Forbidden Deeds

By Joan Marr

Set in the late sixteenth century, Forbidden Deeds follows the story of Caitlyn who travels from Limerick in Ireland to County Wicklow, to be with her relatives after her parents are killed by the Redcoats. She had found a silver ring which carries the magic of the Elves and it helps her on her journey of danger and lost treasure. Tavis is a young man in Scotland, who, when he finds himself in possession of a silver ring, is drawn to Ireland to find the young woman in his dreams. Caitlyn and Tavis find each other which reunites the rings after many generations apart, and they make a future together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9780992521738

Book preview

destiny?

A young girl was studying the smooth, shiny pebbles which she carefully chose from the river. A woolly, grey pup splashed in the water, put his nose in, and then raced up and down in excitement. The tinkling waters flowed around an overgrown island in the middle. The girl looked up to see him wading across towards the island. The water did not look shallow enough.

Come back Rhyn. You mustn‘t go over there, it’s too deep, she called. She knew that the spirit of the white lady lived there, and they should not go near. She did not think anyone could cross the deep river anyway, so was quite surprised to see Rhyn wade over without difficulty.

Rhyn looked back with a mischievous glint in his eye and ignored her. He floundered over the smooth stones and stepped onto solid ground, shook himself vigorously and disappeared into the low bushy growth which seemed to cover the whole island.

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, shook her fair, curly head in mild exasperation, and continued to pick out the shiny, coloured pebbles which attracted her from beneath the water.

Rhyn did not return, so she called again to no avail. I must be going home. He can’t have gone far. It’s only a tiny island.

She went to the place where the puppy had crossed. She could not see the bottom, but Rhyn had walked over had he not? Tentatively, after taking off her leather sandals and placing them beside the river, she made her way across, step by careful step, on slippery stones which she could only feel with her feet.

Caitlyn lived on a nearby farm with her family of two sisters, two brothers, and their parents, who worked the small holding with help from the children. If Caitlyn had time to occupy herself after she had completed her chores, this was her favourite place. She imagined faery people here in this secluded spot. She talked to them and played games with Rhyn, her wolfhound pup.

Right now she was worried. She should not be on this island. Her parents had warned her that strange beings were seen, voices and barking heard during the night, and horses galloping. No one should dare to cross the narrow river.

She stood uncertainly on the bank, then followed the direction she saw the pup take. Caitlyn was tall for her fourteen years, so she had to crawl on hands and knees to penetrate the thick foliage. Clear of the bushes she stood, and as her eyes adjusted to the shadows created by tall oak trees, she gasped.

A tiny old cottage stood there, climbing roses with a delicate pink flower, clung to the verandah posts, and the garden out front was overgrown with a few straggly flowers poking their heads up through the weeds.

Rhyn raced from behind the cottage, tongue flapping and excitement shining in his eyes. What a place! he seemed to say.

Caitlyn was relieved to find him, but her curiosity prevented her from returning home immediately. The front door beckoned from beneath the low, shabby verandah. She tried the handle and it opened easily.

Nervously, she peered around the door, expecting the interior to be dark and full of cobwebs, or at least to see a person standing there. But amazingly, the cosy room looked clean and bright. There were herbs hanging, and bottles lined the shelves, together with stark white bones and some feathers.

Quickly Caitlyn withdrew. Someone must live here. It is too clean to be abandoned. We had better go.

Come on Rhyn, she nervously called, and ran as fast as she could to the hole in the bushes where she had crawled in. She expected someone to call out to her from the cottage, but apart from Rhyn scampering along with her, she heard nothing. Gathering her sandals she ran all the way along the road to her home.

Where have you been Caitlyn? Her mother, Celia, sounded cross.

Just playing with Rhyn near the river, she replied anxiously. I haven’t brought the milk in yet. I’ll do it now, she said hurriedly, hoping to get out of the house before she was chastised. Celia watched her run out of the kitchen. This daughter of hers was such a dreamer; she could never knuckle down to help them on the farm.

Over the next few days, concealed in shrubs near the stream, Caitlyn watched the island. There was no sign of anyone coming or going during the day, and she was too afraid to go there in the dark.

Eventually, one fine sunny day, she couldn’t resist the temptation to cross over again. There can’t be anyone living here…. But how is it the cottage is so clean? she wondered. Will we go over again Rhyn? she asked daringly. He wagged his tail and led the way, sloshing through the water to the other side. Come on, said his excited bark.

This time they both went inside after cautiously approaching and opening the door. Everything was as she had left it. Rhyn investigated the room. He sniffed around the hearth, the floor and the neatly made little bed in the corner. Several times he gave a little whine and looked around as if expecting to see another like himself.

Caitlyn was busy looking at everything, opening little boxes and peering into baskets. There were books on the shelves, but she couldn’t read. She became so lost in her wanderings that she failed to notice the dimming light until it was quite hard to see.

Oh, her hand flew to her mouth. Now I’ll truly be in trouble. Come on Rhyn, we’ve got to run.

Thereafter, when Caitlyn crossed to the island, she made sure her jobs were done, and restricted her time there so that none of her siblings would find out her secret. She curiously looked into every nook and cranny, moving nothing, but mesmerised by the variety of artefacts the little cottage contained.

She made up her mind to tell no-one. Not even her closest sister, for fear of having to share this wondrous place. She wanted to keep it as it was. There was something special about ‘her cottage’, which would be violated if intruders were to come here. Caitlyn was entranced with the books. She slowly turned the pages, studying the illustrations which were mostly plants, but there were some animals and pictures of people. How could anybody draw so finely? she wondered. Oh how I wish I could read.

As she moved along the shelves she found a small wooden box which she had not noticed before. It was tied with a narrow blue ribbon. Carefully Caitlyn took it from the shelf. It was so delicate, so tiny, so light, she was almost afraid to hold it. Of course her curiosity got the better of her and she untied the ribbon and opened the lid.

There, nestled in a bed of soft blue cloth, was a silver ring, shiny and beautiful. Lifting it out she was able to see the leafy design carved on it. She slipped it onto her middle finger. It was too big, but she admired it there. It felt warm and comfortable, almost glowing against her fair skin. Images flashed through her mind of two old people sitting by a cottage in the sun, other different looking people in a forest, a golden horse and a lady dressed in white.

Feeling dizzy, Caitlyn hurriedly took off the ring, replaced it in its box and put it back between the two books where she found it. She rushed outside and sat on the doorstep to regain her equilibrium. The realisation struck her that the images were definitely caused by putting on the ring, as they vanished immediately she took it off.

What are these pictures in my mind? I’ve never seen such people before. It was like magic, and stopped as soon as I took the ring off. I wonder who left it here in the cottage?

Maim, I wish I could learn to read, Caitlyn said to her mother at breakfast next morning.

Whatever for? her mother asked. You’ve no books to read, and what benefit would that be to us, eh, child? You’re such a dreamer you are; you need to put your mind more to helping on the farm.

But Caitlyn was not put off so easily. I will learn to read, she said determinedly to herself.

At table that night she approached her father. Daid, I want to learn to read. Maim says it would be a waste of time, but it wouldn’t. Do you know where I could learn to read?

Her father looked at her solemnly. Her mother turned to her. She was still young looking even after five children, her pretty face and fair hair were features that her husband, Denis, still commented on to express his love for her.

You are so like my maithair and my mamo, she said. They could both read. They said everyone should be able to read, but with no schools it is not easy.

Then abruptly Caitlyn’s father said, At first light I need you to lead the brown calf along to Merryn. You know where she is, don’t you, up on the hill above the road? A good half a morning’s walk. There is a path which joins the road at the giant oak. Take that one.

Yes Daid, Caitlyn said, disappointment showing on her face that they should cast aside so easily her desire to learn.

Early next morning she set off leading the young heifer. It was cold, but wrapped up warm in her cloak she looked forward to a pleasant walk anyway, and maybe Merryn would have fresh honey cakes.

She stopped at the giant oak to put her hands on its immense trunk and peer up through the huge boughs. She imagined she could feel life beating within the tree. It had been here forever some said, and must be protected for it carried the history of the Gaelic folk in its fibre. Her name was Elwyn.

Caitlyn proceeded up the hill, complex thoughts of the ancient tree turning over in her mind. How could she have stood there forever? One day she must die. What will happen to us when she does? That thought was quite disturbing.

Before the cottage came into sight, Caitlyn could smell the honey cakes. She hurried on around the bend and there standing on the front porch was Merryn waiting for her.

She had met Merryn before, many times, but had only been here to her house once. She looked like a witch, as imagined from the stories her mother told them. To Caitlyn she seemed quite old; her hair was black and unruly, the wild strands floating around her shoulders. Her ankle-length skirt was dirty around the bottom from the mud, she wore solid boots and had a thick black shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

Come in child, she beckoned with her long thin fingers. Tie the heifer to the post there, and come and have a cake. I’ve been watching for you.

Ah! Your daid is a kind man, he is, Merryn said, her wrinkled face lighting up with a smile, dark eyes twinkling merrily. My old cow is producing very little milk now, so this heifer will be able to take her place.

Caitlyn looked around the room. How strange that she should know I was coming, she thought. There was a comfortable fire burning in the hearth, a kettle gently puffing steam, and two soft old chairs by the fire. A plate of honey cakes stood on the small table, the smell delicious. In a narrow shelf there were books. They looked very old, and were lying awry, placed there indiscriminately after being read.

It was fascinating. She was hardly able to take her eyes from the pile of knowledge that lay there.

Merryn watched her knowingly. Can you read Caitlyn? she asked.

No, but I wish with all my heart that I could. Where did those books come from?

I’ve gathered them from various places during my travels. They tell us about the plants and herbs, and some have stories about history and ancient battles, Merryn said. She brought the cakes over and they sat by the fire to eat.

Maim says it’s a waste of time me learning to read, but I must learn. I want to read books, Caitlyn said vehemently. Then she stopped and looked seriously at Merryn, an idea forming in her mind.

You wouldn’t teach me, would you? she whispered. I could do some work for you in return, she went on, looking hopefully at the older lady.

Captain Reginald Brown addressed his men, a platoon of English Redcoats, as they sat around several fires eating an evening meal. Their tents were already struck, and the horses picketed among the trees munching on piles of hay. Several service wagons were drawn up in a line close to the tents. It was a quiet night in early April, cool but clear, with the scent of blossoms drifting on the air. Below them in the distance, they could just make out several farms, lights dim in the cottage windows. It was a peaceful scene, thin tendrils of smoke from the chimneys dissipating gently in the still air.

These peasants are too ignorant to live the civilized way of life that we do. They are little better than animals. They’re illiterate, and rely on their Catholic priests to help them. Captain Brown went on passionately. It’s our job to move them on and pass this good farming land to English gentry. They will employ the peasants to work on the farms, make sure they speak the proper English language and convert to the Church of England. First thing in the morning we will visit each farm and give them a choice. They can renounce their religion and stay on to work as servants, or they will be put off the land to fend for themselves. If they cause trouble we will deal with them.

The Captain was a strongly-built man, with tobacco-stained moustache and beard. He presented a stern and upright demeanour in his uniform. Pale eyes blazed with intense dislike for the people of Ireland, who had the cheek to stand up to the superior nation of England.

The soldiers mostly nodded their heads in acknowledgement, some smirking with the thought of what might come their way as they made the rounds. Despite their uniforms, many of them were uncouth ruffians, maintaining their service jobs for the rewards of scavenging.

Caitlyn’s mother was just tidying up after breakfast the following morning, taking a few scraps out to the chickens, when she saw the mounted column of soldiers advancing along the road, having come out of the trees at the foothills. They were a wonderful sight in their red uniforms, but Celia O’Toole could smell danger.

Caitlyn, quickly, get out of sight! she called urgently to her daughter in the house. See if you can warn Daid and the others out in the field.

Caitlyn saw the army approaching and hearing the alarm in her mother’s voice she quickly slipped out the back of the cottage, calling Rhyn after her. She sped to the meadow nearby where her father and two sisters were milking the cows, and her brothers were forking hay from the small shed.

There are soldiers coming! Maim said to hide quickly! she cried as she kept running, heading for the river.

Her father leapt to his feet, knocking over the half-filled pail of milk. Go, all of you! he said firmly to his children, and strode off to join his wife. His two sons, Tom, twelve, and Sean, seventeen, ran after him despite the warning, but the two girls hurried off in the direction Caitlyn had taken.

I can hide in my cottage, Caitlyn was thinking as she ran, making sure she was hidden by the trees. Turning, she could see her sisters not far behind. The eldest girl in the family, Bridgit, was sixteen. Her long legs carried her faster than Tom’s twin, twelve-year-old Lucy, whose hand she held to help her. Caitlyn thought, I can’t leave them. I’ll have to take them too. She realised the time had come to reveal her precious discovery, to save her kin.

Their parents had spoken of the raids which used to happen earlier in their own lives. It had been peaceful around Limerick for two decades now, and they thought the English had forgotten about them. However, the children had been warned that in the unlikely event of soldiers appearing again, they should hide, for fear the atrocities inflicted on earlier generations should be repeated.

Come this way, Caitlyn called to her sisters. I have a place to hide. There’s a cottage … but the two girls shook their heads, and Bridgit waved her away.

Don’t be silly, there’s no cottage in there. We’re going up the hill to the caves. They won’t find us. You would be better to come too.

Caitlyn simply turned and ran. She and Rhyn crossed the river and hurried inside the tiny house. She slumped against the door and caught her breath and sat in a chair and began to think about what to do.

Where will Maim and Daid and the boys hide? They might not have been able to hide if they stayed behind to confront the soldiers. Perhaps they are back in the farmhouse by now. Surely the soldiers would see that they were only farmers and will be gone. What would they want? Maybe they wanted food, but how could we feed all of them? I’ll wait until evening then I will go back home. It should be safe by then.

At dusk she and her pup carefully picked their way from the trees towards the farm. It was very quiet. So quiet that Caitlyn became a little frightened, and shivered in the cold air. She could see the house, its windows still dark, a smokeless chimney, back door wide open. Maim should be getting supper by now. Where are they?

She bent close to the ground and crept closer. Still, there was no sound. The three cows were not in the field. There was no noise from the chickens. At the side of the cottage she could see two small mounds on the ground. What were they? As she got close enough to make out some detail she realised that they were two people lying in the dirt. Fear clutched at her heart. She couldn’t take a breath. She recognised the clothing. Rushing across the intervening ground she fell to her knees between her parents.

Maim, Daid, she cried, taking their hands in hers. They were cold and stiff. She shook them. Wake up! Rhyn was crouched down, whining, his hair standing up on his neck. He dragged himself closer and stretched his nose out to sniff. He gave a quick howl.

Caitlyn sat there in shock. She knew they were dead. She had lived on a farm all her life and had seen death. But why were they dead? What could she do? And where were her brothers and sisters? She slowly stood and made her way to the open doorway. Cautiously she crept in, softly calling her siblings’ names. There was no sound.

Suddenly she became so afraid she tore from the house, and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, back towards the river and the safety of her cottage.

That night she and Rhyn curled up together on the little bed and kept each other warm. Caitlyn was so exhausted she slept until after sunrise, when she awoke disoriented. When the memories flooded back, she dissolved into tears. Rhyn whined and licked her face, pressing his warm body close to her as if he would look after her.

What can I do? Where will I go?

She decided she had to go back to her home at least to get some warm clothes and some food. Then she would come back here until her brothers and sisters appeared from wherever they had hidden.

Once again, stealthily, Caitlyn approached the farm. She could see the bodies of her parents still lying where they were the night before. She wouldn’t be able to move them, or bury them. Inside, she found a blanket and took it outside to throw over the bodies. She felt like screaming in agony at the sight of them, but stopped herself as she realised that could be dangerous. Somebody might hear her. But she could not stop the torrents of tears, the sobbing, which threatened to tear her heart out of her chest.

After a while Caitlyn forced herself to find food in the kitchen. There was a basket, into which she put the loaf of bread her mother had baked the previous day. There was some cheese, honey cakes and some fruit. She wrapped in a cloth her boots and items of clothing she thought she would need, and tied the corners over the top. As she bent to tie the cloth, she thought she heard a scratching from the doorway. Her heart leapt. Rhyn jumped to his feet with a tiny growl. Then he put his nose in the air, and wagged his tail. He ran to the door, and a voice which Caitlyn recognised spoke to him.

Merryn. Merryn! she cried out loudly, rushing out. There stood her old friend. Oh Merryn. Maim and Daid are dead, and I don’t know where my brothers and sisters are. I was so scared. What will I do Merryn? Caitlyn sobbed.

Merryn wrapped the girl in her scrawny arms. Oh my dear, she wailed, tears flowing. Did you hide somewhere? she asked.

Caitlyn told the old woman what had happened from the previous morning up to the present time. I hid in my cottage by the river, she said without thinking.

Merryn looked a little shocked. You can cross to the cottage? she asked, surprised.

Yes I can. I found it a long time ago. No-one seems to know it is there. Perhaps you could come with me, and we’ll go back there now.

Merryn simply nodded her head. She helped Caitlyn gather up her belongings, and they went from the house, quietly closing the door behind them. The old woman also had a basket with a few things in it. She picked it up from where she had left it at the door.

Did you have to leave your home too? queried Caitlyn when she saw this. At once she also realised that Merryn was dirty and scraggy, as if she had run through the forest. They both needed somewhere to go.

When they reached the river Caitlyn took the baskets and clothes across, then went back and took Merryn’s hand. Perhaps if I hold your hand you can cross too, she said. Can you see the cottage?

Well, sometimes I can and sometimes I can’t, she replied. I know it’s there, but over the years it has wavered in and out of my vision, and I have often wondered if I was dreaming.

Come on then. Walk after me, said Caitlyn pulling Merryn by the hand.

Merryn was further surprised when, although she could not see the bottom, she found a footing and crossed safely. When they passed through the perimeter of trees, there stood the cottage in full view. She was quite overcome.

Inside they lit a fire in the hearth to warm the air, and making themselves some tea, they sat down to recover.

Merryn had sensed danger the day the soldiers came. From her vantage point on the hill she saw them coming up the road driving the three cows from Caitlyn O’Toole’s family farm. She immediately gathered a few things in a basket, threw on her cloak and left, threading her way through little-known forest paths behind her dwelling, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the road.

She knew of the soldiers from her experiences in other parts of the country, but, like Caitlyn’s parents, she had not expected to see them again, considering the well-established, and settled nature of English rule from Limerick. But you never know what they might be wanting now, they were never satisfied, she thought.

The woman worked her way warily back to the O’Toole’s farm. It was evening by the time she got there. Hearing no sound and seeing no-one about, she approached the farm house and found the bodies. Shocked, Merryn cast her