“Because Eriu and her sisters would have closed the doors to Tara. They would have sealed the Danu away from the sons of Mil. We Raveners cannot live apart from humans.”
“Raveners?” asked Amergin.
“Will you see me as I am?” asked Macha. The voice was mocking, dangerous. The company shifted and murmured, obvious fear now threading through the Milesians.
“Sisters!” Macha called. A high wind sped over the tops of the sarsen circle; the flames danced and whirled. A huge flock of crows suddenly wheeled in the sky above the torchlight. One huge raven descended among them, landed on Macha’s shoulders.
“We are Morrigu!” Macha cried. Suddenly the threesome began to shift and vary, now three women with dark hair and robes, then wolves and ravens, wind and fire, suddenly three small, pale creatures with dark ovoid eyes, surrounded by clouds of darkness, then just as swiftly the three warriors of the headland, then three beautiful women of Greek bearing. A few Milesians ran screaming in fear for the forest; the warriors stood their ground, their eyes wide, their hands making signs in the air.
“You should not be among us,” said Macha, her tone offhand. “Now you see why.”
“Return to the ships!” called one of the wives of Eber Donn.
“We will return to Galicia!” shouted several of the Milesians.
“Hear me!” cried Amergin. The crowd fell silent. “Our return is not possible. Even while we followed these Danu into the forest, the Greeks departed from us. We have no choice but to remain on Inisfail.”
“Then we must exact a penalty from these Danu,” cried Eremon, his voice echoing in the circle.
“Exile!” cried Eber Finn. “Exile. Make them pay the price that they would have exacted from us. Put them on rafts and set them adrift on the sea.”
The murmur spread through the Milesians like a fire. “Exile,” they cried. “Send the Danu away from the isle.”
“If that is what you wish, we will go,” said Eriu. “We will depart the isle tonight.”
She did not say that they would depart in their own great Spear Ships.
“Morrigu will not depart,” said Macha, her voice echoing from the doorways.
With a sudden snap of light, she and her sisters were gone.
Suddenly there was a thunder of hooves from the outside of the circle. Between the sarsen stones rode a great horse of the Milesians. Clinging to Banba front and back were two tiny white-haired women, An Scail and Airmid. Each wore a silver gauntlet on her arm.
“Cease!” the two ancient women cried at once. “Hear the wisdom of your elders.”
Banba swung from the saddle, her diadem askew, her Greek gown twisted. “Bloody, vicious animals,” she spat. She swatted at the flank of a great horse three times her size. “Stupider than the dirt.” This brought a laugh from the company of Milesians. Some of the tension dissipated.
“However do you big fellows ride them?” Banba asked, straightening her gown and looking around the circle in admiration. “Really, one of you must teach me.”
“I would be happy to … ride.” The voice of Airioch Feabhruadh drifted from the darkness.
Again the company laughed.
The two Ancients stood side by side, their hands linked. As one, they pointed their weapons at the assembled companies.
“Will you use the arms, Ancient?” asked Eriu, her voice filled with terror.
“First we will call physicians,” said An Scail.
Airmid nodded. She tapped her triangle; blue light snapped at the portal. Physicians appeared and began to minister to Danu and Galaeci alike.
“Now we will use the arms,” said Airmid softly. A gasp arose from the assembled company, both Danu and Milesian. Airmid and An Scail pointed the arms skyward. Gently, each flexed a finger. Sweet music began to weave itself through the portals and around the company, joyful and light. Tiny firework stars arced over the assembly in blues and greens and reds, then fell upon them, cool as snowflakes.
“Like people, such weapons can be turned to good or ill,” said Airmid.
“It is time that we both turn to the good,” said An Scail.
“I call forth the Triad Sisters of the Danu,” said Airmid. Eriu stepped next to Banba. Fodla’s captor released her and she stepped into triangle.
“Sons of Mil.” An Scail turned and pointed into the darkness. “Eremon, Eber Finn, Airioch, come forward.” The three oldest sons of Mil stepped uneasily into the circle.
“Hear me, sons of Mil,” said An Scail. “These, the people of the Danu, did not ask for us to come among them. We have. They defend themselves. That is their right.”
“Hear me, Children of the Danu,” said Airmid. “These sons of Mil are a learned and well-traveled race. They are deeply spiritual and their love of learning carries them around the world. The vision of their leader compelled them here and they cannot now return; we must accept them here among us.”
“True enough,” said Eber Finn. “Though we would not be here had the Danu not wounded Uncle Ith and rendered him unable to warn us from their shores. For that alone, the Danu must suffer exile. Or one of them must die.”
He lunged forward suddenly and caught Banba by her hair, raising his shortsword as he did so. He hacked at the hair, then put the blade to the point of her throat.
“No!” Airioch stepped beside Eber Finn. He moved the blade gently so that it rested just beneath his own chin. “None should die for that transgression but I. The people of the Danu did not wound Ith. I was responsible for that.”
A wild babble erupted on both sides.
Amergin drew his longsword from his back, stepped among them, and stabbed it into the dirt. “Silence.”
The crowd grew silent.
“Speak, Airioch,” Amergin commanded.
“It was our last night here. Ith had spent it in the company of the Sisters. He told me of his decision not to return. I had seen their jewels, their diadems. I had seen the rich fields and the deep forests. I wanted to return. I argued with Ith, but he would hear none. He insisted that the place belonged to the Danu. He said—I remember it well—‘They dwell in beauty and in magic, Nephew. Our presence would take that from them.’ I said that I would not leave without treasure. I had seen you come through one of your doorways in the forest.” Here he pointed at the Sisters. “I thought that if I could cross that portal I could return with gold and silver. I knew then that I could convince my father and my brothers to return, even against Ith’s wishes.
“Ith followed me. He knew me well, our uncle. I stepped into the portal. I began to feel along the wall. Suddenly a bolt of hot light seared me. And then there was Ith. He simply stepped between me and the lightning. It knocked him flat to the ground. I carried him back to the hut, left him there until morning. He returned with us to Galicia as you saw him, unable to speak. And I blamed the Sisters.”
“How do we know that this is true?” asked Eber Finn. “You have the eye for this dark one.” He gestured at Banba. “Perhaps she has promised you riches if you will speak this tale.”
For answer, Airioch rolled back the sleeve of his tunic, pushed it up above his elbow. A puckered scar streaked all the way to his elbow.
“That night at the shore,” said Amergin suddenly. “You tried to tell me.”
Airioch nodded. “And I could not. I know how much you loved him.”
“Why now?”
“Colpa. He has no one now. He deserves a man like Father, like Ith. A man who speaks the truth.”
Airioch turned to face the Milesians. “I will take responsibility. I will pay the price. Exile or death.”
“It is too heavy a price, Brother,” said Amergin. “For any to pay, Danu or Milesian. An Scail is right; we came here with our vision and our greed. All of us bear responsibility. We owe you our apology, Sisters; we judged you unfairly. We were wrong.”
“Hear our brother!” Eremon called out.
An Scail smiled suddenly. “Look at you, Eremon. How strongly you resemble your fa
ther. He would want you to learn to dwell with these of the Danu. Did he not dwell with Greeks and Egyptians, Scythians and Persians?”
Suddenly from behind Eriu, Amergin drew breath. “An Scail,” he said softly. “Wise One. How do you know that Eremon resembles our father?”
“I can see him,” she said. “As I can see you, dark Amergin. And you, beautiful Eriu. And these stars that fall upon us cool as snow. And the beach and the sea. This is the gift that Airmid has given me,” said An Scail. “A gift that would bring joy to Ith. Return the gift, Amergin. As bard of the Milesians, rule on the fate of both of our peoples.”
Amergin stepped forward. He looked long into her eyes.
“How handsome you are, my dark-eyed boy,” she whispered.
He turned to Airmid. “For this I thank you, wise one of the Danu.” He looked long at her eyes as well, but she met his with perfect Metaphor.
He closed his eyes, stood silent at the center of the circle. Both the Milesians and the people of the Danu were silent.
At last he spoke. “I will rule. I give to the people of the Danu their cities beneath the ground and sea. I give to them their doorways. We of the Milesians will not enter their cities or cross their doorways. We will take nothing that belongs to them and trouble none of their kind. We will build our own great rath on a hill.” He paused. He looked at Eriu. “What do you call your city?”
“Tara,” she answered.
“Just so we will call our rath. We have begun ill, all of us. We will require time to think things through. There will be no contact between our people for one year. We will each mourn our dead and consider these events. At the end of that time we will meet in Council. We will decide then whether we will seal the doorways between us forever or open them wide. For that year, the Silver Arms will be kept, one each by Airmid and An Scail. Hide them well, elders. Let none know of their whereabouts.”
Eriu spoke. “We have no control of Morrigu, as you have seen. But with the exception of this last, we of the Danu will abide by your ruling. Remember that Morrigu too possesses one of the Silver Arms. She will not relinquish it to either side,” said Eriu.
Amergin nodded. “Airioch Feabhruadh, in accordance with our law, you will be responsible for those to whom you have brought much sorrow for the period of one year. You are the companion of An Scail; you will do as she bids in all things. You are both husband and father to the wives of Eber Donn and to their children. Into your care we place also our brother Colpa, who has neither mother nor father. You are father to the children and grandchildren of Mil.”
Airioch nodded solemnly, then suddenly broke into a huge smile.
“You punish him by making him part of the family,” An Scail whispered softly. “This is wise, Poet.”
Amergin looked now at the assembled company of the Danu, many still held at the swordpoints of the sons of Mil.
“Release them,” he commanded.
The Danu moved silently and immediately between the stones. Flashes of blue light moved stone to stone around the circle, illuminating the circle with bright blue light, brighter than the light of day. In moments, all but the Sisters and Airmid were gone.
Airmid stepped into a portal, the Silver Arm gleaming on her hand.
“Good work this night, friend,” she said to An Scail.
“How beautiful the torches are,” said An Scail in return. “With each day of this year, I shall think of you. With each sight that I see.” She raised the Silver Arm in salute.
“I will take this horse,” she said to Amergin. “Lift me to his back.”
Eremon and Airioch rushed to comply.
“You can ride, Ancient?” asked Eremon.
“I have lived long. I can do many things.” She saluted them with the arm, which gleamed in the torchlight, turned the horse, and rode through the portal.
Eriu stepped into a portal with her sisters. She lifted her triangle.
“Eriu! Wait!” Amergin called. She hesitated.
“We owe you reparation and apology,” said Amergin to Eriu.
“You owe us nothing but peace,” said Eriu. “Please, I beg you to leave us alone.”
In a snap of blue light she was gone.
36
CEOLAS SINGS OF PASSING TIME
A year of peace is like a thousand,
A year of peace is like a sea,
A year of peace unfolds slowly
like a blossom in the light,
like the promise of the spring.
Bloom and heal in a year of peace,
Bloom and heal, my people.
“For me, it has been the most difficult year of my life.” Airioch Feabhruadh leaned back against the rock, his golden hair ruffled by the wind. He grinned at me.”This child needs a new cloak and the cows are calving and this wife of Eber Donn wants mating … .”
“How sad for you, Brother,” I said, grinning back at him. “Three wives requiring mating.”
“Sometimes all at once!” said Airioch. “They wear me down to the bone. And Colpa! He grows taller than your Bile.”
“So the punishment was too much.”
“Too much, too much, too much entirely.” He laughed aloud.
I looked at him and shook my head.
His face grew serious. “You are thinking that you would never have thought it possible that we could sit here side by side in friendship, as we do.”
“I am thinking exactly that.”
“I wish that Ith could see it,” Airioch said softly. “And Mil.”
“Ith knew that the heart could change, Brother. He knew.”
Airioch nodded. “I think much on what my selfishness cost us.”
“Do not carry all the burden, Brother. Scota was herself a force of nature, full of loss and determined to avenge it on someone, anyone. And Eber Donn was ever angry, always putting action before thought. And me. I am Poet of the clan and yet I did not trust their word. I nearly took us all to death.”
“I think much on your losses, Brother.”
I nodded. “I think on them too. Skena would have made me wise. I would not have gone to war against them had she been by my side. I know this now and I am ashamed.”
“Well, shame sits upon us both then, Brother.”
I nodded. “And I wish that I had known my child.”
“I wish that for you,” Airioch said solemnly. I shrugged, sighed. He punched me lightly on the shoulder. I smiled at him.
“Thank you, friend.”
“Thank you for your gifts to me, Brother.”
We sat side by side in companionable silence. I fingered Ceolas lightly, dreamed the poem that I had been composing, telling the tale of the Battle of Mag Tuiread. I sang a bar or two.
“They have vanished, from among us
In a sudden flash of light,
The Danu with their large eyes;
In my dreams I see them,
Always I remember their eyes.”
Airioch turned toward me. “Do you think that they will ever emerge from the portals?”
I shrugged. “It has been three days more than a year and we have seen no signs. Bile stands vigil at the portal on the headland.”
“Why?”
“I know not. He dresses himself each morning and rolls his pictures beneath his arms. He marches up the headland and stands at the portal in the forest. He has thirteen years upon him. Who knows what they think at that age? And Bile cannot tell us, but for drawings. Those we must puzzle at for meaning; when the meaning will not come, he grows angry and shouts aloud.” I shrugged. “I trouble for him, but I know not what to do.”
“What does An Scail say?”
“She says only that she and Airmid have discussed the problem.”
“I thought that I had seen them together once near midwinter, the two of them seated side by side in the leafless forest. But when I approached, An Scail was there alone. So she admits freely that they have both broken the year of exile?”
“She does. She says that she and t
he ancient Danu have left to them but little time, and there is much that they must learn, each from the other. What should I do, Airioch? Call our most ancient druid before the Council for violating the ruling of her own pupil?”
He laughed. “She has you trapped there, does she not?”
“She does.”
For a moment, he looked out to sea; then Airioch faced me. “What do you hope, Brother, that they do or do not return among us?”
“I do not know what to hope. Eber Finn has gone north and built his rath. Eremon constructs the rath of Tara on his hill. Those who have remained here in Inver Skena have made a quiet life, dwellings and cattle, mating and babies.” He gestured at the village that straggled up the headland from the sea. “It is quiet; I like it quiet. And if I never saw their Morrigu again, never would be soon enough.”
Airioch shivered. “True enough, though I would like to see that dark-haired Banba once more.”
“Is Banba what you see when you see her?”
“That was far too druidic for me, Brother.”
“It is just something that I wonder, something about Eriu’s eyes.”
“Well, never mind,” said Airioch. “I do not know that I would have anything left to give her if she did arrive. Look where they come for the mating.” Two of Eber Donn’s wives approached, hand in hand, their hair coiffed, wrapped in their finest shawls.
“Airioch,” they called, “we find ourselves with a free hour.”
“Go have your sport,” I said. “You and I both know that you enjoy it.”
“They have offered to share with you, Brother. The wives of Eber Donn like you well; this you know. You need not remain without a woman forever. I know that you are lonely.” Here he paused. “I have been lonely in the tribe, Amergin.”
“Well, perhaps lonely is the proper way for the poet. We keep the history of the clan; should we prefer one over another? We rule for the clan; in any ruling, half are satisfied and half are not.”
“I cannot solve those problems for you, but women, ah, women I know and love. I can solve that problem for you, Brother. I do not want your loneliness to dwell on you forever.”
Song of Ireland Page 26