him fell away and he was cast back into the night…
Part VII
Tshaya and Cat took turns at poking the sleeping form. ‘Oh he’s never going to waken.’ Cat sighed. ‘He’s no fun anymore.’
Tshaya rolled her eyes. ‘Nay, but Nellskenn is?’
Cat smiled dreamily over at the handsome fellow, who stood with his back to them, stirring a pot of pleasant smelling broth. Roimerio sat in earnest discussion with the old man, and Vaya Cavoundy sat in an old chair by the hearth, humming softly and stroking a large ginger cat that had jumped onto her lap. Dessie sat hunched in a corner near the kitchen fire and was afraid to move. Hevrie Hilltop had spoken quietly to the lad after Roimerio had brought him inside, and the lads eyes had grown large and fearful.Nellskenn had asked them to join them for the midday meal and after the strange incident with Firenze, they’d been glad to be in the company of others in case there be something wrong with him as they’d grown fond of his easy ways and good company – Roimerio’s as well. The sleeper had not awoken, though the old man was untroubled and said that he would waken soon.
Nellskenn served them the broth and some dark, freshly baked bread which he’d torn apart and they drank some watered ale. Soon after eating, Firenze stirred.Cat – always alert, noticed first. ‘Firenze! Speak! What happened to you?’
Nellskenn touched her arm gently. ‘Shh…fetch him some broth.’
Firenze struggled to sit, and suddenly Hevrie Hilltop was there beside him. ‘What did you see, young man?’
The voice was mesmerising and Firenze recalled how earlier he’d felt like he’d somehow fallen into the old man’s gaze. Firenze told them about the vision where he’d been near a copse looking out toward the sea, and how he saw a boat coming in, and the old man nodded; satisfied as though he’d expected no less as Cat arrived with a bowl of broth. Firenze sipped it gratefully. ‘One more thing…’ he said, remembering, and told them about his experience on the hill. ‘It…it felt real!’ he finished.
The women smiled, but Hevrie and Nellskenn’s eyebrows lifted, and Nellskenn stammered, ‘Uncle. He has had the walking dream!’
Hevrie nodded, suddenly grinning. ‘Tis you!’
Roimerio and Vaya exchanged looks. ‘What does this mean?’ she asked.
But it was Roimerio who answered. ‘Twas no dream. He was there and it means he has powers of the auld ones…’
Nobody had noticed Dessie in the commotion, but instead of fleeing, the lad pushed through to where Firenze sat gripping his bowl of broth with the grip of a drowning man. ‘He doesna’ look so aul’ t’me’ he cried. ‘Nor wise…’
Cat pulled Dessie’s hair. ‘Hush ye whelp and be learnin’ respect.’ She looked through new eyes to Firenze.
Vaya was astounded. ‘Firenze? A wise one? How?’
Hevrie had moved away. ‘He maun stay here.’
The women gasped. ‘Nay!’ they cried.
Vaya became cross. ‘But, he belongs with us…we…rescued him.’ But she saw Hevrie’s face and knew that it would be so and her heart was heavy.‘Nellskenn, ye will go with them to the Boglands and we will join you at the third new moon.’ Hevrie commanded brightly.
Tshaya was sad. ‘Then it must be so.’
Hevrie had decided to let Dessie join the group and there seemed a change in the lad, though no-one knew what had passed between him and the auld one. The women hugged Firenze at the mouth of the cave, and Cat was inconsolable. ‘Oh twill be boring without you!’ she wailed.
‘Hush now,’ Vaya hugged her gently, ‘We shall see him soon.’‘Aye, but these are dark times,’ Tshaya reminded her. Hevrie had forewarned of troubled days ahead.
Firenze hugged Roimerio gruffly and wished them Godspeed and as the little band departed, he shed a tear for that which had changed.
The stench was unbearable. Firenze wondered how Hevrie could stand it, yet still the auld man stir the foul brew whilst between happily singing/humming a peculiar song. It was an ancient song, and he recognised it as the one he’d heard the gypsy women singing that fateful night near the bogs. The words were different…perhaps the pagan tongue of the ancients.Hevrie stopped and looked sideways at him, startling him like an errant child caught with a lardy cake. ‘Ye know what is the secret?’ the man asked slyly. ‘The answer to the quandary?’
‘Nay. For I do not know the riddle, old man.’
‘I am not as old as ye think,’ he answered.
So, this is the riddle? Of how auld ye be?’ Firenze was testy since the others had gone. He felt rather like a younger brother left while the older ones went out to have fun. He was missing out on the adventures to be stuck as handmaid to the wise man of the cave who sought nothing from him but cooking and doing chores usually left to his nephew.
Hevrie said nothing, and the twinkle in his eye was missed by Firenze. ‘Come here and see for yerself. If ye do not see the truth then how can ye find it?’
Lord in heaven…twas him! Chieftain Gowrien Seamac of the Cuchulainex Rider Clan from the North Tippir Kindgom back to reclaim the Boglands from the Queen!
* * *
As the sun disappeared behind the dark clouds, Nellskenn stood sniffing the air. Something had changed The women had finished their chores and were restless, helping Roimerio and Dessie to pack up the cart They’d had a pleasant evening after their meal of salmon and wild turkey eggs and songs beside the fire. The women had sang and played in a most haunting lyrical way that Nellskenn knew there was magic in it and wondered whether they realised this.
Tshaya stood by him then and looked around. ‘What do you see?’ she asked him plainly. She knew things that the others did not.
‘I see nothing,’ he answered. ‘But I feel…danger…and something else.’
‘What?’ Tshaya was impatient as always. ‘What else…?’ She looked around at the others. They were restless but could not know why. She had been feeling a presence around them, yet it felt powerful, good…old. She told him.
‘Ah…’ Nellsken looked askance. These women had been brought to them by design. They were part of it all. They would help when the time came to defeat the Queen. ‘A presence? Aye, Tshaya you be right. Tis a person…people. We must look for signs to guide us.’ He nodded and strode away from her. She sighed, wondering what her own true love were doing in his travelling in a distant land.
Roimerio stood waiting by the horses, and Dessie stood fidgetting beside him. Roimerio had taken the lad under his wing, and was a firm hand with him. The boy seemed content yet there as something around him that displeased the nomadic musician. Cat had come to him last night saying that the lad had asked her for Laudanum to’ help him sleep,’ yet she did not trust Dessie. MacFua had also said not to. He was his mother’s son. She would not have given it to him for that reason anyway, yet felt Roimerio should keep watch, and he was grateful for her insight.
Black Cat smiled now at Nellskenn. He would make things right. ‘We should leave now,’ she commented with a lightness she did not feel in her heart. ‘A storm gathers.’
* * *
MacFua closed the door and thought about what had transpired. The Queen was getting greedy. She was keeping secrets. Well, he had his own secrets, and it was time to put plan two into action. His visitor was due soon, so he’d better prepare. He bent to stroke the black cat, ‘Soon,’ he murmured.
By sun rise the party had been already travelling for an hour and were as close to the Boglands as they dared traverse. The sound of the larks and blackbirds and the sight of the sun emerging into a rosy pink sky from beneath the distant hills was a fine thing after the three days of storms they had endured. The pink sky was worrisome still, and Vaya turned to Lois Pennyflo who sat under the cover mending Nellskenn’s torn cloak impatiently to the jostling of the cart, and smiled.
Pennyflo stopped her darning and looked at Vaya through narrowed eyes. ‘Would you care to finish this?’ she asked sweetly.
‘Nay,’ replied Vaya. ‘Ye do a grand enow job.’
A frown crossed Lois’s face and she bent her head in disgust. All knew she hated menial chores as must as the rest of them. Cat was too quiet. Vaya knew something worried her and it was naught to do with Firenze’s absence. The sound of Dessie’s incessant chatter filtered through her thoughts, and she turned back to watch them ambling along several yards behind the cart. Roimerio seemed as troubled as Cat, and Vaya vowed to extract the reasons. If something were amiss they all needed to know.Suddenly, a word from Nellskenn interrupted her thoughts. ‘Trouble ahead!’ he called quietly back, and Vaya passed this to Roimerio, who suddenly went on the alert. The cart was halted and drawn off the path into the dense bushes – the cart lurching dangerously over the well-worn ruts of the road. As if in response, the sun slowly disappeared and gave them cover. Vaya felt Nellskenn jump from the cart and she saw that the other women shared her panic.
‘Lord in heaven I am suddenly grateful for the presence of these men!’ Tshaya hissed.
Vaya peeked around the canvas ahead but could not see the men. ‘They’re gone!’ she whispered.
‘Aye…when there’s trouble they’re gone and have left us to fend off whatever dangerous brigands are lurking after vulnerable womenfolk…’
‘Hush, Cat.’ Lois whispered. ‘Since when háe we bin vulnerable?’
Cat shrugged. ‘In truth. I be hungry. My stomach gnaws on itself.’
‘Whist both…I hear something…’ Vaya said quietly as the unmistakable sound of laughter rang out in the nearby copse.
The women scrambled out of the cart in time to see the men returned with several others.
‘Oh!’ Lois Pennyflo cried. ‘Tis…tis HIM!’
‘What? Who…?’ said Cat impatiently.
‘Him!’ Vaya said on an expelled breath.
Pennyflo spoke with reverence. ‘Chieftain Gawrie Seamac.’
Cat gasped and her hands flew to her throat. Oh! From the Rexes Tiders Clan from the Tippir Kindgom! What…what is HE doing back? The queen banished him after his defeat at
Vaya shivered in apprehension and delight. ‘He has come back to reclaim the Boglands and defeat the Queen!’‘Hail good women!’ One man called, and Cat arched her back and stood tall.
‘Ohh…he does not sound like he hails from the Tippir Kingdom. He sounds like he has come from the deep south across the ocean!’
‘I have heard of those men!’ Lois whispered. ‘They are a cheeky, bold lot.’
There was a woman amongst them, and she came forward then – her dark cloak sweeping around as she walked purposely toward them. She lifted her cloak to reveal her face. ‘I am Greannmhar Ainm.’
They resisted the urge to courtesy to the beautiful woman, yet Tshaya felt she must be someone of import to be travelling with the influential group, and bowed her head. ‘Greetings, Mistress.’ She said politely. The men behind came forward and an almost festive atmosphere began to prevail.
Hope was a shining beacon for them with the arrival of Chieftain Seamac and his army.
Fintan mac Falmair and Reubal Údail Guryer were present and some other men unknown to Tshaya and the women. Cat had attended in sufferance as there was music, laughter and a grand fire outside. Chieftain was unafraid of attracting the attentions of Queen Zubana – he must indeed know that his army would defeat her this time. A man stood to the side of the grand Chieftain Seamac, and Cat suddenly became alert beside her as the man lifted his head and removed the dark hood of his cloak. ‘Tis…oh Lord, tis him! Tis MacRua!’
He looked over at the group of women and bowed courteously, arching an eyebrow.
Vaya and Tshaya exchanged a worried glance at the things they did not know.
More, please. You carry it on your own.