Chapter Three: Remembering
Three years after the attack
Brendan is at an age now where he is always brimming with questions.
"Why is the sky blue, Uncle Cellach? Why do the other brothers call you 'Brother' instead of 'Uncle'? Where did your hair go?"
I try to be patient with his endless stream of questions. I can't seem to teach him to recognize when I am working and I cannot talk. Many of the other brothers are more patient with him that I am. The truth is, I have never been gifted with children. I try to be better. I remember dear Ceather and her infinite patience with him as a baby. I can never recapture that, quite, but I do try.
I am sketching plans one day when I feel a tug on my robes. Brendan is beside me, his eyes large and tearful.
I kneel to brush the tears off his cheek. "What happened, Brendan? Are you all right?"
He shakes his head.
"Did one of the other children hurt you?"
I saw him earlier today, visiting with some of the other little ones in the village.
"No." He sniffs loudly. "Uncle Cellach…. Why don't I have a mother and father like the other children?"
Oh. Oh no. "You do have a mother and father, Brendan, remember? They are in heaven now, but they watch over you. They love you very much."
"Then why aren't they here?" Brendan is sobbing now. "Why did they go away? Don't… don't they want to be with me?"
Oh, I am not ready for this. Is he ready for this? He is still so small.
Of course we talk of his parents. I tell him stories of Ceather and Bronach. We've talked of heaven where they are now. He knows that they have died.
He understands that the outside is dangerous, and that the wall will keep us safe. He's heard some talk of the Northmen, although I doubt he understands what they are.
But I have never told him of his parents' murder. How could I? I can barely stand to remember that day myself. To put that burden on a child…
I sigh, sitting back at my desk. I lift Brendan onto my knee. "Of course they want to be with you," I say. "They… they are here with you, watching you always, even when you can't see them."
"I want to see them!" Brendan says. He rubs a little hand under his running nose.
"I know. I do too." I take a deep breath. I wish Ceather was here now to speak words of comfort to her son. But if she was…. He wouldn't need the comfort, would he? I make my voice as gentle as I can. "Your parents didn't want to leave you. When you were very small…. Bad men came to your village."
Brendan's eyes widen.
"They… they tried to hurt you." I hold him close, rocking him. "Your parents died protecting you."
His eyebrows scrunch together. "Was it my fault they died?"
"No! Of course not!" I'm doing this all wrong. "The… the bad men, they like to hurt people. They would have hurt your parents, no matter what. But your parents protected you."
I have wondered, on occasion, why Brendan was still alive when I arrived in the village. I am grateful beyond measure that he was. But why did the Northmen spare him when they slew his parents? It was not out of any Northman's mercy. No, age does not matter to them. They spared no one in the village, young or old.
I suppose there was no need to kill the baby. It may have even… I shudder, repulsed even to think about it… it may even have been more merciful to run him through, than to leave him to an agonizing burning death in the flames.
I choose to believe that Brendan was spared because of his parents. They died fighting, there is no question of that. I am sure they acted to protect their son. I do not know everything that happened that day, but I believe that young Brendan would not have lived without their last brave sacrifice.
"How do you know?" Brendan asks. "Were you there?"
"I…found you… after." My eyes are suddenly wet, remembering that day. "I took you away from the bad men and kept you safe."
"You saved me?" Brendan asks. His tears are slowing. His eyes are full of wonder now.
"Yes." I hesitate. I don't want to be prideful and inflate myself in his eyes, but at the same time… I can't deny that I want to be his hero. "Your parents saved you too."
"Will the bad men come back?"
How to explain this to one so young? "They might," I say carefully, "but that is why we build the wall. To keep out the bad men, so all of us are safe." Brendan's face is pinched up with worry now. "Brendan, don't be afraid. I am here. I will never let anything happen to you. That's a promise."
"You'll keep away the bad men?" Brendan says.
"I'll keep you safe from the bad men," I say.
Brendan snuggles against me. I rub his back, sighing again. I will keep him safe. Somehow, I will. Even if I have to battle Vikings again to do it.