Part Four: Great Hope and Great Dread
I looked at a different Reenan, seductively adjusting herself in her new beauty and I turned my love onto her back. Her eyes were beginning to roll and her spasms becoming more few.
"You did this! You did this you witch!" Screamed I in the witch's face.
"'Twasn't me Denny, you did that
yerself
," said Reenan, softly sing-song. I could have murdered the coy betch.
"Don't be cute with me Reenan, what did you do?"
"It was yerself I'm telling you. It was necessary, too" And she held her holly phallus to her lips, suckling on the tip like a pacifier, lapping the red from the leaves and peering up at me. "Ye did a proper job I must say."
I looked down at Aideen. I tried to save her. She was turning blue, my queen. I pushed down on her lungs, squeezing the last air out, but when I released, she did not inhale. I listened to her heart, which was slow in pace and low in pressure. I began to panic and cry.
I was an old man with a shattered leg, my lover nearly gone, and stuck in the holly circle with a witch and no escape. I leaned over to kiss her lips for the last time, and with her mouth agape I saw the problem-- her pretty tongue was doubled over in the back of her mouth. I reached in and pulled the little muscle from her throat. I pounded her chest again and gave her my breath.
"She's coming back to us!" I shouted. "She's coming back."
Reenan just looked at me with that tool in her hand and smiled devilishly.
Aideen opened her eyes, and I had her once more.
In the small moments now when she is again far from me, I am reminded of how helplessly poor I was without her, and how rich I am with her.
"Denny..." cooed she.
"Yes my love?"
"I want you to suck the cream from my arse and feed it me."
She was back and in a silly bliss. So bold, my queen Aideen. I went down between her legs and lifted them on my shoulders. I opened my mouth around her hole and she pressed out a stream of come. I let her down and I kissed her deep, transferring all my seed to her mouth. She lapped it up, smiled, and smacked lips.
"I love you Denny."
"I love you too Aideen."
"Forever?"
"Forever." And I began to cry.
**************
Reenan resembled something of a young woman again, but the signs of her aging were already beginning to show.
"You are indeed fated lovers. And you, Aideen, are a mystic of Fifka, without doubt. She wouldn't give you up easily, would she child?"
Aideen shook her head in puzzlement.
"Aideen, there are many witches. There are many different understandings of the world. There are the lesser philosophies of the Fifkas and gypsies witches of the world. And there are the powerful, daring, masterful Reenans. There are more of course, child. You have an itch to scratch, Aideen. You want to see the world. You want to learn more. To strengthen the magic in you. I see you are ready to dedicate your life to this old man. He is your life's project and passion, for now. But what about when the time comes and goes for Denny Doyle? Will you be thinking 'what if?' when he is still gripping your heart with icy fingers?
"And you, Denny Doyle, you bumbling bastard. You enjoy the love of a lifetime. A gift that rarely comes to a man of your age. You had better keep her close and you please her wanting heart or you will find yourself alone longer than you can ever imagine."
I sat in my nakedness and my broken knee. I wanted to clothe myself from this witch. Aideen stood up, naked and attentive, tall and straight. Letting the warm night and the mist cleanse her.
The deed was done, the seeds were sown and now and forever after we would be reaping what yielded from our love and commitment.
"We will be going now," said Aideen.
"As you wish children," said Reenan.
We packed up and clothed ourselves. Aideen fitted her bog shoes. We fashioned the sling for my leg around her back and neck, and I hopped up. Reenan burned incense on the altar and leaned over it, inhaling the heady fumes. She muttered to herself and closed her eyes. As we shoved off she broke her foreign muttering to say to us:
"Thank you for joining me on the holly moon, children. Enjoy your love tonight."
Aideen turned her head and nodded. I held my hand up to give her a backward wave. I wrapped an arm around my love's neck and lit my clay pipe, and we started the treacherous journey back.
**************
We reached home well into the morning. We rested all day. Scaling the wall had not been the easiest task in the world, but I could grip with my hands and push with one leg and Aideen helped hoist me up from the top. The bog looked uglier in the day than in the night. Like an ugly lover, like a bat, it was not meant to be seen in the daylight.
I kept my swollen knee raised up on a cushion as I sat on the seat by the fire. Aideen gave me some concoction and ointment to help it heal but the poor knee was shattered. I could not wipe the idea from my mind that Reenan had done this to me. For every risk, for every big step, for every ignored warning, we knew we would pay. But we persevered because we knew our love could mend it. And on that day, in my miserable pain, Aideen's love sufficed.
**************
The village was buzzing as doctor Bowie stepped out his door on a humid day in July. He put on his coat. Mostly he did this to cover the pit stains that had bled through his undershirt and turned his canary button-down deep mustard. Bowie and I used to be fierce mates in the public houses of Bonnakeen. I hadn't seen him professionally since my scarlet fever.
Somehow everyone knew where he was going, who he was going to see. Normally Bowie would say where when asked "And where are you off to today, Doctor?" But today the criminally honest man got flustered and just said: "
arda bΓ³thar
"--high crossroads--. Well, information travels quickly from ear to mouth to ear again. Aideen and I, lovers in sin, lived near the high crossroads, and as Bowie made his way out of the village on the western road, the people were spreading the news. They expected some news about the state we were in.
Old decrepit bachelor (ha! hardly) Denny Doyle is soon to pass on, to leave his decrepit land to the Connollys, and the tricky widow Aideen will have her land for another man whom she will surely marry, and the yarn spins longer and the truth spreads thinner and before teatime is over I'm already dead and the undertakers are preparing a casket and handing a local drunk some money and a shovel to disturb the soil atop my poor mother's grave. But all for naught as the doctor came and went and had nothing to report to the village but a farming accident.
"And Doctor, when will the coroner be coming for Denny, lordhavemercy?"
"And how is Aideen, poor child, Doctor? She must be in a terrible state."
"No coroner will be coming today, or for a long time I'd say," Replied Bowie. "Poor child Aideen is better than ever, and Denny is still fit as a fiddle, save for is crushed knee. He was cliffted counting cattle in the commonage."
"Will he walk again, Doctor?"
"He won't walk again, so to speak, but he'll be hobbling for years I'd say!" he chuckled.
When he had come to the house, he was typical Bowie. "Denny, how are you keeping old boy?" asked he, like we had just bumped into each other on the street.
"Better than yourself, Bowie. Looks can be deceiving!"
"Ha! You blackguard, you are strung up like longjohns with holes in the pants!"
"And you Aideen, how are ye keeping?"