Sapphic Voices Young Adult

The Mute Boy

This Story takes place roughly 734 a.d. It occurs mostly in Shrewsbury, and involves an organization known as the Ciele De.

The scriptorium was emptied of all occupants save one, the tiny blonde in charge of the scribas team. Soft sighs filled the room as she stared down at the page in front of her. Though her mind was elsewhere, she was trying to concentrate on the words of an ancient Gaelic text. when Sister Carla slipped into the room. She knew the sister was there, but waited for her to speak.

"Rhea?"

"Yes?'

Sister Carla was slow to speak, almost fearful. "Would you accompany me to the house tonight?"

"Yes. Just let me put this away, and we can leave." It was obvious to Rhea that Sister Carla needed to speak with her alone. She had been feeling some disturbance within her all day but couldn't seem to account for it until she saw Sister Carla. The young sister quickly closed the book and carried it over to the north wall. The chains were still unlocked so she was able to slide the book onto the shelf and flip the bar down holding the book in place. She slammed the lock shut and pulled out the key, absent-mindedly placing it inside her pocket. The two women closed the great doors of the scriptorium and headed toward the kitchens. Rhea knew that Sister Carla would not speak until they were out of the monks hall and safely in their house, so she stopped in the lower kitchen just long enough to grab a loaf of bread and a block of cheese for her evening meal.

The night air was chilling and Sister Carla wrapped her woolen cape tightly around her. Rhea didn't have hers on and just brazened it out. "Speak frankly with me Carla. What's wrong?"

"I don't know that something specific is wrong, but it's just that I feel such great fear from Arran. She is very afraid right now, and so far away from me."

"I know. I've sent for help. If we can just hang on until they arrive I'm sure it will be fine. Will you wait just a little longer? Can You?"

"I can only try. I miss her so much that it keeps me from everything else." She paused. "Do you know who they are sending?"

Rhea nodded. "They tell me the Mute Boy is coming. And perhaps Mother Freda."

Sister Carla stared at Rhea, silent contemplating the import of this news. If the Mute Boy was coming this must matter to Ceile De so much that no other could do it. "Carla, Will you try to finish something for me?"

"Anything Rhea, you know that." Rhea wasn't offering more information.

"Good. I need someone to read from the new manuscripts brought in last week. Something tells me there's something important, something that we've missed that might be hidden within them. I'd really like to know what that is or might be."

"I can do that."

"Yes, you can." Rhea opened the door to the sisters' house and led Carla inside. "If anyone asks you, I've gone to bed early tonight with a growing illness. But tell everyone not to worry. Things should be fine tomorrow." She held up her packet of cheese, grinned and headed back outside, closing the door behind her.


That was how I came to be waiting in the shadows behind the barn when Mother Freda and the Mute Boy came riding into the churchyard. If the truth were known, it was my personal obsession with the Mute Boy that made it possible for me to sneak out of the convent and over to the barn just to be there when they arrived.

It was well nigh midnight when they made it to the convent. She and the Mute Boy must have ridden for days to get to Shrewsbury. As I watched, they approached the barn stealthily and slipped inside. I know that I'd been daydreaming about meeting with Mother Freda for some time. Now I actually had the opportunity to see the great woman, and the legend that was the Mute Boy. I took a deep breath and walked into the barn to greet them. As I stepped inside, the world tilted upside down. I felt a powerful grip around my waist and then my ankles. I found myself held just inches above the ground. Any thoughts still inside my head vanished.

"Sister Rhea?" Mother Freda was trying hard not to laugh but the grin on her face was matched only by the twinkle in her eyes. "Bran, put her down. She's harmless." Bran let her fall gently to the ground, then lifted her to her feet.

"Hello Mother. It's good to see you again."

Mother Freda hugged the young woman while Bran turned away and began walking toward the horses. "We've missed you at Kilda, little sister. Are you well?"

"Personally yes, but so many are not. Much is happening right now, and Sister Carla is a mess. We have to find Arran. They are so unbalanced without each other."

"Yes. Well word is that it's even more important than you know. She is an important part of our future, and Bran will help us find her." Bran stood with her back to the women. She had begun to brush down the horses.

"I thank you for coming to help us Bran. We need you." Rhea watched the great legend nod her head, but remain silent. "I have dinner for you in the small guest house if you'll follow me." Mother Freda followed but the Mute Boy stayed inside the barn. As they walked away, Rhea looked back toward the barn.

"Rhea, Bran can't be seen with us while we are here. To all eyes, she is what we say, the mute boy who delivers messages from monastery to monastery. You must be careful to protect that image."

"I'm sorry Mother. I thought we were safe here."

"No place is safe any more. You need to know that. Your work here may be ending before you know it, and you need to be careful. Not just for yourself, but for everyone now."

They entered into the small guest-house next to the sisters' dormitory, well away from the church itself, and got Mother Freda settled in. "Rhea, take Bran part of this meal and half the blankets, and don't be afraid of her. She is the same girl you once knew."

"Mother?"

"Yes?"

"Why can't I remember?"

"Perhaps it's just not time yet. Don't be afraid of it. The truth will someday be remembered, and you will know what to do. All I can tell you is let it happen, but don't force it to happen."

Rhea smiled. "I'll make sure Bran is comfortable. We can speak after vespers tomorrow."

"Yes, a good idea. Goodnight little sister."

"Goodnight Mother."

My sisters here have told me that I've always known the mute boy. I wish I could remember. They say it was the Mute Boy who saved my life so long ago. It's a puzzle why that memory eludes me. All I know is that I have a picture inside my head that seems to speak to me. That promised to come for me whenever I needed help. So I've called for her, and here she is. What happens next, I can only guess. When I got to the barn, Bran was in the rafters. I don't know if she was really asleep or not, but I covered her with the blankets and left the food and water bag. It felt familiar somehow, and yet distant, perhaps only a dream. Those thoughts filled my mind and kept me remarkably warm as I headed back to my room among the other sisters.

I spent the night in different dreams. Dreams I hadn't seen in a long time. I remember how high the stallion stood. I don't remember being afraid. There was always the arm that reached down to lift, then swing me up over the horse. There were the arms that always made me feel safe when they were wrapped around me. And then I still feel the wind as the stallion raced through the woods. Flying yes, but safety too; protected. So if that was the Mute Boy, if that is what she was to me, why can't I remember?

After vespers, Mother Freda was given an audience with the Bishop of Shrewsbury. It gave me an opportunity to sneak out to the barn and continue my fascination with the Mute Boy. She was rubbing down one of the horses, but looked up and nodded when I walked in.

"I've brought you some breakfast." Bran grinned and took the basket from my arms. As she did so she leaned over toward me and whispered: "Get rest. We leave soon, maybe today." That was all she said before walking away with the basket. I watched for a moment as the Mute Boy sat down next to the stable manager and shared the meal with him.


When I got back inside and upstairs near the scriptorium, I met Mother Freda coming down the long hall.

"Hello little sister."

"Hello Mother. What did you find out?"

"Walk with me." Mother led me beyond confines of the church buildings and out into the courtyard dividing the church and the necessary buildings. "It seems that there are sisters from several convents who have been taken. Arran is not alone.

"Do you know where they are?'

"They are at the old castle of Shrewsbury. There's been a small town created inside, and they are using the castle proper as part of a church. They are calling it a convent for the Sisters of Bride. She sighed. “Do you feel up to a longer walk? We need to find the Mute boy. He likes to walk in the woods.”

. We were being watched and perhaps overheard. "A walk would be fine."

We found the Mute Boy just beyond sight of the town gates. "Hello Bran.” Mother Freda was direct. “We have bad news." Bran nodded. "I need you to connect with the seer. I can't do this alone."

"But mother, what if..." Bran glanced in my direction before continuing.

Mother Freda interrupted. "We have to take the risk."

Bran looked directly at me. I saw her brown eyes turn black. Their glassy darkness drew me in. Seductive. Warm; despite the cold vastness. And then I saw. In her eyes, I saw the world. How can I possibly explain. So many different possibilities. So many roads and choices. I honestly didn't want to know any of this. Then a picture began to form. There I was, looking at the old castle and town about 20 miles away at mid-Shrewsbury. I could feel Arran. She was still alive, but I couldn't find her. I couldn't picture her in Bran's eyes.

"I feel, but can't see them. Why not?"

Bran looked toward Mother Freda. "If she can't see them they might be underground."

"We have to find them."

"She's right Mother. Something is very wrong."

"You two will have to go. Find them before it is too late."

"Mother?"

"You must Bran. Find them and help them. There isn't much time."

"Yes Mother. But what about the…"

Mother Freda never gave Bran a chance to finish. "Go. I order it. I'll stay here. Come back when you free the women."

"Go through the books. It's very near here. I feel it."

"Yes. Be safe my love."

"Yes Mother."

Bran was right. We did leave that very day. Unfortunately, we left alone.

I spoke with Mother Freda that afternoon. I tried to convince her not to stay, but she is so stubborn.

"I need to stay here and talk with the sisters. They don't know yet what will happen. I must convince them to go when it is time."

Maybe I should have argued more with her, not that I could have out-argued the best there is, but I could have tried. This was wrong. Mother Freda should be going with us. This was a mistake. But I couldn't find the words. I wanted to, but they weren't there. If Mother Freda stayed here, she might not ever see St. Kilda again. Then I knew the truth of that thought. Mother Freda was never going to see Kilda again, and chances were good that Bran and I might not either.


We left quickly that afternoon so that we could get to the castle by nightfall. I hate to admit it, serious as this was, but I enjoyed the ride. I even pretended that Bran and I were simply out racing our horses. We did make it to the outskirts of the old castle by dusk. Bran showed me how to set up camp. We chose a spot outside the gates of the castle, even though they remained open all night. I followed Bran as she walked inside the gates to look around. No one challenged her, which seemed surprising, but it had been years since anyone of import had been at the castle. The new castle and town was a monument to prosperity, where others less affluent had rebuilt an entire town among the ruins of this castle. Neither one of us wanted to spend the night inside, so we walked back to our own little camp. We were almost there, when out of the blue Bran uncharacteristically grabbed me carelessly, and pulled me from behind until I was close enough for her to lift up and move behind her.

"Sh, she whispered. Then I realized that someone was just inside the boundaries of our camp. I knew who the person was.

"Sister Carla--What are you doing here? This is too dangerous."

"She's fading Rhea. I can feel her. She doesn't have much time."

Bran silenced her with a look. "I'm going now, just promise me that you will stay here. Both of you. She turned and looked at me.

I watched as Bran looked for something outside the castle walls. She kicked at the dirt along the ground and finally smacked her toe on something. She waved, knelt on the ground and began to dig at it just enough to get her hand inside. She opened what looked to be a door, and crawled inside. I turned back to keep an eye on Sister Carla.

"You have to go with her Rhea, and you need to hurry. Please...I fear she's dying.. " And so I followed Bran inside. I found the door and the passageway that led to a room behind the old kitchen. Bran had opened that door as well. It was easy to step through it and then climb up the wall ladder to the door that led into the upper passageway. This felt familiar to me. I knew where this path led. It was the back corridor to the library, and I had caught up to Bran, and followed her.

She lowered herself down into the darkness and felt for the steps that used to be there. I found them too, and worked my way down into the small room below the room we had just been inside. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I could see the manacles still chained to the wall. An ocean of anger ran through me. This was what I could not bring myself to remember. This place I tried to forget. We found Arran stretched across the earth floor. She lay motionless as we approached. She didn't move when I touched her, so Bran picked her up and carried her to the steps. Between us we managed to drag her up the narrow stairs and shut the earth pit. We had to go back up the way we came, or so I thought. As I turned toward the steps I remembered where we really were, and what had happened there.


The young child sat huddled up against the wall. The woman was chained in such a way that she could sit or lie down on the floor, but she could not stand or move far from the wall. During the night, she spoke to the child for the last time.

"Branwen?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Mother?"

"Yes. I'm still here."

"They hurt you".

"Yes, but don't worry. Aunt Freda is coming. You go with her."

"I want to stay with you."

"No. Don't make that face. Even in the dark I can feel it. Do not defy me. Remember what I told you."

"About speaking?"

"Yes. Now Promise me. Promise you'll never let them hear you speak."

"But why?"

"You know why." Bran hung her head. When she looked up, her mother was lying on the floor. All the child could do was stare at the blood dripping down the wall where her mother had been sitting. She knew. She curled up beside her mother and wept for the last time. "I promise Mother. They'll never hear me."

And I knew that I had been there beside Bran. Here was the beginning of that forgotten memory.

Arran was in bad shape when we finally got her back to our campsite. It looked like we might need a litter to carry her on the journey to safety. Anyway, gathering the branches for it would keep sister Carla busy while we waited for Arran to recover enough to speak with us.

The next morning she did speak. But what she said was not good news. There were other sisters who were being held somewhere within the dungeon at the castle. We would have to go back. Arran made us a map of where she thought they might have been taken and the routes out of the castle that she was aware of.

"Rhea?"

"Yes?"

I wouldn't ask you to go inside again if I didn't need your help."

"How could you keep me from going?"

"Stubborn,"

"Yes, and I thank you, but you can't shield me from this. Will you tell me the truth?"

Bran sighed. "What do you wish to know?"

"I see my father. He's hanging upside down. There is water. They drop him into it. More than once I think.

"Yes'

"They dropped him into it until he no longer moved. He died that way?"

"Yes."

"And my mother. They buried her beneath a pile of stones."

"Yes.

"How did she die?"

Bran closed her eyes. This was the conversation they never had, perhaps should have had many years ago, and yet it still hurt. "After they killed your father, she picked up a sword that one of the soldiers dropped. She slit the throat of the king's son, then took her own life before they could touch her. The young man, he lived, but was sick for a very long time. I wanted him to die. Your mother was very brave."

"And so were you. You held me in your lap that day. Still had me with you when they moved us back to the upper room. Your mother was chained there. I think she died that night."

"Yes."

"You took me with you when you escaped. We met Mother Freda on the old road. You took me to Kilda. And then you left me there alone." Bran still didn't speak.

"I remember that you came back several times. But then you stopped coming."

"My life belongs to the Ceile De. I go where they send me, and sometimes they sent me far away from you.

"If I asked you, would you burn this place down for me?"

"No. As much as I’d like to, no. We may need this place someday. But I WILL get your sisters out of her and to a safe place."

"Turn left down the corridor, Bran." We were into the dank half-lit hallway between the dungeon and an even older sutterein. I remembered it was how we got out. We both knew the escape route, and it was still here. All we had to do was find the sisters.

It was quite a shock to see them as they were. Several were dead when we found them. Only five were still alive. We did what we could, but Bran--well--one sister was just too far gone. We couldn't help her, but she was still alive. Bran did what I could never do. She broke the young sister's neck and gave her the peace she didn't receive in life. It broke my heart to see it, but there was no other way. She wouldn't have made the trip back. I know that, but still it hurts.

It took every ounce of energy that we had to sneak the sisters out of the sutterein and back into the dungeons and the old escape route we took as youngsters. We got lucky. It was still totally usable.

Arran and Carla waited for our return. I knew then, that there would never be anything in the world that would tear them apart. There would be no next time. They would be together for the rest of their lives no matter how long they would be given.

Bran let the sisters rest a bit, but not for long. She wanted to move us quickly. After a brief move, she let us settle in for the night. She even stopped to talk with some of the sisters.

"Bran?"

"Yes?

"Why are we moving toward old Shrewsbury? Isn't it dangerous to go back there?"

"Yes, but everyone isn't going back there. I need to go back. The others will wait for us. I need to see Mother Freda before we move the sisters to safety, and some of the sisters are in bad shape. They need to rest a bit before we push them into a long journey."

"Bran? Can you tell us where we will go?" Arran spoke for all the sisters.

"We want to move you all back to Llangollen. England is not safe for any of us. We think Wales is next, but right now it is just a little safer for us.

"And you will lead us on this journey?"

"Yes Sister. Rhea and I will make sure you all arrive safely. There is one thing I must do first. But you all should get some rest" Bran found a flat spot beyond the fire, leaving the majority of the warmth for the sisters. I joined her there. "You are going to try to talk Mother Freda into coming with us aren't you?" Bran looked at me for a minute, but didn't speak. I thought that was odd, but didn't say anything then. Maybe I should have. Would it have made a difference to question her then? I still do not know. "I'll come with you."

"No little Sister. The others need you here. Carla will need help with them. They aren't quite ready for the journey yet. Let them rest. Watch over them.

"But Bran.."

"No. Stay here this time."

"You will come back? With Mother Freda?"

"Yes. I'll be back."


When I woke the next morning, Bran was already gone. I tried to do as she asked, really I did, but Carla and Arran had things well in hand. All I could do was think about how I was in the wrong place. I was needed somewhere else. I caught up with her as she was leaving Shrewsbury. She was alone. I knew she would be, but I didn't know if she would every tell me why. There was something more going on here, but what, I did not know. She saw me, and veered off the road crossing the field toward me. For a moment I felt very lucky she didn't look angry when she saw me. It was as if she were almost relieved to see me.

She grabbed hold of my reins as she passed by, and I rode along beside her for a few minutes.

"Mother Freda isn't coming back with us is she?"

"No Rhea. " She guided me into the woods. and for the first time, I was treated to a visit to the temple of the old ones. I had known of places where it still existed, but I had not seen one here in England. There was a stone altar in the center of a circular area. We rode up to it and the stopped. Bran jumped down from her horse and walked over to mine. She lifted me down from the horse, holding on to me until I was firmly on the ground. She left me standing there as she walked the horses back out away from the circle. Then she walked back to where I was standing. She had her sword with her, and it was not inside its sheath. She walked over to the altar and laid her sword down on top of it.

The air was heavy. Full of something, but I do not have the words to define it. "Bran--What is it?"

"Can you feel it?"

"Yes but what is it?"

"A higher power."

"What higher power?'

"Do you know the legend of the lost stones of Atlantis?"

"They were supposedly brought to Kilda from the first witch of Atlantis. She was returning the gifts of the Ceile De. But that's just a story. Right?"

"What if I told you that the stones really exist. That they have been used over the centuries?"

"The stones were used?"

"I have been told stories. I have never seen it." Bran reached inside her trousers and pulled out a bag.

"Oh Bran. Tell me that is not one of the stones." This was bigger than anything I could imagine.

"They managed to find it. They took it from the Sisters. "

"They sent you and Mother after it."

"No. They sent me after you. They sent Mother after the stone." Bran held the stone in her hands. It's blue-black shine drew me to it. I was almost afraid to look, afraid of what I might see inside it. Bran knew then what it meant. Knew that a life had been traded for it, perhaps many lives. I was a little slower understanding.

She placed the stone on top of the altar. "Rhea. Come here." I didn't hesitate. I walked up to the altar and stood beside her. When she reached out to touch the stone, I did too.

How can I describe it? The stone seemed to speak to us. It ordered Bran to cut it. But the order…it wasn’t in mere words, it was more a force. A very compelling force. When we both moved away from the stone, It started to glow. Within the glow of the stone was what I never thought I would see. It was the original fire of Bride, twin sister to Christ. The forgotten one. Forgotten by all but us. It was the truth of my life, Bran's life, and so many others who came before, and would come after us.

I never really saw Bran pick up the sword. One minute it was on the altar, the next it was in her hands. Three mighty blows from her sword and the stone lay in four small triangular pieces. I never did tell Bran about the lightning bolts that flew round her head as she delivered the cutting blows. How could I? I couldn't tell her how close to death she came that day. I don't mean death of the body. I mean an ending to the spirit, the soul. Hers was almost taken that day, and mine too I think. But she never knew. I was able to keep that much from her. She would suffer enough anyway.

It was the stone. It needed itself to be cut apart, but the power in the stone refused to separate itself. Bran was caught up it its war. It tried to take her. Tried to become a part of her. I did what I had to, though I still don't know why. I heard the words form inside my head and the stone simply acknowledged them- She belongs to me. For what reason I still don't know, but the power let go of her, and let itself be cut apart. I remember that Bran picked up the pieces of stone, making very sure there were no pieces left on the altar. She placed them in the bag, tied it to her trousers, and grabbed my hand. I know that we somehow made it back to the horses, but I have no memory of it, of the trip back to the sisters. But the stones in that pouch continued to talk to me that day. Told me that everything was okay. Everything I needed was there. Bran was there.

The End

If you have enjoyed pj leslie's "The Mute Boy", then please be certain to e-mail her at  bbrinker1940[at]yahoo.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

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