Exile to Érenn - 4. Chapter 4

Aiden woke early again, with the light pale and thin in the bedroom. The house was still, the silence softer now than it had been that first night. He lay for a moment, listening to the faint creak of old beams and the distant sound of a bird. Then he got up, and headed downstairs.

Rowan was already at the Aga, stirring a pot. The kitchen smelled of fresh coffee. Rowan turned, startled.

“Good morning, Rowan,” Aiden said softly.

Rowan smiled, a little sheepish. “Morning, Aiden. You scared me. You’re up early again.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why. I slept pretty well and just woke up.” Aiden leaned against the counter. “Mind if I watch you make the porridge?”

“Not at all. Want to help?”

“Sure. I hope I don’t mess it up.”

Rowan laughed. “It’s not that easy to mess up. I was thinking oat porridge today. Most people prefer it, though the traditional Irish version of porridge is made from barley. Declan sometimes likes a 50/50 mix. It tastes good, but the texture’s a bit claggy. What do you think?”

“Either way is okay with me,” Aiden said. “I don’t know the difference.”

They both laughed, the sound small in the quiet kitchen.

“Oatmeal it is,” Rowan said. “It’s really easy. I’ve had the rolled oats soaking overnight. Measure out four cups of milk and three tablespoons of demerara sugar for me, Aiden. It’s the stuff that looks like brown sugar.”

Aiden reached for the milk carton and the sugar jar. As he poured, he glanced at Rowan. “How did you and Declan meet?”

Rowan’s hand paused on the spoon. A smile crossed his face, distant and soft. “My company was looking to expand into Ireland to get access to the EU markets. That was about fifteen years ago. I’d identified a location just outside Sligo Town. One evening I was bored and decided to find something different to do. There was a lecture at the Sligo County Museum on recent discoveries near Lough Arrow.”

Aiden laughed. “You’re such a nerd.”

“I don’t deny it,” Rowan said, laughing too. “Anyway, it sounded interesting. Declan was giving the lecture. He did a great job and I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn’t a large gathering, and afterwards I introduced myself and asked what I hoped were intelligent questions. We hit it off right away. He invited me to dinner. We exchanged numbers and got together whenever I visited Sligo. Before I knew it he invited me to stay at the farmhouse. I never left.”

Aiden was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. “So it was like love at first sight.”

“Sounds corny, but yes.” Rowan stirred the oats slowly. “I love Declan and I love living here.”

Aiden didn’t reply. He finished measuring the sugar and handed it to Rowan. They worked in easy silence until the porridge was ready. Rowan set out the milk and the box of Quaker Oat Squares.

Aiden looked at the porridge, then at the cereal box. “I’d like to try the porridge this morning.”

Rowan’s smile widened. He put the box back in the cupboard. “Good choice.”

They ate together, the kitchen warm, the morning light soft on the flagstone floor. Aiden took a spoonful of oats. Creamy, slightly sweet from the demerara, comforting in a way he hadn’t expected. He ate slowly, thinking about Rowan’s story, about how someone could just stay.

A few days later, over breakfast, Declan scooped up the last of his eggs with a slice of toast. “You’ve been working hard, Aiden. Why don’t you go into Sligo Town with Rowan this morning?”

“I just have the one meeting and I’m free to give you the tour,” Rowan added. “It’ll be fun. We can have lunch.”

Aiden’s concern flashed across his face. “Are you sure? I don’t mind working. I kind of like it.”

Declan smiled. “I have to consult on an issue that came up yesterday afternoon at a couple of the Carrowkeel mounds. As much as I trust you, I don’t want you working alone. It can be dangerous.”

A relieved Aiden turned to Rowan. “Okay. Let’s do Sligo.”

“I need to pop into the office in Finisklin for an hour to work on some expansion paperwork. Why don’t we make a day of it? You can wander the town for an hour, and then we can grab lunch.” Aiden agreed, half-curious, half-relieved to get out of the hills. They drove the N4 in Rowan’s car, windows down, radio on low. Aiden watched the landscape change. Fields giving way to roundabouts, then the first signs of town.

Rowan dropped Aiden off and proceeded to his office. Aiden wandered the town centre alone. He walked along Wine Street and O’Connell Street, past the Garavogue River, the 13th-century Sligo Abbey ruins, and the small pedestrian area with shops. He noticed the Yeats statue outside the library, the old stone buildings mixed with modern storefronts. The town felt lived-in and not touristy, just real. He bought a coffee from a small café and sat by the river for a bit, thinking about how different it was from San Mateo.

Rowan met Aiden at Hargadons, one of Sligo’s most iconic pubs. A sign out front declared ‘established 1868’. It was a classic, dark-wood, multi-room pub with snug corners, stained glass, and a warm, unpretentious atmosphere. They took a table in the main bar. Rowan ordered the house beef-and-Guinness stew with soda bread; Aiden went for a chicken-and-leek pie with chips and gravy. They shared an additional basket of thick-cut chips and a side of coleslaw. Conversation was easy, with Rowan talking about Sligo’s history including Yeats and the abbey. Aiden asked a few questions about the company expansion.

“So you’re basically building another factory?”

Rowan kept it light, teasing Aiden about “gobbling down the food.”

“I can’t help it,” he shot back. “I was hungry.”

The meal felt grounding, hearty, local, with no pressure.

After lunch they walked the town together. Rowan showed Aiden the County Museum with a quick visit to the Neolithic displays and flint tools, then they strolled along the river path past the Hyde Bridge.

Rowan pointed out the Drumcliff view in the distance. “Yeats is buried there.”

They stopped at a bookshop called The Book Nest so Aiden could browse. Rowan bought him a small paperback on Sligo folklore as a quiet gesture.

They left around 4:30, the sun low over the hills. Aiden was quieter on the way back, watching Lough Arrow appear on the left. The day felt ordinary, but not ordinary. Something about it settled inside him.

The afternoon light had already begun to fail when Rowan and Aiden returned to the farmhouse. The sky was thick with low gray clouds that had rolled in from the Atlantic during the drive, carrying the promise of rain. Aiden stepped out of the car and felt the first cool spit against his cheek. The hills looked closer now, darker, as though the weather had pulled them in.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of turf smoke and the shepherd’s pie from the night before. Declan was in the living room, coat still on, standing by the fireplace with his phone pressed to his ear. He looked up when they entered, ended the call with a quiet “Thanks, I’ll be there,” and turned to them.

“You’re back early,” Rowan said, setting the keys on the hall table. “You look tired, love. What’s going on at Carrowkeel?”

Declan exhaled through his nose. “More vandalism. They found it this morning. Graffiti on Cairn K, some stones shifted on Cairn L. And not just kids messing around. Someone pried at the entrance lintel of Cairn G, like they were trying to collapse it. The OPW thinks it could injure a visitor or worker if it gives way. I just got off with them and the Gardaí. They’re coordinating an investigation, but…” He lifted one shoulder. “You know how it is out there. No full-time security, no gates. They’ll put up a few signs, maybe a temporary fence if it gets worse, but that’s about it. I just hope no one gets hurt, and none of the monuments are damaged too badly.”

Aiden stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “Who would do that?”

Declan met his eyes. “Could be bored teenagers. Could be someone with a grudge against the site. Or against the people working on it.” He didn’t say the Bresnahans’ name, but the silence carried it anyway.

Rowan crossed the room and rested a hand on Declan’s arm. “You’re going back tonight?”

“Tomorrow morning. They want me to walk the site with the OPW inspector before any more rain washes evidence away. I’ll be gone most of the day.”

Rowan nodded, thumb brushing Declan’s sleeve. “We’ll have a nice dinner tonight. You look like you could use it.”

Declan gave a tired smile. “That would be nice.”

After dinner Aiden stood in the hallway, jacket already on. “I’m going on a hike,” he said. “I need to burn off some energy.”

Declan looked up from the table, concern flickering across his face. “How old are you, Aiden?”

“I’m fourteen. Why?”

Declan hesitated. “It’s just that strange things have been known to happen to boys your age at dusk and dawn, particularly close to the solstice.”

“Like what?”

“Old superstitions,” Declan said quietly. “Nothing you need to worry about. But I’d feel better if you’re back before the sun sets.”

Aiden rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

He stepped outside. The air was heavier now, the clouds low and bruise-colored. The solstice wasn’t until tomorrow, and Declan had said the weather might ruin the alignment anyway. It was disappointing, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He found a peaceful spot on a hill overlooking Lough Arrow. The sky was already darkening yet he still felt the ancient pull he couldn’t explain. He headed back home though his mind was on the solstice the next evening. Declan would be away, and he still wanted to see what happened at sunset. Maybe he could convince Rowan to go with him.

The next day, Declan left early to meet with the OPW and Rowan was working in his office off the back of the house.

Aiden was bored with nothing to do. He was a little surprised to find he missed his work at the cairn. Since finding the vial his fascination with the archaeology had surged. The vial sat on the stone mantel of the fireplace. He often peered at it and felt the supernatural aura of the object. What was it and what did it mean?

The sky was overcast all day, the light flat and gray. By late afternoon the clouds had thickened, threatening rain.

Aiden couldn’t stand sitting around anymore. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. He thought, I should probably tell Rowan I’m going for a walk, but he’s busy and I’ll be back before he knows I’m gone.

Before he knew it, he realized he was heading to the cairn. If it starts raining, I’ll head back.

When he reached the cairn the sun was low behind the clouds. The entrance passage faced west, dark and silent. Aiden stood at the threshold, hands in his pockets, disappointed in a way he couldn’t quite name. Declan had warned him this was a risk. He had come anyway.

He was already here. He might as well wait until it was over.

He stepped closer to the entrance, back to the setting sun, watching. For a long moment nothing happened. Then, as though someone had drawn a curtain aside, the clouds parted.

A narrow shaft of gold cut through the gray, slanting across the field and striking the mouth of the passage. Aiden’s shadow stretched long in front of the entrance, black against the sudden light.

He stepped aside.

The beam slid deeper, touching the inner stones, reaching toward the basin at the back of the chamber.

A boy stood there.

He was about Aiden’s age, slight of build, with rich auburn hair that caught the last warm rays of the sunset. He wore a green tunic with pale golden hemming at the cuffs and neck. Something metallic glinted at his throat, a small pendant or torque, catching the light. The sunset glow made it hard to see the details clearly, but the shape of him was unmistakable: still, calm, as though he had been waiting there for a very long time.

Their eyes met.

A physical force touched Aiden. Sudden, electric, like a current running from his chest to his fingertips. His breath caught. The boy’s gaze held his, steady, unblinking, and in that instant Aiden felt something open inside him, something he hadn’t known was closed.

The boy didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He simply looked.

Aiden’s heart hammered against his ribs. He took one step back, then another. The light dimmed as the clouds closed again. The boy’s outline softened, blurred, and then he was gone. Swallowed by the shadow inside the passage.

Aiden turned and hurried down the path, boots slipping on the wet grass. His pulse was loud in his ears. He didn’t look back.

By the time he reached the farmhouse the sky had closed completely and the first rain was falling. He slipped inside, jacket dripping, and stood in the hallway breathing hard.

Rowan looked up from the kitchen. “You’re soaked. Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Aiden said, too quickly. “Just got caught in the rain.”

Rowan studied him a moment, then nodded. “Go dry off. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Aiden climbed the stairs, peeled off his wet clothes, and stood under the shower until the water ran cold. When he came back down, Declan was at the table, face tired but calm.

They ate in quiet. Aiden pushed food around his plate, his mind elsewhere. The boy’s face kept surfacing, auburn hair, steady eyes, the faint metallic glint at his throat.

After dinner he excused himself and went upstairs. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling beams. The house was quiet again, but the silence felt different tonight. Full, expectant.

He couldn’t help thinking about the boy by the barrow.

Who was he, out here by himself?

He’s incredibly good-looking.

The thought arrived uninvited, sharp and clear. Aiden’s cheeks burned. What am I thinking? He’s a guy.

He rolled onto his side, pulled the duvet up, and tried to sleep.

But the image wouldn’t leave him.

Tomorrow, he decided.

Tomorrow he would go back.

And look for the boy.