longer. It is a sign of the family for many years. I beg the return of his Bodye to his Mother for burial.
Signed today, the Fifteenth of March, in the year of OUR LORD, Sixteen Hundred and Ninety Two by Dubhglas MacRae, Father of Hamilton MacRae.”
“We have traits in common, you and I, old Hamilton, our toes and hair and eye color.” I looked around to verify no one was listening. I didn’t want to be heard talking to another dead person.
Finished, I set the tumbler on the nightstand. I put on my comfortable, flannel nightgown and woolen socks. I knew she had something to show me. We’d find it soon, together, Jahna and me. I climbed under my down comforter and snuggled into the warm nest of my bed, yawned, and wondered if she would try to come back tonight.
I tossed and turned for an hour, and examined the conversation with Marc again and again. I finally slept, without dreaming, until the knock on my door the next morning.
C HAPTER 6
JAHNA
73 AD February
Harailt’s father, Cerdic died.
With his dying, I found my life’s work.
Our harvested mistletoe hung on the support posts of our clan homes for protection, and, to bring fertility, in the animal pens and stables.
I passed my days with Lovern, either in Beathan’s lodge or my home when it rained, or outside in the meadows and woods when the sky was clear. He repeated chants, and recited the recipes for cures, and I prayed with him to learn the prayers. We mixed potions and medicines and distributed them to the women on the farms. He possessed knowledge of how to stop winter itching and fevers that beset babies and children, and more. A contented smile was my constant companion.
“Jahna, you are like you were when the spotted lamb followed you as if you were its dam,” said Mother.
“Oh, Mother. I remember him.” The lamb needed me to care for it. Uncle Beathan said it would die, but it lived for many years. “With Lovern as my teacher, I hope to learn and be able to care for the injured and ill people of our clan and not just lambs.”
“I have thought on his being here,” said Mother. “I was not in favor of his staying at first. I have seen how he made a potion I had not heard of before that calmed the stomach illness. He is making you happy. I still wonder why the gods brought him here and what could be following him, but Beathan tells me that he is good for our people. I have decided to leave the decision in the hands of our goddess Morrigna.”
Lovern told the men and warriors at Beathan’s evening table why he left his home. All agreed that he could stay. I had not told mother that Lovern was the boy of my passage dreams or that now, if he left, I would follow.
I had much to learn. I absorbed his information about medicines, spells, and how to treat the injured and sick. I remember the Druid Ogilhinn only spoke with the tree gods and asked for help. Lovern made potions that chased away the bad spirits. Lovern was a druid and a healer with the hands of the gods touching him. We were fortunate to have him here.
But, together we could not heal Cerdic.
It was Imbolc. Darkness came early on these days. We lighted our oil lamps before our evening meals. Again, the season brought labored breathing to Mother. One night, as I followed my mother into the cool night air again, Sileas’ plea rang in my ears. I told Lovern about her request, and the next day we went to see Cerdic.
Cerdic, Harailt and Sileas lived in the home together. Harailt’s sisters were married and gone. Sileas and Harailt were outside feeding dried corn to their hogs and chickens when we arrived, but urged us to go in.
Cerdic sat on the floor near a low fire. His hands grasped the edges of a blanket that covered his shoulders. His head low, he was folded over his chest as if to protect his heart from the dampness and smoke that filled the home. An oil lamp flickered a sickly, yellow shadow across his face. His neck stretched forward and jaw jutted open. His eyes were
Signed today, the Fifteenth of March, in the year of OUR LORD, Sixteen Hundred and Ninety Two by Dubhglas MacRae, Father of Hamilton MacRae.”
“We have traits in common, you and I, old Hamilton, our toes and hair and eye color.” I looked around to verify no one was listening. I didn’t want to be heard talking to another dead person.
Finished, I set the tumbler on the nightstand. I put on my comfortable, flannel nightgown and woolen socks. I knew she had something to show me. We’d find it soon, together, Jahna and me. I climbed under my down comforter and snuggled into the warm nest of my bed, yawned, and wondered if she would try to come back tonight.
I tossed and turned for an hour, and examined the conversation with Marc again and again. I finally slept, without dreaming, until the knock on my door the next morning.
C HAPTER 6
JAHNA
73 AD February
Harailt’s father, Cerdic died.
With his dying, I found my life’s work.
Our harvested mistletoe hung on the support posts of our clan homes for protection, and, to bring fertility, in the animal pens and stables.
I passed my days with Lovern, either in Beathan’s lodge or my home when it rained, or outside in the meadows and woods when the sky was clear. He repeated chants, and recited the recipes for cures, and I prayed with him to learn the prayers. We mixed potions and medicines and distributed them to the women on the farms. He possessed knowledge of how to stop winter itching and fevers that beset babies and children, and more. A contented smile was my constant companion.
“Jahna, you are like you were when the spotted lamb followed you as if you were its dam,” said Mother.
“Oh, Mother. I remember him.” The lamb needed me to care for it. Uncle Beathan said it would die, but it lived for many years. “With Lovern as my teacher, I hope to learn and be able to care for the injured and ill people of our clan and not just lambs.”
“I have thought on his being here,” said Mother. “I was not in favor of his staying at first. I have seen how he made a potion I had not heard of before that calmed the stomach illness. He is making you happy. I still wonder why the gods brought him here and what could be following him, but Beathan tells me that he is good for our people. I have decided to leave the decision in the hands of our goddess Morrigna.”
Lovern told the men and warriors at Beathan’s evening table why he left his home. All agreed that he could stay. I had not told mother that Lovern was the boy of my passage dreams or that now, if he left, I would follow.
I had much to learn. I absorbed his information about medicines, spells, and how to treat the injured and sick. I remember the Druid Ogilhinn only spoke with the tree gods and asked for help. Lovern made potions that chased away the bad spirits. Lovern was a druid and a healer with the hands of the gods touching him. We were fortunate to have him here.
But, together we could not heal Cerdic.
It was Imbolc. Darkness came early on these days. We lighted our oil lamps before our evening meals. Again, the season brought labored breathing to Mother. One night, as I followed my mother into the cool night air again, Sileas’ plea rang in my ears. I told Lovern about her request, and the next day we went to see Cerdic.
Cerdic, Harailt and Sileas lived in the home together. Harailt’s sisters were married and gone. Sileas and Harailt were outside feeding dried corn to their hogs and chickens when we arrived, but urged us to go in.
Cerdic sat on the floor near a low fire. His hands grasped the edges of a blanket that covered his shoulders. His head low, he was folded over his chest as if to protect his heart from the dampness and smoke that filled the home. An oil lamp flickered a sickly, yellow shadow across his face. His neck stretched forward and jaw jutted open. His eyes were
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