The King of Sleep

by Caiseal Mor

  Eber was a disciplined man who knew the value of slow steady practice. So he abandoned the pointless slashing and prepared himself for the ritual. He spent a few moments resting his sword in his hand, weighing it up before launching into the rehearsed moves of a swordsman.

  Every warrior in training had to learn the weapon dance before they were allowed to so much as touch a blade or challenge another to a test of skill. Some fighters were so dedicated to their craft that they played the whole sequence out a dozen times a day in order to remain at the peak of their strength, flexibility and readiness for battle.

  Eber Finn, on the other hand, did not consider the exercises that important. He knew them off by heart and though he started the dance each morning before breakfast he rarely ever made his way through all the motions. To him, true discipline was the ability to call on his battle instincts whenever the need arose.

  The dance, however, was an important way of focusing his mind, but once he gained a heightened state of consciousness he abandoned it.

  And the more experience the king gained, the more convinced he became that luck had as much to do with survival on the battlefield as any oft-repeated skill. He’d already performed the dance that morning so he had no other intention but to distract himself from Máel Máedóc’s interference.

  He raised the blade above his head and pointed it parallel with the ground, raising the tip above his left shoulder. With knees slightly bent and feet apart, he slowly moved the blade in a wide low arc, balancing his body in a countermovement with his left arm, finishing the sword cycle with the tip pointed at the ground. Eber breathed out forcefully with a loud grunt. This move was immediately followed by a step to the rear which incorporated a parry.

  But Eber Finn was already bored. He came to the end of a short sequence of parries and attacks by letting the blade drop to his side with the impetus of its own weight. He gently exhaled a breath, let his body relax and his mind drift on to other matters.

  In the perfect stillness the king swallowed hard and cast a careful eye over the scene before him. He was searching for enemies or any sign of danger among the scattered stones and venerable trees which guarded the circle.

  This archaic holy place had fascinated him ever since he’d taken possession of Dun Gur. All around these fields the ancient awe-inspiring Danaan folk had built their sacred sanctuaries of old. But this was the largest stone circle of all and it was to this place he was always drawn.

  The people Eber had supplanted when he’d gained the field at Sliabh Mis were gone from Dun Gur now. The Danaans had submitted to him, retreated beyond the veil into the Otherworld and given their island fortress in the middle of the lough into his keeping as a pledge of their treaty.

  But the king had never been convinced of the victory. All those Danaans wounded, maimed or killed at Sliabh Mis had by some miracle walked away unscathed. Not even the wisest of Gaedhal Druids could tell him how this had come to be. Máel Máedóc’s only explanation was that the Danaans were descended from a race of enchanters who had mastered the healing arts. The old man further claimed that these folk could choose the hour and place of their death if they so desired. But if they ever grew sick or suffered any wound, even though it seemed they were in fact dead, they could be brought back to health again.

  The Danaan Druids had defeated death, which made their people the ideal warrior race. For any folk who conquer mortality fear no one. They go to the fight cheerfully, knowing they will live no matter what.

  The king knew these mystical folk could have easily defeated his people if they’d wished to do so, simply by employing their healing craft to their advantage. Why then, he wondered, had the Danaans submitted to him and called for a treaty which was so generous to the Gaedhals?

  At first he had suspected treachery. The Danaans had tried to trick him once before, so it wasn’t impossible they would try again. But as the moons had passed on to the third winter after Sliabh Mis, Eber Finn had come to a different conclusion. The Danaan Druids had done all they could to help his people settle into their new home.

  Their Brehon judges had been placed at his disposal in order to quell any disputes between his victorious chieftains. The Danaans had opened up their storehouses during the first hard winter and shared whatever they had with the newcomers. King Cecht, their overlord, often sent gifts of gold and grain to Eber. And Brocan, ruler of the Fir-Bolg, had sent hostages to live at Eber’s court to learn the ways of his people.

  Eber Finn now believed the Danaan plan was to gradually bring the two peoples closer together through mutual dependence. This tactic, played out over generations, would probably culminate in total reliance on the Danaans for everything, from music to medicine.

  The king glanced around uneasily. His eyes told him he was alone but all his other instincts were on tense alert.

  I’ve been living like a hunted fox for so long I’ve forgotten how to really rest, he upbraided himself. Still he could not shake off his nervousness. There was something about this place, about the sacred enclosure, that both frightened and attracted him.

  The stone circle was encompassed by tall and ancient trees of every clan. The oak was there, low and heavy with summer foliage. The birch, yew, hazel and rowan were all nearby as if one representative of each tree kindred had been assigned the task of standing sentry.

  At one point in the circle there was a gap in the trees which led to a large gray boulder. The king was determined to overcome his fear but still he had no desire to pass under the branches of any of these trees, so he approached the low ring of standing stones through this gap.

  He was soon facing the most impressive part of the Danaan stone circle—what seemed to be an entrance between the large gray boulder and a smaller stone. On either side the rocks were piled up like steps.

  Even in the bright summer sunshine this place had a disturbing aura of mystery about it. His head ached with the pounding in his ears. Every sense felt on edge. Eber raised his sword and moved a little closer to the ring. A strange unearthly silence engulfed him. His heart began to beat hard against his rib cage and the sweat poured down his chin. His mouth was dry, his breath strained.

  White-knuckled fingers gripped the hilt of his sword as he struggled to move his trembling legs. The air was thick with an invisible threat for which Eber could find no name. His feet seemed to move reluctantly until he stood but one step away from the ring of solid stone.

  In that instant a small cloud passed over the sun. Eber looked up to the sky. In a flash it had moved on and the king found himself squinting into the orb, the origin of all daylight.

  As he exhaled his next breath he felt the tension in his body float away.

  Defenses relaxed. Fears dissolved. Eber Finn was overcome by an urge to drop his sword in the grass and simply leave it. The weapon slipped from his fingers and landed with a thud upon the ground. He heard it fall and the sound was strangely reassuring.

  “There is no danger here,” Eber whispered, feeling completely safe for the first time since he had come to this strange land. “I should have visited this holy place long ago.”

  The words had barely passed his lips when he laid a foot firmly on one low stepping stone and, leaning against the large gray boulder, entered the circle.

  No sooner had his foot touched the earth on the other side than Eber Finn found himself drawn directly to the center of the smooth open grassy patch within. He had no idea of the ceremonies that had been practiced here in times gone by. But now he had experienced this mysterious place he was certain the stone circle was the source of some powerful enchantment.

  The air within the ring was fresh and cool in the afternoon sun. There was a soothing serenity to the place which settled the soul. For the first time in many seasons he sensed the stillness within himself. His heart was light. All his kingly troubles seemed mere petty trifles to be easily dealt with.

  Eber had not felt so safe since he was a boy. Indeed it was as if he’d suddenly become a lad again
without any worry or responsibility to disturb his sleep. His mind raced through all the experiences of his childhood and youth as if his whole existence from cradle to this moment were being played out in his memory.

  Tears welled up in his eyes as he was overcome with gratitude for having been granted such a rich life. Fond faces came to him, folk he hadn’t thought of since he was very young. Intense waves of emotion began to wash over the king. His knees felt weak. They quivered beneath him as if all strength had suddenly been sapped from his legs. He turned on his heel, feeling light-headed and drowsy.

  It was then Eber Finn noticed hordes of tiny mushrooms all around the inside perimeter of the circle. They were gathered close to the stones as if they were keeping the gray rocks from falling over. Each had a long cap and a stem of milky white.

  Fried in fresh butter, mushrooms were the king’s favorite delicacy. But these were a species of fungus he had never seen before. The temptation to pick a few to take home overwhelmed him and he took ten steps toward the edge of the circle.

  But then he realized how strange it was to see mushrooms so abundant at this time of year. He had seen none in the fields beyond. This multitude of little fungi was growing here under the protection of the spirits of the stone circle. They were not being cultivated for food but for the secret seeing rituals of the Druids. To eat them unprepared would be to tempt either madness or death.

  Eber swallowed hard, realizing that he was feeling absolutely no fear at all. This wasn’t natural, he told himself. He was obviously falling under some enchantment and beginning to feel as if the world in which he usually dwelled was slipping away from him.

  It was then he noticed the bright sunlight being quickly blotted out by a muffled foggy haze. The haze soon spread into a mist which brought a deep drowsiness down upon him like a great weight. Still no fear disturbed his heart, only wonder at the transformation. The green of the grass darkened before his astounded gaze. The gray of the stones turned to a tone that was cold and yet intensely beautiful.

  The mist grew thicker with every moment until Eber could perceive nothing beyond the enclosing circle of roughly hewn stones. Even the bodies and branches of the guardian trees were no longer visible to him.

  The king felt an overwhelming urge to remain here in this place forever. Some unfamiliar voice whispered to him that he would be welcome to stay, to take refuge from the troubles of the world and rest his weary soul.

  Eber was not disturbed to hear this disembodied voice. Indeed he felt privileged the spirits of this circle had given a sign of welcome. But his head ached with a numbing intensity now. His throat was dry and he felt he could sleep forever.

  The voice spoke up again and told him to stretch out upon the grass and sleep away until his soul was refreshed and ready for the world again. He would be watched over and safe no matter what befell the world beyond the stones.

  He was so tired. The lawn in the center of the circle looked so soft and inviting.

  “Sleep,” the strange voice beckoned. “Sleep away your cares and we will watch over you.”

  With bowed head the King of the Gaedhals began to succumb. But first he decided it was important he express his gratitude to the unseen guardians of this place. So he made his dreamy way back toward a flattened swirl of grass in the center of the lawn. There he knelt to offer up a prayer of thanks. And before he knew what he was saying he was addressing the inexplicable powers that had shaped his life. He couldn’t name them because he’d never acknowledged their existence before.

  “Thank you for the hunger which set my heart to searching,” he offered. “Thank you for the ocean wave which carried me through storm and tempest to this shore. Thank you for the wind that tore my sails and tried to send me home. Thank you for every misfortune great and small that has held me back and frustrated me.”

  In that instant he knew there was really no such thing as hardship. Every trial was just a strengthening process which enhanced his life with the wisdom it imparted.

  “And thank you for the lessons I have learned along the way.”

  Eber raised his arms and the mist departed before his unbelieving eyes. Suddenly he felt the sun on his skin once more. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward its warmth.

  “I thank you,” he went on, “whose face is too terrible to look upon, whose light brings life unto the world. My thanks to you, the source of all things, who brought fire into the darkness, who created every living thing and grants new life each day.”

  Then Eber got to his feet. The air vibrated with an ecstatic enlivening energy but he felt the opportunity to remain in this place had passed. He bowed reverently to the four corners of the Earth.

  When this was done he quickly made his way to the edge of the circle. The feeling of peace and serenity did not leave him when he stepped over the stones, so he decided to indulge himself and enjoy the elation he was experiencing. In the shade of a young oak tree which grew within a stone’s throw of the sacred enclosure Eber Finn lay down and stared at the circle with awe. After a while he closed his eyes, still experiencing the intense peace within his soul.

  His thoughts were buzzing with pleasant memories and warm recollections. He hummed a little childhood song to himself and smiled. And above all he felt refreshed, as if he had slept for a week and woken to a new world.

  Gradually, however, the mood began to pass and Eber’s worldly concerns began to press in on him. His brother’s demands filled his thoughts.

  In the first few seasons after the treaty with the Danaans was settled Eber Finn had not dared to defy his brother. He had been working hard to secure his own position as King of the South. Too many of the southern chieftains had close friends or kinfolk in the north, and Eber depended on the support of those chieftains to retain his office. However, he had continued to push for the chieftains to build the war-chariots, presenting the Danaans as the real threat. And all the while he had been hoping to foster good relations with the Danaan court.

  He wondered what the chieftains would say when they discovered he had been quietly planning to forge an alliance with the very people he had told them were untrustworthy enemies.

  The king grinned. What would old Máel Máedóc say when he found out? He congratulated himself on his wily deception, the fruits of which would soon come to maturity.

  “What better ally could the Southern Gaedhals have,” Eber reasoned proudly under his breath, rehearsing his speech to the council, “than a people who possess the secret of immortality? The kinfolk of Danu will help us defeat the threats from my brother in the north.”

  By the end of the coming winter Eber incorrectly reckoned he would have perhaps thirty of the war-carts at his disposal. The kingship of the whole island would soon be within his grasp.

  Now it was time to put the next part of his plan into action. It was time to announce his intentions and forge a stronger alliance with the Danaans, an alliance based on mutual obligation in time of war. But Eber was aware he had to be careful to retain the loyalty of his chieftains.

  Of course Eber had no way of knowing that his task was hopeless. He had no true understanding of what had really taken place when the Danaans had retreated into the Otherworld. The People of Danu would not stand beside him because they had traveled to a place beyond the cares of this material realm.

  The king looked up to the sky as he imagined himself as the first Gaedhal elected High-King of all Eirinn.

  “I will father a clan of leaders,” he muttered to himself, “who will honor my name forever. I will be the first High-King of the Gaedhals.”

  “You have grand expectations of yourself,” a woman’s voice cut in mockingly.

  Eber was snapped out of his daydream as surely as if a cauldron of cold water had been thrown over him. In a second he was on his feet and scanning the area. He shuddered with fright when he could see no one else around. It was then he missed his sword.

  “Are you looking for this?”

  The tall, red-haired
woman seemed to step out of nowhere as if a door to the Otherworld were concealed nearby. Now she was standing in front of Eber, smiling sweetly as she offered him his blade.

  The king knew her immediately and quickly calmed himself. He was shaken by her unexpected arrival but he didn’t want her to think he was unsettled by her strange ways.

  “Isleen? Where did you spring from?”

  “I’m visiting the holy stones,” she explained. “This ground was not given to your people. Why are you trespassing here?”

  “Why must you always sneak around like that?” he countered. “Can’t you announce yourself like everyone else? It’s usually considered the polite thing to do!”

  “I’m sorry if I surprised you,” she soothed. “I noticed you were meditating. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  She took a step closer to hand him his weapon and Eber snatched the hilt out of her grasp.

  “You didn’t startle me!” he hissed.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked again. “This is Danaan holy ground. You have no rights here. That is the agreement you made with our folk.”

  “I was curious.”

  “Don’t be. There are spirits dwelling in this place which you can never safely approach. Not even if you were to undergo initiation into the mysteries. Your curiosity will serve you better if employed to more worldly tasks. There is still a lot of work to be done if your dreams are ever to come true.”

  “I have had a strange experience,” he admitted. “I feel so much closer to my goal.”

  “You have been lulled by the spirits of the circle,” Isleen countered coldly. “Only a fool would carry the elation felt within the safety of the stones into the outer world where greed reigns and mortals chase ambition.”

  “I know I’ll be High-King.”