An Irish Flower (Medieval Romance/Adventure Story)

Prelude & Chapter 1: A Long Day

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Prelude

1200 AD

The horses hooves thundered down the coastal route. Three men in black hoods directed the beasts as they flew along dusty road, circling atop a high cliff and overlooking the sea down below. The late October winds whipped their cloaks, making them look like something out of a bad dream. There weren't many people on this end of Fir Domnan's remote coastal cliffs; it's why they chose this particular road. It would take longer to reach their destination, but they would not be noticed. And the few that did notice them would not live to tell about it anyways.

The leader raised his hand to stop the others. He sniffed the air and smiled slightly. “We're getting close, lads. I can smell the smoke of their fires now. You know what to do. Our aire (Lord) will reward us greatly tonight if we succeed!” The other two men raised their fists in silent agreement. “Alright lads, let's go. We have a hostage to take.”

Chapter 1

Maeve sighed loudly as the maid pulled at her hair, trying in vain to keep her curly black locks in place. “Bretta, must it my hair be done up so very tightly? I much prefer it down to these elaborate concoctions my mother insists on.” The thin girl standing behind her sucked in a breath and almost whispered her reply. “No no, my lady! You know how strict your mother is!” The girl was far too nervous for Maeve's liking; she always felt like she would fly away if Maeve so much as sneezed on her. She sighed once again, softer this time. “Very well. But don't bind it so tightly this time, yesterday it was hurting my head.” The maid bowed low. “Yes, my lady.”

After what seemed like an eternity, Maeve stood before the mirror ready to face the day. Her long hair was tightly braided in one long rope down her back with a white ribbon interlaced with the hair. Her long, midnight blue gown was tight against the corset her mother insisted she wear, and had light blue ribbons sewn along the edges of the sleeves and neckline. It was far too elaborate for her taste; she far preferred a simple gown that she could run in. But of course she was too old to run now; she was a lady, and that meant that she must act like one in order to win a good husband. And knowing her mother, she would be meeting him at the festival tonight.

She knew she should be thankful that her family was wealthy enough to afford such luxuries, their cashel (a fort surrounded by stone walls) was one of the finest in Ireland; but she often wistfully watched the poorer girls as they laughed and enjoyed life in their simple and comfortable dresses. She couldn't help but wish that she had been born to a more humble family, wishing that marriage were not such an important matter. But her father, Tiernan, was the aire of all Fir Domnan, the coveted coastal kingdom that thrived with the fishing industry even during the worst of famines. All the other kingdoms were jealous of their prime location, and several had tried to invade before a tentative peace treaty was signed 12 years ago. Tiernan knew that to secure his kingdom's future, he needed to have a stronger treaty with one of his powerful neighbours- the others would think be like likely to break the treaty that if he had a strong ally.

And the best way to solidify a treaty was through marriage.

Being 18, Maeve she was already considered slightly old for marriage; her father had insisted that she get a good education. He had always told her that the wife of an aire must be able to handle the responsibilities required. She had spent the past five years studying at a nearby monastary, newly built with her father's help. He still held to the old religion, but many of his people wanted a place to worship the Christian god. He consented to build them a small monastery if they would agree to teach his people to read and write, as well as tutoring his daughter when she was old enough. The monks had agreed, thankful to have a protected place of worship.

But now her training was done, and the pressure for her to marry was increasing every day. It was common knowledge that the true purpose behind tonight's aenach (festival) was to show her off to the eligible sons of the surrounding aires in a attempt to broker a marriage. The word was that six young men would be vying for her hand tonight, and her father would be choosing the one who's father offered the best terms.

Maeve brushed aside the slaves hands as she attempted to put a long gold chain around her neck. She didn't want to make herself look anymore desirable for these undesired suitors than she had too.

As she descended the staircase, a flash of red went by the foot of the wooden stairs. She smiled and called out. “Kaie! Where are you going?” Her younger sister's cheeks were flushed from running. Her curly red hair was even more wild than Maeve's own, thanks to their father's side of the family. But she had gotten her mother's jet black color, while Kaie's looked exactly like her fathers: fiery red and impossible too miss.

“Come and give me a hug!” Kaie squealed as her older sister grabbed her in a bear hug and tickled her ribs. She managed to get away and ran off towards the kitchen to get some breakfast. As much as Maeve adored her sister, she always felt a tiny twinge of sadness. Seeing Kaie run about so freely reminded her of just how rigid her own rules were. At 13 Kaie was not yet looking for a husband and was still in the early stages of her education, so she would be allowed to do as she liked for a few more years. Maeve had once been allowed to run freely like that; now she had to act the perfect lady, and was to be married off to the highest bidder.

Shaking off the sad feelings, she follow Kaie into the kitchen to get breakfast. Enid, the jolly cook who was as round as her famous biscuits, was telling Kaie a joke. They both laughed; Maeve smiled. Enid could always make her smile, even on those days when her mother was absolutely insufferable. Then she heard an “ahem”, and turned around to see her mother standing tall in front of her.

Fionn was the true master of the house. She ruled her two daughters and her household with an iron fist. Her husband was the only one who did not take orders from her. Her long, black hair was neatly clasped in a coverlet that suited her position as lady of an aire's household. She clearly had something to say, and Maeve was not going anywhere until it was made very clear.

“Maeve, Bretta tells me you refused to wear the necklace I laid out for you this morning.” Her tone left no room for discussion. “We are to have visitors today for the aenach (festival) tonight, and you must look like a lady of your station. You're already past the ideal age for marriage, you know.” Could she ever forget. Maeve sighed and reluctantly took the scorned trinket and placed it around her neck. Fionn smiled. “That's better. Now go get something to eat, our visitors will start arriving very soon!” Maeve inwardly groaned; she knew what kind of “visitors” her mother had in mind; men who wanted to marry her for her position and large large dowry.

She was in for a long day.