6: Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe People

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Surprise Encounter"><U><B>1:  Surprise Encounter</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id26.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: A Proscribed Venerable Love"><U><B>2:  A Proscribed Venerable Love</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id27.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Stalked by the Vampire"><U><B>3:  Stalked by the Vampire</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id28.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Flight to the Auld Country"><U><B>4:  Flight to the Auld Country</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Ally From Nowhere"><U><B>5:  Ally From Nowhere</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>6:  Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe People</B><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: The Middle Kingdom"><U><B>7:  The Middle Kingdom</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id32.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: My Lady Healer"><U><B>8:  My Lady Healer</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id33.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Triple Betrayal"><U><B>9:  Triple Betrayal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id34.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: A World Apart"><U><B>10:  A World Apart</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id35.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Flight From Tara"><U><B>11:  Flight From Tara</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id36.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Imbas Forosna"><U><B>12:  Imbas Forosna</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id37.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Wheel of Fortune"><U><B>13:  Wheel of Fortune</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id38.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="14: Wednesday, the Best Day of All"><U><B>14:  Wednesday, the Best Day of All</B></U></A></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>6:  Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe People</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> McGuire took them into a pub near the railway station they'd   gotten off the night before.  The pub--a large bar, really, was full of railway memorabilia from days long gone by.  As the rain had stopped, McGuire continued through the pub to the outdoor patio.  "We can be alone here to talk, y'see," he explained.  "We've got a lot to talk about, you two an me." A waitress, a ruddy, friendly looking country girl, came over with menus. </div> <div>             Jason looked at his companions and asked pleasantly, "Will ye trust me taste in cuisine here?" At their assent, Jason ordered steak and Guinness pie for Julia, Quentin, and himself.</div> <div>             "I have a lot of questions," Quentin began, looking at McGuire with a great deal of doubt and distrust as well as resentment.             </div> <div>       "I'm sure ye do, laddybuck," Jason said easily, "an I'll be answerin all of them.  I wonder if ye might not want to listen to me first, though, before ye begin firin questions at me?"</div> <div> "All right, but would you mind answering just one question for me first?" Quentin's voice had a challenging tone to it, and McGuire's jaw set a little but his expression remained pleasant.</div> <div>       "Sure, then, an ye want to know about me, don't ye?  Ye know that I was strangled to death by your cousin Barnabas, is that it?"</div> <div>         “Actually, that was crossing my mind, too," Julia put in gently.  She could sense the tension growing again between the two men, and she felt uneasy.</div> <div>            "You're not a ghost, and you say you move from one world to another--right?" When Jason nodded, Quentin went on, "What the hell are you, then?  You're not human?"</div> <div>              "Na, then, but ye won't hold that against me, will ye?"  McGuire smiled charmingly but there was a chillingly look in his eyes.  “Have ye heard of a pookah, then?"</div> <div>              Julia choked and gasped on her stout, staring at Jason wide-eyed, as Quentin thumped her on the back.  Finally she managed to say:  "Don't do that!  If I'm coughing, I'm not choking!"</div> <div>               “Sorry," Quentin muttered.  He glared at Jason and snapped, "You don't look like a damn rabbit to me."</div> <div>               McGuire held up a warning finger.  "Stop trying to provoke me, laddybuck.  Pookahs are not harmless creatures, I'll have ye know.  I'll protect ye and I'll help ye cause 'tis Barnabas Collins I'm after harmin, not you.  But I can change me mind just that quick!"</div> <div>                 "Mr. McGuire," Julia intervened placatingly, "it's just so incredible…”</div> <div>             “Aye, I'll allow that," Jason agreed, still glaring at Quentin,    "but I'll not be made sport of.  I know what it is ye're referring to ye young fool and I'll have ye stop it now!"</div> <div> Julia looked at Quentin pleadingly.  "Quentin,” she began.              </div> <div> Quentin had already come to the conclusion that it would be a mistake to continue antagonizing McGuire.  "I'm sorry.  If you know what I'm referring to, then you know that the pookah takes the form of an animal--like that giant rabbit in 'Harvey'. What kind of an animal are you supposed to be?"</div> <div> "Apology accepted," McGuire replied, pleasant and smiling once more.  "Let me ask you a question in return if I may in order to answer yours--what is a man then?  An animal, is he not?"</div> <div> The point was taken.  They paused as the waitress came back with the pie. Jason asked her to bring more beer for his friends and gave her a friendly smile and a wink.  Whatever he was, he still had charm.  She held his gaze for a few moments before blushing, and then she went back into the bar.  </div> <div> "Do you eat?" Quentin asked.</div> <div> "Nah, you go on an enjoy your meal.  'Tis a fine, filling meal--one that'll keep you all the time we're talkin."</div> <div>               "What is it you want to tell us?"  Julia asked, gamely serving Quentin and then herself in spite of the trembling in her hands.  Jason McGuire--a pookah! Not only that, he was a potential ally against Barnabas as well.  She wasn't sure how she felt about that, knowing the bad blood that existed between them. As much as she feared Barnabas now and wished that he would leave her alone, she didn't want him harmed.</div> <div>               As if he was reading her thoughts, McGuire pulled out a local newspaper. "Ye'll remember I spoke earlier of a danger that's followed ye from home. Have ye read the paper since leaving Dublin?"</div> <div>               "No," Julia answered, pulling the paper toward her.  She looked steadily at McGuire as he spoke.  Quentin leaned over to read the paper.</div> <div> "What made ye leave so quick then?" McGuire asked.</div> <div> "I had a feeling--a bad feeling," Julia answered.  She heard Quentin whistle softly and looked down to see what he was reading.  He pointed at the article so that she could see it clearly.  She felt herself go cold. It said that there had been a third unexplained attack in Dublin--at the hotel where Julia and Quentin had been staying.  She read with Quentin and nodded at him to turn the page.  The night manager at the hotel remembered being approached toward the end of his shift by a man who asked for two parties who'd already checked out.  The man was angered to learn that the people had departed and left abruptly.  </div> <div> The manager was on his way home when he heard footsteps from behind. He remembered nothing else. He'd been found unconscious in an alleyway in the morning, two deep puncture wounds in his neck.  The police were looking for a tall thin man with dark hair, wearing a cape and carrying a cane.  The description had come not from the manager, who claimed not to be able to remember any details at all, but by a guest who was coming in and had overheard part of the exchange between the manager and the irate man.  "Where did they go?" the guest remembered the man demanding.</div> <div>               "Oh, God, he is here," Julia whispered in dismay.  "He's hurting people.  This says it's the third attack.  What else has he done?"</div> <div> "Well, my lady, ye mustn't worry about them," Jason said soothingly. "Recover they will.  'Tis you both must be taken precautions then if ye want to be getting to Sligo t'get married."</div> <div>               Quentin felt properly humbled and had no interest in fighting with McGuire anymore.  "What do we need to do?"</div> <div> "Good lad.  Listen, for I need to tell ye some things before Barnabas Collins learns of them--and he may, cruel he is aye, but he is also a very smart man. More pity to youse for that.  Let me ask ye now, lad, were ye not surprised that yer lady had those marks on her arm in spite of the cross she wore?"</div> <div>              "Actually, yes," Quentin admitted, not bothering to ask how Jason knew about it.</div> <div>              "Ye're not gonna like this, but ye need to hear it because ye need to know what will work for ye and what won't.  Ye're not the only one wondering why the cross didn't stop Barnabas Collins.  He is filled with wonderin, too. Listen, then." Jason began to speak, his voice soft and melodic.  The sound of music in his voice would have been soothing if the meaning of them didn't hold such menace. He said:</div> <div>             "There's always been vampires about, and long before the time of the Christ too.   The folks that lived here then had their ways of dealing with the vampire.  None of them involved sunlight, crosses, the wafer or holy water, though.  That was an invention of the Catholic Church, come about sometime after the Church split up, East and West.  The church split up, y'see, because them in the Eastern Orthodox Church didn't hold with some of the views of the Roman Catholics.  An one o'them things had t'do with vampires.</div> <div>             See, here's the thing: the Roman Catholics believe the bodies of the saints do not decay in the grave--aye, like the body of Bernadette of Lourdes.  Y'know of whom I speak, don't ye?  Well, have ye ever seen a picture of that lady?  She looks preserved.  Well, before there ever was a church, Eastern Orthodox or here or otherwise, 'twas believed that a corpse that didn't decay naturally was evil.  I can't tell you which is true, all I can tell you is this--the Roman Catholics become concerned over the folk beliefs here and in other places. They didn't understand about passin through the stones or goin through walls o' caves into different times an places.  They didn't like the stories about the faeries an the leprechauns an the witches and the vampires an all the rest.  They had to do something about that, lest these folk beliefs and myths an all cause everyone to lose their faith in the Pope an all.</div> <div>             So they begun to investigate these vampires, especially the ones in Eastern Europe.  One o' the first things they done was tell folks that these beliefs and myths was really the talk o'the divil an them that followed the old ways an old practices, why, they was witches.  An witches, they answer to Satan--don't ye know?  And so these Catholic priests, they writ a decree and they said that vampires 'tweren't nothin but corpses brought back by Satan's divils--vampire bats.  An they writ the way to get rid of the vampire was to use the signs of the true Christian God, them bein the cross, the holy water, an the communion wafer.  Now then, listen here: they don't work.  D'ye hear me?  They don't work!"</div> <div>             Quentin and Julia protested almost together: "That can't be!  Barnabas can't stand the sight of the cross!"</div> <div>             McGuire smiled and shook his head, no.  "It don't work."</div> <div>             "Then why did he turn from me when I held it up?" Julia asked, remembering a time early on when she'd pulled the cross out to protect herself from Barnabas--before she had become his trusted friend.</div> <div>               "And why couldn't he move when Petofi put the cross on his chest?" Quentin put in.</div> <div>               “Because he believed it would work," Jason replied, holding his hands out to say--it's just that simple.  "Think about it--ye all believe it, do ye not?  Ye're all Christians, are ye not?  Barnabas was raised a Christian, was he not?  Sometimes things are so because ye believe them to be." </div> <div> When Julia and Quentin were too shocked to answer or protest, Jason pressed his point.  "When he come to ye in the night, my dear lady, he was so lust-maddened he overlooked the fact ye wore the cross, didn't he?  The cross did not stop him because he didn't know 'twas there. Tucked around behind yer neck in yer sleep it 'twas."</div> <div> "How do you know?" Julia asked faintly.</div> <div>               "Oh, I do, I assure you."  As if to forestall a reaction from Quentin, Jason held his hand out as if to keep him seated.  "Not because I was there, me boy.  I wasn't.  I can look at ye an have the knowin of it.  I can see him there, lookin at ye.  I see it through the two of ye, sittin there now. I see how badly he wanted to throttle ye, lad, for takin what was his.  And had he believed it woulda done some good, he'd'a done it, rest assured.  He was still thinkin on it when ye awoke to find him there."</div> <div>               Quentin remembered.  He shivered.  "I showed him the cross," he said softly.      "He reacted."</div> <div>               "Yes, he did.  He was raised a Christian.  But now ye're here.  To the world, Ireland is a Christian country--Roman Catholic.  I'm tellin ye, though, we share the land with the people of the sidhe."</div> <div>               "And they are--?"</div> <div>               "I have told ye that there are lots o'places to pass through from time to time and place to place.  The lady called it, er, 'parallel time'?" </div> <div>              Julia and Quentin nodded.  "Well, either of ye or yer obsessed friend too can pass through by goin through one o' these here circles of stones or through a rath--"</div> <div>             "A rath? What's that?"  Julia asked.</div> <div>            <FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#000000" FACE="Verdana" > "Why, they're the faerie mounds o'course.  They're like the caves.   An when ye pass through sometimes ye're ahead in time or behind, but sometimes ye're where the faeries live, an the bean sidhe..."</FONT></div> <div>             "Banshee?"  Quentin repeated the pronunciation he thought he heard. He'd heard something of banshees before but didn't know exactly what they were.</div> <div>             "Ye know of the female spirit then that appears in this world sometimes, the harbinger of death?  Well, they don't live here all the time,  y'know.  They travel, like me.  As I was sayin, ye might accidentally slip over there. Worse, yer obsessed friend might, and once he does, he'll know for the sure of it that the religious icons have no power o'er him. 'Twas the  church perpetuated this myth about these things to put down the folk  beliefs, and the children were brought up believin and it's still true to this  day, Bram Stoker an all."  McGuire snorted with contemptuous laugher.  "He had his Dr. Van Helsing place a wafer upon poor Mina's head--she was the victim, ye remember. An it burnt her forehead.  An' Lucy, who was supposed to be made into a vampire, well the good doctor sealed her grave with a wafer 'til  he could come  back an finish her off.  'Tis all poppycock, an that's the truth."</div> <div>             "Can he be stopped?"  This was really frightening news, if it was true, and Quentin and Julia had stopped eating.  They clutched hands under the table.</div> <div>           "Sure an I didn't mean t'frighten ye so badly.  Ye need t'know this.  Yes, he can be stopped--depends on how ye want t'do it.  Ye wear an amulet, me lady--if I were you, I'd hang garlic about it.  Garlic's always been used for medicinal purposes-aye, I know 'tis an herb, but healing power it's got.  And 'tis the one thing that will keep Barnabas Collins away from ye when he learns he need not fear the cross."</div> <div>             "That's it?" Quentin asked incredulously, clearly disappointed.</div> <div>             "Well, the other ways involve the death of him.  Are ye ready for that, laddybuck?"  Jason countered very softly.  They looked at each  other a long, long time.  Quentin swallowed hard several times, feeling Julia  squeeze his hand.  He looked at her, her eyes huge with fright.</div> <div>              "I can't do it," Quentin finally admitted.</div> <div>               "I didn't think ye could, but that's no black mark against ye, lad.  Ye'll leave it to me."</div> <div> "How?"  Quentin asked.  "A stake?"</div> <div> "Or perhaps a fire.  Them's the only way to kill a vampire."</div> <div>                "And you do want to kill him, don't you?"  Julia asked, clearly  distressed.</div> <div> "If I can manage it, I do.  He done the same to me, after all--didn't he?"</div> <div>               Quentin felt sick to his stomach; he could only imagine how.  Julia must feel. He didn't want to talk about killing Barnabas, so he asked: "How did you--?"</div> <div>                "Become a pookah?  Well, 'twas when I was being layed in me own  soil.  There's something about Tara now that's just magical-so I can't explain the how of it, just the why.  And  `twas because I was kilt before me time."  Jason sounded a little evasive.  As if he realized that the  discussion of killing Barnabas had upset Quentin and Julia, McGuire continued on in another direction.  "Lemme tell ye a few more things ye ought to know before Barnabas Collins is learnin them.  First of all, he don't need to be sleepin in no coffin.  He's just gonna be attracting attention to himself,  don't ye know? All he need do once he figures it out is shield himself against  the sun.  He don't even need to sleep if he don't want to."</div> <div>                "Ah, shit!" Quentin exclaimed.  He looked at Julia.  "Do you  suppose that's why you felt him searching for you?"</div> <div>               "He may be wisin up," McGuire agreed.  "He's weak by day, but he ain't senseless.   And 'tis only the sunlight he must avoid.  Ye could talk to him  in his rooms, did ye want to."</div> <div> "No, thanks," Quentin muttered.  This was getting worse and worse.  "Well, Mr.  McGuire, what do you suggest we do?"</div> <div> "Get some garlic for yer lady's amulet for starters.  That'll throw him off the scent--he won't be able to find ye for awhile.  I'm assumin  he's knowin about the weddin, then?"</div> <div>             "I don't think it's a secret, but it seems he was already here  when we called Collinwood," Julia said, looking to Quentin for confirmation. He nodded solemnly.  He'd read the rest of the article--about the owners of the pub.  He didn't want to think about it.</div> <div> "Well, marry durin the day, that'll help," McGuire advised.  "O'course by then, the problem may be taken care of."</div> <div>              "What do you mean?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div>                McGuire smiled.  This time it was a very unpleasant smile.  "Remember that pookahs are dangerous.  They are, me boy--to them they don't  care for.  An  I don't care for Barnabas Collins.  An that's all I think I'll  be sayin on the subject."  His eyes seemed to glitter with an unnatural reddish glow.  "After all, I don't want to be disturbin the two of you over much,  knowin how ye feel about the bastard.  I have to be goin--I was sayin before I can only stay a short time here.  But I'll be back in touch wi' ye--ye might like to be learnin a wee bit more about where I come from then?"  </div> <div> It was a bit much to take in, but Quentin found himself nodding numbly.  </div> <div> "Good lad, then. Let me just be sayin one more thing to ye--ye don't want to slip over there without knowin what yer doin and ye most certainly do not want t'be takin Barnabas Collins wi' ye.  What I'm suggestin is that ye stay away from these places til we meet again.  How's that?"  Quentin nodded again without speaking.  Jason smiled approving.  "Good lad.  Look after yer lady, then, me buck and watch over yer shoulder.  Good day t'ye then."  He reached out and took Quentin's hand, shaking it firmly.  Then he took Julia's hand and kissed it.  "My lady," he said softly. He turned and went back inside the bar.</div> <div>             "My God, Quentin," Julia finally said faintly.</div> <div>              “Do you believe him, Julia?"</div> <div>             Julia was shaking her head.  I don't know.  What he said was so                   frightening and fantastic, and yet he seems to know everything doesn't he?"</div> <div>          Quentin was shaking his head.  He was about to say something  when a large Irish wolfhound came from around the front of the building to  the patio.  It sat near their table, a huge powerful animal, and looked at them  impassively.</div> <div>           "Julia--"</div> <div>           Julia looked and saw the dog, her hand going to her mouth.   "Oh!" she exclaimed.  The dog stood up, looking at her.  She looked back  at the dog as if mesmerized.  It wagged its tail slowly, then turned and walked slowly away. It walked down the road back toward Newgrange.</div> <div>            "Now what the hell was that all about?" Quentin demanded.</div> <div>            "It talked to me--it was Jason," Julia gasped.</div> <div>             "What did he say?"</div> <div>             "Trust me, my lady.  I won't let any harm come to you."   Overcome, Julia's eyes filled up with tears and she turned toward her lover, seeking comfort from him.  He put his arm around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder, murmuring to her soothingly.  As he did so, he used his other hand to push the newspaper away from them.</div> <div> "Why don't we go back to our room?" Julia suggested.  "I'm feeling tired, and I'm frightened too.  I wasn't expecting all this at all, dearheart."</div> <div>               "It's suddenly not such an entertaining trip, isn't it?" Quentin agreed wearily.  "All right.  Do you want to move on then, Julia?"</div> <div>               "We may have to. I was thinking it might be a good idea to call Collinwood and ask someone there if they've seen Barnabas.  Maybe-well, do you think there might be a chance it's not him?"</div> <div>               Quentin didn't want to tell her what he thought; she sounded as if she was desperately grasping at straws, not wanting to believe that Barnabas was really capable of such violence.  "It's worth a call home,” he said evasively.  “All right.  Let's go."  Quentin got behind Julia's chair and helped pull it back for her.  They went back into the pub, barely noticing the charming locomotive interior anymore.  </div> <div>               There was a small crowd of men at a table in a corner, though, and the sweet lilting voice of the old man speaking did attract their attention, for he said,  "And would ye like to hear about the war between the good and the evil, then?"  They both turned their heads at the same time, and the man was looking right at them.  "Come, then, an hear the story, if ye would."  The lovers looked at each other.  As if by unspoken agreement, they determined it wouldn't do any harm to listen.  They sat down at a table adjacent to the men.</div> <div>                "Long ago, before there was such a thing as a Christian or a Jew an even before Adam and Eve were livin here in Ireland, there broke out a war in Heaven.  Twas the likes of which has never been seen before, never--not even in Derry nor Vietnam nor Jerusalem nor none of them places.  This is what happened, then.</div> <div>              The Almighty had a parlor for Himself, and no one had leave to go into it.  No one--not even the Archangels.  And not even Lucifer himself, who was the favorite at the time.  He was even the chief of the angels, he was.  Lucifer, though, he never took kindly to havin to bend to the will o' God, and so one day he decided he was gonna have a look into the parlor.  Twas curious, he was and he fancied to satisfy his curiosity.</div> <div>               So over he goes and peeps in.  And what he saw was a picture of the Holy Mary, the Blessed Mother, over the mantlepiece.  An she wasn't to be comin into the world for thousands of years to come yet!  Then the trouble started because, ye well know, God knows everything and he knew what Lucifer done!</div> <div>              Half of everyone took the Almighty's side, and the other half was for Lucifer.   The sun was for the Almighty, don't ye know, and the moon was for Lucifer.  And they fought the battle, and twas God and His side that won the war.  An when the war was over, the sun was left bright shinin as always before.  The moon, though--ah, now the moon suffered the consequences for backin the wrong side.  No more bright shinin light for the moon, no, the light became dull and changeable like.  And 'twill always be shrinking down to the size of a silk thread and then grow to its bright fullness again, only to shrink down again.</div> <div>             Now, the sea had always been settled and steady, but it had come out for Lucifer, too.  It had to be punished, too, for bein so wrong--headed.  So it was set to tossing and heaving.  It flowed out and away from the land for six hours at a time, and then for another six it would flow in again.  Not satisfied with that, yet, it would leap up and throw itself against the rocks along the shore.      </div> <div>               The angels that had sided with Lucifer, now,  they was thrown out of Heaven.  For a long time over our land, there was angels fallin as  thick as a rare hard rainstorm.  Finally St. Michael was afeared  that with all the shaken goin on, even the good angels would fall and then Heaven would surely be empty.    </div> <div>                 And the Heavenly Father says, 'Close the gates, then.  Those that are in are in for good and them that are out will stay out.  And all the angels will remain  where they are until the Day of Judgement!'  </div> <div>               Well, some o' the angels had fallen into the sea.  They are there t'this day, livin in palaces beneath the waves.   Some o' the angels had landed on their feet here. 'Tis they that become the sidhe people.  They're the ones that live in the faerie mounds and travel above and below the ground and 'twixt and 'tween as well.  The other angels didn't land on the earth or fall into the water.  'Tis they who whisper and cry out and complain-they bein the stormin winds that blow through, and 'tis the hurricanes and typhoons and other large wind storms they are.   Now, as for Lucifer, well, he's called the Divil now.  He and the worst o' his lot fell straight through the earth right smack dab into hell.   An God grant they stay there, but they don't always as we well know when the moon 'comes full and ye hear the dogs howlin and see the night creatures flyin through the sky and cryin out their grief and rage.  'Tis on nights like that ye've got to beware them dark angels and the sidhe people who sometimes creep out to commune with them."</div> <div>      The old man stopped speaking, and the men murmured and laughed nervously, some of them crossing themselves.  "Lovely bedtime story," Julia said dryly.  Quentin realized she was just trying to cover up the fact that the story had disturbed her very much, and he took her cold hand.   She smiled at him appreciatively and indicated she wanted to leave.  </div> <div>      As they began to rise, though, the old man  said, "I'm sorry I've disturbed ye, my lady, would ye stay then and allow me to buy you a pint and tell ye a proper charming story, then?"</div> <div>      "Well, that's very kind of you, but--" Julia began.</div> <div>      One of the men broke in, "Patrick O'Neill buyin the pints!  'Tis an honor and a privilege to be sure, missus!"  It was plain that it would be an insult to leave now.</div> <div>      "Would you an your young man come sit with me then?" the old man asked.</div> <div>      Resigned, Julia and Quentin moved to the table with the old man, the other men pulling back to make room.</div> <div>      "My name is Patrick O'Neill," the old man said, holding out his hand.  </div> <div>      "Quentin Collins."  Quentin shook hands with the old man, noticing his eyes were strange--a rheumy, filmy blue.  He was momentarily shaken, then recovered himself.  "My fiancée, Dr. Julia Hoffman."</div> <div>      "Ah, Doctor is it? An such a beautiful fine redheaded woman ye are, too.  Are ye fiery tempered then, too?" O'Neill said in a teasing manner, holding his hand out to shake hands with Julia.  Julia reached over to take the old man's hand, which was stuck straight out.  Quite suddenly, she and Quentin realized </div> <div> simultaneously that the man was blind.  Stunned, Julia's free hand went to her hair, and she looked at Quentin in alarm.  "Don't be afeared," the man said soothingly.  "When ye lose one sense, ye develop the others keenly."</div> <div>      "But my hair--how did you know it's red?"</div> <div>      "Ah, but I didn't--not really.  I heard what ye said over there and detected a very spirited nature.  'Twas a guess only, my lady."</div> <div>      Quentin wasn't so sure. He exchanged looks with Julia, wondering if she wanted to leave.  She gave her head a barely perceptible shake, no.  She was curious and wanted to stay.  "So you have a better story for us, Mr. O'Neill?" he </div> <div> asked.</div> <div>      "Patrick O'Neill is one o' the last o' the shanachie.  'Tis an honor an a privilege, so it 'tis," one of the other men insisted.</div> <div>      "A storyteller," Julia said.  She looked at Quentin.  "They would travel the country--they kept the traditions and the history alive with their storytelling."  This was important, then.</div> <div>      "Do you mind if I tape your story, Mr. O'Neill?" Quentin asked.  "We're working on a book together."</div> <div>      "Tape?  Ah, a recording machine.  Sure then, an ye will."  As Quentin set up the recorder, the owner of the pub brought them all pints of stout. "So ye'll be interested in hearin about how the people of Ireland came to be?  Or do ye want another story about the sidhe people?"</div> <div>      "Either one," Quentin replied.  Then he added, "Whichever is more pleasing to the lady, and that would be the one that's not scary."</div> <div>      O'Neill laughed.  "All right.  Listen then:  there've been several races that lived here before us.  We're just the most recent inhabitants, don't ye know.  We've supplanted the Celts--well, actually the Brits have done that for us.  There's lots o' places where ye still have the Celtic culture an language an all.  The Celts, now, they replaced the Tuatha De Danaan and banished 'em to the faerie mounts.  The Tuatha De Danaan, now, they're the sidhe people.  An before the sidhe people, there was the Fir Bolgs.  All the supernatural creatures o' the day an the night an in the world an out, well, all they are is what's left of them earlier races.  Just like the Loch Ness monster in Scotland.  Ye follow?"</div> <div>      "I think so--some people think the Loch Ness monster is a lizard from the dinosaur age.  Is that what you mean?"  Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "Yes and no.  Nessie comes from an opening from within.  She swims up to the surface, has a look-see around and then dives back down.  Well, the Fir Bolgs an the sidhe people are the same way--they come and they go where ever there's an opening.  They have a look-see around.  Sometimes they go peace-able.  Sometimes they cause mischief."</div> <div>      "These Fir Bolgs and sidhe people--do they include vampires?"  Julia asked bluntly.</div> <div>      "Aye, my lady, they are all those who do not belong in heaven but are not evil enough for hell," O'Neill answered readily, not at all surprised by her question.  He added, "Some of these creatures get kinda stuck here and don't know how to get back where they belong."</div> <div>      Julia and Quentin exchanged glances.  "And do all these supernatural creatures belong in--in--where?  This place that is--"</div> <div>      "'Twixt and 'tween," Mr. O'Neill said.  "Not here with us.  Not in heaven, nor in hell.  There in what ye might call the 'Middle Kingdom'.  Vampires are great and revered sidhe in their own place.  An when they appear there in their birdlike form, they can foretell war or peace between the races or even life and death. Captured warriors were cut and drained of their blood, and everyone would watch as the bowl was given to that dark being in its human form.  An he would drink from it.  Sometimes, if there be no warriors, 'tis a young maid that is sacrificed.  Here, they are hated and hunted for what they do to us.  Here, they are evil and we must rid ourselves of them--or at the very least, protect ourselves.  I detect ye wear an amulet but ye are not well protected enough, my lady."</div> <div> "I know," Julia said ruefully.  "Can you tell me anything more about the ways through to these other places--what you call 'twixt and 'tween?"</div> <div>      "Well, ye find them at any faerie mound or ceremonial holy place.  Ye were at Newgrange--this is one o'them places.  Same thing with Knowth, an then there are the caves, too."</div> <div>      "Caves?"</div> <div>      "Aye, there's one not far from here in County Roscommon.  'Tis one of the entrances to the Middle Kingdom.  'Tis also an exit for them that want to come about an mingle wi' us for a wee bit.  That one is called Cruachan.  Not so very far from there yet is the Rathcroghan mound.  'Tis said it's the ancient remnants of Queen Medb's palace.  An then  there are some at Creevykeel, which is on the West Coast.  But ye really don't have to go very far to find the raths--those are the mounds of earth ye see dotted all about. </div> <div>      And when ye do pass through, I've heard there are fine palaces there an banquets for the feastin, too.   Sometimes they go about at night searchin for guests to bring back.  An the guests sometimes come back and sometimes not, for I've heard it's bright dazzlin there. Sometimes I've heard of folk sayin they'd been invited to the bruidne--kinda like yer idea of a hostel.  They have great cauldrons there an the fires are goin all the time to be hospitable to anyone who happens along, ye see.  For they're centers of hospitality, that they are, and they'll feed everyone no matter how many.  Truth be told, though, they're actually temples for the feasting, drinking and merriment.  'Tis magical cauldrons they are, which is why they don't run out of anythin."</div> <div>      "And the people who live there--you called them sidhe?"  Julia asked.  "Just what does that mean?  Earlier someone told us about the bean sidhe."</div> <div>      "Bean sidhe--that would be a woman faery, puir soul.  She is one of the lost sidhes I was tellin ye about, who can't seem to find the way back.  So she attaches herself to one family or t'other, and that is very, very bad.  For when the time comes for one of the family to pass on, they'll hear her a-crying in grief.  For she knows that person will be no more."</div> <div>      "But does she harm anyone in the family?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "No, but the bad thing is when ye hear her, ye know someone is t'die soon, and who will it be? 'Sides, ye'd prefer not to know, wouldn't ye?"</div> <div>      I don't have that problem, Quentin thought, but then he looked at Julia.  He would not want to hear a bean sidhe crying--not at all.  "That's right," he answered.  No, he wouldn't want to know.</div> <div>      "Now, these sidhe are said to be the Tuatha de Danaan, as I was tellin ye before.  What that name means is 'people of the Goddess Anu', and as I said, they were the earliest people here in Ireland.  I don't suppose they particularly liked being supplanted, which might be the reason so many of them go about creatin mischief.  Ye know, 'tuath' does mean people but it also can mean 'sinister' and 'evil'.  An 'tuathal' can refer to spell-makin and witchcraft.</div> <div>      Along with Anu were her two sisters.  One was named Badb and t'other was called Macha.  All together they was called 'na ban tuathige', and that means 'the sinister women.'  Oh, powerful they were, an malicious, an could </div> <div> conjure up all manner of terrible forces.  They are what ye call the 'unholy trinity'.  These three are descended from Queen Medb, whom I have told ye a bit about."</div> <div>      "Well, that's just lovely," Quentin said. "It's just the sort of place Barnabas would fit right into."</div> <div>      "Ah, the stalker," said O'Neill.</div> <div>      "Now, how do you know that?" Quentin exclaimed.  "Are you one of these sidhe people, too?  Another  pookah perhaps?"  Quentin heard the men around him laugh uproariously and he was annoyed, but he was determined to ignore them.</div> <div>      "I don't blame ye for askin, then, and I am not offended, but I'm human--like yerself.  I don't have all of yer special qualities, but I'm not supernatural.  Guess ye might say I've some second sight, then."</div> <div>      Quentin decided it wouldn't be wise to question the man on his credentials or what he might by "special qualities."  Julia nodded her agreement and asked, "Would such a--being as Barnabas fit into this world you're talking about?"</div> <div>      "Many do," O'Neill answered.  "An do right well there."  </div> <div>      "These three female goddesses--are they witches?"  Julia asked.  </div> <div>      "Some might say so."  O'Neill appeared to be thinking.  He went on, "Ye mind the Shakespeare play with the three witches in them?  These three remind ye of them, then, is it? Aye, it could be--here."  He seemed to sense Julia's shiver because he continued in a soothing voice, "'Tisn't all evil, my lady.  Just different.  There's other trinities as well--not evil or unholy.  Let me tell ye a little about the Fir Bolg and set yer mind at rest a bit.  Now, Fir Bolg means 'men of the God of lightning', but they're probably actually the early gods an goddesses--or holy ones.  Their belief is that the trinity is a father god, a mother god, and their divine son.  We're right close to their physical manifestations, too.  Ye see, the mother is known as Boand--the River Boyne which runs near here.  An the divine son is Aenghus, an he lives at Newgrange.  The father god is the Daghda."</div> <div>      "Newgrange?  You mean--" Quentin began.</div> <div>      "Aye, lad, the place ye've just come from that's so popular with the tourists.  'Tis a protective place."  After a moment he said, "Well, now, and ye might see then why St. Patrick didn't have such a hard time of it convincin people about Christianity--the trinity is there, too.  It's always been here in Ireland."  O'Neill stopped talking and paused, as if listening.  He beckoned for the friendly young woman who'd served Quentin and Julia earlier.  She leaned over, and he whispered into her ear.  She nodded and went back into the kitchen.</div> <div>      "What?" Quentin asked.</div> <div>      "'Tis comin on dusk, young feller, an I happen to know that Brigid can bring ye some of what ye need to throw your friend off the scent."</div> <div>      The young woman returned with garlic.  The old man reached for Julia's amulet .  She removed it from her neck and put it in his hand so that he could attach some of the cloves in and around the globe.  For Quentin, he had a small leather pouch in his pocket.  He put the rest of the garlic into the pouch and handed both items back.  "Now then, ye should be all right.  I didn't tell ye the fanciful story I had in mind at first, but `tis no matter.  There's others you'll come on who can tell ye the legends an the myths.  Go straight back to yer room and keep yeselves occupied, then.  I'm sure ye can think of something, can ye not?"</div> <div>      Quentin and Julia looked at each other.  In spite of their nervousness, they both smiled and reddened a little.  "I'm sure," Julia agreed softly.</div> <div>      "'Twas a pleasure it was, then, to be talkin to ye," O'Neill said, reaching out to shake hands with them again. They were quiet on the short walk back to the hostel.  As they neared the front door, the Irish wolfhound suddenly came from around the back of the building and sat on the road, watching them.  "That's really unnerving," Quentin muttered.  "I wish he wouldn't do that--"</div> <div>      "Quentin!" Julia exclaimed, interrupting him.  She was pointing at the door of the hostel.  Quentin followed her finger and saw Willie had just come out and was standing on the porch, hands in his pockets.</div> <div>      Quentin had had enough.  He lost control of himself, leaving Julia and running toward Willie.  Throwing himself at Barnabas' servant, he brought the startled man down and pinned him to the ground.  Frustrated and angry, Quentin began to smack Willie's face with his hands.  Willie threw his own hands up to protect himself.  "Hey!  Hey!  Quit it!" he yelled.</div> <div>      "Quentin!  Stop!"  Julia was pulling at his shoulder, trying to stop  him.</div> <div>      Several men spilled from the hostel, grabbing Quentin firmly and pulling him off Willie.  "Here, now, this is not New York City then!" the manager was protesting.  "Behave yerself!  This here is a decent family place!"</div> <div>      Quentin was trying to pull free of the restraining arms.  "Where is he?" he yelled at Willie.</div> <div>      Willie, sensing he had the advantage now, threw a punch at Quentin's jaw to avenge himself.  The men who had been restraining Quentin decided it was in their best interest to let him go, and he chased Willie around the building.  Julia and the other men pursued them.  Only Julia was interested in breaking up the fight.  The men called advice to both Quentin and Willie:  "Run, lad!" and "Turn and give him another clabber!" and "Ye can catch the little twit, long legs that ye have!"</div> <div>      Quentin knocked Willie to the ground again and sat on his back.  "Get off!" Willie roared in rage.</div> <div>      "Where is he, you little sonuvabitch?"</div> <div>      "You know I can't tell you that, Quentin!  This ain't my fault--I warned ya, I warned ya--didn't I?  Julia!  Do something!"</div> <div>      But Julia said coldly:  "I want him to leave us alone, Willie!"</div> <div>      "Geez, Julia, don't you think I tried to talk to him?  If you don't get outta here soon, you're gonna be tellin him yaself!"</div> <div>      Julia looked around.  Dusk was coming on.  She shivered.  "Quentin, we should go--" she began.</div> <div>      "What's the use?" Quentin was furious.  "He'll just follow us!"</div> <div>      "Maybe what we've got will help protect us.  Quentin, please!"  She pulled on his shoulder again.</div> <div>      Reluctantly, Quentin got up.  He was very tempted to kick Willie in the ribs.  The only thing that stopped him was the realization that it was Barnabas he was really angry with, not Willie.  If only he could do this to Barnabas!  Fuming, he turned away.  "All right, all right!" he snapped.  "Let's get out of here!"  They went into the hostel, collected their things, and checked out.</div> <div>      Willie watched silently as they came outside again.  "I won't tell him I seen ya," he said.</div> <div>      Quentin looked at him contemptuously.  "Yeah?  Thanks."  He and Julia walked to the train station.  Unfortunately, they'd missed a train heading west.  They would have to wait about an hour--it would be dark then.  Quentin paced restlessly and didn't protest when Julia lit a cigarette with shaking hands.  When he saw a tear slide down her face, he stopped pacing and sat down next to her, putting his arm around her.  He took the cigarette from her, took a puff and gave it back.</div> <div>      "You don't smoke," Julia said surprised.</div> <div>      He kissed her.  "I just don't want you to feel all alone, Julia.  Besides, I've smoked before."</div> <div>      Julia threw the cigarette down on the ground and crushed it with her foot, leaning back against Quentin's shoulder.  She sighed.  "Maybe it was a mistake."</div> <div>      "What?  To come here?  How were we supposed to know that this was going to happen?"</div> <div>      "I don't mean that," Julia said, distressed.</div> <div>      "You mean us?" Quentin asked.  He was beginning to get angry again.  He moved so that he could take Julia by the shoulders.  "Julia, you and I aren't a mistake!  Tell me that you don't believe that!"</div> <div>      "I'm afraid he's going to hurt you," Julia wept.</div> <div>      "I'm afraid he's going to hurt you," Quentin declared.  "But, Julia, we're in this together.  We're not a mistake. You don't mean that you think we shouldn't have--"</div> <div>      "No, I don't mean it."  She was still crying.  "It's just that I'm frightened!  I know what he's capable of--he almost drove me mad one night, did I ever tell you that?"</div> <div>      "No, and I probably wouldn't have believed you if you had--before.  Now I'd believe him capable of anything."  Quentin pulled Julia to him.  "Look, I told you that we're together in this.   I won't let him harm you if I can help it."</div> <div>      <I>Then get going, ye young fool!</I>  Quentin heard Jason's scolding voice very clearly in his mind.  Both he and Julia sat up and looked around the station platform.  The Irish wolfhound sat, watching them intently.  <I>Get your arse up</I> <I>and flag down the automobile that's</I> <I>coming!</I></div> <div>      Quentin obediently got up and went to the edge of the platform.  Sure enough, there was a car coming along.  He waved, and the car stopped.  The driver rolled his window down.  "Need help, young feller?"  Why do they all look Barry Fitzgerald?  Quentin wondered. Or Patrick O'Brien?  This one looked just like Mickaleen Flynn from “The Quiet Man”.</div> <div>      "We missed the train," Quentin began, feeling foolish.</div> <div>      "Ah, 'tis a pity.  Well, get in, then, get in.  We don't mind takin ye with us, do we, Maeve?"  the man addressed a heavyset woman with a floury face seated next to him.  The woman smiled and beckoned to them.  Quentin helped </div> <div> Julia get into the car.  He put their bag in next and climbed in.  He looked around as he closed the door.  The dog was gone.</div> <div>      "We're goin as far as Collinstown--is that good enough for ye?" the heavy woman named Maeve asked them kindly.  "Ye look all done in, sure an ye do--what is it, then?"</div> <div>      "Collinstown?" Julia asked faintly.</div> <div>      "That's where we live.  Do ye know it, then?"</div> <div>      "My name is Collins,” said Quentin, just as surprised as Julia.</div> <div>      "Ah!" the man exclaimed.  "And are ye from there?"</div> <div>      "No, our families are both from Sligo," Julia said.</div> <div>      "Well, no matter.  There are Collinses all about.  Ye might be a cousin of a cousin then.  Collins, ye said?"</div> <div>      "Yes, Quentin Collins, and this is Julia."  Quentin stopped, leaving it at that. He wasn't sure why he did it until later.</div> <div>      "My name is Francis Sweeney, and this here is Maeve as I said.  Were ye plannin on spendin some time in Westmeath then?  Fishing, maybe?  We've lots of lakes, ye know, with lots o' stories.  Maeve can tell ye--she's descended from storytellers.  Sometimes I'm thinkin she's one of the sidhe for sure."</div> <div>      Quentin and Julia looked at the kindly heavyset woman a little doubtfully.  They pictured leprechauns, brownies, and faeries to be sidhe, not a great woman like this.  "Go on wi' ye, then!" Maeve exclaimed, laughing until she began to wheeze.  "We're not so far from Lough Derravragh.  I know a mite about that, 'tis all."</div> <div>      "Tell them," Francis prompted.  "We've a bit of drivin to do yet."</div> <div>      "They look done in.  Perhaps they'd rather rest."</div> <div>      "Oh, no, please!" Julia exclaimed.</div> <div>      "We're writing a book," Quentin put in, pulling out the tape recorder.  "Is it all right if I tape the story?"</div> <div>      Maeve laughed.  "Well, all right, if ye've a mind.  Have ye heard of the Tuatha de Danann tribe?"</div> <div>      "People of the Goddess Anu," Quentin answered immediately.</div> <div>      "Ah, so ye're serious about the book then!" Maeve exclaimed, pleased.  "Well, then,  there was chieftains in the tribe.  One was called Lir.  He married Eva, an she the lovely daughter of King Bov the Red.  Four children they had and named Conn, Fionnuala, Fiachra, and Aodh.  Lir was a very happy, contented man.  And then, as will happen, when he was feelin at his happiest, </div> <div> his Eva was struck down with sickness an she died.  But for the children, Lir would have died, too.</div> <div>      There come a time when Lir finally found love in his heart again for another, Aoife.  An she loved Lir and she loved the children like they were her own at the first.  By and by, though, she come to be resentful of the love Lir had for the children.  She couldn't stand that he'd love someone as much as she.  So she waited for a time when Lir when hunting.  Aoife took the children with her to visit their grandfather.  She took them to Lough Deravaragh and tarried there.  'Twas warm, she said, didn't they feel like bathing in the cool water?  When they went in, she cast a spell on them.  For three hundred years they would be swans.  Anyone could still come an see them--including their father. But he couldn't love them no more-he didn't even know they were his own chilthern. An Aoife felt that turnin them into birds wasn't such a bad thing, for the Tuatha de Danaan revere those that can take wing and fly.</div> <div>      When the three hundred years had gone by, do ye know--the swans took wing and flew away.  For three hundred more years they flew to and fro over the stormy Sea of Moyle.  They came to Inis Glora, which is on the West Coast.  Inis means island, by the by.  They spent three hundred years there, too, and toward the end of that time, they come to hear of a holy man named Patrick, who was bringin the true faith to Ireland.  They wanted some relief from the spell they were under.</div> <div>      Patrick had a disciple, name of Kemoc.  He prayed with the four swans 'til one by one all the white feathers fell away.  Graceful birds no more, standing before Kemoc was a very old woman and three very old men, sick an bent. Just like that, they all fell to the ground. As they lay dyin of the old age, Kemoc baptized them and prayed over them.  As he got up, he looked up and saw four beautiful white swans winging their way up into the sky."</div> <div>      "All the stories seem so sad," Julia said.</div> <div>      "Well, it's how ye look at it.  They were free ye see," Maeve explained.  "Ah, but it's just the Irish way of it, don't ye know.  Ye can see the descendants of the four children at the lake--if ye've a mind.  And where is it ye're planning on staying then?"</div> <div>      "Well--"  Quentin began and stopped.</div> <div>      "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Collins, we've an extra room and we'd be pleased if ye'd come and stay over with us," Maeve offered.</div> <div>      Quentin smiled, relieved, taking Julia's hand.  Not only did they have shelter for the night, they'd be sharing the same bed.  He was glad he hadn't mentioned Julia's last name.  "Thank you," he said.  "That would be nice."</div> <div>      "We can go by the Lough, if ye like, in the mornin," Francis Sweeney put in.</div> <div>      Quentin didn't want to commit himself.  He wasn't sure they were safe yet.  "How far away is Rathcroghan?" he asked.</div> <div>      Maeve looked visibly startled.  "What is it yer wantin there, then?  Is it for your book?"</div> <div>      "Yes--what is it?"</div> <div>      "Well, 'tis just that it's known as a faery place," Maeve replied, looking troubled.</div> <div>      "That is what we're interested in," Quentin said.  "Didn't you just tell us a faery story yourself?"</div> <div>      Maeve nodded reluctantly and then changed the subject, asking them some questions about where they were from and what brought them to Ireland. There were no more stories of the Tuatha de Danaan that night.  After dinner, Maeve told Julia to feel free to use the phone to call Collinsport. Julia felt a little silly, feeling as if she was just going to confirm something that they already knew.  Sure enough, Carolyn told them that Barnabas and Willie had gone away on a business trip.  She was sure they'd be in Ireland in time for the wedding.  Carolyn was excited about flying to Ireland.  “It must be so romantic!” she exclaimed, and Julia agreed.  Hanging up, Julia made a face. They'd be here in time, all right, she thought grimly.  By the time Julia and Quentin retired for the night,  the Sweeneys had offered to drive them all the way to Rathcroghan the next day.  </div> <div>      "That's really nice of them to go out of their way like that," Quentin murmured, pulling Julia close to him.</div> <div>      "Well, it's been said the Irish are just like that," Julia replied sleepily.  "Well, we're finding out it's true, aren't we?"</div> <div>      "Aye, love, sure an we are."</div> <div>      "Quentin," Julia began hesitantly.  "I wondered if we shouldn't have just gone straight through to Sligo--to my cousin's.  Jason told us not to go near the faery mounds."</div> <div>      "He also said he was going to meet up with us again and show us these things," Quentin pointed out.  "He might mean to meet us there, especially since everyone's mentioned it."  Julia sighed.  "You're worried about Barnabas, aren't you?  Can you feel him?"</div> <div>      "Not at all."  That was the one thing that Julia could be sure of.  "I can't imagine how this stuff would throw him off.  It smells so."  She fingered her amulet.</div> <div>      "Maybe, but I can still detect the real you under all that garlic, me love," Quentin teased her gently, pulling her hair back so that he could kiss and nibble her ear.</div> <div>      "None of that tonight, my lad," Julia teased back.  "Not when our guests are so close in the house."</div> <div>      "Ah, and they know what goes between married people, Julia."</div> <div>      "Yes, but we'll be considerate and we won't remind them.  Tomorrow--we'll be alone tomorrow night, dearheart."</div> <div>      "I can wait," he whispered.  "You make the wait worthwhile."  He closed his eyes and drifted off.  She followed very soon after. They really were very tired.</div> <div>      </div> <div>      They awoke in the morning to the smell of fresh bread baking, and they were starving.  They went to the kitchen and found Francis amiably preparing a big meal for them.  “Ah, yer up at last!” he cried.  “'Tis a ways to Rathcroghan from here, and I was hesitant to go knockin at your door.  Sit ye down, sit ye down an eat.”</div> <div>      “Thank you-are you sure this isn't putting you out?” Quentin asked, holding Julia's chair out for her.</div> <div>      “Nah, nah, not atall and what would I be doin with me time now anyways other than dreamin and fishin?  `Tis no trouble atall.  Sit down and eat!”</div> <div>      Quentin didn't need to be invited a third time.  He helped himself heartily, passing the rashers and eggs and scones to Julia after he'd served himself.  Belatedly he realized that he should be minding his manners, but he was starving and the food smelled appealing.  Julia asked curiously,  “Where is Maeve?”</div> <div>      “Tired she was and so I let her sleep,” Francis answered.  When Julia's eyebrows contracted, he went on:  “Not t'worry.  She has the heart, y'see, so she's frequently tired.  She takes pills fer it.”</div> <div>      “Maybe I should take a look at her,” Julia suggested.  “I am a doctor.”</div> <div>      “Ye are, then?  Why, sure, if an it be no trouble to ye, we'd be obliged I'm sure!”</div> <div>      After the meal, Francis took Julia to the bedroom he shared with Maeve while Quentin dressed and packed for their journey to Rathcrogan.  The bedroom was very dim, and Maeve seemed to be sleeping soundly.  Julia opened the shutters to let in the morning light, and the heavy woman moved restlessly on the bed.  She stirred slightly when her husband roused her.  “”Tis fearfully tired I am today, my love,” she said to him softly.  “I hope ye can manage on your own?”</div> <div>      “Not to worry then, Maeve, and do ye know what?  Julia Collins is a doctor!”</div> <div>      “Man, it's not a doctor I'm needin, tis rest!” Maeve protested.  “Please shut the light and let me sleep.”</div> <div>      “Would you mind if I just look at you quickly?” Julia asked, concerned.  “I'd like to listen to your heart.”</div> <div>      “Well, then, if ye must,” Maeve said wearily not without some irritation in her voice.  She reluctantly opened her nightgown at the neck so that Julia could listen to her heart.  At the same time, Julia tried to look and see if there were any marks on the woman's neck.  Unfortunately, it wasn't an easy thing to do, for the woman had rolls of fat that hindered Julia's view.  </div> <div>      Julia concentrated on the heartbeat now.  She placed her fingers on the woman's wrist to get her pulse, noting that she had a bounding pulse.  Julia's could see her own fingers moving up and down on the woman's wrist.  Not only was it rapid, it was irregular, Julia realized, concerned.  She'd also heard the gurgling sound of a valve prolapse and some congestion in Maeve's lungs.  “What medications did your doctor give you, Maeve?”</div> <div>      “Oh, for the heart, an I cannot remember.  Look there.”  Maeve swept her hand toward her dresser and shut her eyes.  Julia got up and checked the bottles of pills on the dresser, wondering what the couple had been told about Maeve's condition.  The prescription bottles were typical for a patient with heart failure:  digitalis, lasix, potassium…</div> <div>      “Do you see a cardiologist?” Julia asked quietly.</div> <div>      “Yes, an we go every six weeks or so,” Francis answered, his cheerful countenance serious now.</div> <div>      “You have one soon?” Julia hoped.</div> <div>      “Yes-next week.”</div> <div>      “All right.”  Julia looked at the woman sleeping again on the bed.  She still felt worried.  Perhaps she ought to force the issue and examine her more thoroughly.  “May I just check a little further?”</div> <div>      “Is anythin wrong?” Francis asked, alarm in his voice.</div> <div>      “Oh, no-it's just that I want to be sure she has no viral infection.  I didn't check her glands.”</div> <div>      “Ah!  All right, then, if ye will.”</div> <div>      When Julia sat down on the bad, Maeve opened her eyes and positively glowered at her now.  “I need me rest, please!”</div> <div>      “I'm sorry,” Julia apologized.  “I won't be long…I just want to see if your glands are swollen.”  She put her hands on Maeve's lymph glands on either side of her throat, gently massaging them.  They weren't swollen at all, but Julia gently continued her examination as Maeve shut her eyes again wearily.  She had an enlarged thyroid, too, Julia noted.  She still couldn't detect any marks on her neck.  One arm was above the covers, the one on which Julia had taken her pulse.  No marks.  Maeve opened her eyes again.  “Please, doctor, if ye have any pity in ye, let me sleep.”</div> <div>      “I'm sorry,” Julia apologized again.  She got up.  She didn't ask to see the other arm not wishing to disturb the woman any further.  With her heart condition and a possible case of hyper-thyroidism, it was reasonable to expect that the woman would be weak and tired.  “How long has she been like this?”</div> <div>      “A year or so,” Francis answered dolefully.  “Come along then, doctor, please?”  They went into the hall and he said softly, “If she's not terribly sick, there's not much ye can tell me that I don't know already.  I know she's not got much time.”</div> <div>      Julia nodded, feeling very sorry because she genuinely liked the friendly couple.  “Has her doctor checked her thyroid level lately?”</div> <div>      “Not as I know of.  Shall I mention it then?”</div> <div>      Julia nodded.  “If he doesn't, it would be a good idea.  He can give her something to increase her energy.”</div> <div>      Francis grinned.  “Thanks, Doctor!”</div> <div>      “Please-call me Julia.”</div> <div>      “Ah, Julia, then it `tis.”</div> <div>      Just then, Quentin opened the door and stepped out, looking very Irish in his wool sweater.  “Everything okay?” he asked.</div> <div>      “Are you sure you want to take this trip?” Julia asked Francis.</div> <div>      “I'm sure.  Maeve will get up when she's slept enough and be waiting with me dinner tonight as always,”  Francis replied.  “Just let me get me hat.”</div> <div>      Julia walked down the hall and into Quentin's arms.  “What it it?” he asked.</div> <div>      “She's dying, Quentin.  I can't help her,” Julia answered with a deep sigh.  “She hasn't got very long.”</div> <div>      “Oh!  That's too bad-she's really nice.”  He hugged her and stroked her hair.  He knew how Julia was about people and knew enough about doctors (and Julia too) to know that it was frustrating not to be able to save a life.  “I love you,” he whispered to her, and she lifted her face up for a kiss.</div> <div>      “Here, now, ye should have thought of that last night!” Francis called out cheerily, and the couple broke away, laughing.  “Let's go, then!”</div> <bR> <div>      On the drive to Rathcroghan, Francis kept up a lively chatter.  He was as good a storyteller as Maeve and gave Quentin and Julia a lot of background information about the magical place they were visiting.  Some of it was fact (it was 204 feet in diameter) and some of it was more legend.  They heard again about the fact that it was the location of Queen Medb's palace.  “Ye know, Medb is an ancient name.  Now we say Maeve,” Francis added with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.</div> <div>      “And next you'll be telling us that your Maeve is descended from Queen Medb too?” Quentin played along.</div> <div>      “I would not be a bit surprised,” Francis agreed.  “My Maeve would make a queenly queen, she would.  Well, Queen Medb had all of Connacht-an impressive leader, she was.  She was married to Ailill, who had an impressive white bull.  Bulls is very important to ancient people, an pigs too.”</div> <div>      “Bulls and pigs?”</div> <div>      “Mascots, ye see.  Yes, bulls and pigs.  Well Queen Maeve amassed herself a huge army an she marched wi' them to County Louth to take back the Brown Bull of Cooley-it was finer than the white bull her husband had, an she wanted to make Cruachain the most splendid place on earth.   Cruachain-that the name Rathcroghan was known by then.”  He went on to tell them about the great cattle raid of Cooley, keeping them wildly entertained until they arrived at the rath.</div> <div>      They made an afternoon of it, exploring the cave and the grounds around it.  Quentin was disappointed that there was no pathway to another world-at least none that he could find.  He wondered how Julia felt about it.  She didn't say one way or the other, but was clearly enjoying herself.  They had a picnic dinner and then explored some more.  Francis brought a stout stick to Quentin and presented it to him.  “Here, lad, this is a branch from a rowan tree.  Do ye know about them?  They've magical, protective propterties, that they do.”</div> <div> “I've heard of rowan trees,” Julia said, reaching for the stick and touching it.  “They are supposed to ward off witches, aren't they?”</div> <div> “That too,” Francis agreed.  Quentin hefted it in his hand.  It was not sturdy enough to walk on, but it was easy to carry and he wanted to keep it.  As dusk began to fall, Francis announced he would pack up the car while Quentin and Julia took a last look around.  </div> <div>      The plan was for Francis to drive them into nearby Frenchtown.  He would return home, and the couple would find a phone and call Julia's cousin.  They were very close to Sligo.  They felt he wouldn't mind driving down to pick them up-when he felt like it.  Meanwhile, they'd enjoy the hospitality of one of the B&Bs in Frenchtown.  Julia and Quentin had climbed out of one of the entrances or exits and stood on the lip of rock just outside.  “I don't know what I was expecting,” Quentin began.</div> <div>      “I know.  I thought I might feel something different here,” Julia agreed, turning toward him.  </div> <div> He took her into his arms.  “You know how beautiful you look there with the breeze blowing your hair about?”  He kissed her.  A light rain had begun to fall.  “I guess we'd better get down to the car.”  The rocks were slippery, and he went first, holding on to her and helping her move down the path.  The path led back inside the cave for a few feet and would come out again into the open.</div> <div> Someone grabbed Quentin by the lapels and pushed him roughly against the wall.  “Did I not warn ye about these places, ye fool?” Jason snarled into his face.  He looked very unpleasant, with blazing red eyes and very sharp teeth.     Startled, Quentin was terrified almost out of his wits.  Jason looked very much like Barnabas right now.  “You told me you'd see us again-“ he began, trying to pull away.  Jason's breath was hot and fetid.</div> <div> “Not <I>here</I>!  I meant <I>Newgrange</I>!” Jason snarled, furious.  “Y'have no idea what's already happened do ye?”  He half turned and hissed at Julia, “Ye didn't look at the other arm, my lady!”  He turned back to Quentin and shook him, snarling, “Listen to me.  Get yerself an yer lady out of her <I>now</I> if it's not too late a'ready!”  He shoved Quentin to the side furiously.  “MOVE!”</div> <div> Quentin grabbed Julia's hand and they got out, fast.  It crossed Quentin's mind for a moment to stop long enough to ask where they might see Jason again but then he realized that he wanted to see Jason again even less than he wanted to see his cousin.  They ran out of the cave and into the open.  Both of them came to a sudden halt.  “Oh, no!” Julia cried out.</div> <div> Although his back was to them, Quentin recognized Barnabas.  His cape was blowing even though the breeze wasn't strong enough to warrant it.  He had his hands around Francis' throat, throttling him, bending the poor man backward over the hood of the car.  “No!” Quentin shouted, without thinking.  He shoved Julia back.  “Go back in the cave!  Jason won't hurt you!”  Julia turned and fled back inside.</div> <div> Barnabas turned around at Quentin's shout, and the two cousins faced each other.  Dismayed, Quentin realized that the sun hadn't set yet.  Almost-but not yet.  Because it was raining, though, there was no sun in the sky.  Apparently Jason had been right about vampires being able to go about in the daytime.  Barnabas was already moving toward him very rapidly, and Quentin began to reach for his cross automatically.  <I>My God, this won't work</I>, he realized.  Barnabas was on him-through him-and gone before he realized what had happened.</div> <div> Quentin turned back toward the mouth of the cave, stunned.  <I>Julia</I>! He realized with dismay that Barnabas wasn't going to waste his time with him-he was going straight for Julia.  He began to run as fast as he could, moving even faster when he heard Julia scream.  He felt like a fool-how could he have been so stupid, leaving her unprotected like that?  He realized he still had the rowan stick in his hand.  “Barnabas!” he yelled.</div> <div> He came upon them suddenly.  Barnabas had Julia pinned against the wall; he was bending over her as she screamed.  Quentin didn't know whether Barnabas had actually begun to drink from her or not.  He hit Barnabas over the back with the stick and heard a pop and a sizzle.  Smoke rose from the cape, and Barnabas turned toward him, roaring with rage.  He shoved Julia back roughly and she fell to the ground.</div> <div> Quentin raised the stick again, intending to strike again in spite of the terror rising up in him.  Barnabas grabbed the stick in his hand.  This time there was an acrid burning odor accompanying the popping and sizzling.  Quentin lost the stick; Barnabas yanked it out of his hand and threw it into the dark cave.  He grabbed Quentin by the lapels as Jason had just done.  This time, though, Quentin felt himself being lifted into the air, far over his cousin's head.  “You will regret interfering, dear cousin!”  Barnabas snarled.</div> <div> Quentin felt himself sailing through the air as Barnabas threw him with all of his superhuman strength.  Quentin saw the rock wall rushing at him very fast and threw his arms up to protect his face.  The last things he remembered was the sharp pain of the rock hitting his arm and then the back of his head when he dropped to the ground.  As he passed into unconsciousness, he could hear Mick Jagger's voice echoing hollowly in his ears:</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <I>“Ooh, a storm is threatening my very life today</I></div> <div> <I>If I don't get some shelter, oh yeah I'm gonna fade away</I></div> <div> <I>War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away</I></div> <div> <I>War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away</I></div> <div> <I>Ooh, see the fire is sweepin, our very streets today</I></div> <div> <I>Burns like a red coal carpet, mad bull lost its way</I></div> <div> <I>Rape, murder, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away</I></div> <div> <I>Rape, murder, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away</I></div> <div> <I>Rape, murder, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away</I></div> <div> <I>Mmm, the flood is threatening, my very life today</I></div> <div> <I>Gimme, gimme shelter, or I'm gonna fade away…”*</I></div> <bR> <div> *”Gimme Shelter” by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards from the album “Let It Bleed”, 1969</div> <div>      </div> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Surprise Encounter"><U>1:  Surprise Encounter</U></A>  <A HREF="id26.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: A Proscribed Venerable Love"><U>2:  A Proscribed Venerable Love</U></A>  <A HREF="id27.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Stalked by the Vampire"><U>3:  Stalked by the Vampire</U></A>  </div> <div> <A HREF="id28.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Flight to the Auld Country"><U>4:  Flight to the Auld Country</U></A>  <A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Ally From Nowhere"><U>5:  Ally From Nowhere</U></A>    <A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: The Middle Kingdom"><U>7:  The Middle Kingdom</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>