Keepers of the Moon

Chapter 4. The tapestry (3)

With these words we shuffled out of Brian’s way and left for the last room of the day. Erin walked towards the old highly decorated doors which I had seen during Ben’s tour around the castle. The door was again slightly ajar, but this time no music poured out.

My curiosity took over some of the nauseating guilt that had settled in my stomach and I took in every detail from the decorated doors. They were once painted dark red, though on surfaces where hands had been touching it for ages a dark green colour shone through. The hinges were heavy and decorated with silver coloured runes. On the doors were more runes, some of them felt familiar and seemed to speak to me. A sea shell was painted on the left door with gold paint, on the right door there was a drawing of a waxing moon. Above the doors on the frame a single phrase was written in heavy letters: Tá mé idir grá.

Erin softly knocked and entered when a muffled voice urged us to come in. Unlike the fancy doors the room was fairly simple. It was cosy with a burning fireplace in the middle of the left wall. Above the fireplace a bow and a sword were mounted on the wall. Both looked fairly simple, simpler than the ornaments I’d seen around the castle, but in contrary to the shiny decorations they seemed ready to be used at any time. Against the wall on the right were rows and rows of books. Some looked brand new, others were so old the leather was bleached and falling from the back. Underneath the window was a large bed covered in thick woollen blankets and a wide array of pillows. Crumpled on the bed was a heap of moss green fabric, it looked light as a feather and gave of a soft shine. Hidden in one of the corners was a large cabinet with the same red paint as the doors and against the cabinet sat a small desk. It was littered with papers, letters, drawings and a violin. Some of the papers had been pinned onto the wall and were softly swaying in the warm breeze coming from the fireplace. In a comfy chair next to the desk sat a young girl, barely older than I was. Her hair was put up into a messy bun, but even now I could see the wild set of bright red curls. She had a pale, pinkish skin and a round face full of freckles. A needle was pinched between her pale pink lips. On her lap lay a heavy carpet that was so big it took up most of the flooring and seemed to bury her into the chair. A pair of bright, piercing green eyes looked at us in amusement. A little taken aback by her captivating eyes I froze. Erin made a small curtsy and urged me to do the same. The girl in the chair chuckled and kept working on what I now realised was a tapestry.

‘Almost done with all the repairs?’ Erin asked, while she moved towards the bathroom in the back. The girl murmured in agreement, realised that it was barely audible and pulled the needle from between her teeth.

‘Pretty much, this is the last tapestry. I only need to fix my dress, some of the stitches have ripped. Surprisingly the fabric is still holding.’ Her voice was soft, with a heavy accent that I couldn’t truly place. It resembled the accents that I’d heard before here in the castle, but there was something different about it. The sound of her voice made me feel better, a calm set over me in a way it never had.

‘Are you sure you don’t want a new one? I think Brian has a few left for you.’

She snorted.

‘I’m sure he does. But I’ll take the one I have. I’m curious though if he will be able to put Sir Macintosh into that purple tuxedo.’ Erin laughed and disappeared into the bathroom. I was still standing in the opening of the door, nailed to the floor. It was as if there was an invisible force prohibiting me from walking in any further and the piercing green eyes were not making it any easier. For some reason the girl smiled at me apologetically.

‘You must be the new hire? Ben told me about you and your foster daughter.’ I just nodded, breathless.

‘Do you like the job?’

Words came slowly, but my voice was the voice of someone else. My defences were crumbling under the immense pressure her eyes exerted on me. All my secrets would be revealed, yet somehow at the same time this felt like a relief. Like I could trust her with even my darkest memories, without her ever judging me.

‘I’m pretty sure I’ll get lost in here at least ten times before I even find the cantina. But this job is exactly what I needed. I just hope Abi finds her place also.’

A smile filled her face and she nodded. This movement caused one of her stubborn curls to jump out of the confinement of the bun and into her eyes. She pulled up her lip and looked at it in resentment.

‘She’s the little girl with that long black hair right? I saw her at the day care, figured she was new since I’d never seen her before. Well, I think you won’t have any problems getting her to bed this evening, she was upside down on the swing.’

I laughed, that sounded exactly like Abigail. I felt the tension slide of me and started to notice that her eyes were kind, still questioning, but filled with a light I hadn’t seen before.

‘Your name is Indigo right? Ben forgot to ask you after he offered you the job.’ She let the tapestry slide of her lap and stood up. She was surprisingly short and barely came up to my shoulders, though there was no vein in my body that thought she was weak.

She laid out the tapestry and checked for any more flaws. The tapestry showed a small family with a father, a mother and a baby tucked away in the mothers arms. The man was wearing a simple golden crown, he most likely was a King. The Queen was wearing a tiara with a dark blue stone in the middle. It had been carved in the shape of a moon. Her dress had the same dark blue colour and the King was dressed in military uniform with a classical red robe draped around his shoulders. His face was stern, the queen was smiling. They both had blond hair, but while the King’s hair was ashy, hers was bright and seemed to reflect sunlight.

‘This is King Domhnall, current King of Caledonia and his late wife Rhiannon. She died during childbirth and he was left with his daughter,’ said the girl with sadness in his eyes.

‘He never truly came back from her death, though his loss wasn’t over yet. His daughter is one of the Missing. She was taken from her crib on that faithful night, never to be seen again. Now we have a broken King…’ Her thoughts seemed to stray. Her pale, freckled arms were hugging herself and there was a look in her eyes which I could only describe as pain. So even the King wasn’t spared. It was such an odd idea, that one of us could be a Princess and a true heir to the throne of Caledonia. Though she would never return to her homeland and the King would never see his daughter again. I thought of Ilse with her bright blonde hair and her regal face. Could she be the missing Princess? She was a strong leader and had kept us together, even after the purging started. Was she still alive? Did she manage to get away?

A stray tear found itself rolling over my cheek, I wiped it away with my sleeve and shot a nervous glance over at the red-headed girl. She hadn’t noticed, she was still staring at the tapestry.

Erin came back in with in her hands a stack of laundry. I sprang to action and helped her putting it into our cart to be taken to the laundry service. Her eyes shot towards the girl and her face turned to sorrow. He mouth opened, as if Erin was about to say something, but then thought better of it and emptied the bin underneath the desk.

‘Is there anything else we could do for you, Mo Bhean?’ Erin’s voice was soft, but seemed still too loud for the silence that followed. I could only hear my heartbeat and the heavy breathing of my colleague. When she didn’t answer Erin motioned me to leave and we both silently crept into the deserted corridor. After we were out of earshot she said: ‘Mo Bhean is a kind woman, but also someone with a lot on her plate. You’ll often find her with her head somewhere else. Don’t think less of her when she doesn’t answer a question or if she doesn’t greet you. It is not out of resentment that she won’t.’

So this girl was the ‘Mo Bhean’ the one everybody kept talking about? It was kind of underwhelming, to see that she was little more than a child. Yet there was something about her which felt different. Powerful.

‘I’d pictured Mo Bhean differently, she looks so young.’

Erin gave a wryful smile. ‘She’s older than she looks.’