Caladbohlg Ch IV: Day of Banishment

And also of cat-hunting

In days of yore, when Ríonal would awaken to the scent of cooked fish, and the sight of Fionnán bent forward over the fire, only to offer up the aforementioned fish to her. As it was, she woke up in recent days, with his cloak now up to her chin, with the sight of Eibhlin resting fitfully, across the fire-place from her. While to the right, slept Éodain, her back turned to one woman or the other, to-day it was Ríonal, while the guards slept outside.
Not that that was far away enough, for Eibhlin or Ríonal’s tastes, after all the odd and darkly longing looks the one called Dylan kept giving the younger woman. More than once, Ríonal had caught him gazing at her in such a way, with Ríonal unappreciative of this.
Pushing the thoughts and memories of the past few days away, she secured the too big cloak around her shoulders. She then moved over, to light the fire just as Fionnán would have in prior days. From this mundane if time-consuming start, Ríonal then swept past the noble-girl to go wake up Eibhlin whom needed only a few gentle shakes, before she too, woke up. Blinking up at her blearily, the old woman yawned and nodded her thanks at her, before she moved to sit closer to the hearth-fire.
“How I wish Fionnán were still here, he would wake up go fish for a short hour or so then hurry back to cook it, then rush outside to start working on the harvest.” Eibhlin remarked inadvertently echoing the young woman’s thoughts.
“I remember,” Ríonal replied with a small if sad smile, she missed him too.
Eibhlin snorted a little, “He could be so thoughtful yet also foolish and naïve.” The silence that followed was broken when Eibhlin spoke quietly, still gazing into the flames, “You know, Bradán has not visited in several days.”
The comment startled Ríonal who had not expected it, but then she gave the words more serious thought and had to concede that she was right. Ríonal supposed it must have had to do with the savage beating he had received from young Éodain. He had also thrown Éodain down into the well, the other day so maybe it was something else that kept him away.
Either way Ríonal was struck by a sense of loneliness at this realization as she missed him, having him help around the farm or visit to listen to Eibhlin talk about Fionnán, had made her feel a little better. It was likely how some felt she supposed, about having a younger brother, it felt less lonely than what she had once felt.
“It was nice to have someone else herewith us,” Eibhlin murmured wistfully, a sad gleam in her eyes.
Desperate to cheer her up, Ríonal remarked, “I am sure, he will visit soon.”
“I hope so,” Eibhlin replied sincerely, only to add a second later. “In another time and place he would have made, a spectacular older brother, for your daughter, my little Aislin.”
“Hm, hmm,” Ríonal murmured back, as she glanced at Eibhlin startled by the mention of Aislin, as they had both tacitly agreed that that particular loss ran too deeply for them to speak of it.
“Do you suppose we should adopt Bradán?” Eibhlin enquired hesitantly, her suggestion took Ríonal completely by surprise.
She gaped at the older woman in a bewildered stupor, just as a seized fish might stare at the fisherman or cat, who had caught it, just before it was eaten. The notion had never really occurred to her until then, and yet it could not be denied that it might do some good.
If it had been suggested some eight or nine days before, Ríonal would have accused or believed Eibhlin guilty of trying to replace Fionnán but now she was not so sure. It was simply the old woman being kind.
“I suppose we could consider it, but what about the monks?” Ríonal asked unsure of such an idea and of the monks accepting it.
“Bah, what would they care? If you ask me, they are liable to beg us to take the lad as they are to pay us to.” Eibhlin snorted shaking her head at the peculiarity, and hypocrisy of some monks despite her own fondness for Brien, she knew he would like nothing more than to be rid of Bradán.
“I meant Lyr, he seems to be particularly protective of the lad.” Ríonal argued back reasonably, but Eibhlin, would hear none of it.
“Please, do bear in mind that, the old bull is aged beyond his prime and more than likely as frustrated by the lad as all the other monks are.” Eibhlin grunted only to notice Éodain, shift in her sleep behind the seated Ríonal. “Now let us put this conversation aside, for another time, as our ‘guests’ are about to awaken.”
Ríonal turned to face the noble-born girl behind her, though she had mixed feelings in regard to the daughter of the laird Conn. She did not convey any such impression, as she was far too aware of how vindictive this girl specifically could be.
“Good morning Éodain,” Ríonal greeted her pleasantly.
“Such as it is,” Éodain grumbled under her breath, she was never happy in the morning.
Undeterred Ríonal spoke to her in the same cheery tone she had used to greet her, this time about a matter of which she had hoped to speak of the previous night. “Éodain, I had hoped to speak to you about the matter of Bradán and your um altercations with him-”
“Do not worry, it will be resolved to-day,” Éodain snapped to the bewilderment of the older girl.
“Um, what do you mean by that?” Ríonal asked worried.
“Never you mind that.” Éodain retorted shortly, her eyes steely which sent a cold stone straight to Ríonal’s gut.
“Any chance that you might assist us with the farm?” Eibhlin asked sharply of the young girl, who glowered back at the woman.
“Be silent, I never agreed to farm, is it not enough that I have allowed Dylan and Domnall to assist you with thy farm?” Éodain asked impatiently.
“Aye, claim the contributions of others for your own, not unlike thy wretch of a father.” Eibhlin muttered with Ríonal elbowing her to silence her, out of concern for the old woman.
“That is quite alright, why not leave us women and the men to handle the farm ourselves.” The widow suggested gently, smiling in that same manner as best she could.
“Thank you, Ríonal when I return home I will have to bring you along, to introduce you to Radulf.” Éodain said beaming at the polite young woman, as she mentioned her older brother. Radulf was the heir of Conn and was extremely close to the short noble-girl, who had boasted him of him endlessly whenever she could.
Every once in awhile she would mention how great, militarily, mentally or physically superior Radulf was especially in comparison to her younger brother. The illegitimate Tadhg, a seemingly weak and stupid lad more keen on poetry than any real acts of courage. Ríonal did not say anything but deep down, she was fairly certain that she was more likely to prefer Tadhg to Radulf.
“How wonderful,” She responded with no real enthusiasm.

Once everyone was fed, Ríonal turned and found Eibhlin shaking her head at her with a small smile on her lips, while Conn’s daughter pulled her lackeys, aside to whisper to them, with Eibhlin wasting no time in whispering to the younger woman.
“Astounding, I swear upon the head of Ziu that you were born to be a mother, well that or a diplomat given how patient and good with words you are.” Eibhlin commented with open admiration, something that made Ríonal blush pleased and surprised by the praise.
“It is not that impressive, you could easily persuade her to do what you wish her to do, if you were a little more tactful.” The wife of the deceased man of the household stated honestly.
“I doubt that.”
“I have seen you be impressively patient, with Bradán.”
“He is different.”
“How so?”
“He is honest and wishes to please us at his core, under the cuirass of leather, he wears around his heart.” Eibhlin explained thoughtfully, only to signal to Éodain with thinly veiled disdain. “This girl though is selfish, she wishes for us to please her. Mark me words; she will be the ruin of many a men, women too if they also gain her ire. You would do best to avoid her or let her fall, to the bottom of the pit that has been dug out for her.”
A chill went up the spine of Ríonal who nodded, she would have spoken up to offer a more mild view though she had seen, Bradán beaten, she knew him to be in some ways an instigator. She was startled and distracted from her defence of Éodain by Dylan, stepping out of the hovel with the young lass smiling tightly at them.
“Dylan and I must step out for a few minutes before I send him back, Domnall will remain here with you.” Éodain said before she stepped outside into the warm morning, with her second man, quiet by nature he nodded to them, before he stepped outside too. Though, he left one key object behind that Dylan had not; his sword.
Eibhlin gaped at the flap that separated the interior of the house from the rest of the world, with visible horror and anxiety as she hissed at Ríonal. “What is she up to? Does she intend to have someone killed?”
This was not something Ríonal could simply dismiss or rationalize away, as she whimpered back with the same terror, “I do not know, if so who do you think it could be?”
It was Eibhlin who realized the truth first, “Bradán.”
“If so, what do we do?” Ríonal questioned filled with panic.
“We must keep this quiet, and handle it ourselves. You go spy on them, while I rid us of the other sword, though I do not know how to do that-”
“Bury it,” Ríonal cut in with a desperate idea that Eibhlin nodded in agreement to.
“-Then I will see to distracting Domnall, and to the burial of his sword,” Eibhlin decided hurriedly on the spot with a nervous glance at the sheathed sword that lay in the corner. “You should also send someone to go warn Bradán if he is not at the monastery.”
“But who? He is so disliked,” Fionnán’s widow pointed out as she cursed then the boy’s difficult temperament.
“Send that rat friend of his, Colum.” Was the answer to which Ríonal nodded and shot up to her feet, “Wait! One more thing!”
“What is it?” the anxious young woman queried certain that her mentor had another idea in mind.
“Take this with you,” Eibhlin told her as she grabbed a large knife, the largest they owned and shoved it into Ríonal’s hands, “For your protection.” She then held her gaze with earnest concern, “Do come back soon, with Bradán.”
“I will,” Ríonal vowed, throat tight with emotion when she whispered, her voice thick with fear and worry, for the only mother she had ever truly known, “Stay safe, Eibhlin.”
She rushed outside and after the departing duo, in the distance as she prayed that they were wrong, and simply being jumpy, yet when she saw them come to a stop near the monastery. Ríonal paled, and then looked about for a place to hide only for her eyes to fall upon the crypt which she hurriedly hid behind, only to hide the knife in the folds of her cloak. She stared around the corner, at the two figures that stood before the temple doors, doubtlessly waiting for Bradán to appear the still dark morning from the monastery’s living quarters.
The duo before the monastery, waited for some time with their patience soon paid off when one of the monastery doors opened as a tall figure raced through the morning air, it seemed to the shock of Ríonal.
Dylan and Éodain did not stand about for long as they opted to chase after the figure all three of them assumed, was Bradán. The two were to run past where Ríonal was hiding, with her shrinking further back into the shadows, fearful of being discovered.
Cursing silently, she continued to follow after the two she assumed knew to be following after him. What confused her most, was the route taken, as it was one that tended to be used to reach her and Eibhlin’s home. But then they veered off towards another home, to the north of their home.
They soon came to a stop before Gobán’s family house, with the duo discussing with one another for a few minutes before, they sunk to the ground, to hide from sight. Just as what began as a light rain soon became a heavy storm.
Ríonal hid herself, from sight behind a large set of trees, she hid there for hours, the rain tore down and dampened her spirit as she glanced over at Dylan, and Éodain. After two hours the rain began to lessen, with the soaked and shivering, Ríonal began to believe that perhaps Éodain and her lackey were wrong. Perhaps Bradán was not visiting the family of Ratvians, perhaps he had returned to the monastery or to go sit by the sea again, while they were not paying attention.
But just as she was about to give up and go see, the door to the barn creaked open, while Bradán stood there speaking with someone inside. Once again, he ran fleeter of foot than anyone present. Ríonal took off after him only to realize she knew where he was headed, just as the rain began to lessen a little. Bradán was for the beach, she realized.
This knowledge in hand, she was able to speed up her own pace, and even take her own shortcuts to get there, shortly after Bradán had arrived there, only to kick some rocks about. Evidently, he wished to sit down, but found the sand too muddy for his tastes, with the panting woman wondering how he could run so swiftly, in his robes.
“Bradán,” She gasped as she took a few steps out from amongst the trees, and repeated her call to him, as he had not heard her gasp his name, “Bradán, run!”
“Ríonal? What are you doing here? Given the time, shouldn’t you be helping Eibhlin with the farm?” The aforementioned boy asked her, confused having heard more her weary and annoyed breaths, than her actual words.
Ríonal had by now caught her breath, as she spoke up once more, with greater urgency to him, than before, “Bradán run! Go to the monastery!”
Bradán stared at her in bewilderment. “I think that Éodain intends to have you killed!”
“What?” He asked shocked, though suddenly fearful.
“It is because, of how you have insulted and humiliated her, when you tossed her into the well the other day,” Ríonal hissed at him, anxious for his safety.
It was too late, as the dark, wet figures of Éodain and Dylan had arrived, sword still in hand, to the horror of Ríonal, who pulled Bradán behind her.
“Run, Bradán!” She cried out, just as Dylan smirked a bone-chilling smirk at her.
“No need to make this more difficult than it need be,” Dylan told her, amused by her efforts to shield her friend from him.
“Leave her alone, I ordered you to only kill Bradán,” Éodain snapped at her flunky who shrugged in response.
The knowledge that he couldn’t hurt her gave her strength, a courage she had not until then, realized she could have. Ríonal shot Bradán a look that told him to run for his life, while she would stay to fight off the warrior.
Her resistance lasted a whole of a few seconds, as she was on the verge of gouging Dylan’s eyes only to be struck aside with a single-fisted blow that knocked her to the ground. Stunned, she crumbled there, her cheek burning with pain, as she struggled to try to regain her feet once she had overcome her shock, from the savage blow that had made her head feel as though it had been split in two.
“I can kill him whenever, I wish to,” Dylan retorted evenly, as he pushed Ríonal over with the tip of his boot, a smirk on his lips, “Let me enjoy myself first.”
Ríonal glared up at the monstrous warrior, who sent a shiver racing up her spine at his evident lechery. Real terror began to flow through her veins, more thickly than blood, when she realized what it was that Dylan had in mind for her.
Dylan planted his sword into the ground next to him, right before he threw one leg over the other side of her lower body. Éodain who had been torn, up until this moment moved to stop him, but Bradán was faster; with a hoarse cry he threw himself against Dylan, fists flying and biting at the older male’s ear.
Dylan screamed in pain, to the surprise of the still gasping Ríonal who stared as the muscled warrior drew his elbow back, and struck the surprised Bradán in the gut. He then delivered two more savage blows to the lad’s chest, before he dragged himself up and threw the lad into the sea, with a roar.
“You wish him dead? Drown him yourself, my lady.” He growled at Éodain, who looked divided, “That is if you have the stomach for it.”
His taunt was all that Éodain needed, as her pride would never allow her to back down from such a challenge. Bradán still recovering from the savage blows dealt out to him, did not notice the laird’s daughter as she moved forward to do what Dylan had advised.
“Nay!” Ríonal cried out as she leaped as best she could, to her feet, and made one last defiant stand, with her knife aimed for Dylan’s middle.
It was all for naught. Dylan quick as lightning, turned about, reached out to grab her wrists and all but crushed them. Her cry turned into short whimper as she let go of the knife this was followed by a shove, as he tangled his left leg, with hers, she tripped and was sent sprawling onto her back on the ground, once more. She let out as she fell, a long cry of fear, which turned into a cry of pain, when her back made contact with the ground and several rocks.
“Do not be afraid, I am quite skilled at this my lady, I will be far more lively than thy husband ever could be.” Dylan growled down at her, pleased with himself.
“Please, stop!” She begged, frightened beyond her wits as she tried to get free.
“You will not be so lively for long,” Someone remarked pleasantly from up above her and Dylan, who glanced up no less surprised than she was.
His blood and corpse in the next moment fell atop the startled, frightened young woman.
“Here, you are milady,” A powerful voice said from above her, as the heavy corpse was kicked off of her, and a bright orange furred hand was held out, to help her up. “Are you well?”
Ríonal still shaken by what had happened shook and shivered in response, only to nod several times. She rubbed at her elbows, to try to calm herself, before she glanced up at her saviour, ready to thank him for helping her, only to pause and gaped at him.
She could hardly be blame for her shock, since her rescuer was that most hated, of people; a Tigrun.
“I am aright, simply shaken-wait- Bradán!” Ríonal gasped, when prompted by the brave Tigrun only to remember with a burst of panic her friend.
The Tigrun’s eyes became round just as she imagined her own did, he moved quicker than she, to aid the youth in question. The snickering Éodain, up to her knees in water did not take notice of them. Her hands, still wrapped about Bradán’s neck as she sat on his back, his arms flailing about, like a dying fish.
It was then that the strangest of all things that could have happened, struck. That something in a flash of green, blue mixed with some silver struck Éodain across the face, knocking her onto her back with a loud splash.
“What in the name of Ziu’s beard?” The Tigrun cried out in shock, no less bewildered by what had happened.

Bradán who’s struggles had begun to cease, gurgled and started to slump when the anxious Ríonal charged past the stunned Éodain, in a blind panic to pull the boy from the water.
“Bradán? Bradán by Turan’s tresses answer me!” She hissed at him, only to shake him.
“Do not shake him, push against his stomach,” the Tigrun instructed urgently.
Ríonal did not hesitate for so much as a second, as she let go of her friend’s head, in order to shove with all her might against his stomach, several times, praying to Brigantia under her breath as she did so. Bradán coughed, threw up to the side, all of the said liquid he had swallowed against his will. Ríonal the relief, she felt then made her weak in the knees, and brought tears to her eyes.
“Bradán, o thank the goddess, it is a miracle!” She shouted with utter joy, more than what she had felt in some time.
Bradán nodded back absently, still overcome by shock took some time to catch his breath wherefore he slumped a little in exhaustion, as a new kind of shock set into his mind: The knowledge of just how close, he had come to death itself.
“It is quite aright to cry, Bradán,” Ríonal told him, as her own tears finally ceased, she assumed the shiver that passed over him was from the force of his emotions.
“I will not,” He denied mulishly, only to heave a little, shudder a bit and swallow heavily, all to restrain his tears.
“Now what to do with this little monster?” Asked the Tigrun from further away, behind Bradán over on the shore, with Dylan’s piece of steel pointed with its edge mere inches away from the flesh of Éodain’s throat.
“Let her go, of course!” Ríonal said horrified at the implied threat to the child, “She may be violent, but she is still a wee lass!”
“One capable of murder,” The Tigrun reminded her with a sharp glare, at the girl who glanced over at Ríonal pleadingly.
“But still murdering her, is wrong as she is still a child, and can therefore be taught the error of her ways.” The young woman insisted passionately, with both the Tigrun and Bradán staring at her sceptically. “Éodain’s father would never accept her death; once he learns of her death, he will burn the monastery with everyone inside.”
Her reasoning finally won out, as the two males considered her words carefully, with the non-human less visibly worried than Bradán. The youth nodded shakily, aware that to let Éodain go was a mistake, but to kill her could prove to be a greater one.
“Let her go Fergus, Ríonal is right,” Bradán agreed quietly, if against his will.
“This is a mistake,” Fergus grunted darkly, with a menacing glare to the noble-girl who shuddered at his glare. “You had best be grateful to those two for your continued survival.”
Nodding repeatedly, as the blade was drawn away from before her throat, with a glance at Ríonal, Éodain spoke up sincerely if breathily, “Thank you Ríonal, you shall not regret this.”
“Go then, and do not ever attempt to repeat such a horrid deed again, is that understood?” Ríonal asked sternly of the maiden, who nodded even more energetically than before, only to dash off back towards Eibhlin’s home. “Good, since nobody has been harmed, all should be well now.”
“Or so you think,” Bradán muttered to himself, as he rose at last to his feet and with one last glance over his shoulder at the sea beyond Ríonal.
“That girl is a jackal by nature, with neither loyalty nor goodness in her,” Fergus commented as he stepped past the corpse of Dylan, which he glanced at disdainful. “Besides I would not say there has not been any harm done.”
He then pulled the scabbard for the blade in his hand away from the corpse’s belt only to sheath it, and then he fastened the scabbard onto his own belt, with a sureness and coolness that did not reassure Ríonal. Even Bradán seemed unsure as he looked first at the corpse, with a shudder, only to avert his gaze from it, then glance up at the silent Tigrun nervously.
“What do we do about Dylan?” He questioned anxiously of his.
“Ah, leave him here, and I shall dig a grave for him, you two head home,” Fergus answered calmly.
“What of Domnall?” Bradán now asked worriedly, with Fergus blinking at him in surprise.
“There is another man in her service?” He asked startled.
“Aye, though nowhere near as brutal as Dylan was.” Ríonal explained hurriedly to him, fearful of more blood being spilled.
“Very well, though I doubt I can stay here for very long with that girl now aware of my presence.” Fergus answered reluctantly, “Bradán, I shall see you soon at Gobán’s home, with the requested cloak if you will.”
“Cloak?” Ríonal queried confused while Bradán looked sheepish if a bit hopefully at her.
“Um, you see as the monks would never part with one of their cloaks, I had hoped to convince you to give him one of yours.” He explained with a glance at the over-large fur cloak, still tied around her shoulders.
Ríonal felt anger well up inside her at the thought of losing her cloak, it was the last possession of her husband’s that she had left. A part of her would have loved to recall Conn’s daughter to drown the youth for the presumption that she might give over her cloak.
The thought was uncharitable, and one she normally would not have felt towards Bradán given his friendship, with her and Eibhlin. As well as, in light of his ignorance regarding the fact that the cloak, was all that she had left of Fionnán.
“No, I am afraid that, that will not do,” Ríonal refused immediately, to the visible disappointment of the boy, who followed her in spite of this feeling.
“But he will freeze Ríonal, and he did save us.” He protested to her irritation, though she knew it was unfair to him.
“It is my decision and it stands,” She snapped far more harshly than she had originally intended.
“How did you know that Éodain would try to kill me?” Bradán questioned, seeking it seemed to change the topic of conversation.
“Eibhlin and I guessed their intentions when they left this morning with Dylan’s sword in hand.” Ríonal stated, her anger draining from her slowly, now that the topic of her fur-cloak was forgotten. “I hope Eibhlin is still alive, and well.”
“I hope so too,” Bradán agreed at once, beginning to run on ahead of her, when he saw the house come into view. “Let us go greet her!”
“Wait, be careful,” Ríonal called after him, worried about this possibly being a trick or trap set for them, by Éodain and Domnall.
The boy paid her no mind, so focused on his own worry, his own eagerness to see Eibhlin was he. Her sense of consternation quintupled when she saw that her good-mother was not busy in the fields, where she should have been. Just as Eibhlin was absent, so too Ríonal suddenly noticed with a visceral sickening sensation in her gut, was Domnall.
Her throat tightened as she walked, so that the young woman arrived in front of her home, the flap all but tossed aside in her hurry to see if, her friend still lived.
“What is the matter with you two? I am old, not deaf,” Eibhlin grunted at them, seated in front of her fire, hands held up to it and some food in the bowl next to her. Visibly annoyed, at them calling out her name, so loudly.
“I-I am just happy to see that you still breath, is all,” Ríonal stuttered earnestly, pleased that Eibhlin was still in good health, in spite of the hardship of the day, and risk the old lady had taken upon herself.
“Where is the other guard? The big, quiet one?” Bradán asked concerned, as he took a seat next to Eibhlin, his back to the wall so that the fire and opening to the house was in front of him.
“I had him run an errand to the temple, and pray to the gods for me, in the hopes of a clean harvest and absolution of his sins, though given the look he gave me before he left, I highly doubt he will pray for any such thing.” Eibhlin explained triumphantly, evidently pleased by her silent victory.
Her conspiratorial manner pulled a grin from the amused Bradán, with the other widow still worried as she realized a flaw in her panic earlier, that she had failed to consider: What was the warrior going to do upon his return, and discovered his prized possession was missing? When she voiced this concern, Eibhlin shrugged it off.
“What can we do, but hope and pray?” She asked in return, “I doubt he could do much at the moment, not without desecrating land owned by the gods.”
“I suppose,” Ríonal replied doubtfully not certain if she agreed that, such a thing could ever frighten a true black-hearted warrior, from committing murder when angered. “There is more, Eibhlin in regards to Éodain, you have told us your tale now let us, tell you our own tale.”
Bradán was obviously nervous over telling Eibhlin the truth, about his Tigrun friend, Fergus. Yet, at the prompting of Ríonal he soon began to tell the two women, about his adventures, by the river and how had bonded with the Pardiff. How he had kept him fed, and well-taken care of by the kindly Ui’Ross, family.
Once the boy was finished recounting his short tale, of heroism and friendship, he looked to Eibhlin who was sufficiently impressed and stunned by the news of a Tigrun being hidden, in their depths.
“And this sub-I mean, the Tigrun really did save thee?” Eibhlin asked of Ríonal, with the younger woman quick to nod her head in response.
Bradán beamed at her, pleased by the gratitude directed to his friend, whom had proven that not all that the lad, did was wrong or evil as the monks believed, or so Ríonal thought. Not that she would blame him, given how much the monks disliked him.
“Fergus is a good man,” Bradán stated proudly.
“I am certain,” Eibhlin replied dryly, only to add tartly as a dark light of realization struck her. “And he was seen by Éodain? Not good.”
“Why is that?” The boy queried resentfully.
“Because should it get out that Fergus was here, hidden by the Ui’Ross, to the other farmers they will riot and slay them all. Therefore, we must ward off her story; Fergus must be made to flee.” Eibhlin stated thinking rapidly, she then turned to Ríonal. “Go fetch this Fergus, have him hide in the nearby woods, as for you Bradán, return to the monastery and claim that you have been with us the entire time.”
The boy looked divided, evidently nervous about lying, especially about the odds of being believed by the harsh monks. Ríonal for her part was also nervous, though it was about the possibility of being involved in even an indirect manner, the spilling of innocent blood. She also did not much care, for the doubt that Eibhlin felt for their neighbours.
“How can you be so sure that, they will react violently?” She asked annoyed by how her own voice, betrayed her when it trembled.
“Because they are easily frightened,” Eibhlin snapped furiously. “Do not be naïve Ríonal, it does not become you. Fearful people do detestable things; they will kill them, if given half the chance.”
Ríonal did not know what to think, only that she had no other ideas of what could happen that, could possibly contradict what Eibhlin predicted could happen. Once she had finished eating, Ríonal took off not unlike a javelin when thrown.
“Be swift like lightning,” Eibhlin encouraged her, when she left her home for that of the family of Ratvians, whom she soon discovered out in their fields, busy at work one and all.
“Ríonal, what a pleasure!” Gobán cried out.

 “I am certain Gobán, however if you value the life of your friend, Fergus you will open this barn door.” She snapped at him, too pressed by the task pressed onto her shoulders to be polite, as she attempted to step around the stunned Ratvian.
“I do not see your meaning, Ríonal,” he lied weakly. “There is no Fergus here, only me and my lovely family.”
Ríonal arched an eyebrow at him, only to retort shortly. “I am here to save the life of the man who saved me earlier, so please I beg of you, please stand aside.”
Whether or not he would have stood aside then, would never be known to Ríonal, as the barn door slid open for Fergus to step on outside to greet her, with apparent curiosity. “It is quite alright, she is a friend, are you not?”
“Aye, Aye which is why I have been sent to you, with words of warning; the farmers and monks-”
“Will come to kill me, correct?” Fergus guessed with a raised brow at her.
“Aye, but how did you know this?” Ríonal queried.
“This would not be my first time, being chased from a town or locality by an angry mob of humans.” Fergus confessed heavily, his voice strained though it was in his eyes which he sought to guard futilely, his emotions.
Struck by his plight, by the loneliness of the road ahead of him, Ríonal felt her heart bleed for him, pity swelled up in her for him. Impulsively, though it pained her, to give up the last of her mementos away she knew then, on a purely instinctual level what she had to do for him. Unclasping the wet, mud-splattered cloak Eibhlin had lovingly made for Fionnán, she then offered it, “Here.”
“I could not accept such a gift.”
“Take it,” She insisted hoarsely, willing her arms not to tremble as surely as her voice, just had.
Gently, Fergus laid his hands on the cloak and met her gaze evenly, if softly. “Do not give away a gift, you are unwilling to give away. I will accept it, though I do so with the hope to return it to you, someday.”
“Thank you,” Ríonal said grateful for his compassion.
It amused her then, but later she wondered if that was the desired response, when he spoke up with a proud look in his eyes. “Of course, a Tigrun always keeps his word.”
Cloak thrown over one large shoulder, then the other, sword on his belt, Fergus for all his pride and ill-temper truly did look the part of a conquering hero, if a travel-worn one. Several of the Ratvians, looked up at him then, in awe though he did not take much notice, of it.
He accepted only a hunk of cheese and a bit of bread from Miriam before he had to run northwards into the woods. A swift prayer to the Queen of the gods on her lips, Ríonal, hoped he would survive as he had promised to.

On her return she found Eibhlin, hard at work on the farm. The matter of the Tigrun would not be revisited for a whole day, with nothing of note happening. Éodain for her part did not say a word, upon her return, not that Ríonal or Eibhlin considered the matter over. When they heard from Bradán the next day it was to find out that she had not uttered a word to anyone, save for maybe Domnall who disappeared later that day, and was never heard from again.

After a rocky period of division, Éodain once again unified the boys and girls under her banner against the boy once again or so it was said. Eibhlin’s reaction was characteristically loud, when Colum stumbled onto the farm where the two ladies were busy at work.
“Oh for the love of Brigantia! Can she not take even a week, before she moves against him?” Eibhlin complained uproariously, her frustration as loud as it was, it daunted the short Ratvian who shrunk back a little.
“I do not know,” He cried out, nervous due to her loss of temper.
“How do you know this?” Ríonal asked, the boy was grateful she could see, for her gentler tone.
“I uh, saw them chase him from the monastery with stones in hand, so I ran here since I know how close you are to Bradán,” Colum confessed with obvious shame, unhappy with himself for having fled.
“And of course you did so because of how the monks, would offer no real assistance to him.” Eibhlin concluded disgust marring her voice, her dislike for the monastery plain to see. “You have done well, though I shan’t say the same for the monks.”
“I suppose we should go find him,” Ríonal said with a sigh of exasperation.
“Colum go see if he may, have fled to Gobán’s farm.” Eibhlin ordered the lad.
“I shall go see if he left for the beach,” Ríonal volunteered at once, while Colum rushed out at once.
“Given that Bradán is not here, I shall go to the monastery to take Brien to task for his inability, or unwillingness to properly protect the boy, from the other children.” Eibhlin stated firmly, her nostrils flared as she glared in the direction of the temple, as though she could see the Abbot from where she stood.
Ríonal wished she could say something to calm the other woman’s anger, but in her fury she could not bring herself to defend Brien, or the rest of the other monks.
Once again, for the second time in one week Ríonal found herself racing off to the lake, in order to once again attempt to save, the lad. Whom she did discover by the shore, though with few to no marks on him, save from his earlier altercation with the other children. Ríonal sagged in relief a little, when she saw that he was doing little more than tossing rocks into the water, with an unhappy air about him.
On the verge of rushing forward to see what was the matter with him, Ríonal was made to pause in her footsteps just as Bradán got up and began to shout out at the sea, having it seemed lost his mind.
“I know you are out there, I have seen and know that it was you who saved me twice, first when I sought to help Fergus, and the second time, when Éodain sought to drown me.” Bradán’s words were almost completely drowned out by the crashing waves of the sea, which as it tends to, did not answer his words.
She was saved the troubles of reminding him of what reasonable people did, or did not do with regards to the sea by Colum’s arrival.
“Bradán, what has come over you? What are you doing here?” He wondered incredulously of the taller boy, who was ankles deep by now in sea-water.
“Colum? I was just-I think there is someone under the water,” Bradán admitted looking embarrassed, a though aware of just how mad, he sounded.
“What?” The Ratvian sounded as stunned and full of disbelief, as Ríonal felt.
“It is the truth.” The human confused earnestly to his friend, who must have gazed back at him, with a sceptical expression. “I know how strange, it must seem, but you must listen to me.”
By now Ríonal had heard enough, she could not listen to anymore of Bradán’s mad ravings, aware that the bullies would likely not follow or attack him now that he had someone with him, she left.
“I see that, you have already noticed our guest, has returned,” Eibhlin remarked dryly to her, once she noticed that Ríonal had returned. With a flash of her eyes, at the girl behind her, instantly the younger widow knew in that moment that her friend had had enough, trouble for one day. “We have already had words, she knows where I stand, on the issue of Bradán, something that Brien as you know, has already heard an earful about.”

It would not be until that night, after Éodain had fallen asleep for the night that, she drew Eibhlin aside so as to speak to her outside in the shivering dark, alone without any fear of the noble-girl hearing their conversation.
“What is the matter Ríonal? You look as though Ziu himself, were out for your blood tonight,” Eibhlin commented with a worried furrow of her prominent brow.
“It is just that-I mean-I think that Bradán may have gone daft, Eibhlin.” Ríonal admitted in a hushed whisper, her throat tight with nervousness.
“A typical issue for a boy that age,” Eibhlin noted wryly, snickering when she saw the look thrown in her direction despite the darkness, she added with a hint of laughter, “What has you so concerned over him?”
“It is just that-I caught him attempting to speak to water, if you could believe such a thing,” Ríonal burst out unable to restrain herself for a second longer.
“‘Speak to water’?” Eibhlin asked puzzled, “Whatever do you mean? Speak sense.”
Ríonal took a deep calming gulp of air, paced back and forth, gripped by her worry for Bradán who seemed to have completely lost his mind, earlier that day. “He spoke of someone under the water, who had saved him, twice.”
“What? Underwater?” Eibhlin asked hoarsely, shocked, as though Ríonal’s words had the strength of a battering ram.
“Madness would you not agree?” Ríonal said to her, ready to go on, when she suddenly noticed her friend’s shock, “Eibhlin, is something the matter? Are you that worried, about him?”
“I do not know, but sit with me, I would talk to you about how I met Fionnán’s father, Duibh,” Eibhlin told her, shaken as she had almost never before been, in Ríonal’s recent memory. “You see, there are stories, very old ones from when I was but a young girl, about creatures that dwell beneath the waves, and-”
“We have all heard such tales before,” Ríonal interrupted once more, with more patience than most would have expected from the usually abrupt Eibhlin, the old woman continued on as though the younger one, had remained silent.
“-And Duibh, was a merchant who traveled frequently between Cymru, Caledonia and Ériu, sometimes going even as far as Gallia’s borders.” Eibhlin stated reluctantly, “Though it was not called Gallia then.”
“But Duibh despised boats and swimming.” Ríonal objected which drew a quiet sigh of exasperation from Eibhlin.
“Aye, why do you think that was? One day whilst on one of his many mercantile trips, the ship him and his brother along with their friend, Comain were on, hit a rock. Duibh, drifted ashore, when I discovered him there, in the middle of doing my laundry, he claimed that someone had grabbed him, and carried him ashore. That this person, had fins, or so he thought, as he had only seen him in passing, for a few seconds. While, he would never recover in some ways, since he lost a dear friend and his brother, never taking to sea again, he also did not wish to speak of what had happened out there, save for on some occasions.”
“Do you believe, what he said about the sea, and its possible inhabitants?” Fionnán’s widow asked, having never heard this tale before, “Did Fionnán know?”
“Nay, Duibh never told anyone save for myself, that day was the worst one of his life and he made me swear to never utter a word, about what happened.” Eibhlin replied quietly to the startled woman who was disturbed by her words about there being an oath. Such things, were after all sacred, supposed to lay forever between the oath-maker and the oath-keeper, as well as between in this case, man and wife.
“What of your oath to Duibh?”
“He would understand, he did love to be right, he would be pleased by Bradán’s discovery I think,” Eibhlin said wistfully, she still loved her husband and missed him a great deal. A sentiment, Ríonal could empathize with. She was surprised when the older woman spoke up again.
“True,” Ríonal agreed with a short laugh, only to say more seriously, “Yet what of Bradán? What if these creatures do exist, what if they cause him harm?”
“What then? I do not know, Ríonal we cannot always be near him or protect him, he will soon be a man and men make decisions for themselves, regardless of the views of those who worry for them.”
“I suppose,” Ríonal murmured aware that though wise, there was a limit to even Eibhlin’s abilities to foresee what could happen, in the future, “Do you believe all will be well?”
“I do not know,” the old woman answered earnestly, if a little hesitantly.

In the days that followed, Bradán would visit but rarely, when not near the sea, while Éodain would follow his example by not being present most days. Her actions were much more mysterious, than his were. Not that it would remain so, forever, actions were soon brought to light a week after that conversation, when the family of Gobán suddenly disappeared.
It was a bright day, spent on the part of the women, with their backs bent forward, both of them focused upon gathering the last of the harvest. When they noticed some time after noon, shortly after the return of Éodain, she had looked sufficiently pleased with herself, to worry them. Nary a word was spoken to either of the women, before she would drift away to play with sticks, as though they were swords, which displeased Eibhlin.
Barely an hour after the girl’s return there would come the sight of dark smoke, on the horizon, from just north of the other farms and the monastery. At first, neither of the women noticed the smoke, with Ríonal the first of the two to do so, with a gasp of horror at the sight of said smoke. Fire, was not simply dangerous to the farmers, monks and other folks of Érius, but could prove fatal to them and their food-stocks.
“Eibhlin! Fire!” Ríonal shrieked at her friend, who glanced up, gasped and was about to rush forward, with the monks were already on the move towards the northern farms. Some headed to the sea, with pots or buckets in hand, as they reacted with considerable efficient despite their own panic.
The fire was not a large one, it was in the midst of this chaos that the barn with most of the animals, and of the Ui’Ross family, in danger of going up in smoke. In the end, most of the animals were saved, when Brien all but smashed the door down, with the wood-cutting axe from Kelan the wood-cutter. Unfortunately the stocked food went up in smoke, to the disappointment of all in the region.
Even with the efforts of everyone, it took hours to put an end to the flames, though it did not soothe the troubled hearts of those gathered, as most were still filled with fear over what may have started the fire, and what may have happened to the Ratvian clan.
As was the case of Darragh who reacted less well than others, he swore to kill the one responsible for this calamity, while Brien attempted to sooth and quiet the man (his wife Brónach was too weary, or was it indifferent? Towards her spouse, to care for his empty threats).
“We know not who may have started the fire, but we will look into this,” Brien responded for what was probably the hundredth, time that day. He appeared more weary, than anyone else in the community, with one of the children piping up.
“It was Bradán,” She said only to add helpfully, “I saw him!”
The older children that had been permitted to help with the putting out of the fire voiced their agreement on this point. Bradán, to the surprise of most of the monks and farmers, had been amongst those who had been one of the most passionately eager ones to put out the fire. Ríonal felt outraged, he had helped out a great deal, and this was to be his thanks? It brought a bitter taste to her mouth.
“Impossible,” Lyr grunted only to repeat himself more loudly this time, his objection garner him everyone’s attention. “Bradán was with me the whole time, as was Collum, even brother Máel-Martin could attest to the truth of my words.
“Aye,” the severe brother agreed confirming Lyr’s words, coming to the defence of the boy against the angry locals.
“Why would you spread such a lie?” Brien growled furiously at the young girl, who flushed red, embarrassed at having been caught in a lie.
Ríonal remained silent, aware that the girl would not talk, and if she did they could do nothing about it. Or so she suspected, as she had already realized who it was that had likely started the fire.
Her question over the absent girl’s culpability was soon set aside as many began to notice that there was a whole group of people absent as well. A host of people none of those present had ever much cared for, up until now.
“Where are the Ui’Rosses?” One of the monks yelled from the midst of the crowd of monks.
“He is right, they are absent,” Brien gasped in horror. “By the Golden Goddess!”
“You do not suppose that they were burnt alive, one and all, do you?” Ríonal asked of the highest ranking member of the monastery, he looked unsure of what to think or even say. In his own way, Brien was a harsh man, yet not one prone to prejudices (save for when it came to Bradán).
“I do not know, but we will find out,” Despite his words though, by the end of the day, they were no nearer to the truth, than they were at the start of the evening. Some, after they had searched amongst the ruins, such as Eibhlin kept an optimistic view, since they had found no bones or smoky remains.
“They would have been in the house, not in the barn, yet some of the clothes and food most likely to go bad in the next few days, along with other basic necessities are missing.” Eibhlin pointed out, most however, did not believe.
“It could have been removed to convince us otherwise,” Máel-Martin pointed out bleakly, with most in agreement with him.
Ríonal was not so certain, from the corner of her eyes though, she could see that Colum had dissolved into tears, with Bradán patting him on the shoulder clumsily. His tears drew annoyed looks from some, which in turn drew worried looks from both her and Lyr.
“Bradán take him home please,” Lyr said to the older boy who nodded hesitantly, yet with a sure foot, and look in his eyes, the lad wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder.
The children were what concerned Ríonal, who kept her peace less she make a rash accusation against some of them. Later though, she would voice her feelings to Eibhlin who gave her thoughts a short nod, of approval, with a look of exhaustion on her face.
“Yet, we can prove nothing now, not that anyone would care, I think, as Gobán and his kin were ill-thought of.” Eibhlin admitted with some difficulty as she cast a dark look to the sleeping, Éodain, “We can only complain, and leave it be.”
“But it is not fair!” Ríonal blurted out furiously, outraged by what had happened to their fellow farmers.
“‘Fair’? What does this have to do with the world?” Eibhlin asked confused, only for the expression to clear from her face, a second later, “Oh, I see, you still think the world to be fair.”
“It is not that,” Ríonal retorted impatiently, thoughts of her children and husband in her heart as well as her mind, as she toyed with a strand of her brown hair. “I think people ought to be, at least those of us, who are plebs and at the mercy of others.”
“Well they are not,” the old woman snapped, only to add somewhat more softly, “Though I wish that they were, my dear, but not everyone is as good as your parents or Fionnán were.”
“Or you are,” Ríonal said sincerely, stunning her friend who gaped, at her sweet words.
Yet what interrupted and surprised the women this time, was not smoke from a distant fire, but Éodain turning over in such a way that, let them know that had been merely pretending to be asleep. Neither of them was keen to be overheard then, by the bloodthirsty child, so they set the discussion aside. They would attempt to continue said discussion later, the next day when they would see Éodain, run off to mind her own affairs, with Eibhlin grumbling to herself.
“Never worked a day in her life, or thought of others for that matter,” Eibhlin commented disgruntled by the child. “It is because her father coddled her too much and fed her strange ideas.”
“Ríonal! Eibhlin! I have-it is incredible! She really does live!” Another voice yelled out at them, it was Bradán. From the hem of his robe to just above his knees, he was soaked through, a look of disbelief on his face, as he came running across their fields towards them. “You must believe me!”
“About what? Ugh, you are all wet, and you have trampled some of our wheat, you daft little fool!” Eibhlin shouted back in a fury, not that the boy paid her one whit of attention.
It was almost comical, if one was to objectively look at the situation, with the shocked yet pleased Bradán, and infuriated Eibhlin shouting at him. Neither, could see or would likely wish to see just how ridiculous they, were both being.
Slightly more calmly, Ríonal attempted to intervene, to make both of them cease yelling, “Calm down you two, please Eibhlin see reason, he is simply too stunned to pay you much mind. Bradán do calm yourself, take a deep breath and exhale now, what is the matter?”
Bradán after a few minutes took a few deep breaths, more to prove his calmness to her, than to sincerely calm himself, only to genuinely begin to calm himself. He began to speak slowly, at first then with mounting eagerness again.
“I have met someone, from below the sea who is the one who saved me those two times, and what is more, she also helped save us when you sought to drown yourself Ríonal!” He explained all in one breath to the dumbfounded bewilderment of either woman, neither of them certain of what he was trying to say.
“Have you been shouting at the sea again?” Ríonal questioned him suspiciously.
“Not at the sea, but at her, the one who helped us!”
“‘Her’?” Eibhlin asked curiously, obviously as confused as Ríonal was by this use of the word ‘her’.
“Aye, she at last answered my cries, and surfaced although she did not speak I did succeed in getting a smile from her, and have thanked her, this proves that I was right.” Bradán stated almost more to himself with the same pompous grin that Fionnán would have worn when proven right. “I intend to introduce Colum to her; he will need a new friend.”
Eibhlin with visible amusement regarded the boy, with open fondness, why she should appreciate such talk, considering all the malignant stories the monks and merchants, spread about merfolks was a mystery to her good-daughter. Though, Duibh, claimed to have been saved by the sea-people, Ríonal still remained sceptical of their goodwill. She did not trust those who did not follow Temple Scriptural Laws.
“What of the Ui’Rosses?” Ríonal asked eager to change the topic away from his discovery.
“Bah, they have merely fled, I will see them again, and if it is not here, I will seek them out someday.” Bradán grunted dismissively, his response won him a hurt look from Ríonal who felt a sense of bereavement at them, just as Eibhlin looked resigned.
She did not comment on his apparent confidence in the Ratvians, continued survival nor did Eibhlin as both were more interested Bradán’s own desire to someday leave the area.
“What do you mean ‘seek them out’? You wish to leave because of them?” Eibhlin asked resigned.
Bradán stared at her with bemused eyes, as though she were a child and he the elder, “Nay, I never intended to stay here, I hate this place, just as it hates me.”
“But why?” Ríonal exclaimed worried for him, it was only at this question that his mood soured and a sad expression climbed up onto his face.
“To find my mother’s people, and to know my kin,” He retorted proudly yet with a look of longing on his youthful face.
“A noble cause,” Eibhlin pronounced, with a nod as much to him as to herself, only to say in a cautious voice. “I would were I you, avoid saying what you have said to us, to the monks.”
Though he did not appear to disagree with her, he still asked her inquisitive as ever, “Why not?”
“Because they would not understand any of it and if they did they would still not accept you.” Eibhlin explained, only to signal for him to leave, which he promptly did. “I imagine I will not survive to see him leave, on his journey, I hope you will take comfort in the love and admiration he bore you, before he departs on his quest.”
“You really think, he will leave?”
“Aye.”

Eibhlin’s words seemed to have challenged the gods or so it seemed, a month later, when Bradán was voted out of the community to the horror of the two women, Colum and Lyr. This terrible event, took place just as winter was on the verge of overtaking Ériu, and a day after a messenger arrived from the Drevard of Delcíána. Who was Éodain’s paternal uncle, and who after the loss of his older brother, to Sihtric Longbeard, in the north wished to send a group of monks from every monastery, with some wealth to pay off the Northman and his demonic overlaird, the Warlock-King.
When the messenger arrived he did so by horse, traveling along the Bradán road constructed years prior by the Bóruma, in his attempts to bring unity to his fractious isle. The first to hear about it was Brien, and his monks who withdrew amongst themselves to debate the issue, only to three hours after the fact send, for most of the farmers. In particular those involved with Éodain, who was invited to the discussion because of her status, as Brien explained reluctantly, the moment everyone was gathered.
“The laird Drevard has given orders for us to send our wealth to him, and then from there to the Arnish settlement of Fialinn to give our submission to Sihtric in person as the border has changed yet again, and so laird Farquhar has also demanded that his niece remain here, in hiding under our tutelage yet for his messenger to lay eyes upon her.” Brien announced to the gasps of some and the shrugged indifference of those gathered. “Aye, our laird, his brother, men and son have failed, with most killed it seemed. The Arns have the kings of Mumu and Lienstreia at their mercy. At the moment though we do not know, what will happen, some of the Wild Folk have also struck from the west, and have the three remaining kings of our immediate area, worried one and all.”
There was a grim silence that followed his words. Not that Ríonal who was only present, because of Eibhlin and Éodain could blame the flabbergasted farmers and monks, for their terror, a terror she shared. For the only people more despised by those who followed the Temple, than the Northmen (or the Warlock-King) was the Wild Folks. Those who followed no lairds, who it was said, followed no faith, in some cases were not even human, and who despised the rest of Ériu’s people, almost as much as the Warlock-King, himself did.
“Who are we to send?” Darragh asked in a strained voice.
“We could not-could not come to an agreement and with an impartial-” Brien began to explain morosely, when he was interrupted by Éodain, who stepped forward.
“It should be the bravest of us all, yet someone not of too high a rank, someone between the lower and upper castes in the area, as well as someone from the monastery,” Éodain said as she swallowed her tears, only to continue. “Someone, who will also not be missed too much, as he has very particular duties, that does not involve contact with the rest of the community… which is why I propose Bradán go to represent us.”
The monks in the monastery, were silent only for several to begin thinking about it, while the farmers who considered going out there a death sentence, swiftly came around to this suggestion. Within an hour, an issue which had plagued the monastery for days was settled while the women, who were friends with the boy, argued against it to no avail. Thusly, as has been explained was Bradán thrown to the wolves of the world.