Chapter 3

The instant that the wind had turned back to the cold wind of winter a man began shouting that his flask had gone missing, distracting Maggie from discovering her suitors identity. She did however now notice the shawl he'd draped around her shoulders, one finer than she'd ever owned before. It was made of a light warm fabric and was the deep red of leaves in the fall, the hem had some queer sort of writing embroidered in it that she was determined to decipher just as soon as she determined what language it was. There was a silver panpipe broach to fasten it and as soon as she did she was immediately toasty warm. As she inhaled she smelled honeyed mead, a smell she'd now come to attribute to her admirer. Perhaps a suitor isna such a bad thing after all. She thought. "But who?" she whispered as she looked about scanning the crowd for signs.

    As Maggie was lost in thought the drunkard found someone to accuse for his missing flask. The two fought and the accused, being the more sober of the two, was winning admirably. These fights were more valid to traveling bands than any court in a tradition that went back centuries, they had their own judges and jury as to who won, what was legal, things of that sort. The accused won, and therefore faced no repercussions for the wrong accusations of the loser. At around the same time two women were touched in a personal way, a little girls doll levitated into a tree, and three men that had been staring at Magalea inexplicably dropped trow.

    A rough chuckle erupted from the old man, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. "Ah what mischief." He breathed out with a sigh, wiping a tear from his wrinkled cheek. "I believe there be a red man in our midst."

    A little girl with blonde bouncing curls and bright blue green eyes skipped up to him. In a curious whisper she asked as only little ones can. "Grandda, what's a red man?"

    From her perch next to him the old woman rolled her eyes. "Oh lord Jasus, there's the setup of a lieftime." She muttered.

    "Quiet woman." He scowled at his wife. Then his whole face changed as he smiled down at his little great granddaughter, patting his lap for her to have a seat. After she was perched he grunted at her weight. "Lord above child, you're growin' fast."

    The little girl giggled very pleased with the compliment. "I'll be seven in the spring grandda, da says I can have strawberries at my communion party. I love strawberries." She said with a smile, a gap where one of her front teeth had fallen out.

    All assembled smiled at the scene of innocence, and the old man patted her head affectionately. "A good man your da, just as his da was before him god rest his soul." Those assembled crossed themselves, the old man included, and then got back to the topic at hand. "Now then, a red man is a mischief maker. He'll take t'ings for a time but they always turn up later, and he's grand luck when you're in need o' it."

    The little girls eyes went wide, her mouth making the little o shape of a child in wonder. "Are they scary?"

    "No child not t'all." He said with a smile and a pat on the head, sending the girl back to her parents.

    A murmur erupted from the crowd as the horses nickered nearby. The men got up, ready to face whatever had stirred them. But soon there was the sound of wagon wheels and horse’s hooves, even a few dogs barking a greeting to each other as men shouted theirs. There would be no more story that night, for a whole band of travelers were rolling in for the wedding of a man from the old man's family, a ruddy brute of a man named Casey. Old friends greeted one another, children made new ones, and more wood was added to the fire to stave off the chilly winter wind.

    The wagons that rolled in were thirteen strong in many merry hues, and in the fray of settling in a fiery redhead leapt off the back of a wagon and straight into Magalea.

    With a grunt Magalea kept her footing, half catching the girl and half embracing her. "Colleen! I was wonderin' when you'd be turnin' up." She squealed in surprise. "How fare ye lovie?"

    The redhead embraced her in kind and looked Maggie over as they pulled apart, brushing the hair from her face. "Ah Mags, t'is a same ta be single though I've been grabbed for a night or two." She said with a puckish grin and a wink. "You've not changed t'all since last we met."

    Magalea shrugged. "I would hope not. Wasna my intent ta be changin' t'all." She grinned with mischief in her eyes. “Let’s find Sar, steal some mead, and get sotted."

    Colleen smirked. "That sounds a grand idea."

    The two girls were chattering and catching up as they searched for Saro. Magalea pinched them some mead from the stores as they passed, with Colleen as a lookout to be certain they weren't caught. Traveler women were expected to abstain from drinking, but it didn't always work for these mischief makers.

    They found Saro in her wagon putting down the little ones and as Maggie approached ?she whispered. "Sar, I've brought you a present. T'is a fiery t'ing and it's virtues leave something ta be desired, but that's ta be expected."

    Saro looked at her with confusion. "What are you on about?"

    Colleen popped out from behind Magalea, trying her best to be quiet so that the children didn't wake. "BOO!"

    Saro squeed, hugging her breifly. "What are we about then?" She asked with a mischevious twinkle in her eyes.

    Magalea held up the bottle of mead with a smirk. "A wee drop before bed."

    "I'm in. NATHANIEL! I'm out with the girls watch the wee ones and don't be forgettin' the bottles in an hours time." She commanded and from within he protested weakly.

    "Where to then?" Colleen asked, linking arms between Saro and Maggie.

"The beach, there's not a soul there this time of night." Maggie replied and they set off.

    Saro had a moment, noticing Magalea's shawl for the first time. "Where'd that louvely thing turn up?" She asked already suspecting the awnser.

    "Ya know that voice I been hearin'? Ah christ that sounds downright looney." Magalea sighed as they set out in lockstep.

    "Aye."

    "Well the man it belongs to gave me this, I'm certain it was him."

    Saro grew giddy. "Truely! What did he look liek? Was he hansome?"

    Colleen's brow furrowed as she looked from Saro to Maggie. "Could someone be cluein' me in now?"

    "In a moment lovie." Maggie assured her and then to Saro. "I didna get a look at him. He put this over me shoulders just as the comotion broke out."

    Saro screamed in frustration andd then the chatter started.

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    Xander watched the three girls chatter from the shadows in wonder. There seemed to be no end to the ebb and flow of their excitement especially when plied with drink. The hour had grown late when the three finally parted with fuzzy heads and happy smiles. He whispered to the wind to tousle the hair of the dark one they called Magelea. He was certain she was of the fae, yet she appeared to have no idea. After watching her for three days and four nights he'd come to realize that she was the most intriguing thing on this dismal rock called Ireland.

    How he longed for the hall of his master Dionysus once more, with its sunshine and eternal summer. There the women had fallen at his feet to give him pleasure, but this land was prudish and cold. He'd never even heard of winter until his arrival here. Ireland did have its perks though, the whiskey was perfection, the mead was heavenly, and the feisty redheaded women were delectable. But he had taken no part in them since he first sighted this dark Irish rose.

    He watched her silhouette in one of the wagons merry little windows until she blew out the oil lamp, and assuming that she'd gone to sleep he strolled through the nearby forest. This was no normal forest but one that hummed with the magick of old. It was like a balm for his homesickness and when the sprites and the forests guardian, a giant Oaken Ent woke in the spring this place would be a haven for all of his kind. It was a comfort to know that with all that had been done to his kind, little places like this were still in existence. It was nothing compared to the extravagance of the temple, but that he'd had to flee when the Roman Catholics burnt it down and crumbled its great stone pillars. The gods were in hiding, and their servants and children now roamed the world as lost souls without purpose but to find their sires and masters once more.

    In his brooding Xander came across one of the farm boys from inland. He melded with the forest and watched the boy put a letter in the knot of an old ash tree. Assuming it was for his lady love he waited to see who the damsel may be. He was a rather big brute, with work worn hands and freckled cheeks, his eyes were dark, the eyes of a killer, and he scanned the forest for watchers with a cold, calculating stare. As he walked away a cloaked figure appeared, calling out to him with a voice that Xander knew well.

    His face contorted somewhere between jealousy and envy as the boy led his rose into the thick of the forest. She had been wise enough to choose a dark cloak to blend into what was left of the foliage and Xander now noticed the medicine bag in her hand. His curiosity peaked he followed the pair silently. His rose kept her face hidden deep in the hood of her cloak, remaining silent. The boy on the other hand glanced at her from time to time, as if trying to find words.

     The boy looked around, as if sensing that someone was watching. Satisfied with his search he broke the silence. "The winter solstice is nearly come."

    "That's grand, do they still hold the festival?" She replied with disinterest.

    "Aye. I could escort ya if ya got the notion ta make a stop? I'm sure no one would make a fuss." He nudged with the invitation.

    This displeased Xander even further. It took all of his strength not to jump out and stomp the petty human for propositioning his rose. But the time was not yet ripe to reveal himself, so he listened in brooding silence.

    Magalea laughed at the notion. "Oh that's a grand idea! There's always a fuss when settled people and travelers cross paths. T'aint the way o' t'ings Dyson, you knew me answer before ya asked."

    "But Mags-"

    "No buts! T'aint the way. This is purely business and strictly as old friends." She said sternly. "I joined the cause ta bring peace, not ta be bedded, and certainly not ta be courted by a settled man, or any man for that matter."

    Xander grinned at the crestfallen look on the boys face. He knew then that this one was too tame for her and that there was no danger of his rose being plucked by another.

     Magalea looked over at Dyson as they came upon an old cabin at the heart of the forest. It was a shambled thing, dilapidated and covered in ivy with birds nested in the roof thatch. There was light in one of the windows though, and smoke rising from the chimney. She frowned at the boy from beneath her hood. "Oh don't be lookin' so put off. I've declined you many times before, ya know me answer always."

    "Well I didna ask outright." He huffed. "I even asked yer grandda fer permission this time." He grumbled to himself.

    She laughed. "Oh that would be grand. You invite me in fer tea and yer marmie tell ya what a louvely lass I am and we ride guns blazing into the sunset on the cliffs of Dover?' She said sarcastically, her arms folded across her chest.

    "Oh that's not fair." He muttered with a glare as he unlocked the door.

    The cabin was very rustic. Death's stench was a miasma that hazed the oil lit room. Eight cots had been laid out, five occupied by men in various states of injury and undress. Maggie pulled her face deeper into the hood of her cloak to mask her identity. Her family was known to these lands and if anyone told the British of her involvement with the cause, things would end poorly for all of them. "Which is the worst?" She whispered as she set down her bag beside the water pump and basin, beginning to wash up.

    Dyson nodded to the man in the middle cot, whose face was deathly grey. "Padric is the worst, took a bullet ta da chest three days past. We done all we could."

    As he talked Magales made quick work of setting up a work station. Dyson watched in wonder at how swiftly she pulled out pestle and mortar, vials of herbs, gut and needle, salves, teas, and cups, even bandages of all shapes and sizes.

    "Oh you'd be surprised." She replied as she walked up to Padric. "Dyson, boil me some water." She ordered.

    He complied grudgingly to her command as she stood over Padric, tisking at how warm he felt to her touch. Her patient stirred at the touch, his eyes going wide at the sight of the cloaked figure standing over him. She soothed him with a rebel song to show that she wasn't a foe and this lulled him back into a feverish sleep as she cut away his bandages. The pungent stench of infection made her nose wrinkle and her eyes water. "Gods above and below this is bad." She whispered to herself and began warming a knife over the fire. She smoothed a salve over the infected area, and the injured man cried out as it began to draw on the infection. Dyson rushed over to see what the matter was and immediately rushed back outside to be sick at the sight and smell. Maggie took the water off the stove, pouring some into a teacup and the rest into a large basin. She gently forced Padric to drink the tea and counted silently to herself after he was asleep.

    After that the real work began. The hours passed unnoticed as she cut away rotting flesh and squeezed out pus, salves were applied, the patient was wrapped in fresh bandages. He was pale but alive, and she wiped her brow, changing the basin water before seeing to the others. A flesh wound and three broken bones later the work was done and the sun was peeking through the trees with the first reaches of dawn.

    Her cloak was spattered with blood and her hands ached, but it was done. "This is goin ta be a long day." She muttered as Dyson escorted her out.

    He turned to her before they parted ways at the ash tree, catching her by the arm. "Mags, will ya come next eve? Ta the solstice?"

    "Oh aye, s'pose I will." She said nonchalantly.

    "T'is a small vic'try." He replied with a grin as they parted ways.