BENDING THE BOYNE: A novel of ancient Ireland Read Online Free PDF Page A

anyone I know?” Boann asked though she well knew.
    Sheela grinned. “It seems Tadhg can make anything. We’ve already tried bones from birds and even a big salmon bone, but those were too thin or too weak. Now I’m trying a young sheep’s bone that Tadhg worked. We’ll see how long it lasts.”
    Smiling, Boann finished pinning the looped braids. She avoided talking about the progress on the stones until Sheela’s cautious question, “How is he?—Oghma, that is?”
    She kept her voice casual. “The carving is sure to be going better. We’re over the frosts, and have the longer light ahead.”
    Sheela nodded as she touched her hair. “Perfect.”
    The friends changed positions and moved the rush seat to follow the sunlight. Boann tucked her scratched ankles underneath it, out of sight. They chattered while Sheela pulled up and dressed her hair, complimenting its reddish-brown gloss like hazelnut shells. In high spirits, Sheela weaved the village gossip into the plaits.
    Under caring hands, Boann relaxed. A chance encounter, and she wouldn’t worry her friend over the stranger who surprised her at the stream. Neither spoke of more intruders arriving or what dangers their scouts faced at the coast.
    They washed their faces and smoothed each other’s brow with hazel tonic.
    When she made ready to leave, Sheela hugged her again and tried to give Boann one of the best of her knotted overtunics. “You can’t wear that old shawl for this equinox!”
    “No, I mustn’t take this. I’ll snag it on a branch or trip over a log in the dark.”
    “Go on, now. You should wear fine feathers on this evening.” She hesitated until Sheela said, “It’s all right, I understand. Who knows if Cian will show himself? But I’ll be there with our people and proud of you. Take this, and off you go.” Sheela forced the supple netting into her arms. “The starwatching shall be your rock and your refuge.”
    “You are a true friend.” Boann relented and went on her way.
    “Good luck to you,” Sheela called.
    Her steps quickened as she turned to wave at Sheela, whose smile in reply shone to rival the sun. Boann’s thoughts returned to how she might detect the tiny but crucial shift of the equinox constellation above them. Perhaps Cian would return for this evening’s ceremony. With or without you.
    The river wound past in its banks, reflecting the uncertain sky over the mounds.

Let grief be a fallen leaf
    At the dawning of the day
    Raglan Road, Patrick Kavanagh

    The Crime
     
    T HE SUN’S RAYS sloped from the west when Sheela inspected her water pots, numerous but all of them empty. She wanted to set out a little brimming jug of water, an old custom to reflect the spring moon inside her door. She stepped into the early evening where the air was fresh again after becoming close under sunshine. Tadhg smiled as she passed him with her pot and her gear. Tender plants sprouted in the rich soil of the meadow along her way to the stream. She wished for children in her season, like the fecund earth.
    When she reached the watering stream, the young grass and ferns along its shore showed no trampling or disturbance. A pair of swans drifted along the banks for her to admire. Sheela strolled there, looking for the bluegreen plants she used to make an excellent fiber. She would return in summer to harvest their tough stems with her sharpest flint blade. Purple evening shadows were gathering under hazelnut and willow trees beyond the grassy banks. Out in the open, nothing moved or shimmered except the first small white flowers at her feet. Birds called softly as they would before the hush of darkness that follows sunset.
    Sheela had no warning of the assault.
    She tried to slip from his clutches but she was not fast enough. She had only a sideways glimpse as her assailant came crashing onto her, taking advantage of her slowness. He was one of the intruders. Her water pot dropped from her hand and smashed into shards. Heavy hands caught