Cailín (Lass) (Anam Céile Chronicles) (6 page)

“Aislinn!”
she barked.  “Engaged in this you should be!  This which could prove to be the
most fateful moment of your entire
life
as of yet!”

“’Tis
sorry I be, Deirdre, I do know how much this does mean to you.  I’ll take heed.”

“It
should mean
everything
to you, as well, Aislinn.  Much as you may think
you do not heed this now, someday soon you shall, as marry and have children
you will, as all of us will.  This is our privileged duty and a blessing it
be!”

Overcome
with these words I be, weariness consuming me instantaneously.
 

I feel utterly
strangulated . . . restrained . . . entombed.  Me life that will NOT be, simply
fer being born a lass, that I’ll not have dreams of me own to dote upon!  Give
me life over to serving a man I’ll NOT!  Allowing him to disfigure me by the
swelling of me belly with his infectious seed repeatedly ‘til I succeed in
giving him sons, I’ll NOT!  Spend me days closed inside the dreary four walls
of his home, to sweep his floors, to work the dough and bake the bread fer him
and his brood, I’ll NOT!  Fer the only light of day I will see and the only breeze
upon me skin to feel whence I fetch water from his well fer their bath, or toil
over the washboard to scrub their filth soiled garments, I’ll NOT!

“Aislinn?”

I
looked up at her, forcing a small smile.  “Indeed, Deirdre, sure I be you speak
the truth.  Do tell me more,” I bade sombrely, me belly twisting up as the
branches of an old tree.

With
not a notice of me tone, she went on keenly, “Alright, then repeat these words
with me:

“Moon, moon, tell unto me

When my true love I shall see?

What fine clothes am I to wear?

How many children shall I bear?

For if my love comes not to me

Dark and dismal my life will be.”

Ugh!  Precisely! 

To be
that pitiful, swooning lass I do not aspire!  Dark and dismal
me
life will be if not able to bear me music!  To cast aside fine clothes to
delight in running free, barefooted through the meadows so that the wildflowers
may tickle me ankles with their kisses of morning dew!  That be whence the
light will illuminate
me
life!

“Now,
we each are to cut with this black-hafted knife, three pieces of clay from the
sod, and carry them home to tie them up in our left stocking with our right
garter, and place it under the pillow upon which we sleep . . .”  

The
skeptical stare plastered upon me face interrupted her again.

“Aislinn,
please do at least attempt to take this seriously, lest the
sidhe
play
tricks upon you for your disagreeable manners!”

I
affected another apologetic look at her, praying she would just continue, to be
finished with this nonsense presently.

 “During
which
. . .” Deirdre lingered on so as to heighten the significance of
the outcome of this curse we have so foolishly called upon “. . . we shall
dream a true dream of the men we are fated to marry!”

Oh fer Bliss! 
Well certainly pleased I be to hear
one
of us be fervent about
our encountering the same fated doom that awaited hordes of those condemned to
be born as females since the dawn of man!

We
jaunted back to the house, and slipped in as quietly as giggling lasses are
able.  Nonetheless, we were met inside by me aunt, who greeted us with a
nauseatingly sweet knowing smile.  “Sweet Dreams . . .” she cooed, patting our
bottoms as she shooed us off to bed.

“You
must remember each detail of your dream, so that you may share it with me come
morn!”  Deirdre directed, her enthusiasm harmonizing with the yellow glow that
always did surround her.

“Oh
shall
I!  And you, as well!” as I feigned to imitate the same enthusiasm to her.

The
dreams which did arise in me slumber that night should have been to me chagrin;
rather they were considerably to me mystified amazement.

At
first, I dreamt of playing me fiddle whilst dancing through me valley of
flowers.  As always it does, the music overtook me, gently carrying me away upon
its melodic stream of beautiful colours. 

And
then, still the
ceil
be there, although ‘twas in the background, as
though someone else did play it, and I be lying in the grass beside a tranquil
murmuring brook.  The music sang in me head as the warming rays from the sun
saturated me flesh. 

A long
moment me eyes had been closed, reveling in the overall sense of serenity as I
lie there.  Then, as though something willed them to open, so they did, to set
their gaze upon the most exquisite image ever I will behold.

Fer
there a young man did sit, kneeling over, and gazing upon me.  His a face I
would
never
forget, were I to live an eternity.  Each and every element
of it beholding the utmost of delightful perfection in me eyes
. 

Framed
by lush, tousled curls of chocolate brown, his flawless fair skin presented
sculpted delicate ears, an angular jawline, and a proud chin; dense, dark
eyebrows shadowing the tenderness in his deep blue eyes which gleamed as
sapphires, and luxuriantly edged with sable lashes; an imperfect, yet handsome
nose, and the sweetest, most modest smile upon his pale pink lips.  The genuine
light from that enchanting smile infiltrated into me soul instantaneously,
where it has forevermore remained with me.  

Each
contour of his face etched upon me memory eternally and enduringly carved into
me soul.  In me dreams I have seen it each night ever since.

In me conscious
mind, I longed to speak, longed fer him to utter a sound back to me.  Desperate
I be to perceive the resonance of his voice.  Though, in me dream, none of this
seemed to matter.  Quite contented were we merely to sit gazing upon each other
in a relaxed sense of wonderment.

Most
agitated I be to awaken, me skin moistened by perspiration, and me belly
gurgling in protest of its mounting hunger.  I strained to will meself back to
sleep quickly so that I might continue me dream where I had been crudely
wrenched away.  Gloomily, return to me dreams of him that night, I did not.

And
though I did not, his face be the first image in me mind when in the morn I
awoke.  As though in a daze, I laid there in bed stunned, reflecting upon me
dream.  Scarcely able to believe I had dreamt of such a thing.
 

Have I
really dreamt of that?  Me, the girl whom I pride meself to be, would not
entertain such blind, idealistic thoughts of love.  Still, the thought of him I
cannot dismiss from me mind, the image of his gentle face.  Oh the ways that
face has elicited from me body to feel, the response those eyes have at present
called forth from me soul. 

Perhaps
he will be different from most men . . . Then, be that even possible?  Oh!  What
does this mean fer me?  Can I truly even consider such a thing?  Dismiss all I
be directly fer the uncertainty of a fortuitous dream? 
  

As I
laid there, struggling with me own mind, I could not deny the inexplicable
certainty I had: this lad be meant to be mine.  Though understand it not one
bit did I, in me mind I knew it.  With every fragment of me being, I felt it.
 

He is
to be mine, and I his.

And in
that moment, everything in me transformed.  Never would I be the same.

I heard
Deirdre stirring in the bed next to me and braced meself fer her zealous
tackle.  She would probe me, “Well?!  Did you dream of him?!  Pray tell me all
about it!”  And quite honestly, so pleasantly astounded I be that not all that
sure I be what I would say to her.  Not really certain whether I be prepared to
share me beloved apparition; fer perhaps if I spoke of him, he would not come
to me after all . . .

So,
then, much to me surprise ‘twas, when she did not shake me upon waking,
beseeching me to exchange tales with her of what had materialized during our
slumbers.  Rather, unexpectedly morose she appeared, seeming not to wish even
discuss it. 

Not
sure whether I should enquire or not, I whispered earnestly, “Deirdre, I do apologise
fer me ill-mannered behaviour last night.  Truly fun ‘twas, after all.  You may
tell me of yer dream, if you wish,” I encouraged her.

“Oh
Aislinn!” she cried, opening herself to me to reveal the misery she felt.  “An
appalling confession I must make!  This actually was not my first time acting
out the moon love charm.  Last year I did, and when I did favour not he whom came
to me in my dreams that night, I determined it was a dreadful chance happening,
and refused to consider.”

Seeing
the puzzlement upon me face, she sighed and continued, “And it was
one and
the same
lad once more in my dream last night,” she paused as she gathered
the courage necessary to utter the name.  “Fergus Mulroney.”

Me eyes
widened in shock.  “Fergus Mulroney?”

Poor
Deirdre, destined to marry that bothersome lad, the very one who has pestered
her ever since a small lass she be.
 

Always
the same interactions I had beheld:  her screeching at him to leave her be, and
his continuance of the same provocations with a leering grin in response.

Suppose
now I surely should not divulge to her me shockingly delightful dream.

And
‘twas then she halfheartedly remembered to ask, “And what of you?  Anything?”

I
feigned disappointment as I sighed, “Nothing then.  Alas, I always knew I be
destined fer an old spinster!” I cackled with a snort.  “No matter, besides. 
Me fiddle will keep me cozy.”

At
least that made her laugh again.  Still, I could not stop thinking of it . . . 

Deirdre
and Fergus! 

O
ver the
next half year, me thoughts did wander relentlessly over that phenomenal
vision.  Too immersed in me preoccupation with this lad I be to realise that
indeed I be behaving in the same manner that I had, thus far, taunted other
lasses fer and thought to be quite outlandish.

Many a time,
whenever I could slip away from me chores, I would escape to me valley of
flowers, and will meself to be carried away upon the breeze to that very brook
whence first I had laid eyes upon his extraordinary face. 

And to
me dismay, happen it did not.  

Once
though, I did stumble upon a small brook, yet the same as that magical place in
me dream ‘twas not.  Nonetheless, return to it I would, again and again, to
loll 'til the sun descended in the sky, musing upon the vibrantly melodious
hues of the glorious sunset, waiting fer the fateful moment the handsome entity
of me vision chose to reunite with me in this realm.

Then,
at last— in the way I had not the slightest imagined— it happened! 

Not
long ‘twas beyond the anniversary of me thirteenth year, in May.  Solemn I be,
returning home after once again draining the day away by me brook, hoping
against all hope…  I be plucking away on me fiddle, when unexpectedly I
discerned the tune of me
ceil
had of late taken on a despairing sound. 

And
welcome it, I did not.

What
utter madness this all be!  How I have squandered away these days after days,
months upon months, in pursuit of some silly dream that means naught!  What
have I been thinking?!  Cannot believe I enabled Deirdre to swaddle me in all
this childish nonsense of hers!  That girl I
not
be! 
THIS
girl I be
not
, as I have been behaving. 

Bring
meself back I must, to where I should be, to who
I
be, to that which I had designed fer me life.  And pursuing girlish dreams by a
stream ‘twas
not
!  This must come to an end presently!  Reach fer that
spot once more to daydream, awaiting the enchanted embrace of a disillusioned
fantasy, swear I’ll
not
!  All this absurdity henceforth I put behind me,
never to look back upon any of it again!