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Boud
The young boy of sturdy frame and tawny hair stared blankly at the shrub by his feet. He raised one of his open palms to face the branches above of an ancient tree that cast shade from the midday sun, his other hovering over a just-budding seedling at his feet for a hesitant moment. Suddenly, the boy dropped both hands and turned his head slightly over his shoulder. He spoke quietly to the woman with blue-patterned skin who stood a few feet behind him. "It hasn hurt anyun, why d'I have tuh hurt iht?"
The russet haired woman did not reply. Her silence hung in the air over the boy's head, weighing on his body as if the sky itself was pressing against the earth. Simply to fill the uncomfortable space, the boy pushed the sleeves of his bulky bay tunic higher up on his arms and fiddled with the soft leather belt at his waist before giving up. The woman let the silence sit between them for another minute before she spoke.
"Yuh dunt have tuh, Setanta, but yuh weel," she replied just as softly and in the same accent as the young boy. "An yuh must lirn tuh speak as a muhn, not like th'bois deuw."
The woman laid a strong hand on Setanta's shoulder and he couldn't help but trace the chalky indigo symbols on her skin with his eyes. The lines curled around her forearm, wrapping along her strong biceps and disappearing under the tunic sleeve over her broad shoulder.
"You must learn that this is what we do, we cannot help it. But if you do not learn now, you will not be able to help but lose control as you grow. We are, each of us, life and death. It is as natural as any thing from the earth." The boy did not reply as the woman stepped back, his face was blank and unreadable. Again the woman spoke in the lazy tongue of the young, trying to pull some response from silent student. "Yuh've known since yuh'were bourn, Tanny. I dun noe why yuh're playin dum tudday, but I think yuh shuld stoppit nao."
"I'm nawt 'Tanny'," the boy corrected her, not wanting to be called by his childhood nickname. The woman sighed and continued to wait, the heavy silence looming over them once more. After a begrudging moment, Setanta turned his head back to face the baby tree and lifted his palms. One faced up towards the high branches above and the other drifting several inches above the seedling. This time he focused his eyes, taking in as many details of the sapling as he could. The boy held the tree's image lightly in his mind as he closed his eyes, keeping every bud and notch sharply clear details of the vision.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of studying the tree's image in his mind, Setanta opened his eyes once more and watched as the sapling's branches curled towards it's thin trunk. The little tree's limbs began to make cracking noises as it struggled against it's own inflexible dry branches until, finally, it ceased to move. Rather than the healthy baby tree it was moments before, the plant now looked like a frail, dry twig that someone had stuck into the damp earth.
Setanta gazed at it neutrally, suddenly unable to remember anything of the finer details the plant had borne while living. His gaze then shifted upward to the branches of the ancient tree just beside the once-living sapling which his left palm faced. "Th'big one, it dunt look aneh talluh." He said bitterly, turning his head to look at the woman. She made no move to answer him, instead raising her left eyebrow slowly. His body feeling heavy from the work of the day, Setanta struggled to focus.
"It don't look any bigger." He repeated in the common tongue, somehow still managing to maintain the lazy drawl ever present in the slang of the young. Tanny glared at the stubborn woman and turned around to face her directly. With his face cast down as to hide his sodden expression, Tanny spoke once more: "It does not look any bigger, Banríon Boadicea. Why is it I must do this for tradition? I am almost fully of age, I have done much more advanced work."
There was a momentary pause that caused Setanta to fear the worst before the woman's hearty laughter broke the silence. "When was it that you became so formal, Tanny?" Boadicea's eyes were bright and her smile wide as she placed a hand on the boy's head. "'Banríon' – you have never in your entire life called me such a thing. Though, I admit that was my fault as I always let you get away with it." She laughed again, quieter this time and with a hint of fondness for the boy.
Setanta did not reply, but she could see from his quivering mouth that he was struggling against a smile threatening to burst through. "Come now, you did as you should. The small tree is no more, but the ancient one has grown. I will admit that it is hard to tell, but each child since the first Cu of our family village has stood exactly here and done as you have. It is a right of passage, it is what makes us family; taking strength from the weak to give to the strong, stronger, and strongest. I did it once as well, so did my husband Cu Coigriche and his fledgling Binne, or should I say your future banríon and wife." She rustled his hair gently and laughed once more as his ears turned pink.
Though she was smiling, Boadicea felt a prickle of sadness. Tanny had become fledgling to her only ten years ago and he was right, he was capable of much more advanced work after all she had taught him. He was now almost of Cu age, soon he would take on a new name and become her own husband's apprentice, as would Binne become hers. For two years Boadicea would teach Binne the ways of being banríon – the woman leader – before pledging herself to the family village and wedding Tanny. During that time, Boadicea knew Setanta would grow into a full man of thirteen years and her motherly connection with him would change into one of simple respect for hierarchy. Tanny and Binne would act as young Cu and banríon for four years under Boadicea and her husband's watchful eyes until they were ready to become true leaders of the family village.
Boadicea was pulled from her bitter-sweet musings as she heard small feet pattering through the underbrush. She spotted a mane of sun-kissed coppery hair and the familiar beige tunic that covered firm shoulders. Tanny threw a worried glance over his shoulder at Boadicea before wearily running to meet the gasping girl half way. Binne gulped for air as Tanny spoke in a gentle voice in an effort to calm her down as they both walked towards Boadicea.
Binne nodded in-between a few strangling coughs as she listened to Setanta's reassuring voice before she managed to speak. "Mess Buachalla – baby-" The girl coughed again as her lungs struggled for air. Upon hearing the name, Tanny's gaze slid to Boadicea and his eyes appeared sharp with anger. Boadicea returned his gaze with cool understanding and a steely look.
It suddenly occurred to Boadicea why Setanta had been questioning the work he had been doing over the past few days. He had known, as well as the entire family village, that Mess Buachalla was due to give birth soon. Each of them, even the youngest members, had sensed the uneasiness of Mess' pregnancy. They all knew what would come as soon as the child was born; they had heard and felt the peaceful silence within the woman's womb. It was not Tanny's work on the sapling that had caused the boy's disturbed mood.
Boadicea placed her hand on Binne's back respectfully and thanked her for informing them. She turned to Tanny. "We will speak of this later. When we are back in the village you will go to your mother and keep yourself occupied until such time as Binne fetches you. We must, all four of us, discuss several things." She gave the boy a pointed look but he turned his head away quickly and continued to calm Binne, his tone now somewhat strained at the mention of a serious meeting including the Cu.
By the time Boadicea and the two fledglings had reached the village, members informed them that the delivery was over and Mess' child had been born a healthy girl. Each member they passed appeared sober, with the exception of several small children playing in the grass who were too young to understand the event. "It is time for you to go, Tanny," Boadicea informed the boy without looking at him, placing her hand on Binne's back and taking lead of the petite girl who was still struggling for breath.
The boy did not respond to Boadicea, instead murmuring one last soothing phrase into Binne's ear and squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. Binne, now breathing normally, gave him a sweet smile and pecked his cheek lightly, squeezing his shoulder back respectfully. With the gossamer kiss still lingering and a returning smile on his lips, Tanny turned and began to jog back home in an effort to shake the physical fatigue from his body. He would need to keep his energy up as he waited for the meeting involving the Cu, mostly likely after the burial.
Boadicea watched the exchange with pleasure, proud to be gifted with two well-matched and talented fledglings whom were soon-to-be apprentices. The woman leader lingered on those happy thoughts before forcing herself to turn to the matter at hand.
When she turned her gaze to Binne, she realized that the girl had been watching her with keen ochre coloured eyes that complimented her flaxen hair. "Yuh weel be with me tudday, yuh'll be takin th'blessing but yuh'll nawt be dewin any work." Boadicea told her, using the dialect out of fondness for the girl more than because of her age.
Binne nodded. "I didn't know if you would be lettin me this time 'cause I'm nawt your apprentice yet." She replied with a hint of the youthful accent just as she spoke to most everyone: as if she considered each member in the family village to be both young and old simultaneously. Boadicea knew she would have to break Binne of the habit when she became her apprentice, but the girl's hybrid language had a way enamouring each and every person she spoke to.
"It is time that we go." Boadicea said, leading the girl towards the tree-encircled glade where she knew the mother and child would be waiting.
The two of them stepped out of the tree line into the village clearing and walked towards the center. As they passed those friends and family members of Mess, each of them touched Boadicea and Binne on the shoulders regardfully and showed them kind smiles. In the middle of the quiet crowd sat a woman with her eyes cast to the bundle in her arms, the sound of small breaths indicating that the infant was asleep. Mess Buachalla looked up at the woman leader and the girl fledgling. She spoke softly to them as she lifted the child from her arms, not looking at her new born child. "Banríon Boadicea. Fledgling Binne." The two of them bowed their heads in response before Boadicea approached Mess and crouched down in front of her.
"What is the child's name?" She asked gently.
After a heavy moment of internal struggle, Mess spoke. "Muirin."
Boadicea nodded, stood to her full height again and signalled to Binne that it was time. Binne whispered something into Mess' ear, taking the child from the mother's arms and holding the babe to her own chest. Everyone fell completely silent as they listened to the new born and the silence inside her. She felt different from all of them, peaceful and calm, something that none of them had the privilege of; they could feel the steadiness of death within her. Their control of death's ever-present presence in their minds and bodies allowed them to funnel the life energy from living things in order to create the draíocht, just as Tanny had done with the ancient tree and sapling.
"May I begin the blessings as a representative of the family village?" Boadicea asked the members of the gathering, all of which nodded in consent. "In our village, draíocht is what makes us family. It ties us all together against the world outside of us. We must keep our strength if we are to protect ourselves and continue to live as we do: taking strength from the weak to give to the strong, stronger, and strongest." The crowd repeated the last line of her speech and Boadicea turned towards Mess.
"Mess Buachalla, will you support the family village by giving your weakness for our strength?" Boadicea spoke to her directly, her face blank.
"I will." The woman responded, her voice strong but her face riveted with the deep suffering of a mother's loss. All but Binne, who held the sleeping baby, placed their hands on Mess until they were all touching her together. Mess began to tremble under the emotional pressure as she forced herself not to let her tears fall.
They spoke together as one: "Mess Buachalla, we give you our respect and comfort in return for your sacrifice. We honour your loss for the family village." The members of the gathering stepped back, save for several of Mess' closest loved ones who embraced her shaking form, and instead turned their hands to rest on Binne. Boadicea faced the young fledgling and gently held her shoulders, this time speaking alone. "Binne Óg Banríon, as the young woman leader of our family village, will you accept Mess' weakness so that we may have strength for our future generations?"
Binne looked up from the child in her arms, a deep solemnity in her gaze. "I weel." She replied, then turned her gaze back to the bundle in her arms and whispered her own blessing to the baby. Once she had finished, Boadicea gave the fledgling a small nod and the girl gave the child back to her mother whose face dripped with tears. Those around her helped Mess stand up and supported her in order to keep her on her feet.
Boadicea lifted her palms, one facing towards Binne's chest and the other hovering several inches over the baby's body. She took a deep breath with her eyes closed, preparing herself more for the emotional turmoil that would accompany this work rather than the physical fatigue. When she opened her eyes, she looked for the first time upon the human baby face. Every detail became crisply clear as she took in the soft hair, dipping bridge of her nose, sweet round cheeks, and fair eyelashes. Boadicea closed her eyes once more, pulling a corner of the blanket over the sleeping face respectfully.
After a moment of concentration, Boadicea felt the energy of the human slipping through her body, curling into her own life before separating and heaving the force itself out of her right palm towards Binne. Her body felt heavy from the effort of the work and her mind winced away from the lingering bitterness of death that churned within her when the transference was completed.
As Boadicea slowly opened her eyes, suddenly unable to remember any semblance of what the human's face had looked like, the clear image of the gnarled seedling seemed imprinted in her mind.
ns 15.158.61.12da2
