The Witches of Slievenamon

So, come 10 o'clock on the dot, the Moms arrive en mass and within ten minutes we're all crowded into my sitting room with tea and cake and once they settle, Etain simply charms them all as she recounts her version of how we met only the week before.

She tells it a lot funnier than the way I told it to you earlier in Chapter 1 and I hadn't realised until now how much she had noticed and how serious and expressive my face had been in explaining to her about using the phone to ring the Garda if I tried anything on her, and what my face looked like when I stepped in the puddle up to my mid-calf and when I handed her the towels and tried to avert my eyes from her nipples as she describes the incident to the Moms in excruciating detailed detail.

She actually tells them everything!

Crap! I'm as red as a ripe tomato stuffed with chili sauce.

They all laugh over how we met, the coincidence of us being next-door-neighbors and Kaetlynn being Etain's aunt and how well the Moms can see how she and Caoimhe get on and, nudge-nudge, how well me and she appear to be getting along.

Of course, there's no mention of our current sleeping arrangements, but do admit that we tend to dine the three of us together for convenience. No mention is made of witches or curses, kings, cheating princesses or hulking mythical heroes, but she tells them she was born in one of the small settlements of Cork close to the sea but that she left there when she was a bare wean and has lived in a small woodland cottage near Ballypatrick on the southern slopes of Slievenamon Mountain until moving here to inherit her aunt's cottage a week ago.

Of course, most of the Moms, being born and raised locally, knew Kaetlynn well, and one or two even remembered Bebhinn and her jars of honey and the beeswax products and potions that she sold in the Thurles market, which sets off a round of discussion that the market is a shadow of what it was pre-Covid.

Etain tells them that she now keeps bees like Bebhinn did and, while it is a little late in the season for much honey this year, she will have plenty to share among friends in a year's time. Which in itself tells everyone that Etain is a permanent part of our neighborhood and they all give me that look.

Yes, we all know that look, do we not?

The special tea blend goes down just as well as the cake and Etain has to promise to make more cake for their next visit and one lady, Brenda Cullinder, who complains of chilblains, is given an ointment that Etain fetched from the cellar next door plus a jar of Bebhinn's honey for each and every one of them that might be a dozen years old but honey never goes off, she says, "if it has gone crystalline, just stand the jar in a bowl of hot water why doncha until the honey goes clear again and it'll be right as rain".

I smile, thinking, 'I love that girl', and realise indeed that 'I love that girl'.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 13: WITCHES' DANCE

"Right, Caoimhe," I say to my daughter, "if you want to stay awake for the dance at the Faerie Ring tonight, you need to get your head down for at least a couple of hours."

"Aw, Daaad!" she whines, "I'll be far too excited to sleep."

"At least try, sweetheart," I say, "you will be much more alert and will enjoy the dancing more if you are refreshed. I'll set the alarm on my cell phone and make sure I get you up in plenty of time. Honestly, you won't miss a thing."

"I'm going to have a wee sleep, too," Etain says, which seems to end the argument.

Caoimhe does go down to sleep after supper and a cup of hot sweet cocoa, without too much objection. Hot sweet cocoa always makes me sleepy so I hope it helps her relax enough to get a little sleep.

I do have to wake Caoimhe when we all get up at midnight, although the dancing is not going to start until about a quarter after one, when the moon will be directly overhead in our world. We do get well wrapped up first against the chill damp night and we enjoy the adventurous walk as we make our way by LED torchlight, through the backyard to what is now Etain's house, to the wood where we found the Faerie Ring.

Once there, with Etain leading the way, as soon as we step into the bramble patch the brambles melt away and disappear while the overcast skies of our world clear and the three-quarter moon illuminates the ring perfectly.

As I said before, these connecting portals between our two worlds seem to straddle both worlds and what is overgrown or flooded on one side, is open grassland on the other side and, as we enter or leave the Ring, we move between our world and the Otherworld seamlessly, so that it seems a little part of the Otherworld sits on our bramble patch.

Then, out of the apparent shadows on the edge of the ring, the other six Witches appear and, without any preamble, Etain waves us to stay where we are on the edge and she joins them in the center of the ring.

They start to dance hand in hand in a glorious ring of beautiful fluidity, all of them suddenly wearing flowing gowns.

Etain had worn training shoes and jogging bottoms with a warm woollen coat over her sweatshirt in our walk to the Faerie Ring but now she is totally transformed, wearing a diaphanous wisp of what could only be called clothing by a stretch of the imagination and silver satin dancing shoes on her feet as she and her witch sisters dance in a ring, a flowing affirmation of elegance and beauty.

Caoimhe clings to my arm on the edge of the Faerie Ring as she watches on fascinated by the dance. I am only a little less moved by the fantastic pageantry of fluid movement before us.

After maybe five minutes or so of dancing, one of the witches peals off, and approaches us as if she is on wings.

"Caoimhe," she says to my daughter in a sing-song voice, "go and join the others, they desire to dance with you again, while I take this opportunity to talk to your father."

"OK, Aunt Katie," she replies, before she eagerly jumps up and, as she runs towards the circle of dancers, Kaetlynn describes a figure of eight in the sky with her index finger while pointing at my daughter, and Caoimhe's waterproof anorak and sensible wellingtons turn into clothing entirely appropriate to any simple cavorting dance of witches under the bright bewitching moon.

If I was ever in doubt at the tale of Irish mythology that Etain has woven for us for the past seven days, I can clearly have no shred of doubt about it now.

"My dear sweet Kaetlynn," I greet my former neighbor, "I've never seen you such before as you are now. You are indeed as beautiful as Etain described and more beautiful than I have words to describe."

"And you, my dear Richard, are as charming and as handsome as ever. Now," she says as she kisses my cheek, squeezes my shoulders, then turns and we both face the prancing dancers, "are you yet resolved in your relationship with my sister Etain?"

"I do not know yet," I reply carefully and as honestly as I can, knowing there can be no secrets in the adventure that our realigning lives have become recently. "Etain tells me that she loves me, and she tells me that constantly so that I can be allowed no doubt," I laugh, "and I do find her absolutely fascinating. In her I know I would find eternal joy for as long as I live. But I must consider Caoimhe before everything else."

"Caoimhe loves her already, Richard, and she is at the start of her time when she needs both a mother and a father, each for different reasons, both for her protection and her wellbeing as she develops into a woman. As wonderfully well as you've been in being both parents for her for so many years, it is now time for her to have a real mother, one who can take her through the next few steps to womanhood and, when she has a family of her own and a man of her own to please, she will get the advice a growing woman needs. At the time that I left the pair of you, and that was partly what made me leave here to force her hand, Caoimhe's need was becoming more important than I was able to forego any longer. Etain had prevaricated for far too long until that point and, well ... our father was getting anxious."

"Ah, I thought that the spectre of the Tuatha Dé Danann would rear his ugly head sooner rather than later."

"Hush, Richard, you stand two metres inside the land of the Tir na nÓg and, while there are no walls about us, every tree, every daisy, everything has ears in this place and the Tuath Dé may not be pleased to hear of your disrespect. Yes, our father is involved as he is in everything and I have myself had little to do with his interference, being only of the Otherworld for a short while. I know that Etain has told you of the Changelings —"

"Wait," I interject, "Etain has mentioned them but really told me absolutely nothing of them. What are Changelings and what do they have to do with me?"

"Everything, Richard, everything," Kaetlynn whispers, "but I too, know little of them, only that throughout Irish history child abuse and infanticide has been blamed on Changelings, where mothers and even fathers have believed that their normal children have become possessed by devils and changed beyond recognition. My father has been searching for a Changeling forever."

She waved a hand towards the dancers.

"My sister Afric will explain to you what you need to know. She is the eldest of us and has been here in the Otherworld the longest, since she was 12," Kaetlynn says, "Etain barely knows Afric, she was only two summers old when Afric left us and Etain only met her again a few nights ago." She pauses. "No matter how many times Etain visited this place through portals such as this, she has never felt that she belongs here. Know this, Richard, whatever happens tonight, I know Etain truly loves you. She feels as though you two were meant for each other and no telling her to relax and breathe will hold her back from that belief. If you decide she is not the one for you, then please let her down gently and while we are here with her to protect her. She has always been alone in your world, and has not committed herself to this world, yet, and doesn't feel she fits in your world either. She has been happy for all these years to drift along as she is, feeling she had a destiny to fulfil but knowing not what it is. We hoped you might provide the answer and suggested she visit with you. Now she has met you she wants what she may never be able to have and such discovery of a false dawn might destroy her. She is more delicate than you might imagine."

"I know, Katie," I say, "I do believe that I love her. I realised that earlier today, not long after she gently embarrassed me in front of my friends and I actually felt pleased and delighted that so soon after meeting me she could regard me so comfortably in the presence of others. If felt as though we were already a couple confident in the sharing of our lives. I haven't felt like that since, well, since Ella. And I think Caoimhe is already convinced that Etain is family."

"Having an Irish witch in your family, Richard, is a unique advantage that few even know they would wish to dream to embrace. While she would never be able to read the future of herself, or you or your family, well, who wishes to curse themselves to know everything that is coming? Life is to be lived in the day, to have a future full of hopes and dreams. Only those who know their future almost as well as they know their past, have no wishes or hopes or even dreams."

"Well, I do not have a clue about my future and still I have no dreams."

"But," she grasps my arm firmly, "You do have hope and wishes?"

"I do."

"And is Etain now part of those hopes and wishes?"

"I hope they are," I admit, "In a week since I've known her, I feel that she has made us a family, so, yes, I have hopes that she is an intrinsic part of our future."

She squeezes my arm a little harder before releasing her grip and, with her eyes moving to the side and back again, she directs my gaze to where she has glanced. "Good, Afric is coming."

Towards us walks, no, glides with effortless flowing movement, a tall, willowy young woman with long flowing dark brown hair, a goddess, who smiles so disarmingly that any male who has not just this second determined where his love firmly lay, would be instantly smitten.

Kaetlynn melts away from me, back to the dancers who, I see in my peripheral vision, pull her in, hold her hands and restart their joyous dancing, Caoimhe eagerly among them, her long red hair flowing behind as she joins the joyful throng as if she has always danced with immortal witches every Friday night when school is out.

***

"I'm Afric, Richard," the willow woman that Kaetlynn has left to take her place in keeping me company says in a husky voice, "Are you enjoying the dance?"

I turn my attention from the dancers and look at the goddess now standing at my side also looking at the joyously moving scene before us. She is very tall, an inch or two taller than me, and I am more often than not the tallest man in the room and never yet met a woman taller than me, especially one who is otherwise so light and feminine in her build.

"I'm sorry for my distraction," I say, "My daughter has always had a love of dancing, but I don't think I have ever seen her so happy as she is now. And, though Etain is still an enigma in my life she looks totally at home even though I get the impression that she is normally a solitary soul. As for Kaetlynn, I've only ever known her as an elderly woman, who tended to shuffle with the aid of a walking stick rather than glide and bob and leap so athletically and it is fascinating to me to see her so, well, so buoyant and full of beans. And beautiful, too. I'd always thought she was a lovely person, but seeing her now as she really is, is ..."

"Magical?"

I see Afric is smiling with both her mouth and her glittering eyes, amused no doubt by the wonder she detects in my eyes.

"Yes," I agree, "truly magical. You must forgive me. I am from a culture where 'magic' means CGI, smoke and mirrors and fakery. Since Etain appeared everything seems to have to be looked at in a new light."

"I can see it is bewildering to you," Afric smiles. "My father would like a word with you in a few minutes, if you will permit."

"Why?" I ask, "Does he want me to ask for the hand of one of his daughters?"

She laughs, "Is it yourself asking for her hand now?"

"Maybe," I smile back, "I don't want to get on the wrong side of a 'god'."

"My father is not really a god, Richard. Powerful, vengeful, and not of this Earth, but he is no god. I have asked Bebhinn to speak with you shortly before my father summons you. He is unable to enter the circle as he has tried the patience of those who maintain the treaty between our worlds too often. Etain and Kaetlynn have mentioned the Changelings to you and I would like to explain what they are."

"I am all ears."

"Down the centuries mothers have complained of their baby, toddler or older child suddenly changing, as if some devil had got into the child."

"Like demonic possession?" I ask, "I know what it is like going through the 'terrible twos' and recently the 'pre-teen tempers', but is possession really a thing?"

"No, Richard, it is not," she laughs, "I have three daughters, all grown up now, but there were trying times when they were younger but they were not possessed, just children growing up and testing the boundaries. But there have been persistent stories, and many crimes against children, blamed on Demonic Possession of the child occupied by some kind of demon that changes the child from within so the child is unrecognisable by the mother. Think about it for a minute; I've seen your cars and aeroplanes. In my day in your world, driving a dog cart or a chariot is easier, once you know the one it is easy to learn the other, but a heavy haulage cart full of stone for building a church, pulled by six oxen was a different matter, as it would be to fly an aeroplane when you've only ridden a car before. Same with the body of a child, would a demon be able to control the child's movements straight away, especially while the original child was still there. No, Richard, it doesn't seem possible but, in the Otherworld, it is whispered that there are people who are cursed to move directly from death to a newly formed unborn child ... and that child has no memories of past or future lives, is a little awkward in relationships, rarely dreams and that witches cannot read their past or future because they are not born normally in this world."

"And you think I might be one of these Changelings?" I ask.

"Possibly," Afric smiles, "You know, my witch sisters of the Otherworld have kept up our observations of our three sisters in your world ever since the curse that banished them to Slievenamon. We would have loved to have grabbed them and brought them to our world, or at least attempted to lure then here. But my father had tried the patience of the High Council for too long and were permitted only to allow Etain to believe she sneaked past Alannah to first enter the Otherworld."

"So you sisters lured her in?"

"Aye, quietly, using Alannah, a sister who was taken to the Otherworld before Etain was even born. Thereafter we watched her whenever she entered and again when she left and were surprised that it was 20 years before she brought Kaetlynn and Bebhinn with her, time passes so differently in both worlds. We could never really see them in your world until recently and have been able to hack into the Web and search CCTV footage. Anyway, time for me to dance again, Bebhinn is come."

Afric squeezes my arm, kisses me on the cheek and walks back to the dance.

Towards me walks another absolute vision.

I know I have said these sisters are all beautiful as a group of young lovelies dancing in this ring for the last ten minutes or so, but the present one approaching me is simply outstandingly stunning.

Now, I have already committed myself to Etain, a beautiful girl I have known for barely a week, because I know I love her, and accept that these other witches are her sisters or half-sisters, so they are almost family and I may have to meet them together or individually for many years to come, knowing that these immortal beauties will always appear young and beautiful, while I grow old and even more careworn than I already am.

Above all I must act responsibly and not embarrass myself, my daughter or my new love but already feel I'm lost already, my jaw has gone slack and my eyes are stuck out like organ stops.

I mean, I love Etain, I no longer have any doubts. I love Kaetlynn, too, having known her as a kind-hearted and a well-preserved but pension-aged white-haired old woman, who I relied on for her freely given time and help with Caoimhe for all my daughter's life and even a couple of years before that as our neighbor. Now, that she looks as though she's around my own age, with red blond hair and flashing green eyes, she is indeed very beautiful and currently unattached. I can easily detach myself sufficiently and regard her as a dear friend that I've known for almost a third of my life. As for the sensual she-tiger with the looks of a catwalk model that Afric presents, well, she admits that she is married to one of the gods of this place, for probably much of the last millennia and a half — no mortal can be blamed for being affected by the presence of such an unattainable goddess.

But this voluptuous, dark-haired smiling woman with long black hair, olive skin and soft brown eyes like shiny mountain stream washed hazelnuts, is simply stunning ... a girl that Etain once described to me as being 'plain'. No, she's gorgeous and I'm already completely discombobulated in her aura.

The vision holds out a hand, her face clearly amused by my obvious reaction, "How goes ye, Richard, it's a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm Etain's slightly older sister Bebhinn."