by Wade McMahan
I call upon the Earth Mother,
I call upon all the Lords of the Sidhe,
I call upon all the Mysteries of our land,
I, Ossian, a Druid of the faith, call upon you.
I call upon you Brigid, O goddess of women,
I call upon you Brigid, O goddess of prophecy,
I call upon you Brigid, O goddess of divination,
I, Ossian, a Druid of the faith, call upon you.
I pray that you might hear me,
I pray that you might answer me,
I pray that you might guide me,
I pray that you might bless my quest.
I come to you, dear Brigid, offering all that I am.
I offer my mind, that I might hear you,
I offer my heart, that I might understand you,
I offer my soul, that you might see all that I am.
I ask that you hear me now, dear Brigid,
Though I come not with empty hands.
Demand of me what you will in return,
Demand payment for my poor appeal.
Must I prostrate myself before you?
If so, I shall willingly do so.
Must I create a shrine to you?
If so, I shall eagerly build it.
Must I offer my blood to these flames,
That you might absorb my passion,
That you might taste my sincerity?
If so, my blood will be spilled, and gladly.
I come to you, dear Brigid, that I might see more clearly,
I come to you for a girl who cannot speak for herself,
I come to you that you might offer guidance,
I come to you that I might best serve the will of the Lordly Ones.
My prayer was repeated, time and again, as the sun crept by overhead. I remained seated before the fire, desiring neither food nor water. A fresh holly bough was positioned on the fire as needed to feed its flames.
The afternoon was growing late when Brigid answered, her voice coming from the center of the pillar of smoke rising above the fire. “I hear you, Ossian, though I wish I did not. I answer you only that you might stop calling my name.”
Hers was not the response I had expected. “Thank you, dear Brigid, for answering my prayer. I am humbled in your presence.”
“And humble you should be. Hurry now, what is it you want of me?”
“There is a girl, dear Brigid, a girl taken into slavery. Her name is Aine. It is said she could be my sister, Aine, daughter of the Druid, Ciann Mehigan. I ask your aid that I might see her, hear her and thereby discover if it is truly she.”
“And if it is she?”
“Then I will go to her and deliver her from the slavers who hold her captive.”
“And if it is not?”
“The Morrigan has laid a geas on me. If the girl is not my sister, I shall promptly accede to the Morrigan’s wishes.’
Brigid’s gay laugh emanated from the smoke. “Poor Ossian. You are in quite a dilemma, aren’t you? But, let us assume that I will allow you to see and hear this girl, Aine. What do you offer in return?”
“I said in my prayer—”
“No, no. You offered mere trifles, Ossian. I demand more.”
“Of course, dear Brigid. If it is mine to give, it shall be yours.”
She laughed again. “Be not so eager, Druid, else I raise my demands. Let me see, what do I want from you? Hmm…oh yes, I have it! It has been long since I lay with a mortal. I wish to do so tonight. If you agree to send a man to me here on this hill tonight, I shall grant your request.”
I was shocked. The goddess wished to lay with a mortal? I had heard of such things, but her demand came as a complete surprise. I ventured cautiously, “Dear Brigid, I must admit you have surprised me, and since I am already here, perhaps…”
Brigid chuckled. “No Ossian, though I find you very handsome, and believe you capable of satisfying me. But no. Your offer is too simple a solution, don’t you see? No, I insist you must convince someone else to come here, a man I will find agreeable.”
Laoidheach! Did he not claim to be descended from a changeling? Women found him irresistible, and he made a sport of attracting them. I nodded. “I know such a man. He is nearby, and I am certain I can convince him to come here tonight.”
“You are accommodating, aren’t you, Ossian? Very well, I accept our bargain, but I warn you, do not break it. I have had men castrated for less!”
I believed her, and nodded, silently praying Laoidheach would not fail me.
She continued, “So now you will see the slave girl, Aine. Keep your eyes on the smoke, Ossian; keep your eyes on the smoke…”
The smoke swirled ’round and ’round, and gradually a face appeared, my sister Aine’s face…small, wan and all alone, though it was all the same as the smoke. She could not see me, her searching eyes wandered as she called forth, her plaintive voice a resonance in the still air. “Father! Father you must find me! You must help me… Ossian, are you there? Can you see me? Can you hear me? Please, Ossian, please come soon for I can bear no more of this!”
“Aine!” I cried, though I knew she could not hear me. “I’m coming, Aine. Bear your torment just a little longer, for I shall find you.”
The smoke swirled again and another face appeared—that of a crone, the Morrigan. Her dark eyes pierced mine as she spoke. “And so, Druid, you would forsake your vows to us, the Lordly Ones? You would allow Brendan to sail while you search in vain for your sister?”
“You told me my sister was dead, My Queen, yet have I not just seen for myself that she still lives?”
“She breathes, it is true, but she is dead, Ossian, dead to you and all men other than the scum holding her. Even they will not permit her to breathe much longer.”
“She lives!”
“She is a slaver’s whore! A woman sold time and again only to spread her thighs before all comers. From this point forward, she will be despised and ridiculed by all, men and women alike, and nothing you can do will change that. Hear me now. She is dead to you. Remove her from your mind and fulfill your obligation to your gods. I bid you immediately travel to meet Brendan.”
My spirit sickened beneath her harsh words, but I shook my head. “Sadly, My Queen, forgetting my sister I cannot do. I hear the horrible things you say about her, but I measure and cherish Aine for who she is, not by what she was forced to endure. I must find her and save her if I can.”
Flute-like fairy voices emanated from the air around me, and my heart jumped into my throat as they screeched,
“Kill him!”
“Kill him, My Queen!”
“Kill this insolent mortal!”
“Silence!” the Morrigan shrieked at the unseen fairies.
“Kill him…kill him…kill him…” the voices chanted.
“I said silence!”
She glared at me. “You heard them. You heard the little people who live here. They spurn your impudence, as I do, so perhaps I shall grant their wish. I have warned you before of the penalty for disobeying me!”
I had unwittingly climbed atop a shee mound. Shuddering and glancing about, fairy voices echoed in my mind. “Of course, My Queen, you may take my life at your choosing, but I ask you. What manner of man, god or mortal, would turn his back upon his own sister to save himself? Were I to do such a thing, what kind of man would I be to serve you?”
“Bah! Men and their absurd sense of honor…” The Morrigan hesitated, finally saying, “Go then! Go find that wretched sister of yours, though I tell you again, it will do you no good.” She paused again, and then hissed, “Just pray you that Brendan does not sail before you return to Trá Lí Bay.”
The Morrigan’s face disappeared within the smoke and I sat alone, sweat soaking my clothing. I had dared challenge the goddess of death herself. Well I knew that it was only by the greatest good fortune that I survived my impertinence. I rose to my feet, tossed dirt upon the fire and kicked the brands apart to prevent them rekindling.
The sun was setting as I descended the hill to rejoin my companions who stood waiting. I stopped before them. “Yes, it is true. Aine lives and I will go with you in the morning, Laoidheach, to search for her. Goban, you will travel with us?”
Goban nodded, so I turned to Laoidheach. “Tonight, though, there is a great favor I must ask of you.”
“A favor? If it is within my power, I will do it, for you saved my life.”
“You are a good friend, and I knew I could rely upon you.” I turned and pointed back up the hill. “You must climb the hill, where you will find a woman waiting for you.”
His eyes narrowed. “What? You say a woman waits for me? What woman?”
“Her name is Brigid, and you will find her most fair. She asks that you stay the night with her.”
Arms crossed, he leaned back on his heels, eyebrow cocked. “What manner of joke is this? You can’t be serious.”
“I am most serious, my friend, oh yes, very serious. You see, I gave my word to her you would come.”
“On your solemn oath, she is lovely?”
“Lovelier than any woman you could ever imagine.”
Laoidheach looked to Goban with a questioning glance, and received an evil leer in reply.
“You must hurry,” I urged, “for it will be dark soon, and you will be unable to find your way up the hill.”
“But…”
“Hurry now,” I repeated, “and do not worry. I assure you that no harm will come to you.”
“Very well,” he sighed and started to move, but stopped in mid-turn. “Wait. No harm, you say? What manner of no harm?”
I hid a smile. “Will you just go on?”
He nodded his glum acceptance and began to trudge toward the hill, head sagging like that of a man knowingly walking to his doom.
* * *
Sunrise found Goban and me sitting beside our fire casting frequent glances up the hill, hoping to glimpse our friend. At last, we spotted movement. Laoidheach slowly wended his way down the slope.
Finally he drew near, waddling straddle-legged and leaning against a walking stick like an old man—hair disheveled, face gaunt, eyes bloodshot.
Goban began to chuckle and then fell over backwards roaring with laughter. Dust clouds billowed about him as he pummeled the ground with his hands and kicking heels.
Laoidheach staggered over to him and spat upon the ground. “I spit upon you and your ancestors.”
Goban rolled from side to side, and roared all the louder.
My friend never spoke of his night atop the fairy mound with the goddess, though Goban often goaded him about it. I could only guess that my obligation to Brigid was fulfilled, for I heard no more of her.
Chapter 21
Blinne
We began our journey that same morning. Earlier, I asked Goban where he had seen Aine.
He looked towards the horizon and pointed. “There, to the north, in the lands of the Uí Néill at a village called Quirene.”
Laoidheach rode one of the horses, for he remained incapable of walking, while the other carried a pack containing our few possessions. We trekked all day, avoiding the main trails and those who traveled upon them. Toward nightfall, we came upon a clearing and a small, thatched cottage nestling among the trees alongside a whispering stream.
An old woman came to the door, watching us with open suspicion. She drew a black shawl over her head, holding it tight to her plump cheeks and round shoulders as we neared her doorstep. “If it is my husband you wish to see,” she pointed, “he is yonder, working late in the fields.”
I stepped forward, and bowed slightly before her. “We are but weary travelers, mother, hopeful of finding a safe place to spend the night, and perhaps food if you have it to spare.”
She placed her hands on her hips, squinting eyes measuring us. “Perhaps you may camp here tonight if it pleases my husband. As for food, it is little we have for ourselves and none to share with vagabonds the likes of you.”
“As you say, of course, mother. But, we ask not your charity. We can pay for our meals if it serves you well.”
“Pay, you say? Pay with what?”
“With a copper coin, mother.”
“Show me.”
I opened the purse, withdrew a coin and held it forward in the palm of my hand. “It is wise you are to be wary during these times, but my friends and I are honest men, and wish no harm come to you or your family.”
She stared wide-eyed at the coin. “I have seen such coins in the market, and heard things said of their value.” She looked up. “You offer this in exchange for food?”
“Yes, mother, if it is satisfactory payment.”
“Perhaps you are honest men, as you say, but the decision will be made by my husband. I warn you now, he is a hard man.”
We tied our horses to a nearby shrub, and sat down to wait for the woman’s husband to arrive from his fields. Presently, a small, stooped man approached. His was a lined, care-worn face, and he stopped, surprised by our presence.
“Good evening, sir,” I greeted him. “Your good wife said we should have words with you.”
The woman heard me speaking, and came from the house to stand beside her husband. He glanced at her, blinking his eyes.
“These men wish to stay the night here,” she told him, “and offered to pay for food with a copper coin.”
The man blinked again, nodding his understanding.
“They seem to be honest young men,” she continued, “though I must say the disgraceful state of their clothing does not speak well of them.”
The man nodded.
“I believe they can be trusted, and we should allow them to stay the night. We can spare them some of our food in trade for the coin, don’t you think?”
The husband blinked, shrugged and nodded his agreement.
The woman gave me a hard stare. “Didn’t I warn you my husband can be a difficult man? And yet, he has agreed to let you stay and share our food.”
A smile teased the edges of my mouth, but I bowed. “You warned us for fair, mother. We thank you, sir, for your gracious hospitality.”
The man nodded.
“I am called Blinne and my husband here, Quillen. Now then, what be your names?”
I introduced my two friends and myself, after which Blinne invited us into their single-room cottage. A smoke-stained copper kettle hung above the fire pit behind the hearth. Blinne boiled a stew for their dinner, but scurried about adding more cabbage and peas to the kettle. Quillen reached to the rafters above his head with a knife and sliced a large piece from a smoked ham. It was diced, and then added to the stew.
“Quillen,” Blinne ordered, “go you outside now and wash. You are covered with the dirt of the fields. Afterwards, I want you to come straight back, for it is time for your rowan berry tincture.” She looked to Laoidheach with a knowing wink. “He has the piles, don’t you see, and the tincture is good for him.”
Laoidheach flushed. “Yes, I see. I’m sorry to hear…that is…ahem, I had best go and wash a bit myself.” He looked to Goban and me. “In fact, I think we should all go wash away the dust from our travels.”
I turned to follow the men outside, but Blinne called, “Wait Ossian, I would speak with you.”
She waited until the men were gone, and then continued, “I know you now, Ossian. That is, I visited your village many times and knew your father. He was a good man, and offered my family medicines and many blessings. I saw you with him once or twice, and the serpent ring on your hand helped me recognize you. It was a bad thing the Corcu Duibne did there, a bad thing.”
“Yes,” I nodded, “it was a bad thing.”
“Humph, raised as you were, and now look at you, a shabby scarecrow if I may say so.”
“Yes, well I—”
“Hush and wait there a moment.” Walking across the room, she stooped to open a small wooden chest. After rifling through folded clothing, she turned and straightened up, holding a fine, cream-colore
d linen kirtle, and tan leggings.
“These were my son’s,” she said, “and him now dead of the flux these three long years. He was tall and thin like you, and they should fit you well. I would that you will wear them.”
“But mother, I—”
“Don’t you ‘but mother’ me, young man!” Wagging a finger at my nose, “A man in tattered rags is in no position to refuse new clothing.”
It was no small thing for Blinne to offer the clothing of her dead son. And too, she was right. I was in no position to refuse.
“Thank you mother, the clothes honor me.” I took them from her outstretched hands. “Please accept another copper coin in payment for them.”
“No, Ossian, you owe nothing for the clothing. Consider them payment for your father’s many kindnesses to me and my family. Now, before you go outside to wash and change clothes…” She reached atop a ledge and removed a shining copper mirror, wooden comb and small knife. “Take these things of Quillen’s with you and shave, or at least trim that shameful beard.”
I glanced down shuffling my feet. “Yes, mother.” And then scampered through the door.
* * *
A dense mist obscured the early morning sun. Blinne regarded me with approval as I sat astride the horse. “You look well, Ossian, with the new clothing and your trimmed beard.”
“We thank you, mother, for your kindness. Would that the gods provide your home with prosperity and comfort.”
Blinne nodded. “Quillen and I give thanks to the Earth Mother for our good fortune. What of you, Ossian? Where lies your future in these trouble times?”
“My future? It is a question I have asked of myself many times of late. I cannot see my future, mother.” Face lifted to the sky, I shook my head and sighed. “I cannot see it.”
Chapter 22
The Cave of the Tuatha De Danann
We rode hard in the early dawn, letting our horses have their heads. Our few possessions were loaded aboard my horse that Laoidheach and Goban might ride double. Laoidheach chanted as he galloped, his long flaxen hair streaming in the wind and, in truth, I felt he had more than a touch of the Tuatha about him.