He smiled at me the same way he did when I was a student and had grown frustrated at some difficult school lesson.
“You know, when I was in India long ago, I came one day to the cave of a holy man I had been seeking because he had a great reputation as a seer, much like your grandmother. He was a Buddhist monk who lived next to a river high in the mountains beneath a crystal blue sky. Before he would even talk to me, he made me take off all my clothes and sit silently with him for three days watching the waters flow past. Then at last I asked him if I would ever find what I was searching for in life, my true path, my calling. He shrugged and said he didn’t know because the future hadn’t happened yet. Then he went inside his cave and fell asleep.”
“Is that little tale supposed to encourage me?”
He smiled again. “Maybe not, but I think he was trying to tell me that there’s always hope.”
Chapter Thirteen
On a clear day you can see the Wicklow Mountains from Kildare, but on the morning Dari and I started our journey to the high valley of Glendalough it was raining with a cold fog hugging the fields and forests around the monastery. We walked east all morning to the Liffey River, then followed the south bank as it rose into the foothills. We stopped for a late lunch under an ancient dolmen tomb made from a large slab of stone placed like a tabletop on three smaller, vertical slabs. It was a tight squeeze, but I was so tired of being wet I was grateful just to be out of the rain. Some people said such enclosures were lucky places for a woman to take a man if she wanted to become pregnant, but soaked as I was, sex was the last thing on my mind.
I remembered a story people told of Brigid when she was caught out in the rain one day. She had been herding sheep a few miles from the monastery when an afternoon storm came up quickly and soaked her to the skin. She was near an old stone shed, so she went inside to take off her wet cloak. Just as she approached the door, the sun burst through the clouds and started to shine brightly. She was blinded by the sudden change in light and stumbled into the shed. She saw what she thought was a white rope stretched across the room and hung her cloak on it to dry. But it was in fact a narrow beam of light shining into the dusty room from a small hole in the wall. When some shepherds came by a few minutes later and saw this, they fell on their knees and praised God. I asked Brigid about this story once. She smiled and said people are always looking for miracles. If they wanted to believe she had hung her cloak on a sunbeam, who was she to say they were wrong?
Dari and I spent the night at an abandoned church and arrived at Glendalough late the next afternoon. Cormac’s small kingdom was centered on the two lakes that gave the valley its name—Glen da lough—“glen of the two lakes.” The lower lake was the smaller of the two, while the upper lake just to the west lay beneath two steep, rounded hills covered with oak and pine. It was one of the prettiest places in Ireland and I regretted that we didn’t have more time to enjoy it. Cormac’s settlement was on the eastern shore of the lower lake and it was there all the festivities were to take place. There were tents for guests set up near the royal feasting hall and a large field had been prepared by the lake for purposes unknown.
The activities were already underway when Dari and I walked into the crowd. It was a mixed group of nobles and commoners, so I hoped Dari wouldn’t feel out of place. At last I saw Cormac in the middle of a crowd of warriors.
He looked very much as he had when I had last seen him a few years earlier. He was still as handsome and radiant as ever, with curly blond hair and broad shoulders. He was of average height, but somehow had always seemed larger than life.
I had to remind myself to breathe as he spotted me and smiled. He excused himself from his companions and walked over to give me a strong embrace. His touch brought back so many memories.
“Deirdre, how are you? Is that what they’re making nuns wear these days? Please make yourself at home in my guest house, not in one of these tents. I’ll have my slaves bring you a change of clothing.”
“Thank you, no, Cormac,” I managed to sputter. “I’ll gladly stay in your guesthouse, but I’m afraid these robes come with living at the monastery. I think they were designed to discourage the interest of men.”
He laughed and kissed my hand. “Not even those clothes could hide beauty such as yours.”
I blushed like a schoolgirl. I didn’t dare look at Dari.
“I’ve missed you, Deirdre, but I’m so glad you could come today. I’ve got a great surprise in store for everyone.”
He turned and smiled at Dari.
“I can’t believe I have the honor of hosting two sisters of Brigid today.”
“Cormac, this is my friend Dari. She’s here to make sure you don’t try to seduce me.”
Now Dari blushed. Cormac laughed again.
“Welcome, Sister Dari. I can’t make you any promises about Deirdre, but at least I’ll try to be discreet.”
Cormac clapped his hands and a servant appeared.
“Move the belongings of these two sisters into my guest house and give them the finest room. Make sure there’s a flask of wine there for them, the good vintage.”
The slave bowed silently.
“You’re going to spoil us, Cormac.”
“I hope so. I want you to make a good report of me to Sister Anna.”
He turned to Dari.
“My dear, would you like to go to the guest house and freshen up before the ceremony begins? I’ll take good care of Deirdre while you’re gone.”
“Thank you, my lord. I would like to splash some water on my face and give you two a chance to catch up.”
She gave me a quick look that I recognized as a note of caution, then followed the slave. When she was gone, Cormac suddenly looked serious.
“I never had a chance to tell you, Deirdre, but I’m so sorry about your son.”
“Thank you, Cormac. It was a—difficult time.”
He hugged me again, then held my hand as we walked.
“How is Father Ailbe?”
“He’s doing well. I know he misses you. You should come to Kildare for a visit.”
“I promise I will, as soon as I get settled in as king. I’d love to see everyone again.”
“Will you have some time to meet with me tomorrow? I know you’re busy now, but I believe we have something to talk about.”
“Yes, tomorrow would be good. I have some information which I think will surprise you.”
“What kind of information?”
“You’ll see then. Forgive me, but I’ve got to see to some last minute details. I’ll have one of my girls take care of you. Eat something, please. You’re looking skinny, you know.”
He called for one of his slaves, an older woman, who showed me to the guest quarters. It was only fair that I waited until tomorrow to speak with him about the bones. Today rightfully belonged to him.
“So, what do you think of Cormac?” I asked Dari.
She was trying on one of the colorful cloaks hanging in our room.
“He’s a hard man to read, but he definitely wants something from you. Besides your body, that is,” she added.
“I think he would be disappointed with my body, Dari,” I sighed. “I’m not sixteen anymore, I’ve got stretch marks from giving birth, and in spite of what everyone keeps telling me, I know I’ve put on weight.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Deirdre. You’re a beautiful woman. Cormac knows you’re not a teenager. But when a man reaches thirty, unless he’s a fool, he wants a woman who has more to offer than just beauty.”
“I don’t have anything to offer him, Dari. I’m a nun, remember?”
“Yes, but you’re still in love with him.”
“I am not! That was a long time ago and it’s over.”
“I saw the way you looked at him.”
“Dari, I brought you along to watch him, not me.”
“Actually, I think Sister Anna sent me, to keep you out of his bed.”
“I’m not getting into his bed
! I’m a nun!”
Just then the old slave woman knocked on the door and entered.
“My ladies, the ceremony is about to begin.”
I had never doubted that Cormac would be a king some day even though a son did not automatically succeed his father. The nobles of a tribe could choose one of their own to take the crown if they thought a king’s son unfit to rule. Any prince who was crippled or disfigured would of course not be eligible to be king since a ruler must be free from blemish, but a son could also be passed over if the warriors felt he lacked the ability to rule a tribe and lead an army in war.
A new king was chosen by the tarbfess or “bull sleep.” In this ritual, a special bull was sacrificed and cooked. A respected man of the tribe was then chosen to eat some of the meat and drink the broth with druids chanting over him while he fell asleep. When he woke, he told everyone who he had seen in his dreams. If the nobles approved, that man would become king. I suspected that Cormac had arranged for one of his most loyal supporters to be the guest of honor at the recent bull feast of his tribe. My old friend never took chances.
Like most kings who assume their thrones at a young age, Cormac was eager to establish his legitimacy. When we came out of the guesthouse and made our way to the field surrounded with blazing torches, I at last realized what he was about to do. He had chosen to perform an ancient ceremony of inauguration, the origins of which stretched back to the beginnings of our people, though it had not been done for many years. All the members of his tribe had gathered that chilly evening to watch, along with visiting guests. He had instructed one of his men to make sure Dari and I had a particularly good view.
His servants led a beautiful white mare into the field and paraded it three times around the assembled crowd. Knowing what was about to happen, his warriors began shouting obscene comments at Cormac. Dressed in his finest clothes, he stood grinning in the middle of the large open circle on top of a short wooden platform. The groomsmen brought the horse close to Cormac, though facing away from him. With great ceremony, he removed his clothes until he stood naked before us with only a golden torque about his neck. His eyes finding me in the front row of the crowd, he smiled and winked. Then he turned to the mare and lifted her tail with his hand.
I had heard my grandmother speak of the horse ceremony before, not hiding her disgust in spite of her love of tradition. I never imagined that any king would actually perform it in my lifetime, especially with me only a few feet away. She had said the horse represented the sovereignty of the land and that for a king to possess it was to become master of the fertile fields, rivers, and mountains of his kingdom. I understood the symbolism of the rite, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. I thought Dari was going to faint. She turned to leave, but I held her firmly in place. Her face was a mixture of horror and disgust as the ceremony continued.
Cormac had somehow aroused himself enough to penetrate the mare while several of his men held the surprised beast still. After what seemed like hours, but was a few minutes at most, Cormac let out a loud groan and withdrew. The crowd erupted in cheers as he turned, still naked, to wave at them. The grooms then led the horse away while the king stepped down off the platform and walked to the edge of the field where an enormous iron cauldron filled with water had been readied over a roaring fire. At first, I thought Cormac was going to boil himself alive, but then I remembered the second part of the ceremony.
The mare was brought to the cauldron where Cormac stroked her forehead and spoke to her gently. He then took an axe from one of his warriors and brought it down on the animal’s neck, killing the creature with one blow. His attendants swiftly butchered the horse into small pieces and threw the bloody chunks into the boiling pot. As Cormac stood shivering and chatting with his warriors, the mare was turned into a stew.
After a time, the fire was extinguished so that the broth could cool. A little while after that, Cormac climbed still naked into the steaming cauldron and stood with his arms raised to the sky. After a druid chanted some prayers, the king dipped his hands into the broth and brought it to his mouth to drink. His warriors blew long, curved horns and more cheers followed as Cormac shouted that he and the horse were now one. He grabbed a large piece of meat floating on top and began to eat, then invited his people to come forward and join with him in the feast. All the members of his tribe then filed past the cauldron, along with the assembled guests, and dipped in their bowls as musicians played and the rest of the banquet food was brought out onto tables that had suddenly appeared. It was a grand occasion, but I had lost my appetite and politely declined a cup of broth.
On the way back to the guest house, Dari looked as disturbed as I had ever seen her.
“Deirdre, that was without a doubt the most sickening, degrading thing I have ever seen. Why didn’t you let me leave?”
“Because it would have been a terrible insult to Cormac. I’m sorry, but you can’t just walk out of a ceremony like that.”
“Well, I swear by holy Jesus himself that you’re not going to drag me to one of these so-called noble rituals again. The poor horse!”
“Look, Dari, I—“
Suddenly I whipped around and looked behind me. One of Cormac’s warriors, a tall, dark-haired man with a jagged scar down his right cheek, had just passed by us. He had nodded to us in a pleasant way and continued on toward Cormac’s feasting hall, undoubtedly for a raucous night of drinking and celebration with his new king. It had taken me a moment to realize what he was wearing. His tartan cloak was dark green with a distinctive black and gold pattern throughout, just like the cloth left behind at Tamun’s farm. Then I saw on the back where the cloak met his thighs that a piece was missing.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning Cormac sent word that he would receive me in his feasting hall. It was nothing more than a larger version of a typical village hut, circular with mud walls and a high thatched roof. The dark interior, with benches all around and a blazing fire in the center, smelled of boiled meat and the sweat of men. Cormac was sitting alone in the room on a chair at the front of the hall, scratching the chin of an enormous wolfhound at his feet.
“Please forgive the informal setting for our meeting, Deirdre, but I’m weary of ceremony after yesterday’s strenuous activities.” He then called a slave to bring me a cup of wine, which I accepted.
“I hope you don’t mind if Muirne here keeps us company while we talk. She just weaned a litter of puppies and could use a bit of rest. Tell me how you liked the horse sacrifice. Wasn’t it spectacular? Nobody has done anything like that since Niall of the Nine Hostages became high king.”
“You seemed to have enjoyed it more than the horse.”
Cormac burst into laughter. “You’re probably right. But still, you didn’t come here to discuss such crude matters. We need to talk about the bones of Brigid.”
I was so furious at Cormac I thought I might throttle him then and there. I knew one of Cormac’s own warriors had been hiding near Kildare on Michaelmas. I had thought the king’s sons were guilty of stealing the bones, but now I wondered. I had brought the piece of tartan cloth along to reveal at the right moment.
“Yes, Cormac. As you know, the bones draw many pilgrims to Kildare who come in search of hope and healing.”
“Not to mention increasing the power and income of the monastery, especially at the expense of the churchmen of Armagh,” he interjected. Cormac cared little for Christianity or any other religion, but he knew ecclesiastical politics.
“I won’t deny that the theft of the bones threatens the existence of our monastery. You know how precarious our situation is. The authorities in Armagh, not to mention some in Rome, would love to shut us down. A thriving religious community run by women is the last thing they want. Without the bones of Brigid, visitors will stop coming to Kildare, donations will cease, and we won’t be able to continue our ministry to the poor.”
I thought I’d try playing on his sense of guilt. He’d been a student at Kildar
e, he respected Sister Anna, and had been like a son to Father Ailbe.
“Cormac, if I can’t find those bones soon, the wolves from Armagh will move in for the kill. The abbot will call a synod of bishops and have us placed under their jurisdiction. Sister Anna will be removed and the sisters will be put to work washing their clothes and cooking their meals. Everything depends on finding those bones.”
He pushed the wolfhound away with his foot and poured me another glass of wine.
“You don’t think I stole them, do you, Deirdre?” His face was a mask of innocence.
“I think you would do almost anything to increase your power. If possessing those bones would somehow help you, then yes, I think you might have done it.”
He smiled and drank his wine in one gulp before calling for another flask. I had seen him drink men under the table at feasts without showing the slightest sign of fading.
“I’m honored you think me so devious. I confess that as soon as I heard the news, I almost wished I had stolen them. Moving the shrine of Brigid to our valley would be a coup for me. All the pilgrims who used to go to Kildare would find their way here instead. You know I don’t believe in the Christian god, but I am intrigued by the potential of Christianity. Even though I’m still not convinced much will come of your faith in Ireland, I do like to hedge my bets. We get a fair number of religious visitors even now worshipping at the well of Moccu near the upper lake. He was a holy man, a druid, you know, in my great-grandfather’s day, who could supposedly heal the sick. He was terribly afraid of fire for some reason and asked that his bones be placed in the well so that they would always be surrounded by water. People do have strange notions. But the peasants who visit the well report that the water flowing over his remains is good for healing, especially eye diseases.”
I had once visited Moccu’s well with my grandmother, who had never been able to see anything clearly at a distance. After dunking her head in the freezing water all morning, the only thing she had to show for it was very wet hair. I think she would have thrown the old druid’s bones to the dogs if she could have torn away the heavy slab covering the mouth of the well.
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