The Dissapearance

Chapter One: The Beginning

Brigid leaned up against the giant oak tree at the edge of the ancient forest. She felt inside the pocket of her tunic for a set of small wooden wands that she carried in a pouch. They were her talisman. She used them to give her courage. Tears still stained her rosy cheeks as she watched several other members of her tribe sit in a semiciricle around two druids who were continuing classes. She felt slighted and suffocated by their rules. A shadow from behind her startled her and she moved away from the tree. A figure cloaked and mysterious moved forward.
“Have you decided yet child?” The figure looked at her before removing its cloak.
Underneath the woolen cloak of various shades of brown was a middle-aged man of slight built. His hair was graying and yet her eyes were still a brilliant blue. They pierced through the young girl.
“No! I can’t! You don’t understand.” She pleaded and tears began to well up in her eyes again.
“I understand more than you think. It is still our custom that you choose a proper guide, one that will help you to adjust to an adult life here within the village. Have you received no signs?”
“I just don’t understand why I can not have a guide of my own choosing. Why can I not have a wolf and a boar…or…or even a bull?”
“What would l you do with a male guide. You’re a girl. Don’t you want an animal guide that will suit you. Are you going to grow up to be a warrior and dress like them.”
He pointed a long thin finger out from under his cloak toward a group of older men into the fields who were taking in the last of the harvest in alter summer. Their large figures straining against the wheat, piling it high and the bundling it. The muscle sof their arms flexing as they heaved the large piles. Birgit watched them
The druid let her watch for a moment.
“Is that the life you want child? Why do you fight your destiny?”
She hung her head defeated.
“I am not a rabbit. They are weak and are prey for every animal. I have no love for them.”
“Then find one that speaks to you.”
She looked back up at the quiet face of the man.
“What if I don’t have a vision?”
“You will.” He sounded so sure as he motioned for her to rejoin the group.
The ‘coming of age’ group was the young adults of the tribe between the ages of eleven and sixteen. They were studying to ready themselves to rejoin the tribe as adults. This year-long adventure would climax with an adulthood ceremony on the New Years Day, which was just as the bitter winds of fall brushed the falling leaves from the trees. They were to begin their lives as adults in their village and become members of different classes of society in order to create harmony within the lives of the tribal members. Brigit had always been contrary, but she did not intend to be. She wanted a totem and she liked being a girl. She had just blurted out of turn during the lesson because the animals that were appropriate for girls were not the animals that filled her dreams. She had a strong spirit and she could not, nor would not be pushed into something she was not.
She rejoined the group of young people and sat quietly between her small collection of friends at the edge of the circle. A young boy was standing in front of them and he was reciting a tale of a young man who was a cattle thief and the young woman who the young man had fallen for. The story went on for an hour or so as the young man attempted to memorize the tale. It was the way of their faith to not write down anything in a written language, but instead language was spoken and tales and other important items were memorized. In business dealings and other such everyday matters a simple script form was used from a far away culture that they often traded with. It suited them well enough and their people were known for their memories and creative talking style.
Along the western coast where the granite outcrops reached up out of the cold waters of the northern ocean currents there was a spot where the ancient forest opened up to a small area of grasslands. Across the rolling hills of golden grasses, a small village sat on the edge of the ancient oak forest. The village, aptly named 'Baile beag de an Foraois' (village of the forest) had existed for hundreds of years and not much changed within it stockade fence. It was just one of many small extended family groups that lived a simple and often hard life on the land, but on the night of Samhain, during The Great New Year festival, which took place at the end of the harvest time, something happened that would make the village be spoken by the bards across the island for many years to come.
The village itself was a grouping of thatched circular buildings with several smaller out buildings for storage. The buildings spiraled out from a center green area that held a large oak tree. Surrounding the tree was a set of large stones that acted as benches for important meetings or everyday social gatherings. Surround the main group of buildings was a large stockade fence set upon a mounded wall of earth.
The village had been condensed into a tighter area and surrounded by the mound and fence after several raids in the past ten years had left the village decimated and their fields burned.
Outside the fence the fields of grain spread out and to the south of the fence a small area was set aside for grazing animals. A series of fencing allowed them to be corralled and brought into the stocked fencing in times of danger. Inside the southern area a holding pen could contain the animals until they could be released again.
Outside the village's fence were the fields of grain where 'Boag is Dearg', the leader of the farmers of the village was overseeing the last of the harvest. Surrounding him was the rolling hills of wheat that would feed the village through the harsh winter. He watched as the men dressed in plain tunics and lighter colored leggings carved up the sections of grain with long handled hooked knives that swung through the air in a swirling rhythm. The grain sat in piles higher than a man and then a cart with older children came by and large forks were used to pitch the grain into the wagon. The wagon would set off for the village where the grain would be stored until it needed to be used. Brigit, Boag’s only daughter, was suddenly at his side. She was taking shafts of wheat that had been discarded and weaving them into symbols of the Gods. Sun wheels, corn dollies, and anything else she could think of materialized from her small hands with ease.
'Boag is Dearg' was so named because of his long red hair that flowed from his head, cascading around his shoulders and scruffy red beard that covered most of the bottom of his soft-featured face. He was a large man with bulky muscled arms and long thick legs. His chest could barely be contained within his tight tunic and he stood a full head above most of the men in the village. His size impressed people, but his gentle nature and intelligent wit impressed them more. He looked down at his daughter sitting before him and sighed, joy beaming from his face.
Leaning down to rest his head on her’s. He spoke in soft tones for a man of his great stature.
"You, my daughter, I could not have asked the Gods for a more precious gift. Look how big you have grown. You are the very image of your mother when our families decided we should marry."
Brigit raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Da, you’re planning a marriage for me?"
He looked straight into her bright green eyes, holding her small face between his large ruff hands, he replied.
“ You have given me the greatest joy since you were born and I thank the Gods for that. I’m a farmer and I live a hard life. With your mother now gone, it is you who fills my days with love and soon you will be a woman and you with your strong spirit, you will find a man of your own, have children and they will fill your days as you have mine. I know it is my duty to fund yu a match, but I fear I have raised you too spirited and now it seems like it would betray you to suddenly force you under my will."
Brigit smiled wide with youthful pride. Her father’s decision to let Brigit find her own path had set tongues wagging in the village, but Boag had always been a free spirit and somewhat of a poet himself. He was saved from embaressment when his late wife. Aowife had asked him to marry her. He had not hoped to find someone who would suit if untraditional style, but she also had a strong heart and after they married and had Brigit, they seemed to settle into their lives as farmers without whispers being spoken around the. They seemed normal, until Aowife died giving birth to a son. Both she and the child perished., It was not uncommon, but still brought great heartache to the otherwise solid foundation of Boag’s heart.
"Marry? I don’t know a man who I could live with. Besides you that is." Brigit announced to him
“Well you can’t live with me forever. You need your own family.”
“You are my family.”
“That is not enough Brigit. Please let me be a grandfather. Let me watch your family grow as I once dreamed mine would. You will see. There is someone for you. You simply need to look around and pay attention.”
“Yes Da.” She relented. She could not argue with him when he asked so little of her.
She raised her slight body off the dusty ground, brushed the dirt from her long, red, wrapped skirt and kissed her father's large hands. He smiled knowing that her strong will would be difficult for most young men to not be intimidated by. Then from over the hills came voices calling her name. With her father's hand still clutching hers; she began to run off. He let go just in time, as he always did. He recognized his free ways in her and smiled. Boag gave his daughter a lot freedom. She respected his rules and always returned before dark to their hut inside the village's large stockade fence. She completed her chores without him every having to say a word. So he rarely worried about her and her three friends and their many adventures.
Once she reached the crest of the hill, Brigit could see her friends. Eriu, a slight girl with shoulder length brow hair and a green skirt and top was on the ground pinning a boy twice her size with little effort. His name was Sean O'Seamus and he was the chieftain's son. He outweighed Eriu by twenty pounds, but found it impossible to move the small girl who was kneeling on his chest making it hard for him to breathe. Then out of the corner of her eye, Brigit saw Cuán. He was Brigit’s size and has fair build, but his long brown hair was very different from her long red tresses that flowed down to her back. He had suddenly come up from behind her and noticing him first she prepared to throw him to the ground. As soon as his hand touched her shoulder, she reacted. Down they fell with a loud thud as they hit the grass and dirt. When it was safe, Brigit raised her head, her laugh echoed into the mysterious woods nearby where someone or something was watching the children with great interest.
Cuán got up, shook the dirt from his hair, and looked himself over.
"There had better not be one mark on me, the Festival of the New Year is coming and I need to look my best for the manhood ceremony.
Eriu and Brigit both shot back a sarcastic look at each other a smile forming on their faces they looked back at the noys..
"You don't look like a man to me." Brigit was baiting him.
Sean sensed Eriu's diversion and pushed her over onto the ground beside him. The group of young friends began to laugh. There were never any serious fights between them. They had been friends too long. They knew each other’s secrets and had found a comfortable ease between them. The girls walked over to the little brook that led from the village into the woods and washed their hands off before going to join the boys again.
The boys were talking to themselves in hushed tones, but they stopped suddenly as the girls approached.
Eriu could not stand the suspense.
"Ok, What are you guys planning?"
The girls waited impatiently for an answer. The boys looked at each other, shrugged and decided to give in.
"We are planning to go camping in the woods." The boy’s voices answered nervously.
The girls looked shocked as the boys tried so hard to look brave. Failing miserably they nervously averted their eyes. They looked from the girl's stricken faces to the ground where their feet were shuffling. Cuán had no further comment on the matter. He was a follower, not a leader like his father, the warrior ‘Laidir Buir’.
Sean was the chieftain's son, but didn’t have those leadership skills that were necessary to take over once his father stepped down, yet he seemed less nervous then his companion. Sean attempted to change the subject quickly by impressing the girls with his knowledge of the woods, mostly gleamed from listening to his father's conversations with the druids during their council meetings. He would hide behind large tapestries in a hole he had dug into the earthen wall behind them and try to remember information that could come in handy later to impress other people.
The other friends followed behind him still discussing the rumors about the forbidden forest and the dangerous unknown spirits that crawled around the moss-covered floor and in the tall tree canopy.
As he walked through the towering east gate near the woods, Cuán was unaware of a pair of eyes that followed him.
The four friends entered the village and were taken back by the commotion going on. The entire village was alive with preparations. Becoming an adult was one of the most important rituals in the lives of people in the village. Everyone was working in his or her own way to bring the celebration to life. The jewelers were making elaborate decorated items for all to wear including golden amulets and arm rings that were adorned with precious stones. The pieces contained shapes of animal both known to them and mythical in nature. Most of them were totem animals that would watch over their wearers. Warriors sent their swords to be sharpened and redone with new jewels in their hilts. They also sent their armor to the blacksmith to be fixed and polished. That job alone would take months much to the demise of the blacksmith.
The farmers were harvesting as much as they could to feed everyone during the feast. There were grains to be stone ground and then baked into a dozen different types of bread, and apples to be picked from the orchards to be used in pies and savory dishes with onions or leeks. As the four friends turned to head for the center of the village, they were almost run over by farm hands bringing in the harvest.
"Move aside little ones. There is work being done here." One of the farm hands called out.
Brigit, Eriu, Sean, and Cuán quickly dispersed and then regrouped at the baking area. The bakers were setting up large earthen stoves to cook the breads, sweet pies and savory dishes. The women wore light tops and heavy skirts with aprons that could double as cloths to hold the hot stones coming in and out of the ovens. Their hair was pulled back into tight buns as to keep them cool and prevent any singed hair. Smoke and the sweet smell of bread rose from the cooking area and wafted through out the village. Breads were made with the symbol of life, the tree branded onto them and rolls were seeded what the forest had to offer. Nearby farmers wives were churning butter from the milk of cows and goats. Thick Cream was also produced from that milk to fill pies and custards.
Eriu snuck forward and tried to sneak a peek at some of the food, but was immediately turned around by some women who were setting up a drying rack.
"Now get along, you don't belong here...yet." the women laughed at the suggestion that Eiru would be joining them soon to help with the work.
"Don't worry. I'll teach you a few tricks to improve upon your bread." Eriu shot back.
She and Brigit left the boys and ran to where some more of the women were preparing competition baskets for the girl's to weave. The boys, not interested in such things went in search of the competition area for the boys. They were hoping to get an idea of what was going to be expected of them.
The warriors had been preparing for the trials that the young boys would endure to ritualize their journey into manhood. The rituals had changed over the years. In the old days, their great grandfathers would have been given basic provisions and be sent into the great woods where many did not return from the two full moon cycles between Samhain and Yule. Later, sports became the focus of the trials and great competitions might be held for days. Every year was different, but the theme never changed. The purpose of these rituals was to ease the awkward transition for both children and their parents. It was always difficult for parents to get used to their children not being young anymore and these sometimes elaborate ceremonies would help the families adjust to their new roles. They also gave the children a sense of purpose and confidence in their new lives. More than anything else, it showed the village’s support for the young adults and their love for their simple life.
This year there would be a combination of strength events and memory contests, revolving around recitation of stories and genealogies given by the Druids, who have been training the boys since they were able to talk. This would also be a time that through these rituals, individual talents and personalities would be looked upon and after the revelry, the now adult children would know their destiny in the village and what apprenticeship they would be following.
Cuán and Sean snuck up an embankment near the playing field. They listened in silence until they were startled by the sudden approach of two men.
"Well look what we have here Padraig?" said one of the men closing in on the two boys.
"Looks like volunteers for the water barrel." said the other as they grabbed for the boys.
"Oh no. not this time!" yelled Sean as he and Cuán ducked out from under the men's' grasp.
Cuán and Sean were constantly trying to overhear what the men were talking about, but every time they got close enough they were caught and summarily dunked into the water barrels outside the blacksmith area. They were determined to get the upper edge. As the son of the chieftain, the pressure was on Sean to excel above everyone else. He was going to lead the village someday. The problem was that Sean was neither ready nor willing to be chieftain. In this small village chieftains were elected, but often sons followed their fathers into the position. Sean’s sensitive nature did not allow him to excel in the type of assertive style required of a leader. He loved the simple life and spent much of his time a Brigit’s hut enjoying the quiet straightforward life of a farmer. Boag indulged him, but never approached him or his father about Sean’s obvious desire to be a farmer, not a leader.
Cuán’s home life was much more hectic. His father was one of the most well known warriors in the region and he had the scars to prove it, both inside and out. His sun tanned body rippled with muscles that held scars from fighting. They created a sense of dread in his son who had no desire to become a warrior like his unpredictable father. As Cuán was growing up, his father would go away for long periods of time only to come home wounded and isolated. He did not participate much in the children’s lives like other fathers did and when the depression of not be active in fighting came over him during quiet times, he sank into drinking large quantities of Meade a drink made by fermenting honey.
When he drank Laidir became impatient and emotional. His wife did her best to raise the children and protect them from any drunken rages of their father, but as Cuán’s manhood ceremony approached and he showed no interest in becoming a warrior, his father’s patience disappeared and anger replaced it.