Arcanum: An Irish Mystery

by Ann Mann

  Tentatively, she stepped out of the car and realised that her right shoulder was throbbing horribly. It was true what they said, that fear could disguise pain, but in a way there was also a sense of renewal to be gained from being in the cold night air and she took several deep breaths as she groped in the back of the car for her torch. Then, when she had found it and switched it on, it was though its welcome beam had answered an unspoken prayer and delivered her from evil.

  With the torch in one hand and her bag and phone clasped tightly in the other, Erin set off the way she had come and headed for the motorway wishing she had put boots on that morning instead of three inch heels. Pride before a fall, she thought miserably as she picked her way down the small bank that the car had mounted and started to walk along the narrow road.

  The torch beam lit the road that lay ahead well and she swung it from side to side for she could not be sure whether the trees, now swaying like shadow dancers and unleashing powdery snow, were all her straining ears could decipher, or if there was something else that was watching and lying in wait for her.

  At first she assumed it was a dead animal in the middle of the road, but as she nervously approached where the figure had crossed in front of the car, she saw what looked like a pile of dark rags. Hesitating, she peered closer, kicking her heel against the bundle to make sure, as the torch shone its light upon some soiled garments which seemed to be a combination of grey wool heaped upon taffeta.

  Satisfied that it was just a bunch of old clothes, Erin stepped around it and was about to continue her journey when a sound brought her to a standstill once again.

  This time she nearly vomited from fright. Could that really be a fiddle? A plaintive, soulful sound that cut through the blackness to play with her senses and eliminated every atom of constructive thought.

  The music was familiar and yet she couldn’t place where she had heard it before.

  She stood rooted to the spot, the agonizing pain in her shoulder now the least of her worries. Who on God’s green earth could be playing a fiddle in this remote place?

  There were now only two choices that Erin could make and neither was good. She would walk on accompanied by this terrifying music and not knowing what other bizarre problems she might encounter, or return to the car, lock herself in and wait there until it was light. If the stench was still bad then she would live with it, for it had to be better than stepping into the dark unknown.

  Moving as fast as her shoes would allow, Erin found herself moaning like the north Atlantic wind. Clambering up onto the bank towards the car the music seemed to swell around her as though someone had turned up the volume and it was now, with a sickening jolt, that she recognised it for the first time.

  But – surely it couldn’t be. How could the music used in the Arcanum finale be played here? But that was what it was for she had followed every note and knew it by heart.

  Every nerve in her body on edge but clinging to the torch for grim death, Erin dropped her bag, pulled her car keys from her pocket and grappled with the lock, then with a cry of anguish hurled herself into the driver’s seat, closing her eyes while she struggled to breathe normally and to relax her severely stressed muscles.

  After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and that’s when her piercing scream sliced through the night like the blade of Fergus. Even though the shock of what she was seeing caused her vision to swim around alarmingly, her brain still managed to absorb the pictures on the cards that were propped up against the windscreen inside the car and, in sheer disbelief, she leaned forward pointing the torch onto each and every one.

  Twenty-two Tarot cards. All of the Major Arcana. They carried the look of age and even to Erin in her petrified state clearly bore only a passing resemblance to the costumes in the Arcanum set dance. The hues were more subtle than the bright designs that she had witnessed; rustic browns and tawny orange, sage green and violet against a background of sepia-tinted faded tapestry. The torchlight quivered as it shone on the faces of the characters: the blushed cheeks of the Magician, the sad countenance of the Fool, the hollow dark sockets of the eyes of Death.

  She began to laugh then, her imagination relaying to her disturbed mind that she was the only Minor character present among a cast of Major trumps. Perhaps that was what someone was trying to tell her. That she had no chance of winning against such superior power.

  Before she lost consciousness, Erin called loudly upon a God that she had forsaken to help her and not to allow her to die cold and alone in a strange place tormented by supernatural forces.

  When dawn broke through a mass of heavy, grey clouds and the birds began to realise it was morning, the AA rescue service arrived to tow the Mini away while the paramedics carried the shaking woman from the car onto a stretcher and into a waiting ambulance.

  Unlike Dennis Ahearne and many others in the world who had mentally obliterated extreme trauma, the choreographer remembered everything but refused to tell a soul lest she be considered insane.

  Her work with Lighthouse would continue but there would be no Arcanum tribute show for she had learned to dread even the mention of the word Tarot. Instead, she would re-wind and play back every detail of her ordeal from the moment she stepped out of the theatre that evening to when unconsciousness thankfully claimed her, and those memories were to remain through every dream and nightmare that Erin Shaw was to experience for the rest of her life.

  *

  Epilogue.

  Co. Clare. 1785

  The old woman nodded with satisfaction at the choice she had made.

  He was an upstanding young man with a fine reputation who had tutored Set and Ceili dances around the counties of Galway and Limerick and who was now watching with fascinated interest the diverse assembly of individuals whom he had inherited.

  She noted that he gazed with surprised delight as they incorporated unparalleled arm and foot movements into their dances and he gasped at the flying jumps they were performing on the hard ground. She was also heartened that he appeared admiring of their diligence which she was certain he would endeavour to continue to nurture.

  And he wore the coat, hat and shoes as if they had been made especially for him, respecting that they were on loan together with the silver-topped cane for as long as he was a guest in their county.

  This impression lasted but a few minutes and she resisted a volcanic urge to remain longer, slowly making her way back down the hill, past the silver mirror lake, resting now and then on her hazel staff and looking back whenever the fiddler played a particular air evoking memories that were long out of season.

  The woman pulled her grey shawl tighter around her thin arms as the first chill of autumn transformed itself into a dense cloud that curled its way down from the mountains and through the thick forest.

  As it drifted towards her, she gave a secret smile, satisfied that her work here was done, then touching her golden cross with a prayer, allowed the mist which held so many secrets to once again take her at its will.

  A Potted History of the Irish Dance.

  Irish dance dates back to traditions in Ireland in the 1500’s and is closely tied to Irish independence and cultural identity. Through history, these ancient dances were never documented or recorded due to Ireland’s occupation by England, which tried to make Ireland more “English” by outlawing certain traditional practices. Many Irish cultural traditions were banned by the English authorities duringthe 400-year period that came to be known as the Penal Days.

  Despite this ban on cultural traditions in Ireland, Irish dancing continued behind closed doors. Because their musical instruments had been confiscated by the authorities, Irish parents taught their children the dances by tapping out rhythms with their hands and feet and making music through “lilting” (or mouth music somewhat similar to “scat singing” in jazz). Irish dances came from Ireland’s family clans and, like tribal Native America
n dances in the U.S.A were never formally choreographed or recorded.

  But we do have some idea of the dances done by the Irish in the mid-1500s. These would have included Rinnce Fada or Fading where two lines with partners faced each other, Irish Hey (possibly a round or figure dance), jigs (likely in a group), Trenchmores (described as a big free form country dance), and sword dances. English suppression of Irish culture continued, exemplified by the banning of piping and the arrest of pipers. However, Queen Elizabeth I was “exceedingly pleased” with Irish tunes and country dances.

  Power struggles between the Irish and English continued during the 1600s. The Penal Laws enacted in the late 1600s crushed Irish commerce and industries. The laws also banned the education of Catholic children leading to hidden (hedge) schools. Traditional Irish culture was practiced with some degree of secrecy. This period of severe repression lasted for more than a hundred years, explaining some of the initial secrecy of teaching Irish step dancing. The Church itself sometimes condemned dancing stating that “In the dance are seen frenzy and woe.”

  A major influence on Irish dance and Irish culture was the advent of the Dance Masters around 1700 beginning a tradition that you could argue continues today. A dance master typically travelled within a county, stopping in a village and sometimes staying with a hospitable family (who were honored by their selection as host). They taught Irish dancing (male teachers) in kitchens, farm outbuildings, crossroads, or hedge schools. Students would first learn the jig and reel. Sometimes, the teacher had to tie a rope around a student’s leg to distinguish right foot from left. Besides dancing, they also appear to have given instruction in fencing and other skills. Some teachers had other skilled trades that were used on occasion by the villagers, helping to explain dance masters habit of traveling from town to town. Having an eminent dance master associated with your village was a cause for pride and boasting by the community.

  Each dance master had a repertoire of dance steps and he created new steps over time. (Eight measures or bars of music are called a “step,” hence the term step dancing.) These men were the creators of the set and ceili dances and they carefully guarded heir art of step creation. Dance masters created the first schools of dancing, the best known being from Counties Kerry, Cork, and Limerick. One dance master described himself as “an artificial rhythmical walker” and “instructor of youth in the Terpsichorean art.” Villagers paid dance masters at the end of the third week of teaching at a “benefit night.” They paid the accompanying musician a week later. Sometimes, the dance master was both musician and dancer simultaneously! Apparently the level of pay for the dance masters was relatively high for Ireland and it included room and board.

  The Penal Laws were finally lifted in the late 1800’s, inspiring Irish nationalism and the Great Gaelic Revival—the resurgence of interest in Irish language, literature, history and folklore—and its accompanying feis (essentially a gathering that included various forms of competition). The feis was typically held in open fields and included contests in singing, playing music, baking, and, or course, Irish dancing.

  In 1929, the Irish Dancing Commission was founded (An Coimisiun le Rinci’ Gaelacha) to establish rules regarding teaching, judging, and competitions. It continues in that role. Prior to 1929, many local variations in dances, music, costumes and the rules of feisianna existed. Part of the impact of the Commission was standardization of competitions.

  During the 20th Century, Irish dance has evolved in terms of locations, costumes, and dance technique. For example, during the period of the dance masters, stages were much smaller including table tops, half doors, and sometimes the “stage” was simply a crossroad. (An old poem called dancing “tripping the sod.”) Tests of dancing ability involved dancing on the top of a barrel or on a soaped table! As stages became larger, the dance changed in at least two ways. The movement of dancers across a stage increased greatly (a judge would now subtract points if a dancer did not “use the stage”), and dance steps that require substantial space became possible (e.g., “flying jumps”). The location of competitions also changed over time from barns or outdoors where flat bed trucks were used as stages, to predominately indoors in hotels, schools or fairgrounds.

  Irish dance has evolved in other ways during the 20th Century. Instruction is beginning at a younger age. Who is instructed has also changed from mostly males to mostly females (the turning point was before 1930). Girls dancing solos in competition were rare before the 1920s. Dance styles have also changed; for example, arms and hands are not always held rigid during solo dances. Some argue that stiff arms were less provocative, others that the Church was trying to increase dancers’ self control. Hand movements still occur in figure (group) dances.

  In 1969, the Irish Dance World Championships started in Dublin, and competitive Irish dancing continued to gain momentum. As the students of the first generation of dance masters became established in America in the 1970’s, the first American Irish step dancing champions began to emerge, and would change the art form forever.

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