Magdalene

1043 Words3 Pages

He wasn’t a strong child, I recall. And he had separation anxiety in the early days, often clinging to the nearest adult in sullen silence. Perhaps it stemmed from his abandonment as an infant. He’d cling to the skirttails of any who would let him, and one in particular seemed to seek him out when she traveled with us. Her name was Magdalene, though most of the children called her by the unfortunate nickname of Maggie. She was a kind and gentle woman, the sort who always had a smile and a gentle hug for anyone who she met along the way. There was little doubt in the world that Maggie was a witch, for she had talents that had long left the Irish, though we didn’t call ourselves that at the time. No, the words that we used were buried with time, hidden to avoid persecution and to protect the secrets that we used to live as daily life. Maggie would arrive with little pomp or circumstance, just walk up as if she’d been there the entire time and Tynan would become her shadow, never seen far from her, a black-haired child in the care of a grey-eyed witch. Whenever she left, I wondered if she’d taken him with her. But invariably, he’d be found clinging to someone else, and life would go on. I think I was ten when he finally stopped clinging to people, so he was nine before he finally put his feet on the road to social independence. I was patient with him, and soon enough, I learned what a wit lived within that tousled black-haired head. He’d had the advantage of listening to the adults, of learning secrets and things that I could only speculate upon, and in the end I think he proved the wiser for it. After that, we were inseparable, brothers in the wild, though in a battle of physical, he had little chance of holding against me. ... ... middle of paper ... ... her, though it was I that she chose in the end. She asked that he tie the handfasting knot, and though I know it broke his heart to do so, he did. I have no clear recollection of returning from the battle in the southern areas… no understanding of what had happened on the battlefield and how we’d survived. But survive we had, and her joy when he brought me to her was so painful for him that I think it was why he left us so suddenly. It wouldn’t be until many years later, that I would catch a glimpse of him again, and only a glimpse, as he fled from me like a wraith might flee the brilliance of the light. But even then, I had no cause to suspect what had truly returned me from that battlefield was not luck, but something darker. I still do not know the extent of it, and given the scattered few interactions that I have had with him since, I may never truly learn.

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