Chapter Six: Anamchara
The afternoon of Lughuasa was clear and warm but not hot. The people had gathered on the moor below the stronghold to witness the wedding of their chief and his lady. They had gathered in a large circle with the wedding party in the center. Even at this happy occasion, sentinels stood in the watch tower and men rode on patrol. Catraoine wore a pure white dress of fine linen with a garland of wild flowers on her head. Richardus wore tunic and trousers of black with golden embroidery around the neck, cuffs and hem. Although he wore no armor, a Sgian Mor was suspended from a belt of golden links. His Claidheamh lay across the crude altar.
Seamus in his role of druid bound Richardus' and Catraoine's wrists together soft white cords and offered a short prayer then said;
"Richardus Castellum speak your vow."
"I Richardus Castellum vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine. From this day forward it shall only be your name that cry out in the night and into your eyes that I smile every morning. I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine. Nor shall a grievous word be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. Above and beyond this I shall cherish and honor you through this life and into the next."
"Catraoine, speak yours."
I Catraoine of the Glens vow you the first cut of my meat, the first sip of my wine. From this day forward it shall only be your name that cry out in the night and into your eyes that I smile every morning. I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine. Nor shall a grievous word be spoken about us, for our marriage is sacred between us and no stranger shall hear my grievance. Above and beyond this I shall cherish and honor you through this life and into the next."
Seamus said; "Exchange your tokens of fidelity that all may see that you are fear and bean."
They exchanged tokens in both the Celtic and Roman manner. Richardus placed a golden ring on Catraoine's finger and a golden torq around her neck. She placed only a ring on his finger in that he already wore a chieftains' torq. Two cups of wine stood on the alar. Richardus picked up one and held it to Catraoine's lips. She took the first sip, then he drank from it. She picked up the other and repeated the ritual for him. Seamus pronounced a blessing on them and they kissed.*
Richardus raised their joined arms into the air. "My people, as you have acknowledged me as your chief, now acknowledge Catraoine of the Glens as my bride and your lady. He who would dispute this, does so at his extreme peril."
The crowd roared their approval. Arthwyr stepped forward and embraced Richardus and then Catraoine.
"My congratulations to you this happy day, cefnder and to you as well my beautiful cyfnther May your lives be long, happy and fruitful."
Morgaine followed suit, embracing Richardus and kissing his cheek. "I too offer my congratulations, cariad cefnder. Catraoine bristled at the underlying sultriness in Morgaine's voice. She released Richardus and embraced Catraoine.
"Congratulations cyfnther you are a fortunate woman." Catraoine didn't believe for a second that Morgaine meant it but politely thanked her.
The people were now crowding around offering their congratulations and wishes for happiness and prosperity, several of the woman giggling as they hoped that Catraoine would have much wealth. To the Celtic cultures, their real wealth was children. By the third or fourth such wish, Catraoine was blushing a lovely shade of pink.
Finally Richardus raised both hands for quiet. "Today I am the most fortunate of men for not only have I married the loveliest of women but gained the wise council and love of a second mother and a father to honor. Behold Seamus of the Glens and the lady Siobhan."
Catraoine spoke. "Does my chieftain think that he is more fortunate than I? Never so. I have my M'fhiorghra and now I claim Alexis of the Glens as my own nighean. Let none dare gainsay it."
Catraoine knelt and Alexis ran into her arms with a smile of pure happiness.
Richardus called out; "Let the feasting begin."
Several head of cattle had been slaughtered for the feast, and the hunters had brought in deer and other game. All of the household had contributed something. Bannocks, roasted grain, stewed vegetables, wild onions, honeyed apples. There was wine, beer and mead. Many small gifts were bestowed, nothing elaborate but all heartfelt.
The celebration lasted well into the night with dancing and tall tales abounding. Although Catraoine was eager to consummate their marriage, they had made love before. She could delay her satisfaction for a little and unlike most men of his time Richardus understood and loved her even more deeply for it. Catraoine had an established nightly routine. She always put Alexis to bed, singing to her, soothing the child to sleep. As momentous as this night was, she would not give up that precious time.
Their love-making that night was all the more intense for the slight delay and the love Catraoine so readily gave to Alexis. It was deeper and more fulfilling than it ever had been with the knowledge that this was forever. Bathed in the soft morning light, Catraoine lay watching her husband sleep. A lock of hair lay across his forehead. Relaxed, the hard planes and angles of his face seemed softer and Catraoine could imagine what he looked like as a youth, before the fires of war hardened him. Despite having very little sleep she didn't feel tired. She slipped out of bed, dressed and went to see that his breakfast was properly prepared.
Arthwyr and Morgaine stayed for five days after the wedding, Arthwyr and Richardus spending a few hours each day discussing mutual defense tactics and Arthwyr's plans to become Ard Ri. During those days, Catraoine watched Morgaine like a hawk. She trusted her husband but Morgaine had the reputation of being an enchantress and Catraoine wasn't about to let her have an opportunity to practice her witchery. In reality, Morgaine was nothing more than highly intelligent, charismatic woman but Catraoine was a woman of her time with a belief in magic. She breathed a sigh of relief when Morgaine and Arthwyr departed.
The period from Lughuasa to Samhain was an idyllic time for Catraoine, Richardus and their people. The harvest was in and it had been a bountiful one and the hunting was good. Of course, in those turbulent times it couldn't last. One cold November morning, a herald approached the gates. He spoke. "I bear a message from my lord, Baron Wilmot of Bracken. I would speak with Richardus Castellum."
Richardus came into the courtyard a few minutes later. "I am Richardus Castellum, dismount if you would speak with me." His hand was on the hilt of his sword as he spoke. The herald was nervous, he wasn't sure if his status as a herald would protect him, with the message he bore. He dismounted and handed the scroll he held to Richardus, afraid to read it aloud. Richardus unrolled the scroll and read:
I, Wilmot of Bracken Baron Broad Hill do summon thee Richardus Castellum to my court of justice to answer for the theft of my slave girl, Catraoine of the Brook. I demand the return of the girl and recompense for your actions. Failure to comply will mean your death.
Richardus's eyes shown with an icy fury. "It is well for you that you did not read this missive out loud or I would send your head along with my reply. Wait here." Richardus strode back into the hall, calling for writing materials.
Wilmot of Bracken. You are no baron, simply a slave trader which qualifies you as no more than sheep dung. You have no authority to summon me anywhere. Catraoine of the Brook was never legally made a slave. Catraoine of the Glens is now my wife. The only recompense you will receive is your own blood on my sword. Send your men against me if you dare. Of course then I will come to your court and burn it down around your ears. Richardus Castellum
Richardus strode back out and handed the scroll to the herald. "Take my reply to your master and do not set foot on my lands again. Should you do so, you will die." Richardus turned around. "Xavierus, Casca, Caoimhin, to me." When they assembled Richardus told them of Bracken's demand and his reply. "In ten days I want the patrols doubled and at least ten miles out. Each patrol is to have a messenger with them, mounted on our fastest horses. If he does not come in a month's time I will march on him. He is to vile to continue fouling the air with his breath."
Wilmot of Bracken's face was almost purple with rage after reading the reply to his demand. The unfortunate herald suffered the fate that those who bore bad news often did, under such a ruler. A guardsman's spear through his chest. Bracken paced up and down, getting more furious by the minute. Other than his family, most of his subjects feared and despised him. His personality was such that any loyalty he had was bought with coin. He wasn't stupid but he was arrogant and vain, knowing nothing about military tactics or strategy. He also didn't understand that there was a great difference between warriors and disciplined soldiers. Most of his men weren't even true warriors, merely brigands stiffened with mercenaries.
He was ranting to his brother. "Deny me and insult me will he? I'll have his head. But before that I will have him in chains and make him watch as I rape his wife then cut her throat!" Karl of Bracken placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Calm down and think rationally brother. Rather than spending good coin to equip your war band and send them forth, why not send Coel the assassin. He will kill Richardus and abduct the girl."
Bracken grinned evilly. "You make sense my brother. Yes that is a much less expensive way and Coel has never failed."
Bracken called Coel in and told him his mission. "I want Richardus Castellum dead and Catraoine abducted and brought to me. I will give you five gold Soliduses now and five more when you return with her."
"No, you know that is not how I work. All ten now."
Bracken glowered but paid him. "I will have you killed if you fail."
Coel laughed, humorlessly. "If I fail, I will be dead anyway."
If you saw him by day, you would not really notice him that much. He was an average looking man. Medium height, medium build, brown hair and eyes. The only telltale would be if you looked into his eyes. Cold, almost inhuman. He seldom smiled but when he did it held no warmth.
Coel slept by day and traveled at night, his clothing a dark gray that actually was less visible than black. He approached the stronghold at night, threw a muffled grappling hook over the wall and climbed up, successfully avoiding the attention of the sentries. He crouched at the base of the wall, moving from shadow to shadow until he reached the residence. Slipping through a window he scanned the interior, looking for the master's bedroom.
Catraoine awoke and arose to get a cup of watered wine. As she set the cup down her senses tingled. Something was wrong. She wasn't sure what but something definitely was. Her bare feet made no sound on the tiled floor. She peered into the atrium trying to find out what had caused the feeling of unease. There! A hooded and cloaked figure was moving along the wall obviously looking for something. She quickly moved back to the bedroom and pulled the sword Richardus had made for her from its scabbard and hid behind a wall hanging. She didn't try to awaken Richardus. He'd had several cups of wine after a long day and was in a deep sleep.
Coel finally found the master's bedroom and slipped through the doorway, making his last and fatal mistake. He was so focused on his primary target that he didn't check the room as thoroughly as he usually did. He drew the poison tipped dagger from its sheath and approached the bed. Poising to strike he felt a white-hot pain lancing through his body. Dropping the dagger, he looked down to see a foot of steel projecting from his abdomen. A gout of blood spilled onto the floor as the blade was withdrawn, accompanied by his scream. Coel turned as he fell, looking into the face of a beautiful, deadly amazon. His dazed mind couldn't comprehend that he'd been done in by a woman.
Richardus awoke instantly at the scream, despite the depth of his sleep. He grabbed his dagger as he leapt out of bed, quickly scanning the room looking for a threat. His eyes immediately went to his wife, completely nude with a bloody sword in her hand and the writhing body of a man on the floor. Catraoine began to tremble as the shock of what she'd done set in.
"Catraoine, what happened?" Richardus asked.
"A-An assassin. I k-killed him."
He gently took the sword from her and took her in his arms. "No you didn't. You brought him down but he's still alive." But not for long.
Richardus kicked the poisoned dagger out of reach, careful not to touch the blade.
"You've got a belly wound assassin. It will take a couple of hours for you to die, in agony. Tell me who sent you and I'll end your misery right now."
Coel's only loyalty was to himself, all he wanted to do was stop the pain. A reputation meant nothing to a dead man.
"Bracken, Bracken sent me." He gasped out. Richardus cut Coel's throat.
Several people ran into the room, hearing Coel's scream. Two of them Marta and Siobhan. Richardus picked up a cloak and wrapped it around Catraoine. He turned to the two women.
"Take Catraoine to your chamber and comfort her. I will get this taken care of and come to you."
Richardus cleaned his dagger and Catraoine's sword blades on Coel's cloak. He sheathed Coel's dagger and handed to a servant. "Throw this into the forge. Do not touch the blade. Summon Bran and Roidh to move this offal out and bury it at the crossroads. Summon Nairne to clean up this blood. I will meet with Xavierus, Casca, Caoimhin and Seamus on the third hour of the morning." Richardus went to comfort his wife.
Gaelic Glossary. Anamchara: Soul mate.
Bean: Wife
Claidheamh: Sword
Cefnder: Male cousin
Cyfnther: Female cousin
Lughuasa: Harvest festival August 1
M'fhiorghra: My eternal love
Nighean: Daughter
Samhain: Festival between the autumn solstice and the winter solstice Oct. 31-Nov.1
Sgian Mor: Large knife (dagger)
*Author's Note. I try to be as authentic as I can within the context of this story. Yet with the facilities available to me, I couldn't find a good description of an ancient Celtic wedding ceremony other than the vows, so I had to make it up as I go along. Swordwriter.