Aislinn
As I have indicated, my escape from Kilkenny Castle released a flood of memories. I now knew precisely who, and what, I was. My actual birth occurred some years previous to my incarnation as Alice Kyteler. Two thousand, four hundred and thirty-nine years, as counted by humans. In order to explain the reasons why I was forced to live as a human, I suppose I must return to my origin.
I recall once living in a space so tiny I could stretch out neither my arms nor my legs. I lived curled up. It hadn’t always been so; there had been a time when I could stretch out and give a firm kick to the yielding walls of my enclosure. But, as time went on, my space grew smaller. One day, my little cocoon began to squeeze in an effort to forcibly expel me. I was afraid. I was warm and safe, why should I wish to leave?
I could see nothing, but could hear voices. I had been able to do so for some while. They sounded far away, muffled, faint against the rhythmic thumping above my feet.
“Not long now. Time for you to leave.” This was a village woman. She had frequently visited my mother.
“I can’t leave now. I wish to see it.” This was the voice of my father. Fionvarra, as he was known to the humans of the time.
“She doesn’t need spectators. Be off with you. I’ll come and let you know when the wee one gets here.”
“I could turn you into a midge.”
“If you’re wanting to stay here, that’s exactly what you’ll have to do. I don’t care if you’re the Sun God himself, no man is staying at one of my birthings unless he’s the one giving birth.”
Mother screamed.
“Oh, all right. The screaming is becoming most tiresome, anyway.”
The voices stopped. There was a pressure on the top of my head.
“The head is crowning. So soon. I’ve never seen a birthing like this.”
“Of course you haven’t. All of Ireland’s never seen a birthing like this.” My mother.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. Fionvarra’s taste for human women is well known. The rest of his lot’s the same. No doubt there are half-Danaan bastards sprinkled from one end of this land to the other.”
One final squeeze and my body slid out of the darkness. I had, however, brought my cocoon with me. I reached out a fist and poked at the membrane. It was translucent. The light, muted as it was, was painfully bright to my newborn eyes. I closed them. The liquid surrounding me was warm. Strong hands held me and laid me gently on a soft surface.
“It’s a special child that’s born inside the caul”.
“Of course the child is special, look who his father is!”
The hands that had supported me were now tearing at my sac. “You should be saying her father.” I was yanked out of my warm, safe place and held high.
The lights, now bright beyond imagining, hurt my eyes. The air was cold on my wet skin. I drew in breath and that first taste of air burned my lungs. I began to wail. “No!” Mother began to cry.
“Come now,” said another woman. I recognized the voice of my mother’s mother. My grandmother. “She’s a fine girl. Strong and healthy. She resembles you.”
“That’s the shame of it. She’s human.”
“You’ll be glad of that later,” said the midwife. She took a length of butter-soft leather and wrapped me in it. She wiped my eyes and handed me to my grandmother.
Shortly, the placenta was delivered. The midwife wrapped it in a scrap of leather. Grandmother spoke to her younger daughter. “Take it out to the oak glen and bury it.”
“No. It must be burned,” said the midwife.
Grandmother gasped. “You cannot burn it. The child must be bound to the land here.”
“This child’s soul is of the Gods. It wants to fly. Binding her to this land will keep her down against her will. She will forever be in torment, never belonging to one place or the other.”
Mother edged to bedding furs against the wall of the hut, aided by her sister. “She must be bound here or else he will take her. Take the placenta to the priestess and ask her to bury it with all the required ceremonies. But, tell her it must be done in secret. She must tell no one, not even me, until after the thing is done.”
The midwife shook her head. “Binding the child to this place will not keep her father here.”
Ciara lay her head down. “Yes, it will.”
And so it was that, long before I uttered my first words, I was valued for my utility. I suppose it must always be so for the daughters of kings.
Later, Fionvarra came to see his new daughter. He held me in his arms while mother rested. He bounced me and tickled my toes. I pulled my feet back. “She is beautiful.”
“You’re not disappointed that she does not resemble you?”
He shook his head. “Not at all, not at all. Why, she looks just like you. I shall enjoy watching her grow into womanhood.”
Mother smiled. “May I choose her name?”
“What would you choose?”
Mother chose a name that meant ‘bond’ in the old language. She wished for me to be a bond between her people and my father’s. I shall not reveal it here, of course. It is enough that I be known as ‘Aislinn’. Aislinn means ‘fairy dream’ in the Celtic tongue. Choosing it was my attempt at humor, for most humans I encountered would never know how close it was to the truth.
Father stroked my face. “I’m not sure ‘bond’ is the word I would use, but if that is the name you like, she shall have it.”
At that moment, a woman appeared in the hut. Like Fionvarra, she was tall and golden-blonde. She wore an ankle-length leine so fine it might have been woven from spider webs. His wife, Oonagh. She studied me resting in Father’s arms. “So, this is your latest. Now you’ve seen her, you may return home.”
Mother tried to rise. She held out her arms for me.
Father turned his back to her and faced the new arrival. “I’m not ready to come home yet.”
Oonagh’s eyes flared. She spoke through clenched teeth. “Very well. Stay a few days longer. I will be waiting.”
Father rocked me gently. “No, I’ll not be coming back at all. I’m tired of you.”
Oonagh gestured around the tiny wattle-and-daub hut. “You mean to live in this hovel?”
“You know me better than that. I can find my own accommodations, but I shall be staying very near here.”
“I won’t stand for this. You will return home with me now, or I shall raise all of the Danaans against you.”
“I doubt you can, but please do try. It’s been so frightfully dull lately.”
Oonagh turned on Mother. “You needn’t think you have won. You may have kept his attention longer than most, but he always returns to me sooner or later.”
