Elphame's Choice (7 page)

Elphame raised on arched eyebrow at him and crossed her arms.

Cuchulainn laughed. “Okay! Forgive me for calling your palace a monster.”

“It is not a palace. It is a castle,” she corrected him.

“Well, your
castle
is not fit for man nor beast.” He winked at the pleasingly plump Caitlin, who blushed a becoming shade of mauve. “Nor lovely lady.” He gestured behind them. “The area of grasslands there, southwest of the castle that runs from the southern wall to the edge of the sea cliff, will be the easiest to clear. In a couple days we should have the tents erected and a camp set up. Until then the people of Loth Tor will be pleased to board us.” Cu grinned at Elphame cheekily. “If that suits you, my Lady.”

Elphame restrained herself from boxing his ears. “Yes, yes, that’s fine. But I will need some men to accompany my head cook and her staff. It’s important that the kitchens are restored quickly.” She jabbed at his ribs. “Men need more than dried meat and hard biscuits in their stomachs if they are to work long days.”

Cuchulainn chuckled and grabbed his side. He liked seeing his sister so relaxed in public—usually she kept their sibling
banter to times when it was just the two of them. Restoring the hulking edifice might just be good for her if it taught her to loosen up.

“As much as I am loath to admit it, you are right, sister-mine. I will put several men at your—or rather your cook’s—disposal.” His eyes glinted mischievously. “Which means you will have to introduce me to your cook.”

Elphame rolled her eyes at him before calling out her new head cook. “Wynne, this annoying young man is my brother. Cuchulainn, meet my head cook.”

Cuchulainn gave her a rakish bow. “Well met, Wynne of the flaming hair.”

“And the same to ye, my Lord,” said the new cook, giving him a look of blatantly female appraisal.

“Now you know her name, Cu. Have some men come find her. She’ll be inside the castle, as will the rest of us,” she said, pushing him back the way he had come.

“Ah, you are forever all work, sister-mine.” Cu backed away from the group, bowing gallantly. “Ladies, until later.”

The women curtsied and called goodbyes to him.

“My brother is a rogue.” She hadn’t realized she’d said the thought aloud until Wynne, who was still gazing after Cuchulainn’s retreating broad shoulders, spoke up.

“Aye, but a devilishly handsome one.” Then, as if she was afraid she’d overstepped an imaginary boundary, her face paled and she muttered a hasty apology.

Elphame waved her hand dismissively and said with forced nonchalance, “Just keep the emphasis on devilish and you’ll save yourself a wagonful of heartache.”

Would they never be at ease in her presence? Would they always act like she was a holy conduit to be tiptoed around? She was trying her best to behave “normally” around the women. Hadn’t she just teased with Cu in front of them?

It will take time to show them that I’m not that different,
she told herself firmly. This was her new beginning, but she had to be patient. Years of living one way wouldn’t be erased in one morning. Reining in her frustration she addressed the group.

“Let’s get to work. I know each of you has special talents, and I do appreciate that.” She smiled at the women, especially the individuals she’d already been introduced to, and noticed for the first time that Brenna was no longer standing near her. Instead she had disappeared once more into the rear fringes of the group. “But I’m afraid for now we must all emulate Meara—we must get things tidy before we can separate and focus on our individual talents. So, let us begin by clearing the entryway to our new home.”

Without waiting for a response, Elphame walked purposefully to the overgrown gap in the castle walls. Grimly, she bent and grabbed a long section of rusted iron that once stood proud and straight as part of MacCallan’s always-opened gate. She tugged, using her powerful leg muscles to give her added strength, and the piece of iron slid reluctantly free of the clinging vines.

She looked up to see the women’s eyes flicking back and forth between watching her and peering into the shadows within the castle’s walls. They looked anxious and afraid. No doubt they were thinking of the bedtime stories they’d been told about the curse of MacCallan Castle. Elphame could almost see the reflections of imagined ghosts in their eyes. She knew they needed words of encouragement, but she really wasn’t good at that—the speech she had given to the men earlier that day had been a fluke; she had still been riding high on the magical tide of hearing the spirits in the castle’s stones. Giving inspiring speeches was her mother’s specialty, not hers.

But they needed her to reassure them; the nervous way their eyes kept returning to her said that they thought she had all
the answers. And an idea came to her. She might not have all the answers, but she was completely sure of one thing. MacCallan Castle was her home. Now it would be their home as well. And suddenly she knew what to say to them.

“I think it’s only right that we clear the opening to our new home. It’s women who are the heart of a home, be it a castle, a temple or a modest cottage. Women breathe life into the family, as our Goddess, Epona, breathes life into our world with each dawn. As women of the castle, let’s reopen MacCallan to the living, and, in turn, make it our home.”

Elphame could hear the collective sigh as her words seemed to release the tension that had built within the group.

Meara hurried forward, grabbed a dead branch and tossed it on the pile Elphame had started.

“At least we know we’re needed here,” she said with a tone of satisfaction that made the others smile.

“Aye, that is a certainty,” Wynne said as she began to pull at one section of the massive tangle of weeds that filled the opening. Without further hesitation, her three newly named assistant cooks joined her. Then the rest of the group fell to work, chattering and laughing and making slightly off-color jokes about women needing to open the way for men, or else they tended to lose their way.

Elphame stepped back and watched them. She could already tell that they were a hardworking group. No one complained about getting her hands dirty; no one whined about needing a break. El thought about what Meara had said: “
At least we know we’re needed here
.” Maybe that was it. This small group of women all had one thing in common—in their old homes, their old lives, they hadn’t been needed, so they had come in search of the sense of belonging that being needed would provide.

They will always have that here with me, a home where they are
needed and appreciated
. As Elphame made the promise to herself, for just an instant she thought she heard the whisper of a voice on the wind that said,
Well done, Beloved
.

“IT LOOKS REALLY
dark and scary.” Caitlin’s soft voice echoed against the empty inner walls of the castle.

The women were standing barely a step inside the newly cleared entrance to MacCallan Castle. They’d spent what was left of the morning removing a century’s worth of rubble from the space, now it looked like a giant’s mouth minus its cleanly pulled front teeth. Lunch had been a quick break that consisted of hard biscuits, cheese and dried meat, wolfed down hastily between weeding and chopping—Elphame could imagine her mother’s shudder of disgust at the food and what she would label the barbaric way in which it had been eaten, but she had loved every hurried bite of it.

Now it was time for step two—actually entering the castle and beginning the decidedly more complex work of changing ancient destruction into a well-ordered home.

But first she’d have to rally her troops. Again.

“It’s not really dark,” she said, taking a few steps inside the protective outer walls. She pointed to the empty doorway that led to the interior of the castle through which could just barely be glimpsed the inner courtyard and the massive stone columns. “It looks dark because everything is still covered with soot from the fire. Not to mention dirt from years of standing open to the elements.” She smiled encouragingly at Caitlin. “All it needs is a good scrubbing and some careful attention, and it won’t be dark anymore.”

Caitlin, as well as the rest of the women, still looked unconvinced. Well, she thought, she may as well face what all of them were thinking—get it out in the open so that they could deal with it.

“And about the curse.” Elphame paused. It seemed to her that even the stones had stopped to listen to her next words. “There is no such thing,” she said slowly and distinctly. “I have that assurance from the Incarnate of Epona herself, as well as my own intuition.” As she spoke, Elphame backed a few more steps until she was standing directly within the inner doorway. She gestured behind her.

“There is still much beauty here. You just have to look for it. Please don’t let silly stories told to frighten naughty children taint your trust in your new home.”
Or in me
. She added the plea silently. She didn’t want her people to skulk around MacCallan, jumping at shadows and being chased by imagined demons.

“I have never been afraid of bedtime stories, my Lady.”

Elphame recognized the woman’s voice even before she stepped from her habitual place in the shadows at the rear of the group. Brenna had stopped bowing her head and hiding behind a wall of hair—they’d all been too busy that day to care overly much about appearances. But El had noticed that Brenna kept to herself, and that she rarely was included in the
easy banter that had already begun to link the rest of the women. Now her sharp gaze held Elphame’s eyes.

“But I have found that sometimes fantasies and imaginings can be more powerful than reality. Because of that, it is wise to dispel the ghosts of
un
reality before they overwhelm that which is truth.”

Elphame liked the quiet, confident way Brenna spoke.

“What is it you suggest, Brenna?”

“A simple cleansing ceremony, one that will clear any negative energy as well as protect and welcome us as the castle’s new inhabitants,” Brenna said.

The other women were watching Brenna with expressions of mixed curiosity and relief.

“Tell us what you need,” Elphame said.

“The ceremony is simple. All we need to complete it is basil and containers with which to hold fresh water.”

“It is possible that I might still find basil that has gone wild in the castle’s herb garden,” Wynne said.

“Herbs are resilient. Chances are good that you will find basil, if you can find the cook’s garden,” Brenna told her.

“I can find a cook’s garden in any castle.” Wynne put a flint edge to her melodic brogue.

“And there should be something left in there that can hold water,” Meara added. “It is a place that was once filled with people, and where there are people, there must be housekeeping tools.”

“Good ideas, Wynne and Meara. Half of you go with our cook to find the basil, the other half of you search with Meara for crocks or buckets or anything at all that can hold water,” Elphame said briskly. “Then bring your finds back here and we will begin the ceremony.”

Elphame really hadn’t expected them to react so readily, but the women quickly divided into two groups and, like domestic
warriors, they descended upon the ancient castle. Yes, they were talking and laughing in overly loud voices, as if to scare away anything that might be lurking in the shadows, but they had actually entered the castle itself, without cringing or crying or shrieking in fear. Elphame remembered how earlier that morning the men and centaurs had refused to follow Danann within the castle walls. Now those same walls rang with the sounds of busy women. It was certainly a step in the right direction.

“Fear can usually be overcome through common sense and tasks that are familiar and simple,” Brenna said softly. She hadn’t left with the women. She and Elphame were alone near the entrance to the castle.

El smiled at her. “It was wise of you to think of the cleansing ceremony. All I could think of was how silly it is to be afraid of a place that holds so much hope for the future. I wanted to yell at them and try to force them to see that the stories aren’t true. Your way was better.”

“Not better, my Lady, just easier for them to understand,” Brenna said humbly, but she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment of Elphame’s compliment.

“Are you a shaman?” Elphame asked curiously.

Brenna smiled her crooked smile. “It flatters me that you would think so. No, I cannot heal the spirit, as a shaman can, but I do acknowledge that in order to treat the flesh I must have some knowledge of the spirit realm.”

Elphame felt her smile widen. “You sound like my father—only he says the opposite. He cannot heal the body, but he must have a working knowledge of it to heal problems of the spirit.”

“Midhir is a great shaman. I have only met him once, but that one time he showed me kindness that I will never forget.”

“I didn’t know…” Elphame clamped her mouth shut. She almost said that she didn’t know her father had treated anyone
who was so severely scarred. How insensitive of her! She coughed and cleared her throat to cover her awkwardness. “…Didn’t know that you knew my father.”

“I do not really know him, my Lady. As I said, I have only met him once.”

Elphame nodded, still chagrined at herself, and said hurriedly, “Where are you from, Brenna?”

“Guardian Castle was my home,” Brenna said.

“I’m glad you chose to join us, but I hope Guardian Castle won’t feel the lack of their Healer too keenly.”

Brenna looked away from Elphame, but not before she saw the pain that flashed through her mismatched eyes.

“It was time for me to leave. It was time for a new beginning,” Brenna said quietly.

“I think I understand,” Elphame said.

Brenna’s eyes snapped back to her, and she opened her mouth to reply that Elphame, with her perfect, beautiful face, could not begin to understand. But the words would not come, and not because the Healer was afraid of this powerful woman. Slowly her gaze traveled down Elphame’s body. She was dressed much like the rest of the women, in a plain, serviceable linen dress that wrapped across her chest and was held in place over each shoulder by simple brooches. The dress left her arms bare and free for working, and from the bodice it wrapped in soft, intricate folds—much like the kilts the men wore—to end, as was customary in Partholon, just above her knees. There Brenna’s eyes stopped. Elphame was dressed like the rest of the women, but that was where the similarity ended. Instead of slim knees and shapely, feminine calves and ankles tapering down to leather-soled shoes, Elphame had powerful equine legs and hocks that were covered with a slick, lustrous coat of hair the same deep auburn shade as on her head. The incredible legs ended in hooves that glinted like polished ebony.
She was not a human, but she was most definitely not a centaur, either. She was something set apart from the rest of Partholon. Brenna’s eyes lifted to meet Elphame’s again.

“Yes, I think you might very well understand,” she said slowly.

The two unique women smiled tentatively at one another.

The women returned much more quickly than Elphame had anticipated. Meara’s group had found two usable containers. One was a chipped crock that had been half buried in filth, and the other was a blackened bucket that had somehow escaped being consumed by the fire.

“It’s obvious neither have bathed for years,” Meara said with distaste. “They need a good scrubbing.” Then she added under her breath, “As does this entire castle.”

Elphame stifled her grin. Meara was definitely the right choice to lead a formidable force of house-tidiers, and it was better that she was grumbling about the job ahead of her than running in fear from an imagined curse.

“There is a stream not far from here that runs from the forest to the cliff and empties into the ocean.” One of the women spoke up.

“It’s Arlene, isn’t it?” Elphame asked.

The young woman nodded shyly. “Aye, uh, my Lady. I was raised in Loth Tor and I know this area well.” Her voice was rich with western Partholon’s thick brogue.

“Wonderful. You can show Meara the stream. Meara, take as many women with you as you need to give those a good scrubbing.”

With a satisfied grunt, Meara motioned for several women to join her, and they trudged away, Arlene leading the little group.

“And I found plenty of basil.” Wynne opened her skirts and several wide-leafed basil plants tumbled to the ground, filling
the air with their distinctive aroma that brought to mind delicious red sauces and long, enjoyable meals.

Elphame inhaled deeply and noticed several of the other women did the same. She smiled at them and thought it must be nearing dinnertime if all of them were thinking of food.

“I also found the kitchens. They are in quite a shambles.” The cook frowned down at the basil as if the herbs were responsible for the disarray.

Elphame’s heart sank. “Can they be repaired, or must they be completely rebuilt?” She had hoped that the kitchens could be put back into working order in a relatively short amount of time.

“It willna be easy, but I believe they can be repaired. The foundation is strong, and much of it survived the fire.”

For no explainable reason, Wynne’s words brought tears to Elphame’s eyes. She blinked rapidly, not wanting the women to misunderstand her emotional response. When she was sure of her voice, she said, “I think we will find that over and over again in our new home—the foundation is strong, and much of it has survived.”

The women made little sounds of agreement, and Elphame felt her eyes well up again.

“El! Are you ready for those men yet?” Cuchulainn’s voice boomed from behind them, causing the women to jump.

For once Elphame was glad of her brother’s distraction, and she wiped quickly at her eyes.

Cu was too busy showing off his white smile to notice his sister’s sudden display of emotions.

He winked at Wynne, who was hastily trying to brush the crushed basil and dirt from her skirts. “When I told the men what lovely ladies they would be assisting, I had many willing volunteers.”

“Yes, yes, yes Cuchulainn, we get the idea.” Elphame
frowned at him. At least he was consistently incorrigible. “We’re almost ready for them. But first we have to perform the cleansing ceremony.”

“Cleansing ceremony?”

Elphame gave her brother a smug look. Now that she mentioned magic, she had his undivided attention.

“That’s right. Our new Healer thought a ceremony of ritual cleansing and protection would be a wise idea before we begin working on the interior of the castle. I agree with her.”

It was Cuchulainn’s turn to frown.

“It’s just a simple cleansing ceremony, Cu. No one’s going to cast any spells or summon any spirit guides.” El winked at him and he grunted an unintelligible response. “Let me introduce you to our Healer…” She trailed off. A moment before Brenna had been standing beside her, but now her place was empty. El’s eyes quickly searched the group of women and she caught sight of Brenna’s brunette hair. Once again, she had melted silently to the rear of the group.

Elphame wanted to groan in frustration. If she was going to be their Healer, she was going to have to stop hiding every time a man came near. What did Brenna think, that her brother was going to shrink from her, or scream in horror? Then El remembered the look in the young woman’s eyes when she had said that she needed a new beginning. Perhaps that was the exact response she did expect, especially from a handsome young man. Well, Brenna didn’t know Cuchulainn as his sister knew him. He might be an incorrigible flirt, but he was a good man with a kind heart. He would never purposely hurt a woman.

“Brenna,” she called. “I’d like you to meet my brother.”

Slowly, the Healer moved from the rear of the group. Her head was bowed again, and she did not lift it until she was standing beside Elphame. Then, with a sigh, she looked up.
Elphame was watching her brother, and she saw his expression go flat at his first glimpse of the young woman’s horrendous scares, but he didn’t cringe and he didn’t look away.