by Wade McMahan
“I’m sorry, father. I didn’t realize you had a guest.”
“Indeed, Brother. This is Ossian, the fisherman.”
“Ossian!” Erc hissed. “Father, this is the Druid the old priest warned us about.”
“Of course he is.”
So, the ring had been telling enough. From the beginning Brendan had known who and what I was, that I had earned the right to bear a Druid’s staff.
Erc was a slender, swarthy man. His uncompromising hatred of me and all that I represented radiated from black, burning eyes as he turned to me. “What evil wind brought you here? The Holy Saint Patrick, may God rest his immortal soul, banished all of you pagan snake worshipers from Eire.”
“Brother Erc,” Brendan interceded, “please restrain yourself. This man is here because I invited him to eat with me.”
“But, father! I urge you beware this man. Patrick himself invoked all of the virtues of the Holy Trinity to,
guard against the black laws of heathenism,
against the spells of women, and demons, and Druids.”
Brendan nodded. “Indeed he did, dear Brother, though I do not need you to remind me of it. But, Patrick intended so much more when he invoked the Trinity to support his true mission here, that Christ may be seen and cherished,”
in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,
in the mouth of everyone who speaks to me,
in every eye that sees me,
in every ear that hears me.
Place your trust in the Lord God, Brother Erc,” Brendan added with a soft voice. “I would that this man see, hear and come to Christ through me.”
“Yes, father, though I would prefer to see this blasphemous Druid in chains.”
“And I would prefer to have him embrace Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior! Now Brother Erc, you had a purpose in coming here?”
“Yes, father, it’s the villagers, they claim…” Erc hesitated, his eyes slanted toward me. “Father, please accept my apologies for disturbing you. My message is not urgent. With your grace I shall leave you now that we may discuss the matter tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Brother, that will serve me well.” As Erc turned to leave, Brendan added, “And Brother, please hear this and share it among all my followers. Ossian the fisherman is not to be disturbed. He shall be free to leave the village at his will. Do you understand?”
Erc bowed. “Of course, father. I will tell the others and it shall be as you say.”
The door closed as Erc quietly shut it behind him. Brendan turned to me. “Don’t worry, you are safe here under my sanctuary. So, shall we now discuss…hmm, how did you phrase it earlier? Oh, yes, now I remember. Shall we discuss your phantoms in yon evening’s mist?”
I sat quietly for a moment before answering. “What matter phantoms even if such exist? We banter words, you and I, but to what good end? We are as unlike as the ox and the whale, and follow far different paths.”
Brendan nodded. “Yes, there are differences between us, but with God’s help I hope to wash them away. With the Light of His only son, Jesus Christ, I shall find the way to deliver you into the Grace of the Holy Trinity.”
“I am but one man, insignificant, and unworthy of your efforts.”
“Not so small, I think, and what’s more, every soul is worthy in the eyes of God. Yes, and I would that you will see His glory and come to Him.”
“What matter? Beyond this evening’s meal we will speak no more.” I pushed my empty stew bowl away. “After tonight your thoughts will turn again to the Northern Isles where there are many who might hear your words and be swayed by them.”
“After tonight I shall not forget you. Even though my brethren have spent scores of years in the Northern Isles spreading His word there remain many who might be converted to the True Way.”
“Yes, you and your brethren are relentless in spreading your faith. I fear even the Golden Ones of the Blessed Isles shall not be spared your incursion.”
Brendan was an eager listener. “The Blessed Isles, you say? It is a familiar name known to me though I know nothing of them. Where lay these Isles?”
I pointed vaguely outward, beyond the hovel’s walls. “Many weeks sailing across the western sea near the River Oceanus. Or so Mac Lir said.”
His disappointment showed on his face. “Mac Lir said? Mac Lir is but a blasphemous pagan sea spirit. Your Blessed Isles and the people there are but a heretic myth, then.”
“A myth? Think so, if you will, but I know them to be otherwise. The Blessed Isles have been called many things but perhaps are best known among us as Tír na nÓg, the Isles of the Ever Young. Much has been said of the Isles by others who proclaimed them a paradise.”
“Tír na nÓg?” Brendan shook his head. “It is merely spoken of in legends. But the Ever Young? Who are they?”
“They are the Golden Ones, the spirits of the dead. There they remain until called upon by the gods to return here and be reborn.”
“You describe a Heaven here on earth? Such a thing is not possible and is contradicted in the Scriptures by God’s Own Word. No, your beliefs are founded in the ancient stories of the old ones, for spirits live on only by the grace of God Himself.”
I would not mention my encounter with the spirits of Dún Ailinne as they boarded the ghost ship enroute to Tír na nÓg. Perhaps he would believe my story, perhaps not, but it was not something I would share with him. “As you say, priest, but The Blessed Isles are there, you may rely upon it.”
“You have proof of them, then?”
“No proof, but I have faith and that is something a man like you should understand. There is an old song of our people that tells of the Isles. Though I am a poor singer I will tell it to you.”
Fair are the blessed,
The Isles of the Ever Young.
Far to the West.
Where live the Golden Ones.
They have no want or care,
Soft breezes soothe the Land.
The springs run crystal clear,
Where the sacred Rowans stand.
They have no guilt or fear,
And nothing gives them flight.
There is no darkness there,
Only the soft moonlight.
My heart cries out for the West,
And the touch of the Ever Young.
Where no man is oppressed,
And the songs of the gods are sung.
Brendan remained silent for a moment. “Your voice is not poor. I hear the training in it. Do your people have other tales of this land?”
“There were many. Within the Isles are four great cities: Falias, Gorias, Murias and Findias. Within each city dwells a powerful Druid, and within each a potent magical treasure. Now the old ways are vanishing and there are few left who know the details and the old songs. I know but a fragment of one other, from the song of Nihil.”
She takes my hand at the sea marge,
She whispers low on the wind,
She sets her sail for Tír na nÓg
And leaves worn life behind!
I rose from my bench. “I do not wish to be impolite but it is late and I would go back to my cave. I thank you for inviting me to eat with you, for the food was well done.”
Brendan was surprised. “You go now? So late? Stay that we might talk more of these Isles of yours. You are unwell and are welcome to sleep here that you may depart more comfortably in the morning.”
“Thank you, but you will be busy tomorrow and I would not burden you. I have kept a man waiting for me and there are things that I must do beside the sea, things important to my meager existence best done in the early morning.”
I walked to the door, opened it and glanced back at him. “I wish you a safe journey, Brendan.”
“I think we will meet again, Ossian.” The priest rose, placing his palms together before him in the manner of prayer. “But go if you must, go with God’s blessings upon you.”
Chapter 16
A Path to Tír na nÓg
The evening sun, a dull orange orb, sank toward the distant rim of the western sea. Only a few shorebirds that frequented the rock-strewn beach below me remained. Soon they, like others of their kind, would end their daylong search for the tiny shellfish hiding beneath the sand. My own daily search for food began early that same morning. First was the gathering of knotgrass and goosefoot seeds to prepare a poor porridge, and, as I tired of sea fare, later I hiked the banks of Cumeenduff Lough to fish for the trout there. Time and again I cast my baited hand line into the sparkling clear water and sat on a stone, anticipating a reward. At days end I returned with three fish, a small one and two others of pleasing length and girth.
I turned from my view of the birds and darkening sea and entered my cave to bake the small fish for my dinner. The two larger ones were suspended above the smoke to be preserved for later. Many of my days were spent in such a way.
A fortnight had passed since last I visited the village and spoke with the priest, Brendan. Soon he would sail to the Northern Isles. I doubted to see him again as he would stay long in the North to spread his religion. His movements were of little interest to me. I would remain in my cave beside the sea until I felt safe to move on.
* * *
I awoke from a deep slumber to the spirit voice of the Morrigan. My low-burning fire cast dancing shadow figures upon my cave walls, and her voice, no longer the harsh croak of a crow, came softly from the night, a refrain in the sigh of the wind.
“Wake up, Ossian,” she was saying, “you sleep soundly while your gods are displeased with you.”
Wary of her, I sat up and replied, “What, My Queen? The Lordly Ones are displeased, you say? Why?”
“You traveled to the village and spoke to the new priest, Brendan, at length.”
“Yes, we spoke at length. What of it?”
“We fear you were swayed by this man. He is becoming prominent. Someday he will assume the place of the eminent priest, Patrick, who banished all followers of the sacred serpent from Eire’s shores.”
It was troubling to hear that even gods know fear. “Brendan did not sway me from the beliefs instilled in me by my father. The Lordly Ones need not be troubled so long as there remain those of us who still believe in them.”
“Gods cannot exist in an empty void. What purpose do gods serve in the absence of conscious thought if there are no mortals who know and worship them? The god of the Christians gains greater supremacy each day as more and more mortals convert to the new religion. The new god acquires strength while your gods continue to fade.”
“You, all of you Lordly Ones must come together to resist the new god of the Christians and reverse the tide of the new religion.”
“We did resist in the beginning, Ossian, but now it’s too late…too late. Much has happened while you lay idle in this cave. The new god has won Eire. Because of this, many of us have already departed this land for Tír na nÓg, the Isles of the Ever Young. Hear me,”
The Age of the World, was 3303,
Edarlamh and his Tuatha De Danann
Overcame the Firbolgs at Magh Tuireadh,
And secured this place, this Eire, for themselves, Forever.
Forever, I say…but what is that? Forever…
It was wife, we thought, not mistress, honey not bittersweet.
We held it close in hand, ever dreaming foolish dreams,
While we gathered about the fire to sing the songs of Forever
This land was ours Forever, we said, your Lordly Ones,
For two thousand plus four hundred years.
Tomorrows beyond imagining, lives beyond lives, time without end,
Minding not that in a universe with a beginning, there can be no Forever.
The sun sets now; I see it setting, on our Forever.
The Father, Son, and Blessed Mother are here.
New Holy Ones have won this Land and its people.
Their sun rises as ours sets, and so begins their time of Forever.
Tír na nÓg, the Blessed Isles are our final Forever,
Enchanted, enshrouded in the mists of the western sea.
They must not fall to the new Father and his followers,
Lest all be lost to us, your Lordly Ones, lost upon this earth, Forever.
It was an astonishing thing. “The Lordly Ones are leaving Eire?”
“Some will remain and live in the Underworld, but yes, already many have gone. As for the remainder of us…we shall see.”
“Why tell me this? I am no more important than the small fish I ate for my dinner.”
“Perhaps that’s true, perhaps not. Once you showed great promise. As of now, you still are of some consequence to the old and the new. Brendan sees this and understands the significance of seizing your mind and will, that others might follow your lead.”
Bitterness welled within me. “Of consequence am I? Once I hoped to become of consequence. Look about you, My Queen, and see that I have nothing—nothing! Of what consequence is that? Of what consequence am I to anyone?”
The voice of the Morrigan sneered. “I see…you lost your vanity most of all. You thought yourself important and looked to the time when you would gain even more favor. Now look at you, thin, starving and hunched over like a cowering puppy. Stand up straight before me!”
“My Queen, I’ve been ill and—”
“You were ill but the injury to your head is past. Stand up, stand up straight. At least try to look like a man!”
I stood as she ordered and rose upward to my full height though my long unused neck and shoulder muscles cried out as I did so and my head swam with the effort.
“Now,” she continued, “that is much better and a small beginning, though you hide in this loathsome place, frightened to return to the world of men.”
A forgotten, fearsome memory flashed through my mind; firelight from the burning village illuminating my father’s head on the end of a pike alongside that of King Domhnall. “My Queen, perhaps you forget…my father—”
“Your father… Your father…,” she scoffed. “The stupid man was so smitten by a woman he failed his king! You heard our warning, Ossian, and you knew the attack was coming, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I knew.” My head drooped and I held my face in my hands. “Do you not think I feel the weight of it? It preys upon my mind like maggots on rotten flesh.”
“Of course.” Her scornful tone held no touch of sympathy. “Your father ignored his gods’ warnings as well, didn’t he?”
Long since I made peace with my father’s ghost and would not speak ill of him.
At my silence, she raged, “I asked you a question! Did your father ignore his gods?”
My face flushed as I nodded.
“Yes! Your father foresaw the attack on your village and neglected to sound an alarm,” the Morrigan hissed. “And now he is dead. His king is dead. Your entire village of Rath Raithleann is dead! Think of it, an entire village of believers gone, dead at the hands of Christian followers.”
My face remained flushed but she would never break my faith in my father. “My father was a good man, a wise man and ever faithful to his King. The Corcu Duibne attacked our village; the destruction and death is on their heads, theirs alone!”
“Your loyalty to your father remains strong though misplaced.”
She was silent for so long I thought her spirit departed, but finally she sighed. “What is done is done, is it not? Now, will you take part in the future? You, Druid, were raised in the special knowledge that is as old as the world itself. You have understanding and abilities far beyond common men. You led men in victorious battle. And yet you lie here in your squalor and self-pity. True, you have lost much, but have you lost yourself as well?”
“I have lost all! Yes, the special knowledge of which you speak was meant that I might advise kings. I fear—”
“You fear everything and cower here in this lowly cave.” Her derisive voice echoed in the darkness. “You even ran from an old pries
t who drove you from his village. Is that now the path of the mighty Druids who speak for their gods? To run and hide from the new religion or perhaps even succumb to it out of fear?”
My spirits sagged. “Do not ridicule me, My Queen—”
“You forget yourself! I can ridicule you, torture you and even kill you if it serves my purposes! You know that, do you not?”
“Of…of course, My Queen.” I had been careless with my words. “Please, I meant no disrespect, but why do you come to me now? I am of little value to the Lordly Ones.”
“Hmm, so finally you think to ask, eh? I am here to weigh your value, and as you freely admit, there’s little I have found of it. As for your future, we shall see. I also came to find if you remain true to your gods.”
“Why would you doubt me? I will remain true to my gods unto death. I said as much to Brendan himself and he was tolerant in his views toward me.”
“You are wrong. Have you already forgotten the fate of Master Druid Tóla? He too thought he found tolerance among Christians. Brendan possesses great patience in converting you to his faith through his teachings, yes, but no tolerance of your gods and beliefs.”
“Little it matters now. Soon Brendan will sail to the Northern Isles, so I shall speak to him no more.”
“Your gods will decide those things that matter. Be not so sure that you and Brendan will not meet again, be not so sure.”
* * *
Another week passed and I drifted upon the sea, fishing in my curragh. Soon I must return to the village to trade for bread and ale. Truth be told, I sometimes grew weary of my own company and wished to talk with men.
I was concentrating on my fishing when a porpoise surfaced beside my boat, saying, “I have been to the village. You told Brendan of the Blessed Isles, of Tír na nÓg?”
I knew the Morrigan could change her shape at will and came in many guises—a crow, a crone, a wolf, a beautiful red-haired woman, but it was a startling thing to see her appear beside me in the sea. My mind spun as I sought a proper response. “What? Uh…that is…yes. It was a meaningless conversation between two men, My Queen, no more. I spoke of the Blessed Isles to Brendan as simple amusement. I scarce think he believed me.”