Waves in the Wind

by Wade McMahan

  “It was your grandfather’s,” he explained as I slid it onto my finger. “I’ve worn his ring of the sacred serpent around my neck as a token of good fortune. Always it was with the thought I might present it to you as I do now during the celebration of your formal introduction as a Druid. May it always speak the truth of your dedication to the Lordly Ones and serve you well.”

  * * *

  My duties changed immediately. Though I was still a student, as a First Order Druid I was assigned to teach the basics of alchemy to the youngest acolytes. Upon making this assignment Master Tóla’s eyes gleamed as he told me, “Teach them to burn that which cannot burn.”

  I settled into my new standing and role while three months passed, each dark day much like the last. A day came, however, that while walking across the compound between afternoon lectures it seemed as though by accident a shadow moved among the nearby trees. I walked closer to investigate, and a short, cloaked man stepped into the fire-lit compound. Without comment he handed me a scroll.

  I unrolled the vellum document and hurriedly scanned the Ogham figures on it. It was a message from my father. The mystery deepened when I raised my eyes to discover the messenger had disappeared. Puzzled, I concentrated on the scroll.

  Be warned, my son. Word has reached me of treachery at the highest levels in the halls at Tara. King Máelgarb publicly proclaims to remain true to the gods, but fears the growing strength of the Christians and has formed a secret alliance with them. Christian priests continue to lay the blame for the darkness at the feet of Druids. Their followers plan depredations against our most sacred places. The King cowers within his stronghold like an old woman and has agreed not to interfere. Remain vigilant and take whatever action you deem necessary, for the school and shrine at Dún Ailinne may be attacked without warning. Say nothing of this to anyone and share this message only with Master Tóla. Destroy this scroll so no others may read it.

  The scroll in my hands trembled as the threat behind my father’s words washed over me. Not only might I be in peril, but also the Master and my fellow students. He also insisted I say nothing to anyone other than Master Tóla. Why? Was it he suspected the High King had his own ears planted among us? Yes. I nodded to myself, yes, of course.

  Master Tóla would be in his sanctuary. Since the onset of the darkness it was always there he spent his days. I hurried up Knockaulin with my heart on fire, rapped lightly on the door and entered upon hearing his quick summons.

  He sat alone, cross-legged on floor. His sagging posture and bleary eyes revealed he had been in meditation, and he gestured for me to approach. His eyes sharpened but he remained motionless as he recognized the anxious expression on my face. I bowed before him, and he gave a questioning nod.

  “Master Tóla,” I forced myself to remain calm as I began. “I sincerely beg your pardon for disturbing you, but I have received an urgent message from my father. He instructed that I share it with you.”

  The Master took the scroll from my hand, read through it, scanned it again and then looked up to me. “And so?”

  It was not the response I expected. “What should we… That is, what will you do?”

  “Do? Of course, I shall do nothing.”

  “But Master, you’ve read my father’s warning.” My finger shook a bit as I shivered within the disagreeable dampness of the room and pointed to the scroll. “We face danger. Surely some action is needed.”

  He merely shrugged. “Your father’s words are well intended, but I have come to know many Christian priests. We argue, yes, we disagree, yes, but the men I know do not sow violence among their followers. Believe me, there is no danger.”

  His conciliatory tone grated upon me as he ignored my father’s warning. Much was at risk and I dared reveal my true feelings. “Christians, all of them, are a scourge upon Eire and cannot be trusted.”

  “Who taught you such a thing?” His eyes glinted. “Of course. You heard this from your father, for I know his strong feelings on it. You are wrong as is your father.” He shook his head, somber reproach in his eyes, as he continued. “You must never condemn all based upon the actions of a few, or judge men solely upon their beliefs. Men may be guided by faith but you must look deeply into the heart and mind of every man, and measure him only upon what you find there.”

  “Of course, Master, I see the truth in it.” I was almost dancing in frustration. “However, I think of one man, the Christian bishop at the synod. He deliberately threw his threats into our faces.”

  “Bah! I know the man. He blusters and postures to further his argument, but would never countenance actual violence.” He re-rolled the scroll as he looked up at me. “Granted, we are a warlike people; kings, great and small, fight among themselves for land, wealth and power. Do not worry. Within the entire history of this land we’ve never once seen a war between religions.”

  The Master reached a hand upwards to me. “Give a man a hand, would you? I’ve sat here long enough and my old bones demand stretching.”

  I took his hand and heaved him to his feet. Upon becoming upright, the top of his head reached my chin and he glanced up.

  “I hadn’t actually noticed until now. You’ve grown tall in the ten years you’ve been here.”

  “Only eight,” I reminded him.

  “Oh yes, that’s right, I forget. That makes you twenty years, am I right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His hands gripped the edge of the table and he began a gentle knee-bending exercise. “Ah, that’s much better.”

  I stood rigidly, trying to remain calm though I wanted to shout my frustration at his indifference to the rooftop. Finally, I blurted, “Christians are our natural enemies! Are they not dedicated to the destruction of our gods and Druidism itself?”

  “Enemies?” He continued bobbing up and down as blood circulated through his legs. “We must not think of Christians as enemies, for within the meaning of the word there can be no mutual acceptance or respect. They are our adverseries, of course, and some will follow the standard raised by their fanatical priest Patrick who during his lifetime was relentless in trying to push us out.”

  He frowned, leaned across the table and brushed tiny speckles of ash from a manuscript. “That is unfortunate, for there is no place for unyielding intolerance among thinking men. Always remember, within our world there can be disagreement, but in the end there must be room to accept all manner of beliefs. We Druids must try to understand that, and while you might find a few rabble rousers among them, you will discover that most Christians believe it as well.”

  A lifetime of training held my emotions in check so my face remained calm while my stomach roiled. A disrespectful display of my growing sense of futility before the Master would never do. “You have also taught us that ignorance breeds intolerance and fear begets violence. This new darkness has sown ignorance and fear among all the people. My father’s message speaks to those things and urgently warns that Christians plan violence against us.”

  The Master walked around the table, settled into his chair and sighed. “It is true your father speaks to those terrible things.” His hands scoured his weary face. “Yet, his warning is weighted by his intolerance of Christians. I sense no urgency.”

  I stepped toward him, placed my hands on his table and leaned forward. “The message reveals my father’s knowledge of pending danger, not his opinion.”

  “As a true son you support your father.” A small smile flickered across his face. “Very well, I shall reply to his message and ask further clarification. Meanwhile, I see no reason to disrupt the harmony of the school or needlessly frighten the students. In the end, I am confident that even during these dark times reason will be the torch that leads us into the light of wisdom and peace.”

  Another chill ran down my spine, but at least he agreed to further investigate the warning. “It will soon be time, I think, for my afternoon alchemy lecture, and my students will be gathering. With your permission, Master Tóla, I must go prepare for i
t.”

  He nodded, and read the worry on my face as he handed the scroll back to me. “Yes, thank you for sharing your father’s warning. Do not allow it to weigh on your heart. Though we must remain vigilant as he says, I doubt there will be serious trouble.”

  I bowed again. “As you say. Thank you, Master. May the Lordly Ones smile upon you.”

  “And you, Ossian. Indeed, may the gods smile upon us all.”

  I trudged down the hill, my thoughts in turmoil. My father’s strong views and message haunted me, as did the defiant words of the Christian bishop, which, despite the Master’s assurances, were sure to inflame his followers.

  Foreboding stopped me, and I looked back up the hill. I must go back, urge the Master to write King mac Dúnlainge. Leinster warriors must secure the school and the sacred shrine of Knockaulin. In my frustration I kicked a stone to send it bounding down the hill, but yelped and hopped up and down on my uninjured foot when I simply managed to stub my toe. Augh, saying more to the Master now would do no good. I would merely look foolish in his eyes and he didn’t expect that he must explain himself twice. Perhaps he would be more open to my suggestion at a later time.

  * * *

  Weeks passed, more weeks of unrelenting darkness. There had been no opportunity to again discuss my father’s warning with the Master. Whether he wrote my father, I did not know. Therefore, as fears are wont to do lacking fresh fuel to feed their flames, mine dimly smoldered.

  I sat on the ground in the night, my back against the outer wall of my dormitory. A single candle cast dim light upon the vellum codex open on my knees. My eyes quickly scanned across the Greek characters as I studied the principles of language. As was often the case, I marveled that the mind of one man could create such a remarkable thing as a book, and that others accurately transcribed each page time and again in breathtaking artistic detail.

  “Psst! Ossian!”

  He stood in darkness, but I knew the voice.

  “Laoidheach, it is very late,” I whispered. “Everyone is already abed. Why are you here?”

  “Do you think you are alone in finding something of interest at a late hour? Put away your book and follow me, for I have a fresh flagon of ale under my arm and two willing women nearby.”

  I chortled, thinking of the single-minded purpose of Laoidheach’s life. “Away with you, rogue! I have studying to do and an early morning lecture.”

  “Bah! Studying and lectures? What matter when women anxiously await your intimate attention? Come. Opportunity awaits!”

  It was a rare occasion when I escaped the sensuous traps Laoidheach laid for me and this night was no exception. Within a short time we lay on the floor of a Kilcullen cottage in the arms of women who until that night I had never met. I winked to Laoidheach that he would know I approved his latest discovery.

  The buxomly lass lying beside me trailed her finger across my bare chest and cooed, “So, Wise One, is it true that Druids have extraordinary powers?”

  I drank from the flagon of ale, and whispered, “Yes, but they are at their best when demonstrated in privacy. The back room there, shall we enter it that I might show them to you?”

  Much later I lay beside her, regaining my breath. I began to roll from her, but froze when I heard men’s voices outside the cottage.

  “What is it?” she murmured.

  “Men are outside.”

  “Oh no! My husband!”

  What was that? Her husband? I silently damned Laoidheach as I hurried into my robe and sandals. The voices outside continued and then I heard the clank of metal on metal. It was not one man or even a few. Many men were moving out there, stealing quietly through the night, skulking in the direction of the school.

  I groped my way through the darkness into the front room, and in a quiet voice called Laoidheach. There was no response so I began to feel about on the floor in search of him.

  At last I found a leg, a leg attached to a body. I nudged him with my toe and again called to him, my voice low. “Laoidheach! Laoidheach, wake up!”

  Once more I nudged him and called his name, and received a muffled groan in response. Outside surrounding the cottage were footsteps, the sounds of large groups of men stumbling through the darkness.

  Something was amiss. Something was happening out there and my mind reeled with sinister possibilities.

  “Laoidheach!” I leaned down and shook his shoulder. “Wake up, damn you! We must get out of here!”

  “Get out?” he mumbled. “Get out? Why?”

  My thoughts leaped to the one thing that would start Laoidheach moving. “There are men outside. You must hurry. Perhaps these women’s husbands are returning.”

  “Their husbands!” He leaped to his feet, scrambled into his clothes and whispered, “We mustn’t use the door—the husbands may be waiting out there. Listen, there’s an open window beside me. Come on, that’s our way out.”

  We hastened through the window and stood in the dark, listening. The sounds of groups of men could still be heard but were growing faint as they neared the school.

  Laoidheach was disgusted. “The women’s husbands, eh? How many husbands do they have? There must be a hundred men out there.”

  “Their husbands is a matter I intend to discuss with you later. I had to get you out of there, don’t you see? Those men are moving toward the school.”

  “And what of it? You scared five years off my life talking as you did, and a fine friend you are to do such a thing.”

  “Quiet!” There was no longer any indication of movement though I strained to hear it. “I think those men are Christians planning to attack the school.”

  “Attack the school, you say? And why would Christians do such criminal a thing?”

  “The ‘why’ doesn’t matter right now. Come on. Let’s follow them. Perhaps we can find a way to stop them.”

  “Stop a hundred men who, if you’re right, intend who knows what? Stop them how?”

  I fumbled about in the dark, grasped his arm and tugged. “Come on.”

  We felt our way along narrow alleys, hopped fences and finally stopped within the stillness of the grove where we had a good view of the school. Almost immediately a torch flared, then another, and another…

  A voice rang out in the darkness. “In the name of our Father! Death to all demon worshippers!”

  Now a hundred torches were burning, possibly more, many of which were thrown through the air to land on the thatched roofs of the dormitories and nearby buildings. The roofs caught fire and we could then clearly see the throng of armed men encircling the compound.

  Laoidheach’s horrified voice trembled as he whispered, “They…they w-would kill us all?”

  “So it seems.” I stared at the flaming scene in disbelief. A student appeared in the doorway of my own dormitory. It was too dark…I was too far away to recognize him. He dashed towards safety, was intercepted by three men wielding swords and cut down. A second student ran from the building, followed by a third. Both shrieked as they died.

  A dark robed figure carried a wooden cross to the center of the compound, a stark silhouette against the burning buildings. He raised the symbol of his god high as he exhorted the mob to greater acts of violence.

  Panicked students erupted into the compound from all the blazing dormitories. They dashed through doors and leaped through windows. A slaughter ensued, the terrified screams of my friends and fellow students filled the night air as they were chased and ruthlessly hacked down one by one by the laughing, cheering multitude of Christian fanatics surrounding them.

  “They have no chance,” Laoidheach muttered, “no chance at all.”

  I turned away, sickened by the gruesome scene. The ale I so gaily consumed earlier that night spewed upon the ground.

  “Ossian!” Laoidheach shook my shoulder. “The Master! Hurry, maybe we can reach him before those killers climb Knockaulin!”

  Careful to remain in shadows, we raced around the flaming compound to the foot of the hill and be
gan our ascent. We crossed the hill’s face at an upward angle until we intersected the path, and continued climbing.

  Master Tóla was coming down the hill toward us. Light from the fires below revealed that he held staffs in both hands, his Slatnan Druidheacht in one, the other bearing a gleaming white death’s head pommel.

  He stopped when he saw us looming in the darkness. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Ossian, Master. Laoidheach is with me. We came to warn you. Christians are attacking the school.”

  “Attacking the school?! I saw the fires and of course came to investigate, but I thought… Explain yourself!”

  “A large group of Christians surround the school and have set fire to it. They are killing the students as they run from the flaming dormitories.”

  “They are killing my boys?” he gasped.

  “Yes, Master. I’m afraid they intend to kill them all and there is no stopping them.”

  His voice trembled while dense smoke now swirled about him. “But no, that…that can’t be possible. Why would they…why would Christians do such a horrible thing?”

  “You recall my father’s message?”

  “Yes…yes, of course.” He sighed aloud. “This is my fault. You and your father tried to warn me, and now the blame for this horrible tragedy rests with me.”

  I glanced down the hill as I spat, “The blame is upon the Christians!”

  “Does it matter now, does it truly matter? What is done is done and that is the truth of it. I have failed my gods, my King and. most terribly, my students. It is they who now pay the horrible penalty for my lack of judgment.”

  “We must escape, Master. Follow us that we may flee this madness.”

  Master Tóla stood quietly as from below smoke and heat from the fiery buildings surged up the hill toward us along with the distant heart-wrenching din of victims’ screams and assassins’ cheers. “Flee?” his shoulders sagged. “No, Ossian, my place is down there with my boys.”