Caitlin fingered the bloodstone lying heavily in the pocket of her purple corduroy jumper. Two more weeks. Two more weeks and her worries would be over. Over the past nine months she had worn a smooth spot on the surface of the rough, dark green and red stone and her finger automatically sought the comforting sleekness.
The wind whipped her hair into her eyes as she crossed the rich green grass, heading toward Tara Hill and the Celtic cross that marked the Seat of the High Kings, the Ard-Ri, of Ireland. Caitlin had made the journey daily for the past month, ever since she had fled the congestion of Dublin for her sister Eithne's home in the more peaceful countryside surrounding Tara.
She ran her finger across the uneven belly of the stone one more time. Bringing her hand up, Caitlin slowly circled her burgeoning stomach, tracing the bumps of her unborn child. Two more weeks and he would be born. The bloodstone comforted Caitlin more than any words, as she knew the stone protected her baby from harm. Five years before Caitlin had scoffed at the ancient one's ways and had refused to carry a bloodstone during her pregnancy, despite her sister's urging.
Caitlin's hand trembled against the ridged fabric covering her round belly. She stopped walking, anxious now to feel her son's movement. She knew the rocking motion often put the child to sleep, but she needed a sign, any sign, that he still lived. He was not moving.
Her pulse beat erratically along her jaw-line, and she willed her heart to slow. The baby's movements had grown fewer and fewer over the past week and, although she knew it was due to his lack of space within the womb, she still worried. Her fear that the baby would die seemed irrational to many, including her doctor and her husband, but it was a fear she could not dismiss. Caitlin remembered the birth of her first child, her stillborn baby girl, like it had happened only yesterday. She thought of the tiny girl every single day. She had named the baby Dana after the Great Mother, the pagan goddess of the ancient Irish, despite her husband's objections.
Caitlin had followed the old path of Witta, which her mother and ancestors had embraced, until she married Blayne and accepted Catholicism at his insistence. At that time in her life, she was quite vulnerable and needed the comfort Blayne offered. When she met Blayne, her mother had recently died after a yearlong struggle with breast cancer. Caitlin had no one to turn to, other than her sister. Eithne was devastated by their mother's death. She had cared for their mother throughout the trials of cancer, the hospitalizations, the drug therapy, natural remedies, all were for naught. Mother was a powerful seer and mystic, and Eithne spent much of her time learning the ancient secrets and Wittan spells before Mother passed away. Not even their combined power was enough to win the fight against cancer.
Caitlin hadn't felt it would be right to lean on her sister under the circumstances. She had never been as interested in the religion as Eithne. After secondary school, Caitlin moved to Dublin to study English at Trinity College. Since Dana's death, however, Caitlin was more interested in Witta, and had begun worshipping the Triple Goddess Brigid--the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone--who was originally known as Dana to the ancient Wittans. Blayne still embraced Catholicism. It was a growing issue between them, and Caitlin prayed that the birth of their child would help seal the breach. They would find a middle ground, somehow. They had to.
The baby moved. Sighing in relief, Caitlin patted the tiny knee and began the trek up toward the cross. Grand piles of wood lay about the countryside today, marking every few hundred yards. Before nightfall, the wood would be formed, steeple-like, into bonfires. Tonight was Samhain, all Hallows Eve, and the masked revelers would be out celebrating the successful harvest season. Eithne would be joining the sabbat circle tonight and Caitlin had agreed to go along and participate. Caitlin was glad now that Blayne was away in the States on business, as he wouldn't approve of her becoming part of the circle. Tonight was an important sabbat, the death of the Great Horned God, Brigid's son and lover. The elderly god died at Samhain, only to be reborn at Yuletide. Tonight's gathering would be Caitlin's first, and she was a little nervous. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing, but she wanted to learn more about Witta and tonight was the perfect opportunity. Blayne would be back in Dublin next week, and Caitlin was going to return to the city in order to birth their child in the hospital. Eithne had tried to persuade Caitlin to have the baby in the comfort of her home with the local wise woman, the caillech, in attendance. Caitlin had been tempted to do just that, but Blayne would not hear of it and she hadn't wanted to force the issue. He put far more faith in the medical establishment than Caitlin did.
Their daughter Dana had died inside of her, during labor, at the hospital. Cord pro-lapse, the doctor told them. Caitlin's amniotic sac broke three weeks early and, because Dana's head wasn’t engaged at the time the water broke, her cord had washed into the opening of Caitlin’s cervix. Although the nurse and doctor checked the progress of her labor many times, neither felt the cord protruding. When Dana's head engaged in Caitlin's cervix, the pressure cut off the oxygen to her brain. Dana had suffocated in the womb.
Tears splashed warmly against Caitlin’s cheeks. The memories were still so intense, so overwhelming. The baby grew agitated from her mood and nudged her in the ribs. Inhaling sharply, Caitlin closed her eyes and focused her mind on the baby, her Lugh. She had called him Lugh since his conception. Somehow, Caitlin had known he was a boy, and the various sonograms had confirmed it. She pictured him in her mind, using her imagination and the memory of the blurry image on the ultrasound screen. Lugh weighed about six pounds now, with long frog-like legs and soft skin that was covered in a light downy hair called lanugo. He would lose most of the hair over the next few weeks, but she could visualize it well. Dana, because she had been born early, had been covered in the hair. Caitlin pulled her mind back to her son, as she knew no good would come from her focusing on the tragedy of her daughter's birth. She could see his head cradled in her pelvic bones, his legs bent and crossed, pulled up tight against his chest. His arms, too, were crossed. He could barely move in his confinement.
Caitlin had missed her past two doctor's appointments, as she hadn't felt the need to travel the twenty miles into Dublin to be told that everything was fine--that she was progressing nicely. She had heard all of this before, and yet, Dana was not here. She knew that her cervix was dilating and that her son's head was engaged. The sharp Braxton-Hicks contractions, instinct, and the caillech's examination told her this. She didn't need a doctor to do so. Blayne had called her at her sister's when she missed the first appointment. He was furious with her at first; he had even said she was endangering their son's life. Somehow she had calmed him down and explained to him about the caillech's knowledge and her successful record in the role of mid-wife. The wise woman had never lost a baby during the birth process. Caitlin couldn't be angry with her husband over his words. She knew he was just as scared as she was that something was going to go wrong during Lugh’s birth. He just hid his feelings better than she did.
She saw the Celtic cross up ahead in the distance and she picked up speed. Stopping before the stone symbol, Caitlin realized for the first time the irony in her actions. The cross was a symbol of Catholicism, and she had turned away from the faith. Still, she derived great peace from Tara hill, and the cross itself. It spoke of permanence and antiquity. The cross was much newer than the site itself. Having been raised in a pagan household, Caitlin knew all about the history and mythology of Tara hill, and the high kings. The high kings themselves were Wittan. During their reign, the high kings were considered to be the earthly consort of the Triple Goddess. Despite the Christian intrusion and the Inquisition, the Wittan religion still survived. Caitlin shrugged off the eerie feeling that thoughts of the Inquisition raised, and leaned closer to study the cross. Although it was a symbol of the Church, it was engraved with Celtic art--the interloping knots and wavy lines of Celtic ancestry and the Viking invasions. It was beautiful, symbolic, and very peaceful.
Black iron bars surrounded and protected the cross. Hands closing around the fence, Caitlin longed to reach in and touch the symbol, but she didn't dare. A few other people, an older couple and a man who looked to be in his thirties, stood a few yards from the cross. They watched her with interest. She supposed that she did make an intriguing figure, what with her bright purple jumper layered over a white turtleneck. Her outfit was topped with a beat up, brown leather jacket that couldn't close over her ripe stomach. Her hair tumbled loose to her waist and blew wildly about her head in the breeze. She smiled in their direction, then turned back to face the cross. Closing her eyes, she leaned her forehead against the cold bars and thought of her baby. As she did so, a contraction crawled up the left side of her stomach, around her back, and crossed back to her right side; the pain funneled down toward the junction of her thighs. She clutched the bars tighter, using them for support, and waited for it to pass. The pains had become more frequent over the past few days, and more painful. The wise woman said it was due to the baby's head resting so snugly against the base of her spine. The caillech had warned Caitlin just yesterday to begin curbing her activity, and she had, but she couldn't give up one last visit to Tara.
The pain passed, and Caitlin looked up to see if the other people had noticed. They had. The elderly lady was approaching her, and she held in a groan as she turned toward the woman, releasing the bars as she did so. She didn't want to hear a lecture, though maybe she deserved one.
"Hello there, miss," the woman said tentatively. She glanced back over her shoulder at her husband, who merely shrugged, and then turned back to Caitlin. "Are you all right? I see that you are very far along."
Caitlin smiled. "Yes, thank you. Just a small contraction. I will be..." Just then another contraction rose up; this time it started in her back. She grabbed for the bars again. The woman placed her hands on Caitlin's shoulders, helping to support her through the pain. When the contraction subsided, the woman pulled back.
"I'm sorry, miss," the woman said, "but I really think you should head back home now. That babe is coming tonight."
"Oh, no." Caitlin shook her head, not wanting to admit she had been wrong in making the trip up the hill. "I have been having these pains for a few days now. They will pass." She didn't tell the woman that these contractions were worse, much worse.
The older woman smiled. She had a golden cap on one of her front teeth and it glimmered in the mid-afternoon sun. "I hope you are right. Tonight is not a good night for the birthing of a babe."
The two women stood in silence for a moment, contemplating the risks of having a baby on Samhain. The ancient Irish belief was that on Halloween spirits roamed the earth, both good and evil spirits. In addition to the spirits, it was well known that the faeries would be out in force, looking for babies to swipe in order to replace the newborns with changelings. Caitlin shuddered inwardly at the thought. To have the baby and lose it to a faerie! She didn't really believe that faeries stole babies, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
The older lady broke the silence. "Will you let me and my husband walk you home, just in case?" She motioned toward the younger man, who was out of hearing range, then added, "My grandson will be happy to get away from us."
Caitlin considered the offer for a moment. The woman seemed nice enough, and she wasn't lecturing her like so many other older women believed to be their right. But, she would lose the blissful solitude of her walk home, and she was reluctant to agree. As yet another contraction worked its way across her stomach, she knew she would have to accept the woman's help, and she was lucky to have it. When she was able to speak, Caitlin said, "I think you may be right about my having the baby tonight. Please, I would be very grateful for your help getting back to my sister's house."
The woman motioned for the men to join them, and once they were close enough to hear her speak, she said to her grandson, "Bryan, go on home without us. We are going to help this young lady." She paused, turning to Caitlin. "I'm sorry, miss. What is your name?"
"Caitlin. Caitlin Tyrone."
"What a beautiful name! That was my favorite cousin's name. Did you hear that, Bryan, Sean? Her name is Caitlin. Nice to meet you. I'm Aileen, and this," she said, pointing to her chubby husband, "is Sean, and my grandson Bryan."
Caitlin couldn't help smiling at the belated introduction. "It's nice to meet you. I can't thank you enough."
"You want me to come with you, Grandmother?" Bryan asked, pushing a long lock of wavy brown hair away from his eyes as he focused on Caitlin's stomach protruding out from the leather jacket. Caitlin watched him, and when he looked up to meet her eyes, he blushed and quickly turned away.
"No. Grandfather and me, we are just going to walk Caitlin back to her sister's house. She's about ready to have her baby."
Sean looked like he wanted to bolt, but Aileen fixed him with a cold stare. He turned away, obviously resigning himself to his position as escort. "Yes, go on home Bryan and prepare for the bonfire tonight. We have a lot of celebrating to do this year."
Caitlin shifted her weight from one foot to the other as another cramp began. She didn't want to embarrass herself in front of the men. Luckily, Aileen caught her expression and said, "Go on now, Bryan. Unless you want the baby to be born here at Tara? We will be home in an hour or so."
Bryan looked from Aileen to Caitlin. "No, this isn't the place to have a baby. Good luck with it then, miss. Many blessings to your child."
"Thank you," Caitlin whispered, trying to keep from wincing. They watched Bryan go in the opposite direction, and then Aileen took her by the arm. The three made it back down the hill, stopping every ten minutes or so when Caitlin's contractions grew too powerful for her to walk through.
**********
Eithne opened the dark green door wearing a short black skirt, a thin red top, and a horned mask covered with red sequins. She stepped back in surprise as Aileen, her arm supporting Caitlin, led the pregnant woman into the house. Sean stayed outside, looking around and seeming to be eager to get away.
"Hey, Aileen. I see you've met my sister," Eithne murmured from behind her mask. She reached behind her head and pulled the sequined thing up and off. Her dark hair was tied back in a braid and the band of the mask got caught in her hair. She tugged it free. "Is it the babe?" she asked softly.
Caitlin nodded as another contraction rippled up her spine. She didn't know why she was surprised to learn that Aileen and Eithne knew each other. After all, they both lived close to Tara. In her pain, she had not thought to ask.
"Yes," Aileen answered for her. "Caitlin's contractions are less than five minutes apart now. They aren't constant, though. Sometimes there is almost ten minutes between, then one will come right away, less than two minutes apart."
"Oh!" Eithne exclaimed, fiddling anxiously with the red mask dangling in her left hand. "I don't know if the caillech can attend her or not. Tonight's the sabbat."
Aileen paled visibly at the mention of the witch's circle. "Is there anything I can do to help now?" Aileen asked, her voice wavering a bit. "I have to go soon."
Caitlin watched anxiously as Eithne leveled Aileen with a steady, knowing gaze. "No, Aileen. Thanks for bringing my sister to me. I know it must have taken a lot to bring her to a 'witches' house. I see your husband won't even enter my home."
Aileen's face flushed crimson and she glanced out the open door at her husband. "I wasn't aware you were Eithne's sister, Caitlin." She looked like she wanted to say more, but she didn't. Her eyes traveled about the room, and when Eithne's huge, furry black Persian cat leaped up onto the sofa, Aileen backed toward the door in fright.
"Don't worry, Aileen, Nocturnal won't harm you," Eithne said bitterly, bending down to rub between the cat's ears. Nocturnal purred contentedly, her green eyes closing in pleasure.
Caitlin glanced back at Aileen. The tension in the room was increasing by the minute. "Thank you so much for your help. I am in good hands now." Caitlin attempted to smile, but she knew it didn't reach her eyes. She was very protective and loyal of her older sister, and didn't like hearing the pain in Eithne's voice. "I'll let you know if the baby is well. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Caitlin," Aileen said, hovering in the doorway, her eyes still locked on Nocturnal. "I hope everything goes well. Would you like a ride into Dublin? We should have time to drop you at the hospital and still make it back in time for the celebrations."
Eithne stopped stroking Nocturnal and, looking at Aileen as if she was crazy, said, "Caitlin is staying here, where she can be comfortable. What if the baby comes while you're on the road?" Nocturnal leaped off the sofa and pranced toward Aileen, who stood in the open doorway. Aileen took a step back, out onto the porch, and Nocturnal turned away proudly.
"I'm sorry. I hadn't thought of that," Aileen called in through the door. "I just want to do what's best for the baby."
Although Aileen's voice wasn't exactly condescending, it certainly bordered on the lecturing that Caitlin abhorred. She was getting ready to respond when another pain forced her into a nearby chair.
Aileen took the opportunity to flee. "I'll be going then," Aileen mumbled as she quickly made her way down the two steps to the ground.
"What took so long?" Caitlin heard Sean ask as the couple walked quickly away. She shook her head sadly at how fast the two had changed their attitude when they realized exactly whose house she was staying in. At the time she hadn't understood why they had whispered amongst themselves when they approached Eithne's home, but now she did. They were suspicious of Eithne because she followed the old path. It wasn't right to be so judgmental.
"Come, let's get you into bed," Eithne said softly. They went into the brightly decorated guest room where Caitlin had spent the past month. Blown up pictures of the different stages of the moon lined one of the lavender walls, and old family photographs lined another. Above the stone fireplace was an original oil painting of their mother. She was wearing a black velvet gown with off-the-shoulder puffy sleeves and a deep décolleté. Her dark hair cascaded about her pure white shoulders. Her smile was seductive and innocent at the same time. Caitlin remembered her mother's smile most of all. Their father had died in a car accident when the girls were very young, and Caitlin didn't remember him at all. Caitlin was a mere two years old, and Eithne had been six, when it happened.
Eithne stripped the bedclothes off the bed and covered the mattress with plastic, overlaying it with an older cotton sheet. Then she helped Caitlin remove her clothes and slipped a loose cotton gown over her head. "I don't know if the caillech will be able to come. She has to lead the circle tonight."
"I know," Caitlin whispered, her face contorting with pain once again. She was afraid, but her mental energies were so scattered she couldn't focus on the fear for long. "Do you think you can do it, Eithne?"
"I know I can. I have attended four births with the wise one. As long as the birth progresses normally, I can do it."
Caitlin sighed in relief. "I'm sure nothing can be much worse than poor Dana's death. Will you check me now?"
"Lie back." Eithne spoke with authority, and Caitlin did her bidding. As Caitlin felt her sister's finger press up against her, she forced herself to relax and breathe slowly. She felt more comfortable here than she had at the hospital. "You're at least a six, maybe a seven," Eithne said.
"When I get to ten centimeters, that's when I push?"
"Don't you remember?" Eithne asked quietly.
"I have tried to block so much of that night, I guess I don't."
"Yes, ten's the number. But, you will definitely know when the time is right. I'm going to go make a few phone calls. I want to see if the wise one can come. Do you want me to call Blayne?" Eithne asked.
"Yes. Don't tell him I walked to Tara today, please! He will be upset enough that he isn't here for the birth, that I'm not at the hospital" Caitlin's voice trailed off, then she said, "I don't want him to know that I may have hastened labor with my activity."
"Don't worry, Caitlin. Your walk's between you and me."
**********
Two hours later, Caitlin had progressed to an eight. Her labor had slowed once she lay down. She didn't mind. She wanted to be prepared. Eithne had washed some sheets in saffron and they were tumbling in the dryer. Saffron was said to prevent hemorrhaging, and they didn't want to take any chances. The contractions were not as hard as they were earlier, but they were more regular. They were spaced evenly between three and five minutes. The baby wasn't going to beat sunset, as the sun was already sinking on the horizon. She had to use the bathroom, and as she made to get out of bed, something warm and slick flowed out from between her legs.
"Eithne! My water broke," she called out, making her way to the bathroom. She trailed a thin line of amniotic fluid behind her on the floor. When she came out of the bathroom, Eithne was changing the sheet. Her sister's back was to her as she pulled the sheet tight over the plastic. She had changed out of the outfit she had been wearing for the circle and into a pair of jeans and a thick, cabled sweater. "Will you check and make sure the cord isn't out?" Caitlin asked anxiously, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Of course, but I don't think you have to worry about that this time." Eithne went into the bathroom and washed her hands with anti-bacterial soap, and then she came back into the room and motioned for Caitlin to lie back. "Try not to worry. His head has been snuggled in your pelvis for the past few weeks."
"I know," Caitlin mumbled, lying back and spreading her legs. She felt Eithne's finger press up inside of her and she exhaled heavily. She visualized Lugh as healthy and beautiful. She refused to let her fear overwhelm her.
Eithne removed her hand. "I just poked him in the head!" she said teasingly, and then becoming serious, she added, "The caillech can't attend the birth, Caitlin. She just called back. She said that they could call the circle out back behind the house, if you like."
Caitlin shuddered. "No, I don't think that would be wise. Wouldn't we be inviting spirits into the house?"
"Yes. Good spirits. Mother could be here," Eithne whispered, glancing up at the portrait above the mantle.
Caitlin was quiet for a moment, and then she said, "I don't know, Eithne. That scares me." She glanced up at her mother's picture, too, then back at Eithne. The sister's eyes met; Caitlin's green eyes locked with Eithne's strange amber-colored ones for a bare moment before she turned away. "Mom has been dead for over ten years now. Couldn't other spirits come with her, evil spirits?" Caitlin asked, sitting up.
"We've never had a spirit appear that we haven't called forth. It's possible, though. Wouldn't having mother here for the birth be worth the chance?"
"No. Nothing is worth risking my baby's life."
"O.K. then," Eithne said. "I'll tell the caillech to hold the circle in the grove, as planned. I wanted to ask you, though. They'll have to find someone to replace us in the circle. There are only eleven of them now, and they must have thirteen."
Caitlin grimaced as another pain ripped across her abdomen. "I think it's almost time. The pains are worse again."
Eithne looked at her, but she didn't respond. Instead, she crossed to the window. "The sun's down now. We must be prepared. They're lighting the bonfires. Can you see the flames up on Tara?"
Caitlin tried to see out the window, but it was just too far away. "No, but I smell it. I'm sorry you'll miss the circle tonight."
Eithne walked back to the bed. "You are more important than the circle, Caitlin. Don't ever forget that." She pushed Caitlin playfully back against the mattress and pulled up the white gown to expose her stomach. Eithne ran her hands along the baby's body through the veined, thin skin covering him. "At least he's turned the right way. I don't think we will have any problems. Where's your bloodstone?"
"In my jumper’s pocket."
Eithne went in search of the stone, and when she returned she placed it under Caitlin's pillow. "This will help in the birth."
**********
It was time. Drums beat outside, a constant pulsating rhythm that echoed Caitlin's contractions. She heard the revelers off in the distance and smelled the burning oak and willow fires. She pushed with all her might to the steady drumbeats, but it seemed nothing was happening.
"Breathe deeply, Caitlin. Come on, you can do it. Push."
Eithne's voice floated around her, but Caitlin couldn't place the direction. She was already exhausted. Suddenly, she heard laughter and singing. The song was a strange melodious one and she couldn't make out the words. She thought they were singing in Gaelic, but she only understood a few of the words…moon, dance, night. The song renewed her strength, and she bore down with all her might.
"I see his head! Push!"
Caitlin felt a cool hand upon her forehead, and when she looked up, she saw her mother standing next to her. She was smiling the smile Caitlin remembered so well. A calm feeling washed over her, and Caitlin pushed again.
Three more times, and her son was born. His single cry was like a blessing. Eithne cut the cord with a sharp, sterilized knife and cauterized the end with the hot blade. She cleared the baby's mouth, and quickly bundled him in clean linen before handing the babe to her sister. Caitlin cuddled her son close, and as she did so, she felt the presence of many people watching her. She looked around. She was amazed to see many eyes peering back at her through the slits cut into their masks. Purple, blue, red, and black masks in the shape of horned demons and wild animals covered the eleven faces, faces she suspected belonged to her sister's coven. Two of the masked observers were men. They were shirtless, despite the chilly night air.
"Mother," Caitlin whispered, but the spirit was no longer there.
The caillech removed her red horned mask. Her skin was thick and wrinkled about her dark eyes, and when she smiled, Caitlin saw her stained teeth. The old wise woman's white hair was worked into a braid that fell halfway down her back.
"Caitlin," the caillech began, "we brought the circle to you. We needed the presence of thirteen to bring your mother into the world. I hope you don't mind."
Caitlin reached for the old woman's hand. The wise woman took it and squeezed hard. When she let go, she asked, "May I hold the babe?"
Holding him up to the caillech, Caitlin whispered, "Thank you so much. Mother helped me birth him. I'll never be able to thank you."
"No thanks are necessary, Caitlin. I had a vision earlier this evening. Your son, he is a special one."
"What do you mean?" Caitlin asked.
"He's one of us." Despite the woman's age, her voice was as pure and smooth as a youth's. She paused for a moment, gazing down into the baby's eyes. They seemed to be communicating. The caillech appeared to be listening, and then she smiled. "He called to me, he told me that if I didn't bring your mother's spirit to you, you wouldn't have the energy to birth him. Did you hear the Great Mother's song?" Caitlin nodded. The wise woman handed the baby back to her. "Look at his eyes."
Caitlin looked down into her son's dark brown eyes, eyes that should've been the strange gray color of all newborn's. They were wise and knowing, and seemed to read her soul.
"His name is Lugh, but you may call him as you wish," the caillech said, smiling.
Caitlin looked back down at her Lugh. She had never told anyone about her name for her son, not even her husband. Did you tell the caillech your name? Caitlin asked him, without speaking the words. She thought she saw him nod his head, but she couldn't be sure.
This is book 2 of my new fantasy trilogy, The Twins of Moon. As Quimbre warns Eefa, 'No world is more riddled with secrets than the eldritch waters we now blithely sail.' Here in the Sea of Stars the twins discover their extraordinary true destiny.
A ring of incredible power, a once noble crusade turned sour, and a supernatural storm that could change the heavens forever: J. M. Kelly's Fire of God takes a unique and exciting look at the Old & New Testament, as he chronicles the life of Joseph
