Waves in the Wind

by Wade McMahan

  “The Pope speaks the words of Christ Himself. That you openly disagree with him could be interpreted as heresy.”

  Erc clenched his fists; his black eyes glowed. “Heresy in whose eyes? The Pope’s? Yours? The great and wise Pelagius was also branded a heretic by the papacy and its followers, but that did not lessen the truth of his words.”

  “Pelagius, Brother?” Brendan gasped and stepped back. “But, he has long been branded a heretic for speaking against the Scriptures and the Holy Father. Surely, you do not follow his teachings!”

  “Yes! Pelagius, wise and indomitable man that he was, stood against the rule of Roman doctrine, as do I.”

  “Why have you not mentioned this before?” Brendan’s shoulders slumped. “We could have discussed it, and I would have happily led you toward God’s True Light.”

  “Why? Why indeed! Now I am done with you!” Erc spat at Brendan’s feet, and turned to me. “As for you, Druid, I say this; be wary, always wary. It was you who sowed Satan’s disharmony among us! You are the devil’s own, and now I am free to renew my mission from God to rid the world of the likes of you. I will come for you, Druid, the same as I went after others of your kind at your pagan temples and the demon’s school at Dún Ailinne.”

  My heart turned cold. “You were at Dún Ailinne?”

  “Of course I was there.” He smirked, hands on hips. “It was I who led the attack and rallied our men by,” his hand swung in the air above him, “waving the Cross of Christ in the center of the courtyard that all might rejoice upon our victory! And it was I who burned the high demon himself in the midst of his blasphemous school. I who lit the kindling at his feet that he might scream out his agony in life as he does now within the fiery bowels of Hell.”

  Erc fell to the ground with a squeal as I leaped upon him, my hands wrapped ’round his throat. Firelit images and the anguish of that dreadful night filled my head as I straddled him, hatred strengthened my hands as I squeezed the life from the perpetrator of it all.

  Hands were upon my wrists, those of Brendan and monks who rushed from nearby to aid their fallen Brother. I tried to shrug them off, striving to finish what I had begun, but was forced to relinquish my grip on Erc’s throat. The weight of their combined efforts pulled me from my position atop him.

  Kicking and shouldering my way to my feet, straining to free myself, I attempted to again hurl myself upon my enemy. Brendan’s face appeared before me, a blurred image seen through my hate-filled eyes.

  “Ossian! Ossian, stop this, I beg you!” His hands rested upon my shoulders and he gently pushed me back, away from the still prostrate Erc, as I continued writhing within the firm grasp of his monks. “Listen to me, you cannot do this thing, you must not kill him.”

  “He…” I gasped. “He killed Master Tóla, the wisest, kindest, most gentle man to grace this earth.” Tears streamed down my face. “He burned him…he burned him…” Unable to say more, clenching and unclenching my hands, I sobbed aloud.

  Again, Brendan laid his gentle hands upon my shoulders. “It is much you have seen of death, I’m thinking. Too much. Would that you could find Christ, that he might comfort you.”

  “It isn’t comfort I seek.” Still in the grasp of the monks, I jutted my jaw toward Erc. “It is vengeance, and the opportunity to rid my people of a cruel killer.”

  “No, I cannot permit you to kill him. You are a good man, a much better man than Brother Erc, it would seem. Would that you could see your duty as Christ would ask of you.”

  He turned, gesturing to Erc. “Do not defile your hands with Erc’s blood. He is a traitor to his own faith, don’t you see. Erc is our responsibility, my responsibility. Please, I beg you. Allow me with God’s Light to do what I must with him.”

  A roar like that of a charging bull burst through the ring of monks and villagers gathered about us. Goban, hammer poised in his upright fist, rushed to my side, Laoidheach close behind him.

  “What happens here?’ Goban growled. Pointing the hammer towards the monks still holding me, he muttered, “Let go of me friend if you value your skulls.”

  The monks turned anxious faces to Brendan, who waved a dismissive hand. “Let him go.”

  My eyes found those of Laoidheach and I pointed to Erc, who now sat upright, rubbing his throat. “That son of a whore led the attack on Dún Ailinne and murdered Master Tóla. He burned him.”

  Laoidheach’s face turned deathly white, and then flushed red. “Then repayment is due in kind, I say.” His knife appeared in his hand as he stepped towards Erc.

  “Stop!” The bard hesitated as I turned my attention to Brendan. “You said Erc is your responsibility. What say you now? What will you do with him?”

  Brendan shook his head, and then stood erect, his stern gaze falling upon the fallen monk. “You aren’t injured. Stand up like a man.”

  Sullen-faced, Erc returned the priest’s stare and rose to his feet. “Brendan, you—”

  “Silence!” Brendan shouted, and Erc stepped back, eyes wide.

  The priest strode forward to face him. “By your own words you have confessed to being apostate and in so doing you are an avowed heretic in the eyes of God. You are hereby banished from my presence and the fellowship of your Brothers here. However, before you leave you shall be scourged for your profane thoughts and behavior.”

  Motioning towards the monks who had been holding me, he said, “Take Erc there.” He pointed to a lone ash tree at the edge of the village. “Strip him of his clothing and tie him face-forward to the tree.”

  Upon hearing Brendan’s words, Erc’s face turned ghastly white. Then he tensed, turned away and attempted to flee. Goban hastened forward, grabbed the hood of the monk’s robe and gave it a solid backwards jerk.

  “Think ye to hurry off, me boy ’o?” Goban chuckled. To Brendan he added, “Maybe I’d best accompany your men to yon tree. It seems this lad here,” he gave Erc another hard jerk, “objects to your plans for him.”

  * * *

  A mournful wail escaped Erc’s lips as the lash fell across his back, opening yet another long red tear in his flesh. The rope binding his wrists to the tree trunk high above his head prevented him from collapsing to the ground. Blood streamed down his naked body as he hung there sobbing and moaning.

  His face revealing his disgust, Brendan threw the lash to the ground and turned away. Fifty lashes delivered, though if the whip had been in my hand, I would have gladly given no fewer than fifty more. No, I would have continued lashing the monk until he breathed his last.

  It seemed every villager had arrived to witness the spectacle, forming a half-circle alongside Brendan’s monks. He turned to face the gathering, his hands and robe spattered with Erc’s blood.

  “See before you God’s justice on one who chose to turn his back on Him. For this man, there can be no salvation and he shall now be cast out into the wilderness, naked and alone. Let his name not be spoken aloud, for such an end shall befall everyone who betrays the Word of the One True God.”

  Brendan’s eyes roamed across the assemblage before him. “The voyage must again be delayed for a few days. Before we can sail, I must write the formal decree of heresy, which will be delivered to our bishop at Tara, that it may be entered into the official annals of the Church. I will advise you all when I select another departure date.”

  * * *

  My comrades accompanied me as, slumping, I strode through the village towards my hut. While Goban’s plan had done its work and they would accompany me on the voyage, there was no joy in the knowing of it. The emotional encounter with Erc had drained away any joy I might have chanced upon.

  “I’m thinking,” Laoidheach muttered, “Erc deserved to die after all he did at Dún Ailinne. Still, he is a proud, arrogant man, and word of his public humiliation will spread. Perhaps Erc will actually suffer more by his life than by his death.”

  I stopped, gazing towards the nearby mountains. “The flames of Dún Ailinne have not died away within my mind. They still
burn brightly, and I regret not killing him. You are wrong about leaving Erc alive. Likely it is because you did not come to fully understand him—he rejoices in killing. The man is a hater, and his hatred will only grow stronger from his punishment. Brendan, good man that he is, made a mistake. This land would all be the better for it if Erc was dead.”

  Chapter 30

  Never-Ending Sadness

  Three days passed, yet Brendan remained silent about a new sailing date. It was understood by all that he was in prayer, and not to be disturbed. With little to occupy my hands and somber thoughts, I climbed to a high point above the village, perched upon a stone and gazed out to sea. When we sailed I would leave Eire, knowing it to be forever; from that point and throughout all eternity, it would be as though I had never existed.

  It is a sober moment when a man realizes his entire life, all his hopes and dreams, had come to nothing. My many failures haunted me. What tracks had I made upon my homeland? What memorable thing had I accomplished to leave my mark?

  Regrets solve nothing, prove nothing, create nothing, yet knowing that provided little solace—

  I started at rustling in the heather behind me and spun about. My breath caught. She was there, she of the lovely face, flowing red hair and immaculate blue gown tracing her slender woman’s form as it draped to her feet.

  “So, Ossian, we meet again.” Her husky voice sent a shiver down my back. “Why do you idle here in this lonely place? You look to the sea. Do you see your future there?”

  I knew her then, as I should have immediately known her. Leaping to my feet, I bowed. “You honor me, My Queen. As for my poor musings, they remain here with our people on our green island.”

  Mincing steps brought her to my side where she gracefully settled upon my stone. Motioning for me to retake my seat, she asked, “Here? Your future lies with Brendan’s voyage. You must think on that.”

  Her nearness brought a flush to my face as I sat like a statue beside her. Never could I have even dreamt of a more desirable woman. A wind gust stirred a stray curl, and I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it, all the while cursing my foolishness. We were as far apart as life and death, she and I. Was she not Goddess of Death?

  “Ossian, did you hear me?”

  Flushing again, I regained my wits. “Yes, you are right, of course. Today my thoughts remain here along with my desire to stay and stand beside my people.”

  “You would stand beside your people?” A sad smile crossed her perfect face. “I honor your courage and well know you would willingly do so, though it would mean the end of you. I have watched you more closely than you know, and never found your boldness lacking. No man but you ever had the courage to stand up to me and it is one thing I have come to…to admire about you.”

  It was a remarkable compliment, and my heart warmed, though I remained respectfully silent.

  Slender hands clasped in her lap, she shook her head. “I’m very sorry, but you must realize you would stand alone. The people have abandoned you and your ways as they have their gods. All but a few think only of the new god and the words of Christian priests. It’s too late. Your time has passed here, as has mine. You have lost, Ossian. Nothing remains here for you, so now your future lies to the west.”

  I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands, realizing she was right, knowing how thoughtless I had been to cling to my beliefs in a time and place where I no longer belonged. Voice rasping, I replied, “Things are changing so quickly now, and I wish…I merely wish to return to the old ways, to a time when my life made sense.”

  “I wish that too.” She rested a soft hand on my shoulder and I trembled under her touch. “I wish it very much, more than you know. I wish too that you needn’t…but how silly, wishing will not make it so.”

  Her hand returned to her lap, and I fought against the urge to reach out and take it in mine, to wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

  She tilted her head back, eyes closed. “The Dagda says that immutable laws exist within our universe, laws such as change that are far more important than gods. He was the first to see the change coming to us, just as change will always be coming.” Opening her eyes, she smiled. “So then, change makes sense, does it not? How else are the people to grow? Without change, how can Eire grow?”

  “The Dagda’s wisdom exceeds all others, so it must be true.” It was my turn to smile. “Please excuse my melancholy. Today I am flooded in memories. I think of my father and mother, Ceara, Aine, Master Tóla and all the others who leave their bones in this land. The people of Rath Raithleann built homes, raised families, cleared and tilled fields that will remain in use for all time. Though their names and faces be forgotten and their voices forever stilled, my family and friends’ presence will be still felt throughout all the generations to come…like waves in the wind.”

  She nodded. “I see. You fear by leaving you will be forgotten.”

  I was surprised. It was as though she read my thoughts. “Something like that.”

  “You are wrong. I…your gods will not forget you. Of that you may be certain. You will be remembered as the Druid who stood beside us during these dark times, who dared risk all that Tír na nÓg shall remain our haven forever.”

  “It is a humbling thing to be held within the thoughts of my gods. I know of no greater honor and I thank you for it.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “But, that is not enough, is it?”

  “Of course—”

  “You are a poor liar.” Wagging her finger and shaking her head, she smiled. “No. You wished to leave your mark that the people might remember you. That is understandable. Those of merit desire to accomplish great things, memorable things.”

  “You are right. I hoped to be remembered for doing some great thing, though it sounds a bit silly when I look back on it now.” I grinned at my own foolishness. “It is the purest form of vanity, is it not? You were also right about what you said earlier: The Christians have won Eire and I lost, we all lost. Now I will sail away forever leaving nothing behind to show for my trouble.”

  “No. Striving to make one’s mark is not silly. For an honorable man to reach towards immortality might be a vain thing, but it is not a bad thing. Throughout all you have endured there is one thing you never lost—yourself. You have overcome much, and no man could have done more, cared more. It is another trait I have come to…to admire about you.” She flushed and hurriedly added, “All your gods admire you for it.”

  Rising and stepping away, her hands pressed against her glowing cheeks. “I must go. Soon you sail and we will speak no more.” For an instant it appeared as if tears crowded her dark, violet eyes. “Goodbye my Ossian.” She vanished in a glittering burst of golden light.

  Emptiness captured my heart at her sudden disappearance. My head was spinning; for an incredible moment it almost seemed that she…no, I was mistaken. She would never shed tears over me. She was the Morrigan.

  * * *

  The morning sun crept through the doorway of my hut when a monk appeared saying Brendan wished to speak with me. It was but a short walk to the priest’s cottage and he bade me enter when I called out to him. I found him seated at a table, his eyes red-rimmed, and his face lined and weary.

  Feet apart, hands on my hips, I snorted. “You look terrible. What is it? Are you still troubled by confronting Erc?”

  His hands scrubbed his face as he shook his head. “Not merely Erc,” he muttered, “though he be a big part of it. No, I have been confronting my many failures. I prayed God would enlighten me, though he remains silent. Tell me, could what Erc said be true? Could I be wrong, did I misinterpret God’s Will? Is this voyage folly?”

  I nodded. “I see. So, that is why you haven’t set a new sailing date.”

  An empty chair rested by the table beside him, and his eyes followed me as I strolled over and sat down. “Your god’s will is your own affair. However, if you still ask if the Blessed Isles exist, I tell you most assuredly, yes they do. If you ask if it is p
ossible to reach them, I honestly tell you, I don’t know. But you will never know if you don’t try.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “That is true. You well know my reason to sail to the Isles, but tell me, why do you wish to voyage with me?”

  “That is a matter between me and my gods.” I hoped my smile would soften my words. “Your god is your affair, my gods are mine.”

  His face brightened a bit. “That was a sly answer, though one befitting you. You are right, of course. It was foolish of me to question the importance of the voyage.” Leaning forward, hands clasped atop the table, he continued, “I want you to inspect the ship. Yes, I trusted Erc’s abilities, though now I question everything about him. Make your measurements, and oh yes, complete your calculations, I believe you called them. Make certain our boat is seaworthy. Can you do that within the next few days?”

  “Certainly. If I find anything amiss, I will bring it to your attention and we can discuss suitable remedies.”

  “Good.” He nodded and then added with a grin, “We make an odd team, you and I, do we not?”

  His jest was not lost upon me, though a larger truth filled my mind. “Would that Druids and priests had understood the importance of working together for the greater good long ago.”

  * * *

  The days passed swiftly as I inspected every part of our curragh. Men of the village moved casks and bundles already stored aboard that I might view and measure each installed piece of it. Brendan was often at my side, asking questions as he paced about.

  “The main beams at the bow make a poor fit,” I observed as I pointed to their joining. Crooking a finger at a villager, I told him when he came near, “Go find Goban and bring him here.”

  Brendan leaned over my shoulder and peered at the joint. “Is it the gap between the two beams that concerns you? They appear pegged tight in place, so it seems a small thing.”