The Witches of Slievenamon

"So why were you and Bebhinn in the suitors' race for the hand of Finn McCool?" I ask, knowing only very little of the legend, "Were you both after a husband or just taking part to support Katie?"

"Aye, it was mostly to help Kaetlynn win the race. Neither Bebhinn or I were interested in marrying Fionn or anyone at all. I was a messenger with the King, a calling I was the best there was at; Bebh had started out as a messenger before me but by then was more interested in keeping bees and making medicines based on honey. Kaetlynn had started out as a messenger at 12 years old like me, but she married young, to a coastal dairy farmer who she was sweet on. They had had three young children, but the two youngest had only recently been killed along with her husband. Deaths were common in babies, even with witch medicine and witchs' healing powers, but a witch can do nothing about pirates and marauders. More Irish people were killed by invaders back in those times than died by natural causes. Kaetlynn as a mother had become in demand as an experienced midwife and she was away from her farm that fateful night, staying in the nearby town with a woman in labour. Her eldest boy was about 4 or 5 at the time of the curse and he had the sense to run away and hide from the pirates. The babies and husband perished as the farmhouse was burned to the ground."

"Poor Aunt Katie," murmurs Caoimhe, in sympathy with her once babysitter.

"Aye," Etain agrees, "She was never the luckiest of us. Any woman found it as hard to raise a child on her own, just as you did, Richard. Kaetlynn was aware of that as she helped you with Caoimhe whenever she could. Kaetlynn had given up being a runner, a king's messenger, before us in order to marry and work the dairy on the farm as well as her midwifery.

"Bebh and I helped keep her pace up as we ran up the mountain path in that race and we were certain that Kaetlynn would thereby win the hand of the great hero, until that bitch Gráinne appeared from nowhere and neither Bebhinn nor I could catch her, we were so puffed by then and she was fresh as a daisy covered in morning dew."

"So you hatched this ... spell was it?" I ask.

"A witch's curse can be a powerful thing, Richard, especially when delivered with the passion we had conjured up between us in our disappointment and anger," Etain reflects, "Not every witch can curse to make something momentous happen, but Kaetlynn was the best curser of we sisters able to do that, but with all three of us working out the best phrases for the curse, and Bebh's heady, sweet and persuasive concoction of honey and beeswax perfume, we successfully persuaded Gráinne and one of Fionn's righthand warriors, that they were completely in love with each other and they immediately eloped during the wedding breakfast."

"But you didn't actually get away with launching of this curse?" I state, knowing the answer.

"No, Richard. We didn't but then we didn't care if we got away or not. We wanted to right an injustice. In truth, Gráinne was happy with her new mate and their new life. They had five children and lived long lives together. It was a powerful curse and the couple were in love with each other for life. Even Fionn saw the funny side of it during the brief Court hearing, I suspect that it was Gráinne herself who had paid for a love potion of her own to help her woo the great hero himself to desire her heart and body, but her potion was nothing at all to the power that we three sisters together could bring to bear," Etain laughs.

"Remember, Richard, witches cannot use potions or magic to influence a man to love them or even to love a close relative, especially someone who is linked to the witch in either a known or as yet unknown way. A witch's prayer is only that, a prayer, a hope, we cannot use magic specifically to benefit ourselves. Even if we try, it simply won't work, it is a Witches' Law that cannot be broken."

'OK,' I think, 'this witch can relax me with a touch or a kiss, but still leaving me aware of her effect, but then Ella could relax me or excite me simply by a look or touch, it is chemistry not magic; being with Caoimhe and seeing her grow and learn to develop into a confident and rounded person, also affects me emotionally. Seeing a pretty girl in passing or witnessing something humorous seen in everyday life can also please or antagonise as they occur. Those are organic reactions, so I don't feel at all threatened by anything Etain makes me feel. Do I accept that she is a witch and can do what withes can do? Yes I do. The bee hives appearing by magic, the tidying up of my junk, the well-being that I've been feeling in these last two days, even allowing for the shocks they are making to my system, make me believe in and respect her power. Oh, I'm not sure if it was anything to do with her, but I remember the karma on that truck driver, the one that splashed her two days ago, being brought down with the runs, well, it seemed to me like Etain either foresaw it or ... oh damn, that possibility doesn't bear thinking about! Do I feel that she will have a positive influence on my future and more importantly Caoimhe's future? Yes. Even though I have only known Etain for two days, I find myself happy about her being involved in our lives. I almost regret having offered to call the electric company, who are coming tomorrow to connect her power supply, and having to face her moving back to Katie's, now her, home.'

So many thoughts, such that I haven't entertained since Ella left and I'm now worried that if this ... whatever this is I'm feeling ... doesn't work out.

We are still relaxing in the back yard, talking about those distant olden days of Ireland's history, sitting in the sunny back yard of our ancient cottage. The bees lazily humming and floating back and forth to the new hives set up only hours ago yet they seem as though they've comfortably been sitting there making sweet honey in this idyllic spot for ever.

I look over at Etain and pull myself out of my reverie.

"So, the Hero of All Ireland wasn't too put out by the curse, then?" I ask, happily grinning.

I watch Etain who appears lost in thought herself, no doubt also deep in memories. She's probably sending her mind back to the mountain of Slievenamon all those years ago, long before Irish history was ever written down, a dark age of romantic conjecture and mysterious myth for us living in the modern age but once all too real to a young maid whose life was irrevocably changed through a princess's desire to marry an old and worn-out hero.

"Ha!" Etain resumes after her long pause to think. "Fionn was in his cups on honey wine, while we sisters were lashed up together on the beaten earthen floor at the side of the King's great hall and denied food, drink or even the basics of creature comforts. It was the King out of all present that was most angry at us! He could do little to punish his wayward daughter Gráinne, who caused him such embarrassment, she was already away on the road with her new lover long before the guests had been served their wedding breakfasts. He had immediately sent patrols out searching, but Gráinne managed to elude capture for many years. Of course the King knew Kaetlynn, Bebhinn and me very well, hadn't he told the three of us in turn his most secret messages of trade, politics and intrigue for the past seven or eight years?"

"You were all messengers?" Caoimhe asks.

"Our mother was once a messenger, a fine runner she was all her life. We children were nippy runners, but we were also poets who could render the King's message in verse and learn the lines exactly and deliver them as quickly and accurately as possible to the recipient."

"So there was no hiding and getting away from the King as Gráinne managed?"

"Not a chance. Even Gráinne knew who we were, as did most of the courtiers around us. So King Cormac summoned all his advisors and the other witches in his employ that he knew would all be jealous of my family. Thus we were convicted by a hastily drawn up court with King Cormac determined to curse us to live on Slievenamon forevermore and forget about us until the sun eventually bleached our starved bones. Sadly, we couldn't have Kaetlynn's surviving child living with us, as there was no furl for a warming fire, no shelter and nothing there but bare rock to build a decent shelter with, nothing even to forage for us to eat and only brackish streams to quench our thirst."

"You were just left exposed on the mountain, merely for exposing a couple of cheating lovers?" Caoimhe says, a little incensed.

"Aye. Starved and abandoned we were, by a vindictive king who we had previously served well. He was mostly a wise king but where his favourite daughter was concerned he was blind to reason, blind to her cheating. We'd hoped all his messages went astray and his darkest secrets cried loud throughout the land. Our family and friends slipped past the guards and brought us food and drink after dark and we slept on the mountain and danced together at night as the curse decreed that we 'could ne'r sleep elst 'cept Slievenamon, elst thee'd three'd ne'r wake a more', and, as you can imagine, all young and healthy witches love to dance in the moonlight."

I laugh, "Of course you do!"

"Poor Kaetlynn," Etain continues, "was, however, completely distraught, and she cried night after night as she mourned so for the loss of her only surviving child, she missed him so. Our mother, the powerful witch Sabhadama, well, she could do naught to mitigate the King's curse but was an angel to us nonetheless. She would travel up from the coast and bring Kaetlynn's boy Feimhin to the Mount several times a year, to visit with us for at least a day and a night. Others living near the mountain took pity on us and brought us food and drink. We thanked them with fortune-telling and medicines, but mostly making love potions for them."

Caoimhe makes "kissing" noises with her lips and laughs and we both join in the fun. Never in my life had I expectations of having so much fun talking to an avowed witch, but Etain is a fun person to be with and I find that her story is absolutely fascinating.

"Really?" I ask, between giggles, "Love potions? And you a, a...."

"Virgin?" Etain grins at my embarrassment, "Is that what you're asking me now, Richard?"

"Well, that's what you said you were last night," I counter as quietly as I can, conscious of my reddening face, with my big-eared daughter hearing and understanding every single word and yes, I can see Caoimhe is looking at us both with an unreadable expression on her innocent but very attentive face.

"Aye," Etain agrees, "I did admit that to you yesterday when you so cruelly shrugged off my amorous advances, and with so little consideration on your part for my hurt feelings."

"Hey, I'm a confirmed and determined single widower with some standing in this community, I never, ever, get involved in virgin territory."

Caoimhe giggles behind her hands, while Etain rolls her eyes, rather cutely, I notice, damn it!

"Bebhinn and I were both wee maidens when we ran that damned mountain race and not-so-wee maidens we both still remain. Of Bebhinn's state I am certain as she was always ever so determined, and though I love her as a sister, even I have to admit she is the plainest in her looks of all my sisters but her bees care little for a girl's looks when generously sharing their bounty. As for my own state, well, you know my position on my maidenhood, Richard, I have already staked my claim in that regard."

She smiles at me before turning her attention to the entranced Caoimhe who is hanging on her every word. "Love potions are not just an anonymous mixture of sweet-smelling plants, you know, my girl, the ingredients and even the process of mixing all the parts together differs each time. Each potion has to be matched to the intended couple, so it works on them both, to entice them each to look inward and outward and to fan any spark at all that might exist between them. No spark betwixt them, however, means no burning flames of passion, but even an unsuccessful potion makes both targets open and accessible to another who might be drawn in to see one or the other of the intended targets as a potential lover."

She then matches Caoimhe's giggles and tries to suppress hers with her own hand but the laughter from her lips and sparkling in her eyes escapes to torment me further in my observations.

"Love potions are powerful things," she insists, "that are not to be trifled with. But also, no love potion really ever goes to waste."

"They're not quite like 'smart bombs', then huh?" Caoimhe says, her eyes bright with the way the conversation is going.

That young lady is growing up quickly in this new atmosphere evolving in the Klosses of Thurles's household.

"And what do you know about 'smart bombs', young lady?" I chip in.

"Well, they're always being mentioned on the news about Afghanistan and other places where there's war and conflict," Caoimhe asserts brightly, "so I thought like smart bombs, they are only supposed to work when they're targeted on some terrorist holed up in a cave somewhere. So Etain's love potions are intended to hit the target and therefore there should be no fallout. But even smart bombs that do hit their targets often leave consequences."

"Smart leanbh," Etain says, giving Caoimhe a squeeze, "a good love potion delivered with care is a wonderful thing and, I will admit, that Bebhinn and Kaetlynn always make much better love potions than I."

"Maybe your heart wasn't quite in it?" I say without thinking.

'Damn!' I think, 'where did that come from? And delivered with a hint of unconscious venom.'

I recover quickly, "Sorry, Etain, no offense meant to you, I don't know where in my immature head that pretty snide comment came from."

"I told you before. You can't mix a love potion for yourself, Richard, even if you do it won't work on either party." Etain smiles at me quite sweetly in forgiveness, still squeezing my daughter, with both Caoimhe's arms wrapped comfortably around the slim woman's middle in return.

It occurs to me that simply seeing Caoimhe comfortably building a friendship and trust in this beautiful and smart young woman is becoming something of a comfort to me.

Caoimhe does have friends of her own age at school, obviously, but there seems to be a bond forming here so soon after Etain has come into our lives. And I know that Caoimhe missed Aunt Katie when she disappeared from our lives without any warning only a few months ago and she needs a woman in her life, especially as her own time of entering womanhood looms large in the coming couple of years.

The afternoon is wearing on and, as the sun dips lower in the sky, it occasionally disappears behind low building clouds and the earlier warmth of the afternoon fades and the air cools quickly.

"I think we should be considering our evening meal," I say. "Usually at the weekends, particularly Sundays, we have our main meal at lunchtime and follow with a light meal in the evening, but we only had your lovely veggie soup for lunch. So, who besides me's hungry?"

"Me!" Caoimhe blurts out, but then she's always hungry, I cannot guess where she puts it all and still remains so skinny.

"I could eat something," Etain admits, still grinning at Caoimhe's outburst.

I go inside the house and look in the frig, not quite remembering the results of my distracted Friday store run, which seems so long ago now.

I do have a leg of lamb in there that I had intended to cook today. It would keep for a few more days, though, along with the particular veggies planned to accompany the roast.

Not to be boastful, through necessity, I manage to cook the everyday things quite well, including weekend roasts and regular midweek pot roasts. Ten years as a widower with a hungry growing child has ensured that I've learned through many trials and errors. I know that Caoimhe prefers the lighter meats like chicken and lamb to red meat like beef, which is my particular preference.

I find I have some sliced smoked turkey in the frig that I intended using for my own sandwiches at the beginning of the week and have plenty of frozen veggies and packets of noodles, so I decide to do a quick stir fry for tonight.

It will be a filling meal but I don't need to rush to do too much prep, so I put on some coffee for me and boil a kettle for tea for the girls, to tide us over until early evening.

Etain has decided to stay outside while it is still light out, with the sun putting in rare appearances and it is dry despite the thickening clouds. Caoimhe fetches some blankets that we keep in a chest in the sun room next to the kitchen. The girls' bare legs are warmly wrapped up by the time I return to the back yard with the hot drinks and a packet of cookies for us to munch on.

"When the sun goes in, it becomes a bit of a gray day but at least it's staying dry," I remark as I pour the tea and pass around the cookies.

"Talking of grey," Etain says, "reminds me that we were earlier talking about the apparent age difference between Kaetlynn and I."

"Yeah, you demonstrated pretty damn clearly that you can easily fog my simple mind, so I guess Kaetlynn can look like a 25-year-old?"

"Aye she can, but her natural look is about 40 to 45, I would say," Etain smiles, "Our mother was a looker all her life, attracting seven husbands during her prime and all my six half-sisters were mostly beautiful girls. So Kaetlynn's still pretty cute though for an older sister."

"For someone only 1600 years old?" I snip. "So how come there is some 15 to twenty years or so of apparent ageing between the pair of you?"

"Ah, that's all because, Richard, I have always been naturally curious about everything in the world about me, and —"

"—Which means you're naturally nosy?" I can't help putting my big foot in my even bigger mouth sometimes.

"Let's just say I'm inquisitive and self-reliant, not prepared to sit on my hands and wait for something to happen. I am somewhere between Kaetlynn and Bebhinn in that respect. I have always been happy with my own company, while Bebh hates being alone but not the least bit interested in marriage, while Kaetlynn needs a man in her life and loves being surrounded by children. She married many times down the years, was always faithful and loving to her current husband, but she tells me that Peotr was the last ever man in her life, an existence here she had become weary of ... and I helped her to move to the Otherworld."

"The Otherworld?" Caoimhe asks, "is that like the Underworld, where all the dead people go?"

"No, sweetheart," Etain smiles, "It is a place full of life, of eternal youth, health, abundance and joy. A few chosen dead people go there to live again but it is not a mournful realm, it is alive with happiness. It is a place known by many names but the faerie folk I know call it Tir na nÓg, a paradise where everyone lives forever. By my impetuosity I entered the Otherworld and stayed long enough to be affected by it but avoided being trapped there. It is the reason that I look so much younger than both my sisters and will never age."

"So you didn't stay young because of King Cormac's curse?" I ask.

"No, we were confined to live on Slievenamon for the rest of our lives. The King did not expect us to survive long in such a hostile place alone. But, thanks to the charity of simple folk who sympathised with our plight, we endured there for many years. I hadn't realised after a time that I hadn't grown as old as my sisters. I was not quite as vain as Kaetlynn, there were no pools of water on the mountain to see ourselves in and certainly I had no mirrors. Now, Kaetlynn did have a mirror brought to her and she used it in conjunction with a comb to brush her reddish blond hair until it shone like burnished gold. My two sisters often groomed each other, they were fast friends as well as half-sisters and they stayed close together even during her many marriages. One day, Kaetlynn spotted a grey hair while brushing Bebhinn's head, one which stood out against her dark brunette hair and she pulled it out sharply and pointed it out to her. Bebhinn calmly retorted that Kaetlynn had dozens of grey hairs at the back of her head and Kaetlynn was depressed after checking in the mirror and moaned that she would soon be too old to attract another man to her bed, even one prepared to live with her exposed on the mountainside. When I next visited them, which I did rarely even back then, they were curious as to why I still looked so youthful, having not aged a day in twenty years."