Generations

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Book excerpt

PART ONE – JONATHAN 

            The young man awoke to what, up to then, would be the most terrible day of his life. He stared sightlessly at the ceiling for a long time before finally rising to wash himself with the cold water in the basin on the table, which he prepared just before bedtime, as was his custom. He dressed slowly, listening to the muted morning sounds emanating from the kitchen area of the room, realizing that little had changed as the household prepared for the trauma awaiting them.

            He came out of his sleeping corner and joined his cousin Aileen by the fireplace. She fetched him a beer, watered down a bit in deference to his age but packed with nutrients. While not thirsty, he drank it down, knowing he would need its strength.

            Misty-eyed, she managed to say softly, “He’s asked for you.” Misty-eyed, Aileen managed softly.

            He nodded. Setting his wooden cup down on the table, he moved towards the rope bed where his grandfather lay.

            “Jonathan,” the old man called weakly. “Is that you?”

            “Yes, Grandda.” Jonathan came over to the bed and sat down on the small stool next to it. He was struck by the frailty of the man, who had been considered one of the strongest in Armagh many years ago. The consumption had taken everything out of him, and left only a shell of a man waiting only to end his trial and meet his Maker.

            “It’s about that time, lad,” he reached out and held his grandson’s hand firmly. “I just want you to know what a wonderful grandson you’ve been to me. When I lost your Da after my wife Colleen died, I thought my world had come to an end. You and your cousin Aileen have brought all my blessings back to me, and more.”

            “You’re more than a blessing to us, Grandda.” A tear trickled down Jonathan’s cheek. “You’ve been as a father to me, always have, and always will.”

            “Never forget who you are and who you Da was, and what kind of men he came from.” Brennus stared intently at him. “My brother Jonathan, who you were named after, fell in battle in 982 against the forces of Mael Sechnaill alongside Brian Boru and that grand army. His sacrifice, along with those of so many others, has preserved our Celtic traditions to this very day. Son, don’t ever forget who you are, who your people are, and where we came from. We are a warrior clan, proud defenders of our land against the Romans before the Vikings. Those usurpers from the South are conspiring to give our country away to the Vikings, the Scots, the Britons, and every other foreign horde with the gold to buy a bogland. Always stand alongside your fellow Celts, Jonathan, in all things and by all means. Never surrender, ever. In the end, all you have is your God, your race and your nation. ‘Tis all I take with me, my boy, my dear, dear boy.”

            “And you leave so much behind, my dear Grandda,” Jonathan managed as he watched the life fading in the old man’s eyes.

            Brennus held on until nightfall, at which time Aileen notified the Church, whose laymen came to retrieve his body. The cousins comforted each other until late that evening, when Aileen returned to her home and left Jonathan alone at the house for the first time since he came to live with Brennus as a ween.

            The year 1014 had just begun. Jonathan had been brought to his Grandda’s by his relatives at the beginning of the new century when he was just six years old. His father Liam died of pneumonia during a harsh winter, and his grandda was greatly saddened but resolved to bring up his grandson just as Liam. His grandma Colleen had died of typhus while working in the South a couple of years before, and the two of them were left alone together with Aileen visiting daily to help with cooking and tidying. Jonathan learned to read and write at the local schoolhouse, which was run by the Church, and spent most of his spare time learning the family’s woodworking trade under the tutelage of his Grandda.

            His great passion was for hurley and he played the game almost daily with his best friends David, Ian and Harold, rain or shine, regardless of time of year.   He and David would often captain their teams against brothers Ian and Harold, and they would recruit classmates from school to join their games after classes. When they were challenged by teams from neighboring villages, they would join forces and often give the opposition a good hiding before going back to playing among themselves. They had a fierce reputation, and even the menfolk at the public house would brag of their exploits when the boys came home victorious at the end of game days.

            Therefore, it was that Shalane Mac Gregor came by the Church a couple of days after Brennus’ funeral calling for Jonathan, who was nowhere to be found.

            “He’s off playing that silly game of his, to be sure,” Brother Mark O’Connell was at the woodshed when Shalane arrived. “You’d think there was little else to do around town for a lad of his age. I’m sure you might be able to talk some sense into him, now he’s on his own without his Grandda to fend for him. He’ll have to come to a mind soon, whether to speak for you or to come into the priesthood. Y’know, he’s the finest woodworker I’ve seen in this town, and I’ve been here for thirty years. He’d make a good wage if he decided to raise a family and take his Grandda’s shop over. Of course, it’d be your task to keep him out of the Troubles. I tell him he’d be far safer as a man of the cloth in this day and age, but it’s just my opinion, mind you.”

            “He really hasn’t spoken much about his plans,” Shalane admitted. She was a beautiful red haired girl with emerald eyes, ivory skin, a slim figure, and a generous bosom.  “Things have changed in his life so quickly with his Grandda’s passing. Here he was, an apprentice woodworker keeping up with his studies, playing hurley with his friends, and now suddenly in the world all alone having to decide what to do with his life. It seems unfair, but nothing is in this day, is it?”

            “Perhaps not,” Brother Mark agreed. “Yet he’s not really alone, is he? After all, he’s got his cousin Aileen, that saint of a girl, tending to that home all these years as if was her own. And, of course, he’s got you. Plus those hurley boys do stand by him, don’t they? Besides, when all is said and done, he’ll always have the Church. It will be here long after all of us have joined our brother Brennus in the bosom of our Lord.”

            “Aye, and isn’t that him on his way?” Her face brightened as she looked out the doorway and saw Jonathan along the cobbled path to the shed with his hurley stick in hand. They waved to each other and soon the three of them exchanged greetings, stepping out into the cool Irish breeze.

            “And it was a fine game we had today,” Jonathan grinned as they asked how his afternoon had gone. “David and I played as the Cuchulainns and the Otises played as the Mac Cumhails. It was a fine battle of the warrior bands! We bested them twenty points to thirteen. Ah, and did they raise a holler, but we showed them once again.”

            “Well, your lady’s been awaiting,” Brother Mark chided him. “As heir apparent of the Sanders clan, we assumed you’ve been about getting your affairs in order.”

            “There hasn’t been much to make of them.” Jonathan shrugged his broad shoulders. He was a tall young man with a wiry build, his long black hair offset by his pale skin and cobalt eyes. “I’ve rounded up my Grandda’s tools and hope our deal with the Church stays good.”

            “And who would we get in your stead?” Brother Mark patted him on the back. “The Sanders have always been the best at their craft--still are and most likely will be. Rest up, lad, I’ve put the finishing touches on the new confessional this morning. We’ll be on the repairs in the sacristy before dawn on Saturday, and I’ll be waiting for ye.”

            Jonathan slung his caman over his shoulder, pleased at how well his hurley stick has served him that day. He and Shalane sauntered down the road to her shanty along the southern outskirts of town. It was their custom for her to come by the Church at the end of the afternoon during the week and meet him, so he could escort her home before dark. She worked for Lord Mac Manus at his manor on the northern end as a maid, and was free on Sundays to join Jonathan for Mass and a picnic afterwards.

            “How was your day today, love?” he asked, admiring her profile as they walked along.

            “Same as usual.” She pursed her lips.

            “You don’t seem so.”

            “You know all the craic going about the King’s visit coming up,” she replied quietly. “It doesn’t seem like everyone’s looking forward to it as they should be. All that gossip, not much of it good.”

            “See who you’re working for, love,” Jonathan smiled at her. “Lord Roderick is hardly going to be singing the King’s praises, not after that last visit five years ago. They proclaimed King Brian as lord over the Gaels of Scotland among others, which I’m sure they still do not appreciate. I’m not fond of politics myself, not as my Grandda was. Yet it must be said that the King has done more to unite our nation than any other one can remember.”

            When Mathgamain mac Lorcain, the King of Munster, was killed by Viking forces in 976, his brother Brian Boru took command of the realm. Brian had a vision quest to end the tribal wars in Ireland that had become exacerbated by interference from the Vikings, Scots and Britons. Brian raised an army of patriots of Celtic descent for the purpose of ridding the land of foreign influence and vanquishing rival clans who sought to dominate Ireland with the aid of alien forces. Jonathan’s granduncle was among those who fell in one of the many battles to free the nation from its oppressors. Brennus always reminded both his son and grandson of the sacrifices men would make to defend their land, liberty, and freedom. Jonathan had no wish to join the military in his nation’s defense, but would not back down if called.

            “I’m afraid of all the discussions going on at the manor,” Shalane admitted. “You know the only reason they hired me was because of my last name. They’re still suspicious of me because my parents are Catholic. They’ve always took care not to discuss religion or politics around me, and now it seems they are speaking more and more in secret when I’m around. Jon, I’m terrified that they’re plotting against the King!”

            The Viking Invasion of 795 heralded the end of the golden age of Christian Ireland as the Norsemen ransacked and pillages their way across Scotland and Ireland. Although the Irish kings had repelled the barbaric hordes over the decades, there were still numerous regions still under Viking control by way of their settlements across the land. Dublin was just one of the major Irish cities still considered to be a Viking stronghold, as were large areas throughout Scotland. Many of the Scottish lords maintained relationships with the Vikings for military advantage, as did their Irish counterparts   

            “You shouldn’t suppose such a thing if you’re not certain it is true,” he said gently. “You know, there’s so much spite and backbiting going about these days, you never know who’ll say what against who, just to avenge an affront.”

            “I’m not sure Lord Roderick cares anymore. I think he’s keeping me out of it just to protect me. I’m sure that if he knew I was onto any insurgency on his part, he’d run me off so as not to have me involved.”

            “He’s got your best interests at heart, at least.”

            “It wouldn’t be so. If I lost my job, all my Ma would have is her wage as a washerwoman. It would be hard for us to make ends meet.”

            “You know I’d never let that happen. I’ll always take care of you.”

            “I couldn’t allow it; we wouldn’t have charity, not even from a friend.”

            “Then we’d have to stand before the priest, so I’d be obligated.”

            “I wouldn’t do so unless you asked.”

            “You know I will, girl,” he stopped and took her in his arms. “There’ll never be anyone but you.”

            They kissed tenderly but released one another before their passions got the best of them. They were well schooled in the ways of the Church and knew the penalties for intimacy outside wedlock.

            “I want to get everything in order before we make plans,” he told her as they resumed walking. “My Grandda’s death was so sudden. I want to rest assured that the Bishop continues to honor my agreement with the Church. I’m sure Brother Mark will stand for me but I want no surprises. Once I’m reassured of steady income, we’ll save for a grand wedding.”

            “Do you think Colleen would be my maid of honor?” She grew cheerful. “And would you ask David to stand as your best man? Oh, I would be so delighted!”

            “I’ll be the happiest man in all of Ireland,” he beamed as he took her hand. “And you’ll be the prettiest bride, to be sure.”

            They reached her shanty at length, and he kissed her hand as usual in case her Ma was peeking from behind the curtains at the window.

            “Goodbye, love,” he bade her farewell. “Until tomorrow.”

            He had gone about a kilometer on the way back when he heard running feet and rustling in the bushes ahead of him. He braced himself and readied his caman, prepared to thrash any hooligans who might seek to block his path.

            “Jonathan,” David hailed him, with the Otis brothers at his side. Jon knew the road well enough to surmise that they had run the entire path at full speed from the village, winded as they were.

            “Haven’t you fellows had enough exercise today?” he half-heartedly mocked them.

            “Men from the public house sent for us,” Ian Otis panted. “They’ve asked us to carry swords for the King. And they want to see you.”

            Jonathan’s heart sank as it did on the day his Grandda died. He thought of what the news would do to Shalane after the joy they shared in making wedding plans. He thought of his Grandda and his final wishes that Jonathan took a stand for his country. What he realized was that he could not step away from his friends, no matter what the cost.

            “All right, then, let’s go.”

            Jonathan joined them as they trudged back towards town, making their way along the most perilous journey of their lives.