By mid-afternoon, the effects of Conor's inability to sleep wore dark circles under his eyes. Catlin could see he was not doing well.
"Do you want to stop and rest?" she suggested.
"No," he answered crankily.
"No need to bite my head off," she rolled her eyes.
Stopping his horse, he turned to face her.
"Do you have a problem with the way I'm doing things?" he challenged.
Again defiant anger sparked in her face.
"No... not at all," she said knowing the words rang hollow.
I have moved on! she thought.
"Fine," he said abruptly.
They continued on in silence. Conor knew he was behaving like a child, but he lacked the energy to brighten his disposition.
Catlin turned to singing bits of songs. Some were tunes that Conor knew well. Some were improvisational creations of her mind. Others were unfamiliar Roman tunes. The gentle song of her voice and the sway of the horse beneath him lulled him practically to sleep. It was when he nearly fell off his horse, that he realized Catlin was right.
"Cat?"
"Um-hmm?" she said without interest.
"Let's stop for a moment."
Without waiting for a comment he jumped down off his horse and tied the steed to a tree. Pulling his cloak tightly around himself he found a patch of sunlight and stretched out to rest.
"I'll keep watch," she smiled.
"Maybe..." he yawned, "Maybe you could keep singing."
"Oh..." she laughed. "All right. I will... Only if you admit that I was right."
"Mmm-hmm."
"I guess that's as good as I'm going to get..."
"...Mmm-hmm."
She began to sing watching as Conor drifted off to sleep. No matter what they said to one another, they could never stay angry with one another for long. Once she had accidentally embarrassed him in front of the Confederation Council. He claimed he would never forgive her and had berated her for making him look foolish. Yet, later that day he had come to her room with Declan, a boy of about eight. Sending the boy in ahead, Conor yelled in from outside the door.
"You wouldn't hurt me when there are children around?"
He entered the room and picked up the boy, who was giggling. Catlin smiled at the memory. Conor could be so charming. It was easy to understand why she felt the way she did about him. Most likely, every woman he had ever met had been under his spell. But it wasn't just that. The friendship they had was built on mutual trust and experience. Sharing the loss of everything they had and rebuilding a future that neither could have ever foreseen, they had come to rely on each other. She watched him sleep peacefully. Slowly, his jaw dropped and shallow snoring escaped his mouth. Perhaps there would be no more dreams. Perhaps his sleep would be filled with no more painful memories. At times she wondered how God could see fit to plague one man with so many burdens. If she could, she would sacrifice anything, even herself, to lessen the weight he had to carry on his shoulders.
An hour later, Conor awoke. For the first time in two days he had slept without dreaming. He felt refreshed and quite rested. Catlin smiled at him.Fergus frowned at Tully. "Sweet Brigit, lad, you should know better by now," he gestured to Aiobhell who was leaning against a tree a short distance away.
"She needed help. Galen always taught us to help others. That's why we're here."
"But she could be a Roman spy."
"Fergus, you're mad... Like I already said, she was running away from them when she climbed up into that tree," Tully insisted.
"Did you ever get a look at them?" The big man asked plainly.
"Well, I, er..." Tully stammered.
Fergus looked at him sideways, his eyebrows arching.
"No... I guess I didn't," Tully finished lamely.
"Well, she's already here... Just keep a close eye on her, alright?"
Tully nodded and quickly walked back over to where the girl was standing.
"It's alright, Aiobhell. You can stay."
She turned and smiled at him. "It's so beautiful here. It truly is a sanctuary."
Tully took her arm, "Come on. Let me show you where you'll sleep."
She stopped him and looked at him with a grateful expression.
"Tully, I can't thank you enough. You don't know what this means to me..."
"You needed help... anyone would have done the same."
"No," she shook her head, "they wouldn't... You have a good heart, Tully. Thank you." She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
He couldn't help a silly grin from lighting his face.
Fergus watched them from a distance. When the girl leaned in and kissed Tully, Fergus knew that the boy would be of no use when it came to judging Aiobhell's character. He rolled his eyes, shook his head and trudged off, sighing.
"Sweet Brigit... they've all gone daft."
Conor watched Catlin sleep under the moonlight. Occasionally, she would shift or move. Slight murmurs would escape her lips. Conor wondered what it was that filled her dreams at night. He wished that they would be happy dreams, not nightmares of her past. For as much as they had shared with each other, Catlin was very guarded about her life as a slave. She rarely spoke of it, and when she did, she spoke in generalities. It was as if she was afraid or ashamed to speak of those days. Perhaps she worried that it may somehow have a hold on her if she were to form the words. Maybe it was just still too painful. He crossed over to where she was sleeping and gently stroked her hair. Her shifting and quiet mumblings stopped and she sighed in her sleep.
Walking back to his post, Conor gazed into the pitch darkness. Something was out there. Something was clouding over their journey. Every night his dreams had worsened, and every night he was more and more sure that the threat was real.
"So, where are you from, Lass?" Fergus asked Aiobhell from across the fire.
"Craig Laith, near Cill Dalua. It's a very small place." She smiled at the warrior.
"Aye, I know that place... on the River, is it?"
"Yes... it's quite beautiful there... but I couldn't stay."
A sadness crept into her voice and she focused her gaze at the heart of the fire. Tully, feeling protective of her, addressed Fergus.
"She left her village. The other villagers thought she was a sĂdhe. They were afraid she would bring them misfortune. Can you imagine?" Tully had taken up the girl's plight. "Now she's like us..."
"How did you manage to get into trouble with the Romans?" Fergus questioned.
Aiobhell's gaze focused on Fergus' eyes. There was something about her stare that made him feel naked. It was as if she could see into his very soul.
"A group of soldiers followed me at a distance. When I stopped for the night..." her voice faltered slightly, "...they attacked me." Her stare refocused on the fire between them. "I got away."
A stony moment of silence followed. Tully searched his mind for something to say to erase the pall of tension that fell over the crisp night.
"It's late... Aiobhell, why don't I walk you back..." he offered rather quietly.
"Thank you Tully," she smiled at him then turned her attention to the big warrior.
"Fergus, I know you don't believe I am who I say I am... I hope that someday I can gain your trust."
She walked over to where the warrior sat and clasped his shoulder.
"Thank you for allowing me to stay."
Her face showed true gratitude, and Fergus found it hard to think he suspected her.
"Sleep well," he called after her as she and Tully walked off into the darkness.
As Conor opened his eyes, he hardly believed what they saw. Flower garlands hung from the old rafters. It was the great hall of his father's stead. But how? The smell of the wedding feast roasting over the pit lingered in his nose. He heard musicians entering the hall joyfully playing their tunes. A gentle hand touched his shoulder. He spun around.
"Father?" his unbelieving voice questioned, cracking.
King Derek stood before him, alive, smiling. His father.
"Conor," his familiar voice rang in the prince's ears. "We've been given another chance. Another chance to do things right."
Conor looked down at the clothes he was wearing: a new dark blue tunic. Around his shoulders hung a new cloak with his father's pin at the closure. His hands ran over the fabric on his arms, his senses not believing the feel.
"How?" he barely managed.
Derek smiled at his younger son. "We'll talk about it later."
He placed an arm around his son's shoulders.
"Now, it's time," the King gestured behind Conor.
As he spun around, again his mind had trouble registering what he saw.
"Galen?"
The druid winked at him and spoke in low tones.
"You've done good work Conor. I'm proud of you, boy."
His chest seemed barely able to contain the pounding of his heart. It was all real. He could see, touch, smell and hear things that had long ago been destroyed. He heard the sounds of people behind him. He looked over his shoulder at the familiar faces, all long dead. They smiled at him and murmured as the door in the back of the hall opened. Fergus stepped through it, trailing his hand to help someone else inside. Suddenly, Tully elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
"It's bad luck," he grinned as Conor turned back to face his friend.
How had he not known that Tully was right next to him? Conor kept his eyes forward on Galen's smiling visage.
He heard the big ox approaching as softly as he could. He sensed that his friend was right behind him and he heard the man whisper, "I'm honored you chose me to do this, girl."
Conor turned to face the girl. It was Catlin. She smiled warmly at him and took his hands. A small crown of flowers circled her head and her hair was brushed straight. She wore a simple gown.
Galen spoke the ancient words of the ceremony. Catlin's eyes never left Conor's. Conor was overwhelmed with emotion; his brain tried desperately to make sense of it all. His mother, father, and brother were all at his side. The people of his village were all there. The past had become this bizarre present. Parts that had been taken away from him had been returned. Then, along side of them were Tully and Catlin: both people who had not come into his life until after the devastating bloodshed and fire that separated his former existence with his new one.
In this dreamlike state, Conor took in every detail. In his heart he knew that this couldn't last. But, every part of his being wanted, desperately wanted, to believe in this reality.
As the druid finished speaking, Derek turned to face his younger son. "I'm proud of you. Of the man you've become, of the leader you've become..." He took his son's hand and his new daughter's.
"This marriage will be celebrated!"
The words rang like a hollow bell in Conor's head. A memory. A foretelling that perhaps this happiness couldn't last. He pulled Catlin toward him and kissed her. Her skin smelled vaguely of flowers. Her lips tasted sweet. Their embrace was halted by Fergus and Tully greeting them with congratulations and laughter.
They danced and celebrated through the night. The King and Queen rested away from the crowd. Fergus danced with a barrel of ale and disappeared. The fine mist of fear began to grow thicker in Conor's mind. As he felt the happy tableau ending, he tried desperately to take it all in. Catlin speaking with his mother and father. They, in turn, showing affection and welcoming her into his family. It was all he'd ever wanted.
In a lightening fast moment riders broke through the doorway. One approached the King and Queen and removed his helmet.
"GAR!" Derek screamed as Gar slashed him down with his sword.
"FATHER!"
Conor ran toward him but it was too late. Once Gar had slain his father, he took the sword to his mother.
"NOOOO!" Conor yelled.
He nearly reached Gar when another sound caught his attention over the screams and horror that filled the room. It was Catlin's muffled shout. Conor spun around.
Longinus stood amidst the carnage. Tully had reached him, but Longinus had stabbed the lad in the heart. He slumped lifelessly to the floor.
"No... no..." It was barely more than a whisper.
Sorrow and desolation choked his voice. Longinus held Catlin's arms with his left hand. His right covered her mouth. Her eyes were glazed over with fear and sadness.
"Longinus, please... please," Conor begged.
The undead monster smiled.
"I recall saying the same thing to you, Prince... I begged you, I begged you to end my suffering. You had the power to end my curse. Instead you walked away..."
He brought a knife to Catlin's throat. Short, shallow breaths shuddered from her gut.
"Longinus, don't do this. Take your revenge on me," he pleaded.
"I am..."
In an agonizing endless moment, Longinus pulled the blade across her skin. Ruby droplets stained her pale gown. The look on her face became foggy and she slowly collapsed. Longinus disappeared, as did Gar and his men. The smell of death stifled the air and tears flowed down Conor's cheeks. In the distance he could hear the crackling of a fire beginning and could smell the smoldering wood. He pulled Tully and Catlin to him, an arm around each one, and he sobbed over them.
