Celtic Mist Ch. 16

Several minutes passed during which their eyes followed the slow movement of the clouds above them...in silence save for the intermittent birdsong from the nearby trees.

Declan railed against the incursion of time and his own awkwardness, wanting to reap every measure of intimacy possible from these fleeting moments of her companionship. At last, he cleared his throat. "I heard you were in a convent...was that after we parted ways last September?"

Aoife's head turned sharply. "How did ye hear that?"

"I heard your employer --- Mrs. Sutton --- discussing you with the Magistrate Jacob whilst you were sewing in the courtroom. She mentioned it to him."

"They were discussing me?" She looked nonplussed. "What were they saying?"

"Well, the short of it is that the Magistrate was hoping to make ye his mistress, and Mrs. Sutton was decrying the possible loss of your work in the shop."

Aoife's tight countenance showed her discomposure.

Declan's voice grew harsh. "Did that man...importune or offend ye in any way?"

She shook her head. "That does account for his odd behavior. He happened upon me in distress during the pitch-cappings at Bolger's malt-house and escorted me back to the shop...where his feelings became...evident..." Spots of color appeared upon her cheeks. "...but he pressed me not. I don't know whether to credit his restraint to a fear of the family's return or to an incongruous gentlemanly bent in an otherwise evil man."

There was a pause. "Well, at least we wreaked some vengeance for Bolger and Redmond and the others," Declan reflected.

"Aye. Those two Yeomen holding you were the ones applying the pitch-caps, so they were."

Declan nodded. Their eyes fixed upon each other, expressions somber.

Aoife inhaled and turned her face back towards the sky. "But, as to your question --- I did join the convent after leaving you."

"Was that when you cut your hair?"

She shook her head. "I left after my six-month postulancy. Had I stayed, my hair would have been shorn then."

"Why did ye leave?"

"I knew I was not suited to the vocation." Aoife's fingers absently fiddled with grass blades, braiding them as she spoke. "Despite the teachings of the Church, I could not bring my heart to trust that there would ever be justice for my family. Indeed, I even came to question whether there truly is a God...to let so many people suffer so." Her eyes flashed with an expression of defiance, acknowledging the blasphemy of the sentiment.

"But...I have no regrets about my time in the convent. The prayer, solitude, and contemplation brought me a measure of peace in some matters...and clarity in others. I knew that I had unresolved matters in the outside world that no amount of prayer and self-deprivation would settle." She shrugged. "So I cut me hair and left Dublin to seek out Blaylock."

His head rotated towards her. "The convent was in Dublin? You were in Dublin for six months?"

She nodded.

"I was in Dublin meself part of that time!"

Her expression was curious. "What were ye doing there?"

"I was a lumper at the dockyards daytimes --- I loaded and unloaded ships. In the evenings I was a barkeeper."

"Where was this?"

"The City Quay neighborhood by the Liffey."

"Did you by chance attend mass at St. Andrew's church?"

"Aye, but not so often as I ought to have, no doubt."

One pink corner of Aoife's lips lifted. "I saw you there at the Christmastide mass."

Declan gaped at her.

"You were with a group of people...a man with a wooden leg...some weans."

"That was the family with whom I was living...they owned the tavern where I worked!" He shook his head in wonder. "By God, you were there?! The row of nuns in the front pew?"

"Sisters," she corrected. "Aye, so I was."

"How I wish I had known you were there too...all those months!"

Her expression was wry. "Back then I was in no state of mind to think on ye kindly."

Declan exhaled slowly. "Aye. And I would not have faulted your hatred, for I canna forgive meself for my part in what happened to you and your family that night."

He sat up, looking down at her face intently, at which she stilled her restless fingers and regarded him. Without faltering, he met her pale blue gaze. "Aoife, 'tis dreadful sorry I be for what befell your sister and your family and you, and I am sore aggrieved for being a party to it."

Aoife sat up too, leaning back on her hand as Declan continued. "'Twas that very night that Blaylock promoted me from a simple guardsman to a member of his choice squadron. I knew not what their purpose was, but I was overwhelmed by what I thought was an honor. Up till then, I had admired Blaylock as a strong, fearless figure of a man...much to my subsequent shame...I suppose I was blinded-like by his attention after years of living homeless and reviled."

Aoife's eyes shifted to the braided leaves she was slowly turning in her fingers.

"He told me that your sister's husband had committed a crime and we were there to arrest him. I was shocked by what passed...shocked to see Blaylock's true character. I tried to reason with me conscience that there must be a decent explanation for what they were doing...that I was too much of a simpleton to understand. By God, I should have listened to me heart! I should have done something earlier --- defied orders and attacked him the moment he shot the dog!"

Declan's face twisted and his shoulders heaved. After a moment he shook his head bleakly and concluded, "I'm offering no excuse for meself...but I want ye to know that no soulless criminal was I...at least, I pray that you can see me true self."

Aoife arched and snapped the leaves tight between her hands for several silent moments, then tossed them aside. "Aye, Declan Muldowney, so I do...now that me eyes are opened. I was too consumed with bitterness to appreciate all the honorable, chivalrous things ye did for me...the things ye did for Ireland. Consider that if you had defied Blaylock earlier that night --- with his other men there --- you would assuredly be dead, and I raped and likely dead too."

Declan swallowed and blinked. Aoife touched his knee. "You were in an impossible situation. You did heed your conscience, most bravely, so ye did...and 'tis on that account that we are here today."

They stared at each other.

A pair of white butterflies --- one with orange-tipped wings, one with black spots --- fluttered between them, breaking the spell. Aoife giggled; Declan took her hand and they both lay back upon the ground, side by side with their shoulders again touching.

"So, you went to Dublin as well after we parted ways," she mused.

"Not immediately. Seeing as how I finally remembered who I was, I first went to Kilkenny, the town of my birth, to search for me past, ye might say. I heard tell of how my family's deaths had been attributed to a terrible house fire...like I suppose he intended with yours. I found their grave marker."

"'Twas all that remained?"

He nodded, and he felt the softness of her gaze as her eyes moved over his face for some moments. "Have ye any other family?" she presently asked.

He shook his head. "I daresay I have aunts and uncles and cousins, but I dinna remember any names. None did I uncover in Kilkenny."

"Blaylock murdered your family...eleven years ago? How old were you?"

"Nine."

"Why did he do it?"

Declan told her the story of the allegorical sheep husbandry pamphlet his father had published.

"Blaylock must have been working for the Crown or some nobleman?" she speculated.

"So it would seem. But I suspect the murders and rape were his own improvisation."

"A wee lad with no home and no memories...how did ye live all those years?"

He shrugged. "By me wits. Taking what work I could, eating from rubbish piles, begging."

Aoife's brows drew together, and her mouth turned down in a pained expression. "You're twenty now?"

"I am." He stroked her hand. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"What of you? Have you any other family?" he said, returning the query.

She shook her head. "'My parents are long dead, and me brothers were Defenders who died in the Battle of the Diamond. 'Tis like you...I must have distant relations, but I have no further knowledge of them."

"Your brothers were older than you?"

"Aye. 'Twas the four of us: Colm, Clodagh, Patrick, and meself --- I was the youngest."

"How long ago did they die?"

Aoife pondered the question. "Three years ago, this September."

"And now 'tis only you," Declan observed quietly, his head turned to study her face. "'Twould seem our lives have taken strangely parallel courses." His heart pressed him to say more, but he knew not how to proceed. He squeezed her hand.

"When did you go to Dublin, then?" she asked.

He cleared his throat. "After a month or so working in Kilkenny, I returned to Kilmaedan town, intent upon killing Blaylock. But I learnt that he had returned to England. I learnt it from Fitzgibbons and Burrows."

"And you served them justice, so ye did."

He nodded.

"Were they the other two men with Blaylock the night your family was murdered?"

Declan shook his head. "No. I did it for your sister...your family...and all the other lasses they crowed about having likewise served."

Aoife's hand tightened upon his, and he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes ere she turned her head away, seeming embarrassed. He held her hand fast. The warbling chirp of a bird eventually broke the silence.

Aoife turned back with a small smile, blinking. She drew a breath. "How did you come to be in Enniscorthy, then?"

"I was putting by money with the plan of seeking out Blaylock in England, but I had to leave Dublin sharpish after I resisted the press-gang." At her questioning look, he explained, "The Crown's military recruiters who force lads into service. 'Tis a capital offense to resist."

Her brows arched.

"By then I was full enflamed to join the United Irishmen...my revenge would come in time, I warranted. A friend in the tavern arranged for me to make the acquaintance of Colin Foley in Enniscorthy --- both to escape the press-gang and to further my insurgent inclinations."

Aoife nodded slowly. "That's why you were going by a different name?"

"Aye, so it was." He laced his fingers with hers. "And you? How did you end up in Enniscorthy?"

"After leaving Dublin, I became Michael. I too went to Kilmaedan, prepared to hunt Blaylock down, but learnt he had left several months prior. But 'twas there that I heard he was returning to Ireland to accept a military commission in County Wexford. No further details were known, so I set out to search for him in every garrison in the county."

Declan nodded. "The boot black...a most effective disguise, it was. How did you change your hair color?"

"An extract of walnut hulls and tree barks that I originally concocted back home to dye wool."

"'Twas a most remarkable transformation. How many garrisons did ye end up infiltrating?"

She thought for a moment. "Blaylock's garrison was the fifth one."

"You deceived five garrisons full of the Crown's soldiers...not to mention Fleetwood's United Irish company? Jaysis, Aoife! You're a damn sight cleverer than anyone I've ever met."

Aoife shrugged. "Perhaps 'tis less cleverness and more me boyish figure."

Declan chuckled. "Lass, any man who has had the privilege of seeing ye naked would take hearty exception to that slander. Aye, you're a wee thing, but you have the loveliest, fairest, female form a lad could lay eyes on...and crave to lay himself on." He winked.

"Have ye seen so many to be a fair judge of that?" she teased.

"Nay, not so many. 'Tis patently obvious." He rolled onto his side and propped his head upon his hand as he pointedly ogled her reclining body. "But 'tis glad I be that all those men were not disabused of their mistake."

Aoife regarded him steadily, a hint of a smile upon her lips.

After a moment, Declan sat up fully, rotating to face her and taking a deep breath. "Aoife...there's something I need to tell ye...to confess, as it were."

She raised one brow as she looked up at him. "And what would that be? Are ye truly a lass?"

He shook his head.

"The natural son of King George?"

"'Tis how I learnt who Michael was."

Her countenance became guarded.

Declan cleared his throat. "After the mission to Wexford town when we fetched the guns from the wool merchant McBride...and he was subsequently arrested...I began to suspect that Michael might be the spy who had betrayed him. I was convinced that your connection with the garrisons was proof of your true loyalties."

Aoife's expression was intent.

"I started following you...at least I tried. But you're a wily little creature, so ye are. I tracked you to the neighborhood of the dressmaker's shop, but I lost sight of ye there. Well...'twas two weeks ago that I was walking back from Ballaghkeen after meeting with the master of the Defenders lodge there...I ducked into a forest to avoid a detachment of Redcoats on the road. As I walked through the woods, I spied Michael among the trees before me. Being convinced that you were meeting someone to pass on intelligence, I followed you...I followed you to the waterfall."

Her eyes widened and she sat up abruptly.

"When I saw that ye only meant to bathe, I started to leave...but then off came your shirt, and I could'na help meself, so surprised was I. I...erm...I stayed and watched you."

Aoife's glare tore his heart something fierce. She twisted on the ground, presenting her back to him. "Two weeks ago?" she snapped.

"Aye."

"And what specifically did you watch, Declan Muldowney?"

He swallowed. "Well...you dived into the pool and swam for a bit, then ye climbed up to the falls and bathed...and...well...then ye washed your clothes and dressed as a lass."

Her back hunched as she leant away and hugged her knees. "Where were ye hidden?" she groaned.

"Erm...under the pine boughs in the wee grotto where we...slept...and such."

She hid her face against her knees, and her back moved with her agitated breathing. Declan touched her shoulder, but she jerked away.

"Aoife, I'm so sorry for spying on ye. 'Twas wrong of me." He sat with his forearms on his bent knees, between them turning the stem of the purple flower he yet held. "I think that my heart got the better of me reason, for I've been in love with you since the night I first saw you. My heart was rare sad and sick when ye vanished back in September, and since then, there's scarce been a day or night when I haven't thought on you...haven't worried about what happened to you...haven't longed for your company." Declan's eyes fastened upon the wispy red hairs at her pale nape.

He sighed and continued, "When I realized Michael was you, I was dumfounded...and overjoyed. You were alive and safe and there before me. I couldn't tear me eyes away from the wondrous vision...but I should have. I shouldn't have violated your privacy so."

Aoife shook her head against her knees. Her voice was muffled. "The wicked things I did then...by God, what you must have thought of me!"

"Why, I only thought you had the cleanest wee cunny and bottom hole in all of Ireland," he jested, but when she cringed, he hastily continued, "Oh love! Dinna fret so! Even back in the fall when I knew that you justly loathed me, so powerful did I love ye that I strove to do right by you --- not to win you, but...but simply to be worthy of you. I scarce considered that I might have a chance of earning your affection true. 'Twas not till ye kissed me in the cave that I dared to hope as never before."

With the purple flower, Declan touched her neck where it sloped to her shoulder. She flinched.

"'Tis all to say, dinna ye ken how besotted I am with ye, lass? And know certain that unlike a knight of yore, me heart would be sore bereft if you shared my affection, but our love was constrained to chaste adoration. My love is boundless and includes everything --- from working alongside you in a field...to earnest discourse...to dancing at the fair...to fucking...aye...to most unrestrained fucking. I'm not ashamed of it. Anything that I witnessed that day at the waterfall only made me more fiercely enamored with ye than ever."

Aoife's face lifted from her knees, but with her back towards him, he could not see her expression. A breeze stirred her hair and the flowers and leaves about them...a muted bird call came from the direction of the stream.

At last, she spoke, her voice utterly flat, "Well, I'm glad 'twas you, and not some other lad." She shot a look over her shoulder. "You didn't encounter any other men watching me, did ye?"

A snorting laugh escaped him. "The Devil! I would have thrashed them hard and proper, had there been."

"And what of yourself, Declan Muldowney?" she challenged, still eyeing him over her shoulder.

"I thrashed meself hard and proper, so I did...after ye left." He winked. In a moment her eyes grew big and she blushed. Her face turned away again, but the shaking of her shoulders suggested that she was trying to suppress laughter.

When he touched her back, she did not recoil, and he slid his arm round her to clasp her far shoulder. "Come here, love," he murmured. She resisted not as he turned her and pulled her into an awkward embrace, both sitting on the ground. Declan stroked her hair and kissed her brow softly.

Aoife leant her head on his shoulder as he snuggled her closer. "'Tis ironic...I thought you were the spy," she said.

Declan's eyes opened. "You did? Why?"

"The betrayal of McBride and the Noctor brothers at Davidstown...both were involved in gun missions you attended. Twice seeing ye on the road to Rossnalough Manor...I thought you had taken up with Blaylock again. My unresolved animosity towards you no doubt fortified my suspicions."

Declan shook his head in wonder. "Aye, it is indeed ironic. Fate has been very mysterious in guiding our paths. 'Tis frightening to think how narrowly we missed finding each other...like this." His head cocked --- had that been the faint caw of a crow? He hugged her more tightly and said, "Had it not been for you last night in Blaylock's office, I would have died."

Aoife raised her face. "Had it not been for you, I would have been raped and likely murdered...several times now have ye saved me."

Their gazes fixed upon each other. The leaves rustled and his pulse sounded in his ears. How intense shone her eyes! Declan bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and tender...their lips soft and parted...moving...warm sips of breath exchanging.

But 'twas not long ere their arms tightened about each other and the kiss grew more searching. Aoife shivered as he slid his tongue into her mouth...avidly did she suck upon it, most thrillingly recalling her recent attentions to his cock. Faster and hotter came their breaths in pace with the dewy, twining junction, and their yearning bodies protested the awkward seated embrace, shifting and twisting, till Declan turned them and laid her back upon the ground, getting atop her.

Now their arms wrapped round each other...their clothed bodies pressing together as the kiss continued. Tongues wrestled and retreated as spittle-slick lips fed upon each other, the excitement rising with the amorous play. Declan lifted his head to drink in the sight of her bonnie face alight with desire. In her pupils he saw the reflection of the clouds and sky above them...he breathed the heady scent of the surrounding grasses and flowers...and he came over dizzy with happiness, his heart thumping in his chest. Again his mouth took hers, and he moved forcefully on her.

Aoife whimpered and broke from the kiss. "Owww --- you're squashing me!"

"What?!" he exclaimed. "I'm squashing you, forsooth, fair maid?" His eyes were merry as he suddenly relaxed the support of his elbows and knees, dropping his full weight upon her. She squeaked most enchantingly, and her small body wriggled under his.