Sevenwaters: Seer Of Sevenwaters Part 33

"Sibeal! What is it, what's wrong?"

"I-I-" This was no good; he would think disaster had struck. "Felix, I-" I made myself step back, holding his hands in mine. Quickly, Sibeal, say something that will take that forlorn look off his face, say something that will make this right straightaway. "Felix," I said, "I love you. Will you marry me, and go to live in Kerry in a religious community? You might like it, it isn't like the nemetons, there is music and debate and farming and all kinds of other things, please say yes, it means we can be together after all, and everything's going to be all right, I can't believe it, I can't believe there was this other choice all the time, I can't believe Ciaran's prepared to let me go, he even seems to think it's a good idea-"

The flood of words ceased. I looked up into Felix's face and saw there the expression I had hoped for, a dawning delight, a wondering smile, blue eyes filling with a hope still tinged with disbelief but growing stronger by the moment. As I gazed, taking my fill of him, knowing there would be more to learn of him every day and every night for all the remaining years of my life, his cautious smile turned to a broad grin, complemented by dimples.

"I say yes, Sibeal, to the only part of that speech I made much sense of. Yes, I will marry you. I can't believe you asked me. I can't believe any of it, but I do, because only the most remarkable news could have you laughing, crying and running up a steep hill all at the same time."

"Now you're laughing and crying too," I said, moving close again and putting my arms around his neck, under the fall of his chestnut hair. "You looked so sad. I couldn't bear it."

"Oh G.o.ds, Sibeal, tell me I'm not dreaming. Is this real? Can it be?"

"It's real. It's something Ciaran knew about, but of course he never mentioned it to me, because before I met you there was no need. And before I met you, maybe I would have scorned the Brethren of Brighid-that's what they're called-as not being real druids, because they honor the G.o.ds with the work of their hands more than with prayer and contemplation. You've changed me, Felix. This summer has changed me. And yet, I seem to have kept the old Sibeal as well as finding the new one."

"I'm glad of that, dearest," Felix said, and touched his lips softly to my brow, and my temple, and my cheek, and lastly to my mouth. A shiver of delight ran through my body. "The old Sibeal was the one I fell in love with the first day I saw her, though at the time I thought she was a figment of my imagination. I love my little wise druid, with her air of self-containment and her keen a.n.a.lysis of ideas. And I love the woman in my arms, Sibeal. With mind, body and spirit, until the end of time and beyond."

"You might make a song about that."

"I expect to make many. Did you say these Brethren of Brighid enjoy music?"

"I'm told they love it. I think we will do very well, dearest." Speaking thus brought a blush to my cheeks, which was foolish indeed. All the same, it was a good feeling. "Later, we'll ask Ciaran to tell us more."

"Come, sit down here with me." We sat, leaning close, his arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist. Before us lay the settlement of Inis Eala, smoke rising from the kitchen chimney, men moving in and out of the practice yard, someone calling a flock of hens back into a walled enclosure, and the tall figure of Ciaran making his way toward the infirmary. "Did he tell you he had spoken to me?"

"Ciaran? No. What did he say to you? Obviously not what he told me, or you would not have looked as if your world were turning to ashes."

"I think he was testing me; a.s.sessing whether I was a man of good intent or a good-for-nothing fellow who sought to divert his precious Sibeal from her true path. It seems he was satisfied. And it seems he is not the man I took him to be. At the time I was . . . displeased. Unhappy. I did not leave him as courteously as I might have done."

"He's heard good reports of you, Felix. Especially from me. He thinks highly of you. Whatever you said, it made the right impression."

"Sibeal."

"Mm?" The sensation of his fingers stroking my arm was making it hard to concentrate.

"I have to go away. Perhaps for a whole year. I wish it were not so, but it is necessary."

"I know. He told me. The time will pa.s.s; it must. For now, we have ten days before you must go, ten precious days. We must savor them; store them up for the long time ahead."

"Sibeal, you may think me foolish, but . . . Paul. I want to give him our good news."

"He knows," I said. "Feel how these rocks hold the sun's kiss. That warmth is Paul's blessing. His love for you is in the salt air and the smell of smoke from the cooking fire; it's in every tiny flower and every blade of gra.s.s that grows here on this mound." I would not speak of my vision; he had more than enough to come to terms with. In time, I would tell him. "But speak to him if you will; I believe he hears every word."

So he spoke; and it was from brother to brother, from heart to heart, private and tender, and not for writing here. When he was done, Felix asked me, "What would you like to do now, my heart?"

"Sit here with you awhile longer," I said. "And then run down there and tell absolutely everyone."

*Felix*

The boat is ready to take us across to the mainland. Today we start our long journey south to Muredach's court. The box that holds the sad remnant of Eoghan's courting gift is stowed, and six oarsmen wait to row us over. On the jetty and along the sh.o.r.e, many folk wait to wave us farewell. It has been a strange season at Inis Eala. The summer of the shipwreck. The summer of the sea woman. For me, it was the summer I lost my brother and found my true love. Now summer is nearly over, and it is time to say goodbye.

We stand near the top of the path, with the wind in our hair and the vast sweep of ocean below us, stretching all the way to the stark pinnacles of the serpent isle. Sibeal's hands are in mine, warm and sure. Her eyes hold something of the sea and the sky in them. Today they are wide, clear, full of hope and love.

"It may not seem so long," she says. "Every day, every moment I'll hold you in my heart, Felix. With every breath I'll think of you. I promise."

I lift her hands to my lips, thinking how composed she is, and how different she was when she came to me laughing and crying, and threw herself into my arms, and asked me to marry her, all at once. As long as I live, I will treasure that moment.

"I, too, dear one," I say. "When I make a song of this, it will not be a lament, but a celebration. We may travel far from each other, but each turning of the season will bring us closer together." A year. At this moment it seems an eternity, but I will not say so. I study her sweet, grave face, her skin pale as moonlight, her lips both enticing and severe, her beautiful eyes. I have already committed these things to memory; I will need them in the time to come.

"I love you, Felix," Sibeal says softly, and puts her arms around me. "More than the stars in the sky. More than the trees in the forest. More than the waves in the sea."

I gather her close and kiss her on the lips. Someone down on the jetty gives a piercing whistle; we are in full view. "I love you," I say, and suddenly there are no words left in me, but those three are enough. We hold on fiercely. The last precious moments slip away.

"Felix!" someone yells from down there. "Get a move on!"

"I'm not saying goodbye." Sibeal's voice is barely audible; a tear trembles in her eye. "Wherever our paths take us, you will be with me, and I will be with you. Come, we'd best go down."

Hand in hand we descend the steep path to the bay, where Sigurd, Colm and Donn are already aboard the small boat. I embrace Gull; I bid farewell to Johnny, to Gareth, to Cathal, to all the fine friends of this summer. I step aboard, and the rowers take up their blades.

She stands on the jetty, a slight, upright figure in her blue gown. The wind lifts her dark curls around her face. I will see her in my dreams, every night. A year of dreams. I lift my hand: half wave, half salute. She raises hers: half wave, half blessing. The oars move; the boat turns. We head for the mainland, and the long journey home.

Also by Juliet Marillier.

THE SEVENWATERS NOVELS.

Daughter of the Forest.

Son of the Shadows.

Child of the Prophecy.

Heir to Sevenwaters.

Wolfskin.

Foxmask.

THE BRIDEI CHRONICLES.

The Dark Mirror.

Blade of Fortriu

The Well of Shades.

Heart's Blood.

For young adults.

Wildwood Dancing.

Cybele's Secret.