Once Upon A Time...
As this tale's been handed down through memories rooted deep within us all...the truth becomes reality and the memories come back...
In the years around 1058 AD in parts of Ireland, the peoples were separated by clans and kinsman and such. Yet all had it's own separate peace and kept to oneself within the clans; hunting, gathering, living, now I'm remembering...
I lived with my Ma and Da and my sister Siobbhan and my other two brothers near the southern coast near what is now known as the Isle of Man. We had a small cottege on the commons of the village Kirk where we all had dweln-me, Ma, Da, Siobbhan, and her betrothed. Our brothers lived on the other side of town, where they worked as fisherman. I myself, being a lass of 22, was intended to a bard who had wandered into our village one day and ended up staying. His name was Roane, and he carried with him a mandolin carved from ebony with strings of elk intestines. I played with him at the community fires nightly, on a bigger stringed instrument from a land called Aragon to the south of France, near what is now known as Portugal. There had been recent invasions of the English, but thing's were not so tense; we were a peaceful people, and no one wished to harm us. We lived in our village in harmony, to each his and her own.
There was a wandering group of people that our village had also adopted in addition to my Roane; they became our extended family, and each day we'd spend in each other's company. There were Padraig and Cian, who were shapeshifters from the northern Jutland penninsula. Padraig normally supplied us with food, for he was Were and could shapeshift into a wolf so silver you could swear you could see yourself in his fur. Cian could also shift; his patron became a small black fox with a white spot of fur on his left ear. They were our hunters. There was a lovely girl with a spackle of freckles along her cheekbones named Eadaoin, who was Cian's sister. She travelled with them for the protection of her brother and her lover, a warrior named Arian who'd been shipwrecked from waters near the Mediterranean. They made their home in ours, and they became people of us.
Roane and I would spend the days in the meadows, playing music and basking in the beauty of the sunny days. Our favorite spot was usually a tall sweeping willow that bent over an eddy in the freshwater stream that ribboned through the countryside. We'd swim there, talk there, nap there, romp there, and play there. At dusk, we'd watch the sunset together from it's lofty boughs, and it seemed like the problems in the south didn't exist.
Then, disaster hit. Around the years 1065-1066, the Norman Conquests began, and the English invaded, trying to buy us off of our land and starving us. As a warning, they pillaged different villages, hanging the bodies of women and children from the gates and walls as a warning to others. Most complied for fear of losing their lives and what they had owned. Our peacefull little villages were quickly turned into English fortresses. Word came of a plan to keep any individual clan from being wiped out, and each sent three or four members of each family to other clans, so there would be a sure survivor, should all fail. Ma and Da were at the council one night, and sent my dear sister Siobbhan with her betrothed away to northern Ireland, and that was the last time I saw her. Tearfully, I wanted to go with her, but for my own protection I had to stay, and keep Roane and the other wanderers together in case word came of rebellion. It soon did, and hundreds were organized to stand up against the English, but their farmer's tools were no match for the chain mail and axes the knights had. It was a massacre, and in response to our insolence I watched them bury my Ma and Da. My heart ached for my Siobbhan and her safety.
Roane, Padraig, Cian, Arian, Eadaoin and I ran to an enclave not too far away from our home in hopes of formulating some sort of plan of revolt, but time was running out. Cian and Arian never came home one day, and years later I remember coming across a tiny fox skeleton with a pendant around it's neck just like Cian's, with a norse arrow sticking out between it's small ribs, and it was then that I knew they had been on to us all along, and were just picking us off one by one. Cian was in peace, as was Arian, as we found his short sword and jewelry later on the same week he disappeared. About a week later, we found Eadaoin next to Arian's grave with a dagger in her heart. We bury her next to him, and I put pretty flowers all over it, because I missed her. One night, Roane was out with Padraig hunting, when he fell in a trap set for a bear by the English, and was found the English by his cries of pain and despair. The English knew we were hiding - knew we were losing strength, knew what he was to me…and they took him into the forest in a clearing and bound him to a stake and burned him alive. They did it to draw me out, me and Padraig, but I was there, wrapped in a heavy hooded cloak standing next to old Anye, the village magus. The flames consumed him, and the spectators laughed, and he saw me and Anye standing there, helpless. He looked into my eyes so deeply for the last time, and smiled at me. He never gave them the satisfaction of a cry, and then he was gone.
Anye and I came back later that night, among the night vixens and mists that shrouded the forest. I took his kilt that he’d left by out pallet where we’d slept, and gently scooped his ashes into the soft flannel. Within the ashy softness I found a knotted pendant he always wore, and wrapped that in a shawl he’d made me, and carried them to our willow tree. Anye suggested that I bury him on the western side, so he could watch the sunset. I played for him that night, and leaned his old mandolin against the tree where we once sat. I lay my instrument down next to it; that was the last time I ever played.
Years later, after I knew everyone was gone beside Padraig and me, I rallied and failed. I managed to take out their quartermaster at their headquarters, but they got me before I could get much farther. Padraig and I had said our goodbyes; he knew that I had nothing left to live for. They hung me, bound me by chains by my wrists and slit my throat, and like my beautiful Roane, I smiled. Then I was gone.
Anye buried me next to Roane under our willow on the hill, facing the west. We would forever watch the sunset together over our home. Padraig was the only one who wasn’t slaughtered; he died of old age in the 13th century, old but still strong.
My name was Rhiannonae, and that is our tale.
Kenny - Padraig (PAW-drig)
Ross - Roane
Carey - Cian (KEY-an)
Cliff - Arian
Jamie - Siobbhan (shi-VAWN)
Jessica - Eadaoin (AY-deen)
Sari - Rhiannonae