by Wade McMahan
The King slouched in his heavy oak chair as we knelt before him on the cold stone floor. On his right stood an ancient bearded Druid, stooped and leaning on his staff, a Slatnan Druidheacht. A tonsured, stone-faced Christian priest stood on the King’s left, garbed in what I knew to be a bishop’s scarlet robe.
The King himself proved my second disappointment, a burly, most un-kingly, coarse-featured man. The broad golden band encircling his head spoke to his inheritance of power while his grease-streaked beard and dark, unkempt hair falling loosely to his shoulders questioned the purity of his royal bloodline. A common linen kirtle encasing his large girth ended at hairy knees; leather boots sheathed his feet and calves.
He stared at us through drooping eyelids as if with little interest. Finally, he acknowledged our presence. “So, Tóla, you bring news of the darkness?”
“Yes, Your Highness, that and a message from King Illan mac Dúnlainge of Leinster.” Master Tóla removed a scroll from the loose-fitting sleeve of his robe and offered it to the King.
King Máelgarb leaned forward, took it from the Master’s hand and passed it to the ancient Druid. He was not finished with the Master. “Tell me for truth, Tóla. Is it true King mac Dúnlainge has already sealed his borders?”
“I do not think so, Your Highness, for we met no guards along the trail on our travel here. With your permission, allow me to introduce Ciann Mehigan of Rath Raithleann, Druid to King Domnhall. Perhaps he can speak to your question.”
The King’s eyes turned to my father. “And so, Druid, I have heard your name though we have not met. What say you? Were you detained upon entering Leinster?”
My father bowed. “No, Your Highness. We encountered no men of Leinster on our journey to Dún Ailinne.”
“The rumor is not true then.” The King clapped his hands and smirked. “Of course…hah, I knew it for a dirty lie when first I heard it. King mac Dúnlainge is not a man who panics because of a little darkness.”
King Máelgarb squirmed and settled back in his chair as his eyes swept us. “However, unrest already stirs among all the tribes. Without the sun crops will fail, people will face starvation and the resulting turmoil will inevitably spark war! A war over food! A war for survival! I look to you to put an end to the darkness before such terrible things occur.” He turned and nodded to the Druid beside him.
The old man stepped forward. “The synod will not take place here, but upon the ancient sacred heights of Tlachtga, a short ride away. Go there, for preparations have already been made for your arrival. Two days hence we shall join together to offer prayers during a Great Fire Festival dedicated to Belenos and thereby assure that the power behind this darkness shall be overcome.”
* * *
“Why was the Christian priest standing at the side of King Máelgarb?”
My father sat cross-legged on the ground beside me atop the hill named Tlachtga. Above us stretched a small, striped canopy. Nearby, other groups camped, while about us torches held back the darkness.
He waved his hands and wrinkled his nose. “Augh! Who is cooking that vile-smelling meal? By the priest you mean the bishop?”
At my nod, he continued. “The King sent us a message by the bishop’s presence. He intended that we know his power extends beyond our faith and now encompasses that of the Christians as well.”
“It’s little I know of the Christians though I have a learned a bit about them in my religious studies.”
My father glanced around, leaned closer to me and spoke quietly. “I do not want this overheard. Even Master Tóla has friends among the Christian priests. Kindly man that he is, he disagrees with my intolerance of them. You must always remember Christians arrived in Eire for the sole purpose of capturing the minds of all our people.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Their priests are like lepers and spoil all they touch.”
This was a side of my father I had not seen before, and his words washed over me like a cold rain. “Christians have been here but a short time. How is it they have gained such influence with the King?”
“Their priests speak loud and well. They gather about them the disgruntled, the disenfranchised, those who stand to gain the most by radical change. Regrettably, there are many such and the Christians have gained a large following. Most importantly, the Christians speak with the power of Rome at their backs. The King would be foolish to ignore them.”
Despite eight years of confinement within an atmosphere solely dedicated to learning it came as a shock that I knew so little of Eire’s political state. Still, I knew much of Rome and that its power was fading. “I see. Yes, but the Romans withdrew from Pictland more than one hundred years ago—”
“True, but Rome is still a power that must not be trifled with,” he interrupted, “and their priests wield it to their advantage. Just think of it. Before his death their great priest, the one they reverently call Saint Patrick, had the audacity to banish all Druids from Eire. Though of course he had no authority to do so, consider the impertinence of even suggesting such an unheard of thing.”
My father’s critical views of the Christians differed from those I had studied and I was eager to hear his words. “I know little of Patrick. All their priests agree with his decree to cast us out of Eire?”
“Yes, though perhaps to a greater or lesser degree. Some revile us openly and claim our sacred symbol of the serpent represents evil spawned by a demonic spirit they call Satan who lives in the depths of the earth. As for those priests who remain silent on the matter, perhaps it is they who pose the greater threat to us, for silence can be mistaken for temperance and reason.”
“But that makes no sense. They have their religion while we have ours. Why should they care about us?”
“By the teachings of their faith, Christians are obliged to bring all men to their one god. They will not have succeeded as long as one person, one soul still belongs to the Lordly Ones. Ridding Eire of all Druids simply makes their mission that much easier, don’t you see?”
My stomach knotted as my father concluded, “My concern, and one I’ve shared with Master Tóla, is not knowing the lengths the Christians are willing to go to in order to be rid of us.”
“They are our enemies, then?”
“They most certainly see us as theirs. So…” He stopped speaking as the Master himself stepped under the canopy to join us.
I sat quietly, uneasily reviewing my father’s remarkable words as he and Master Tóla began to discuss the synod that was to begin the following morning.
* * *
O Heavenly Father,
O King of Kings,
O Lord of Hosts,
O Creator of All.
With upturned faces we look to You,
With lips of love we speak to You,
With eyes aglow, we worship You,
With ears attuned, we hear You.
We ask Your many blessings upon all assembled here,
We pray mercy for all who suffer within this darkness,
We pray for enlightenment for those who resist Your call,
We pray that they might see through Your darkness and find You.
We pray all these things in Your Name,
O Lord of Mysteries,
We pray that you might consider them in Your Grace.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost,
Amen
The Christian bishop, the same man who stood beside King Máelgarb’s chair in his chambers, ended his prayer and stared at us, sixty-six unmoving and unmoved Druids from villages throughout all the territories of Eire. A nearby group of Christian priests and monks who honored his prayer raised their heads.
He ignored his fellow Christians. With his hands clasped behind his back, he began pacing back and forth beneath the great white canopy that covered us all. From time to time he cast glances in our direction as we sat cross-legged on the ground before him.
Off to one side the High King slouched in his chair, perhaps interested though unengaged in the pr
oceedings. The bishop bowed toward him and then faced us. “King Túathal Máelgarb, may the Blood of Christ protect him, bade us arrive here to discuss and overcome the darkness that envelops this land. For two days I have heard the views of the learned Druids who spoke to us.”
Eyes sad, his face long, he shook his head. “Yes, I heard their views though by God’s Eternal Truth I must tell you that I do not hold with them. Now our King demands that I express my own beliefs, those of my church, and in my own poor way, relate to all the Word of God.”
He stood erect, his flashing eyes sweeping us, his voice bold. “We seek the cause of this everlasting night and I say to you, for I know it to be true, there can be no cause other than it has befallen us by the Mighty Hand of God Himself!”
He paused to allow the import of his words to rest upon our minds, though the import, if such there was, had no effect on me. I already knew Mother Earth brought on the darkness, but was interested to see where the bishop would take his argument. He did not disappoint me for he began right away.
“Permit me to tell you a story.” He reached to a large book lying upon a table and lifted it above his head for all to see. “It is a story written within this Holy Book of Scriptures, words written by God’s Own Hand.”
The bishop cleared his throat, placed the book back on the table and began pacing again. “I speak to you of an ancient time, the place…Egypt. There, Pharaoh, King of all Egypt, ruled with an iron fist. He held in bondage the Hebrew people, the people of the Book of Exodus. Among the Hebrews was a man named Moses, a prophet of the Almighty Himself. Moses came before Pharaoh, saying, ‘Lest you set my people free, God’s judgment will fall upon you and all Egypt.’ Pharaoh refused and there ensued a series of ten deadly plagues, God’s reprisal of which Moses foretold.”
I listened intently for, of course, it is true that Druids loved a good story. No doubt, the bishop would link the story of Pharaoh to the darkness, and I was curious to see how he did so.
“God’s vengeance,” the bishop repeated it for emphasis, “God’s vengeance descended upon Pharaoh and all his people.”
He raised his hand, spread wide his fingers and counted, “In the first plague God turned the waters to blood, in the second He caused the sky to rain toads.”
A chuckle ran through the massed Druids, and he scowled, his eyes fixed upon us. “Think not to laugh! For then came a plague of lice, and then flies, and then a disease among all the animals. Despite these trials, Pharaoh still refused to release the Hebrew people. Therefore, the plagues continued as next came a disease on people, boils that refused to heal. Then God brought thunder and hail against the land followed by swarms of locusts that devoured all the crops in the fields. Yet, still Pharaoh refused to yield. Consequently, God brought darkness upon Egypt and finally death to all first-born children; death to all except the children of the Hebrews. It was only then that Pharaoh relented and set the Hebrews free.
“All these things and more God can do and has done against those who would defy him.” He pointed outwards into the darkness beyond the canopy. “So how is it I know Eire’s darkness fell by God’s Hand? It is because He has done it before! Long ago He brought this very same darkness upon Egypt in retribution against Pharaoh’s arrogance!”
His still-pointing finger turned towards us, accusing us. “By His Own words God said, ‘Thou shalt not have any gods before Me!’ Many years ago the Holy Saint Patrick, may God rest his immortal soul, decreed in God’s name that you forsake your demons, your blasphemous idols and your pagan ways. And yet, like Pharaoh, you defied God, you refused to obey His command. Now look out there, see the darkness and see God’s vengeance against you and this land for your insolence. Look not for the sun to reappear until each of you renounces your false gods, fall upon your knees, ask His forgiveness for your many sins and swear everlasting allegiance to Him and Him alone!”
Angry muttering swept through our assemblage of Druids but the bishop ignored it, turned his back upon us and began another prayer.
“O Heavenly Father…”
“One moment!” It was my father who spoke. He stood and bowed in the direction of King Máelgarb. “Please pardon my interruption Your Highness. However, with your gracious indulgence I would address this man.”
The High King nodded and gestured that my father could continue. I suspected that while the King might be gracious with his indulgence, my father would not share the same with the bishop. He strode forward to confront the priest.
“Yesterday, Master Tóla, great Druid and wise advisor to us all that he is, sang for us the song of the Dagda. Within that song the source of the darkness was revealed, a natural occurrence within Mother Earth. Today you accuse us for causing it,” his hand swept ’round to include the Druids, “through your story of Pharaoh, a fable speaking of vengeance by the hand of your god.”
The bishop’s neck grew red to match his robe as he blustered, “Fable, you say? Were you not listening when I told you the story of Moses is written in God’s Holy Book? No, you ignored me just as you ignored the Truth proclaimed by Saint Patrick!”
“There is cause to ignore you for your intentions are as obvious as the flame of yon torch. Well I remember accounts of your priest called Patrick, and well I remember him being a man who sowed strife and turmoil among our people just as you would sow the same among those gathered here today.”
Redness moved from the bishop’s neck to his face as his arms crossed over his chest. “Today I spoke God’s Truth. I promise you it would serve you well to hear me.”
My father’s hard eyes held the man and he waited for a count of ten before his quiet voice responded. “I heard you, priest. Now you hear me. Little it is I know of your god and little it is I wish to know, for I remain true to my own gods, the all-powerful Lords of the Sidhe. For thousands of years they have seen to the needs of Eire’s people. Therefore, come not before me with your accusations and threats, for I care nothing for them.”
“You think I speak idly, Druid? Continue then to defy Gods’ Will, continue to worship your demons and feel the full measure of His punishment!”
The bishop turned and bowed to the King. “Your Highness, as you requested I have made my statement on behalf of the Ruler of the Universe, and see no point in arguing further with this…this man. In the end, by God’s grace and through His divine guidance, only your wisdom and your words matter and will lead us from this darkness.”
* * *
We stood beside our horses in a grove of trees. I was finally able to catch my father alone as we rested on our return journey to Dún Ailinne. “The bishop was intentionally rude and meant that his words would hang above us like an executioner’s axe.”
My father’s weariness was voiced in his sigh. “Yes, he meant to intimidate us. I felt it was important to stand before him in the presence of King Máelgarb to make it known that his devices were not successful, that Druids do not cower before Christian priests or their god.”
“Your words were well said, father.” A warrior stepped up and took my reins to lead my horse to water in a stream. When the man was out of earshot, I continued. “Thanks to you the Christians will think twice before challenging us.”
“The Christians will not stop defying us. They have long sought a means to undermine our hold on Eire. This darkness has given them a perfect opportunity. Laying the blame for a tragedy at the feet of your adversaries is an old ploy. Still, it can be effective when the same thing is said time and again before those who reach out for something or someone to blame for their fears.”
“Then we must refute their god-cursed lies.”
“Lies?” my father chuckled. “Is it a lie when you believe what you say to be true? Make no mistake. The bishop believed his own words. Henceforth, Christian priests will fervently preach loud and long to all who will listen that it is we Druids who are at fault for the darkness. Mark my words; many will believe them and go over to their faith.”
“Perhaps, but most people wi
ll stand by us and the Lordly Ones when they hear the truth revealed by the Dagda.”
“Common sense says you are right, but these are not sensible times. Families tremble beside their fires and call upon their gods, the old and new, for salvation and the restoration of order.”
There was almost a tone of futility in my father’s voice, but he was very tired. Perhaps that was all I heard. Still, I pressed him, for there was more I wished to know. “I must tell you the bishop’s story of Pharaoh sickened my stomach. Do you think the Christian god can do all he claimed?”
“Perhaps, though we have seen no sign of it. The Christian god holds no sway here, the Lords of the Sidhe still rule Eire.”
“Aye, but what manner of god do the Christians worship?”
My father yawned and briskly shook his head. “Pardon me. Now, how do you mean?”
“I think of the ten plagues the Christian god brought upon the people of Egypt because of Pharaoh’s stubbornness. You recall the final plague?”
“No.”
“All first-born children of Egypt died. Think of it—a god who killed an untold number of innocent children because of the actions of their king. What manner of god would do such a thing? And if he is a god who in his wrath kills children, what might he do to the people of Eire?”
“Your thoughts are well considered,” he sighed. “Beyond that you speak to fundamental questions that must be asked of all faiths. I cannot answer your question, though I say again, the Christian god has little power here and I do not fear his wrath. However, the synod revealed the growing power of those who stand behind the god you described and I do fear we must prepare for their wrath.”
Chapter 6
Flames of Rage
“Ossian, I have something for you.” My father sat at the head table within the dining hall alongside the Master. He stood and removed a gold chain from around his throat that had been hidden beneath his robe.
I disengaged myself from a group of students, walked forward, bowed and accepted his gift from his hand. It was a spiritual thing of great significance, one that would reveal my Druid’s status to all who saw it. A serpent ring; a solid gold body formed by three coiled bands joined as one, the crest a snake’s head featuring bold emerald eyes glittering in the candlelight.