Uncle Ith gestured to me. “Come sit, lad; it is obvious that you are troubled.”
I sat before him, unsure of how to begin, nearly squirming with shame.
“You wish to speak to me about a matter of the body.” Uncle Ith spoke kindly and without preamble.
“How do you know?”
“It is a subject that preoccupies the young and fills them with confusion. Your body shouts confusion, so I have concluded a mating matter.”
“I watched Airioch at the mating,” I blurted. “I did not mean to, but I thought that he was hurting her.” I raised my hand at the look on Uncle Ith’s face. “He was not, but I watched them. Airioch knew that I was watching, so he called me out.”
“He was angry?”
“No. He was … pleased. He said that it … that I … that he … enjoyed it more for knowing I was watching. He said that women are difficult to pleasure. He said that he would like to bed Skena. He said that he was sired by a Greek … .” I trailed off and lifted my hands helplessly.
Uncle Ith sighed. “Well, it’s all a bit much at once, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” In Uncle Ith’s presence, I no longer felt like a stupid child. “I am overwhelmed, I guess. I need help to sort it out.”
“As do we all. Let’s begin with the Greek.”
“Is it true?”
“It may be. Surely Airioch does not resemble either your father or his mother. It is why your father kept him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Seang was the daughter of the king of Scythia. She died giving birth to Airioch. This turned the king’s wrath against your father.”
“All of this I know.”
“Well consider further, then. If Airioch were to have remained in Scythia when your father departed and if he were to have grown up there, eventually the day would have come when the king also would have seen the Greek in Airioch. Where would his rage for the loss of his daughter have turned then?”
“Oh, you gods! So my father protected him even if Airioch is not his own”.
“He did.”
“This is a most noble act on the part of my father.”
“Your father is a most noble and honorable warrior. I would say this of him even if he were not my brother.”
“But his treatment of Bile?”
“To move in the world is difficult. To move in the world with no speech and one arm and the fear and strangeness of those who encounter you is nigh to impossible. Your father weeps for Bile, and it hurts him to the core to see his little child so maimed. He has told me more than once that he is proud and grateful for your care of Bile.”
“He has said this of me?”
“He has.”
I turned this over in my mind, felt a gladness of heart in knowing it. “But then why does not he himself spend more time with Bile?”
“He feels responsible.”
“Why should he?”
“Because the wagons and the horses were his charge.”
“But not his fault. It was Airioch who disturbed them.”
“You cannot blame Airioch for Bile’s misfortune. Airioch riles the horses by virtue of what they sense in him, but he bore no ill will toward your little brother.”
“Does Airioch bear ill will toward me?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps he only craves your woman.”
“He has said that he would like to bed her. She is not my woman.” I ached to say that she was.
“What if I told you that what will pass between you and Skena goes far beyond bedding?”
I hung my head. In his usual subtle way, Uncle Ith had seen straight to the heart of my shame.
“I would also like to bed her.” I mumbled it out.
“Of course you would.”
I looked up in surprise. “Then how am I different from Airioch?”
“We of the Galaeci and, in fact, all of the Keltoi believe that woman is the mother of the world.”
I nodded. This was obvious to anyone who saw the world.
“Therefore, if woman is mother of the world, we men must treat her with respect. We must honor her, learn from her, heed her counsel, and yes, mate with her, but always with her consent and desire.”
“Airioch had the consent of the woman with whom he mated.”
Even as untried as I was, I knew that clearly enough.
“And did he respect that consent?”
“Well, he …” squirmed under Uncle Ith’s direct gaze. “He did not pleasure her.”
“He pleasured himself?”
“Yes.”
“So he did not respect her.”
“So the mating is always good if it is done with mutual respect and pleasure and consent.”
“Yes.”
“Now I see, Uncle. And thank you.” I started to rise.
He held up his palm. “As of yet, you see nothing. Airioch is a man of many desires. He sates most of them. A man who accrues to himself all of the things of this world cannot lighten himself of their burden unless he gives something away.”
“This I do not understand.”
Ith sighed. “Here is what we druii know. We are not of this world. Not really. We are here and gone and then return again. But what is true of us is this spirit that moves between the worlds.” He placed his hands on either side of my head, surrounding my soul. “The things of this world have weight. They tie us to this world. They do not allow the spirit to travel well and lightly. And a man like Airioch, a man who sates so many desires, weights himself down with a kind of darkness, a heaviness of spirit. That is the darkness that Bile sees around him, the darkness of so much accrual, of so many choices for the self and not the other.”
“Is this the nature of evil, then?”
“No. Evil occurs when the darkness begins to spill off onto others, when the bearer of darkness chooses to do harm to sate his own desires. It is a process of small choices, little decisions that grow larger over time.”
“Is Airioch a servant of darkness?”
“Right now he is a servant of the self. We do not know the way that he will choose, so we are cautious.”
“We?”
“Your father and I. We watch him.”
“I would not like him to choose for Skena.”
“Then do not let him do so.”
“I am a lad of eighteen years; he is a warrior of some thirty-five years. And Skena is five years my senior.”
“Have you not listened to me?” Ith’s voice was angry. I started back, for he had never been angry with me before.
“You are a spirit, as ageless and timeless as I. The body is young, but the spirit is old and wise. You have before you a great gift, a gift that is given to few on Earth.”
“I wish to be wise,” I said. “Teach me.”
“You have before you the gift of anam cara, the gift of the beloved soul. It is the gift that travels through time, through lifetimes, through distance and age and death. Very few ever receive it, Amergin; too many pass it by or throw it away. But I see in you a man capable of wisdom, a man capable of knowing the Light. Do not let that slip from you for foolishness or youth.”
“You speak of love as if you know.”
“You have met my beloved.”
I gasped aloud. “The woman with the silver eyes.”
“An Scail. The Shadow.”
“You were parted from her for forty years!”
“Yes,” he said simply. “And no. Your father needed my counsel. His family needed their druid. She and I agreed that I must go. Love … travels. It sustains. It endures. Be wise, Amergin, for few are offered so priceless a gift.”
8
CEOLAS SINGS OF ANAM CARA
The longing of my body
is the longing of my soul.
Selfsame the desires,
that all of your mysteries
will open to me.
I will treasure them
as spirit gifts
dwell in you complete,
belongi
ng.
“Skena, come walking with me.”
It had taken but little time after I talked with Uncle Ith to decide, to know that my soul had chosen for Skena and would move to win her despite our ages.
Over Skena’s shoulder, Bile met my eyes. He must have sensed my new urgency, for his eyes widened.
Skena’s back was to me, her fingers firmly placed on either side of his little cheeks. For all the weeks of Skena’s working, Bile could utter no more than “Ah” and a sound that resembled “New, new, new,” like the mewling of a kitten.
It seemed to me that we were better to leave him be, to let him express himself with his eyes and his humming tunes and, best of all, with his drawings, which grew more complex and expressive as he learned to manipulate his chalks with his left hand.
Now he nodded at me enthusiastically and pointed to his chalks and papyri.
“Do you wish to draw?” Skena asked, beginning to gather his materials.
“Ah,” he answered, pointing toward the door.
She shook her head, not comprehending. He snatched a papyrus and made a rapid-fire sketch of a tower.
“Oh, you wish to go to the tower?”
He shook his head, frustration specifying every gesture.
I smiled at her gently. “He wishes for you to go to the tower with me so that he can have some time to draw alone.”
“Oh!” Skena clapped her hand over her mouth. “I am frustrating you, little brother! I am so sorry.”
His eyes filled with laughter and he held out his good arm. She dropped toward him and he threw the arm around her neck and kissed her cheek gently.
I felt an odd surge of envy that she would embrace him so freely, immediately felt ashamed of myself for so selfish a thought.
“New,” he said, and pointed at the door.
“Go?” I asked. Bile nodded with delight, well pleased with both of us for finally understanding our lessons. When I looked back at him he was bent above his drawings, already absorbed in the detail.
Skena threaded her arm through mine and we walked across the edge of the cattle pasturage to the forest that lined the crest of the hill. From deep inside the trees, we could hear the soft rhythm of the sea. I loved this moment, the moment when I would emerge from the trees to the insistent pounding of the surf, when the soft hint of the forest became the urgent tumble of the shore. From all my years in Egypt, I was unused to the deep green of the forest giving way to the sea, and the walk had a magical aspect, more so that she was beside me, her arm resting in mine.
I thought of Airioch and drew my other hand over her fingers, entwining them with mine. She did not remove them, let them remain in the braidwork they made.
We threaded our way to the top of the tower, me bounding the stairs, she puffing a little and stopping to place her hand over her heart, then swatting me playfully.
“You are a warrior and young, Amergin. Go more gently for an old lady.”
“No old lady you, nor warrior I,” I protested. “Only a man of songs and dreams. From here I can see them.”
“From the tower?” she asked. “All the way to Inisfail?”
We had reached the tower platform with its wide embrasures overlooking the sea, its central fire banked and untended until darkness.
I did not look out to sea, but kept my back to the wall, regarding her. I did not take my eyes from hers.
“No,” I said. “Not from the tower. From here.”
For a moment she looked confused. Then her face suffused with color and she lowered her head, hid behind the waterfall of auburn hair.
“Skena,” I whispered. “I dream of you in the darkness and the day.”
What happened next I shall not forget. Though I grow old and foolish, though I journey to the Country of the Young, it shall remain in my memory like an ember, like the light that burns forever in that tower by the sea.
Skena stepped forward until her face was tipped up inches from mine.
“Then awaken, dreamer,” she said, softly. And in that moment I knew that she, too, had chosen for me.
My arms were around her so swiftly that even I was surprised. I moaned aloud when my lips covered hers. She whimpered, a soft, girlish sound that made my legs feel weak beneath me. I found that I needed to feel my hands on her skin, her skin against mine. She helped me with the fumbling and I drew her down upon me, the curtain of her auburn hair dropping over our kisses and our sighs. And then there was the rhythm of the waves and the rhythm that we made, one heartbeat at the center of the world.
When at last we had crossed our own vast sea, she raised up on her elbow beside me, her hair curling over the curve of an impossibly white breast, her legs still entwined with mine.
“Amergin,” she whispered softly, “I shall remember this day with joy for all of the days of my life.”
“Remember?” I said, bewildered. “Shall we not wish this day again and yet again? Oh, sweet my love, you sound as though you will part from me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Your brother Airioch will speak for my hand; I fear that it will come at the Beltaine feis.”
“You fear it?”
Her face had tightened until her eyes seemed to fill the orb. She nodded.
“You are a woman of the Galaeci. Say him nay.”
“If I say him nay, I will wound his pride. He will see to it that Bile is removed from my keeping.”
“But this would be beyond all cruelty—to both you and Bile.”
“See him clearly, Amergin.”
I thought about what my uncle Ith had said and of Airioch himself. Would he speak for her hand to win her? Would it be to best me, his young half brother? Would it be just a play in his game of seduction?
“But why would he speak for you? He knows you not at all.”
She said nothing. And then I understood.
“Because he could not have you any other way.”
She nodded. “Your brother is twelve years my senior; most of the women of the Galaeci are married. He does not have as wide a pool to choose from as once he did, and I am … I was … untried … until today. He thinks of me as a prize to be won.” Her neck speckled with color. I brushed my fingers across the blushing whiteness, felt desire rise in me again. I cupped my hand around the back of her head, leaned toward her. She pressed her fingers gently against my lips. She spoke softly. “Amergin, I cannot be removed from Bile. I love him as if he were my child.”
“He cannot remove you if you are wife to another.”
She shook her head, the auburn hair skimming across the milky skin so that I could feel my desire ignite my body again.
“Oh no. No. I could not ask that of you, though I have thought it often.”
“You have thought it?”
She nodded, her face a mask of shame. “But such a thought was selfish of me. You are poet and bard, apprenticed. The time will come when your tribe will rely upon your judgment, when you may be required to journey as your uncle Ith did. Besides, you are a young man. I have more than five years upon you. You have never married, nor had another love. You deserve to be a young man, to explore all the worlds before you.”
“You are saying that you would want me? As husband?”
She silenced. Looked away.
“Look at my eyes.”
She looked up, locking her eyes with mine.
“Tell me that you look into the eyes of a boy,” I commanded.
“I look into the eyes of him that I have loved for so long,” she whispered, fear welling up in the words.
“You love me?” Joy surged through me then, unlike any that I had felt before in my life.
“Of course,” she said softly. “I have loved you from the first moment that I saw you tune your harp for your brother.”
“I thought that you would not love me because I am too young.”
“And I thought the same because I am too old.”
“See what fools our thoughts have made of us.”
She lifted a sho
ulder, said nothing. When her eyes met mine, they shone with water.
“I shall speak for you at tonight’s meal if you will have me,” I said softly. “Now. Before anyone else can speak.”
She hesitated for a moment only, and then her eyes lit with determined radiance. “Then, I will have you, beloved.”
I lifted my hand tentatively to her breast. “Do you wish me to love you again?” I whispered.
She raised to me a face of complete joy and trust. “I am your Ceolas,” she whispered.
For the rest of that afternoon, we sang in a language that would be ours and ours alone for all of time.
9
“The time has come for the sons of Mil to depart for Inisfail! All of the Galaeci are welcome to accompany us. This will be the journey of our destiny!”
The clans gathered around the fire erupted in a babble of voices.
Why my father had chosen this feast, this night of all nights, to announce our departure, I knew not. Some inner mechanism of his longing, some sundial, seemed to tell him that the hour was upon us. Selfishly, I was glad that I had spoken for Skena at the start of the evening, and that my request had been accepted with a nod and my mother’s quick “Of course, dear.” Even Airioch had raised his fist to me in the soldier’s sign of victory and grinned his most suggestive grin.
Perhaps I should not have been surprised; our care of Bile had made us inseparable. Perhaps the clans already saw us as a mated pair. The knowledge of it filled me with quiet joy. I kept turning toward her where she sat with Bile on her lap, certain that I had imagined it all. Each time she looked back at me, her face was suffused with love. Bile even winked at me once, as though he had always known it.
For a moment it struck me that all along, I had been wishing for our journey to Inisfail, and now that it had come, I no longer needed to go. My Inisfail was wherever Skena and Bile were; the journey of my life would be made with them.
Though my father, too, had decided on his journey, his announcement among the clans had not produced the result that he desired. Women shouted that they would not part from their homelands; some of the Galaeci warriors called my father crazy.
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