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

“Remember our friend Sheela. Remember Sheela for her life, her joy, her contributions to our community, and not for her death.”
    Family members were too stricken to speak, and the singers’ chorus was muffled. A cold wind arose and bowed the grass, it shook the young barley, as the people stood together in the wordless shock of what had happened.
    Tadhg hung his head and when he looked up at last, Boann hardly recognized him for the new emotion showing in his eyes: hatred for the intruders.
    Late sunlight glittered on the white quartz around the entrance to the north passage in Dowth. The wrapped, slender form lay upon the grass. The mourners filed past, bereft of flowers to cast down in this early season. Then four young men stepped forward. They locked arms under the body and carried Sheela across the entrance stones and along the narrow passage to the innermost chamber. They tripped on three low stone sills in the dark passage but none cursed or drew a breath. Inside the chamber, the men carefully lowered the body to the flagstone floor. Behind it in an oval stone basin, dried sweet herbs were burning, Boann’s last gift to her friend.
    After the others withdrew, Boann stayed inside the mound, seated, with Sheela’s body. She looked vacantly around this inner chamber. Its ceiling was lintelled and flat rather than corbelled; that was a mark of its earlier construction. Sparse carvings of rayed sun circles, spirals, and chevrons would guide Sheela in the spirit world. Starwatchers treated the body with respect. The sealed mound kept out animals while natural processes cleaned away flesh. The bones would be burned and later arranged in a small cairn nearby. The bones of Sheela’s family who preceded her in death lay in smaller cairns around Dowth, and now Boann served their memory by thinking of each name and reciting their lineage. Other than cousins, the death of Sheela ended her mother’s line.
    Boann remained motionless in the silence of the old starchamber. Sheela must lie here alone and in darkness. This north passage inside Dowth, and its second passage to her left, both faced west where the sun would soon set. She spoke to the spirit of Sheela.
    “You have repose here. The moon visits on its standstill. When the sunset penetrates the darkness of Dowth in winter, then we shall return to honor and remove your bones.”
    She sat, numbed with pain, staring at the great grey stones. She thought of all the mounds built by her people. Carved stones from smaller old mounds at the Boyne had been reused to build newer mounds. The one had been destroyed to build the other, reshaped and renewed. She placed more herbs into the small fire in the bullaun stone. What will come of this death, she asked it.
    Some events were immutable, final, like a flame extinguished. Death appeared to be one of those. The spirit left the body. Was anything truly permanent? Boann pondered the contradiction of the slow shift in the stars.
    If the sky’s dome itself changes, then nothing we Starwatchers know is permanent.
    Anxiety seized her in this sanctuary for their dead. “What is happening to us?” Her cry reverberated against stone.
    The weight of the surrounding mound seemed to bear down, threatened to crush her like the terrible mistake she had made. How could she have failed to protect others; she should have told Sheela, or her father or the Dagda, about her own attack. What if she hadn’t used water at Sheela’s, or if she had walked with dear Sheela for more water at the stream. If only, but now the result lay before her and could not be undone. Her mistake must be buried in this chamber. Her friend would want it so. Sheela would have forgiven her, and she must find her way forward.
    The Starwatchers must find their way forward. Disgust surged in her against intruders; how could Cian bear it living in their camp?
    The surrounding stones chilled her. Her flesh needed warmth and she must leave her friend in darkness. She left