“No. I’ve been in the Library for the last hour and more. Why?”
“Nothing. I thought I heard someone. Thank you anyway.” He turned to go.
“What about the boy? Is all well?” Diarmuid felt irritated at the omission of Ciaran’s name.
“Which boy?”
“Ciaran McAidh,” Lucius pronounced, irritated in his turn. Diarmuid felt that he wanted to say more, to tease a little, but held it back.
“Ciaran? He’ll be fine. Just fine,” he replied. “There will be a meeting this evening, and we’ll explain what we’ve done to help him. Leave him be until after that time. I know I can trust you in this?” It should have been a statement but it came out as a query. Lucius nodded shortly.
“Of course. As you wish.”
The whole Druid community was summoned to the meeting that evening and they were told of the course that had been taken.
“He believes now that he has the falling-sickness. No-one is to tell him otherwise.”
“What was it that disturbed him so much?” Lucius demanded to know. “Why couldn’t he have learned discipline, as the rest of us have?” Without even glancing at Amergin, Diarmuid took it on himself to reply. So far, the content of the boy’s Visions were confidential to the two of them and the Welsh boy alone. It would be best if it stayed that way.
“His episodes were confused and all but useless: we learned nothing from them. In a few years’ time he will be more mature and, who knows? maybe better suited to the rigours of our craft.”
“Discipline learned young is longest remembered,” Lucius responded obstinately. And we all know who would be first in line to administer it, Diarmuid thought to himself.
“I seem to recall that you didn’t learn to submit to discipline until you were a few years older than Ciaran McAidh, brother Lucius,” he said aloud. The young Lucius had run away from his College on several occasions up to the age of eighteen: it went some way to explain why he was no more than an ollamh - a lowly position in the craft for his age. He resumed his seat and muttered something, which the two holding the meeting decided to ignore. Diarmuid continued. “Tomorrow morning, I will take the boy for what will seem to be a regular lesson. The boys will then be told as much as they need to know and ordered to fall in with the regime. I’m sure we can depend on their...er... discipline.” He looked pointedly away from Lucius.
“Isn’t that a deception?” Cormac demanded. Another of the Lucius crew. Their hunger to get their hands on the child was almost tangible. He would like to know why.
“It is, but practiced in a good cause.” He held his hand up to forestall any argument. “The choice was hard, one that the High Druid and I discussed for some time - before today’s incident - before taking. We, who know the boy and the state of his mind better than anyone else here,” he paused and looked around for indications of disagreement, “decided that this course offered the least damage to his psyche. The sin - if there is any - is on us and us alone. You are under the Rule of our Order and subject to its discipline. The High Druid’s instructions to you are that you do as you are ordered in this case, without blame or fear of repercussion, in this life or after. We will pay any penalty the gods may decide.” With that, the meeting was over and the druids dispersed to their various normal duties.
After supper that evening, Coivin and I walked in the fading light to the edge of the woods and watched the Star of Breide rise in the east. Ieuan had been called in by Amergin and Diarmuid.
“What is it you Saw that upset you so much?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I replied.
“Something you Saw upset you, or you wouldn’t have done what you did this morning. What was it?” I told him that I didn’t know what he was talking about. Coivin started to get irritated, believing that I was deliberately shutting him out. I was genuinely puzzled. He got angry, then I got angry that my trusted cousin would raise the falling-sickness I suffered from, which made Coivin angrier and soon we were fighting again: Coivin struggling to get a punch in and me holding on for all I was worth to stop him.
Brother Sean the treasurer found us and delivered us to Lucius, who took his normal pleasure in beating us both while Sean watched. Ieuan sighed and tended our bruises and lacerations, which had turned our rumps red. Everything was back to normal.
I continued to have my Visions and they continued to cause me distress for as long as I was aware of them - but there was no repeat of the accumulation which had led to my attempted suicide. I never had as many as three in one week again.
It was a late summer three years later when I was called upon to deliver a message to Diarmuid. I was drifting off to sleep at the end of a long day in the fields and paying no real attention to whatever it was that Ieuan was saying. The birds were still twittering away outside and the hum of the insects had assumed a monotonous note that I found soothing and irritating at the same time. It should have lulled me quickly to sleep but instead it seemed to fog my brain. And to add to the irritation, there was a point of light in my eye, just off centre, which moved whenever I tried to look at it. I was aware that it was growing, extending either side. It was jagged and irregular. It was curving downward at either end. I was cross that I couldn’t quite look at it and determine what it was. And Ieuan was still droning on. I would have to say something. I rolled over and sat up, irritably.
“Ieuan,” I began, my voice treacly-sweet with reason and suppressed irritation. Ieuan looked up and
there was a man sitting by a fire dressed in a worn and patched brown robe. He was cooking something, I could see through the trees. An animal emitted a rumbling growl and the man looked up. His head was shaved from the forehead back to a line over the top running from ear to ear like a druid but I knew this was not a druid. He held up a bowl and sniffed it and looked straight to where I was hidden and he said something that I could not make out. The fire was an altar and a lamb lay on it, blood trickling from its fatal wound and running off the edge, where it gathered itself and washed the whole island clean from end to end. The lamb jumped down from the altar and came over to where I was hidden in the trees. Then it gambolled and ran back to the strange monk. Its fleece was gold and its wound had done it no harm. The monk stroked the lamb reverently and seemed to be listening to the creature then he looked straight at me and said
Tell Diarmuid it’s time to make his journey. Go to him now.
“What is it?” Ieuan asked. I put my head in my hands with a gasp of pain as the headache hit. The episode had lasted only a second or so but it was obvious what had happened and Ieuan produced the bottle he kept in his bedside cabinet and helped me to a small draft. It began to work its effect straightaway but the older boy - now a young man and ready to become a Journeyman - waited until I was ready. In a minute or so my head was quite cleared and I was able to speak.
“I must see Father Diarmuid straight away.” Ieuan considered the lateness of the hour and Brother Lucius on duty.
“Are you sure? It’s late,” he asked.
“I must. I must see him now.” I got up and was heading out of the room as I finished. I was driven to see Diarmuid. I must see him as soon as possible. Ieuan had to run to catch up, explaining quickly to Lucius as we passed, who tried to delay us but I was single-minded. I had gone while Ieuan was still debating the issue. By the time he got to Diarmuid’s cell I was already in conversation with the Druid, who held his hand up to stop my flow of words and also to keep Ieuan at the doorway. I ground to a halt.
“Thank you, Ieuan. What Ciaran has to tell me I need to hear alone. Wait in the Library. It’s still warm there.” Ieuan drew breath to protest but let it go and did as he was told. “Start again, Ciaran, and try to speak more slowly,” he said calmly. “I can’t understand you when you gabble.”
It was my turn to draw breath and I told Diarmuid, as clearly as I could, what I had Seen: the man in the brown robe - “Did you recognise him?” - “No, I’ve never seen him before.” - (not me then, thought Dia
rmuid), and then the lamb on the altar.
“The man said it was time for you to make your journey. Do you know what it means?” I concluded. Diarmuid didn’t answer directly.
“I’ll have to think about it, Ciaran.” He looked up at me and he was very sad. I thought how long it had been, how much I had grown since we first met and I saw the thought in him as well. “Thank you for coming to me.” He stood up and put his arm on my shoulders, more for his own comfort than for mine, I think. I was only a few inches shorter than him now, but I was gangling and awkward while he was older and more stocky. “You’ve become almost like a son to me over the last three - no, nearly four years - “ he stopped, like he had run out of words.
If the Lamb had called him, Diarmuid thought, he hoped He would call Ciaran as well and they would meet again. But he would carry him in his heart until then. But who would look after Ciaran? Who would care for him and help him? Amergin would, surely. He was almost as concerned for the boy as Diarmuid himself - and ambitious for him as well. And Ieuan, of course. The Welshman loved his protege even though that love would never be fulfilled. Diarmuid had touched the other’s mind to see if he could be trusted. He saw passion and longing that he struggled to control. It got easier as they got older and the situation more familiar and the Druid helped as well, as subtly as he could, soothing the desire and strengthening the discipline. Ieuan relieved his needs with willing partners, among the boys and the Druids. There were plenty of opportunities. And beyond the longing there was real love and friendship. Ieuan could be relied upon.
I asked him if he was all right but he hadn’t heard a word of it so I repeated my question.
“Are you all right, Father?”
“I’m sorry, Ciaran, I was thinking about what you’d told me. What did you say?”
“That dream I had. It was very strange. Almost like a Vision, don’t you think?” Diarmuid came to attention with a jolt.
“Come now my Prince of Donegal,” he said, and eliminated my conscious memory of the incident, then reassured me about his latest experience of ‘the falling-sickness’. “Go on over to the Library,” he said, his voice heavy with sadness, “Ieuan is there. Send him over to me and wait there for him to return.” I asked again if he was all right. “Yes, I’m fine. Ciaran.” He called as I was leaving, “Goodnight, and sleep well.” He managed to stop himself saying goodbye, but we would share no more evenings at Innisgarbh. Amergin would not take well his departure for the Christians.
Ieuan arrived when Diarmuid was alone. “You sent for me, Father? Is Ciaran all right?”
“Sit down for a moment, Ieuan. Yes, Ciaran’s fine. Another episode of the falling-sickness, he believes. Don’t disabuse him.” He fell silent and sighed.
“Father? Is something wrong?” Diarmuid sighed again.
“No, not exactly. Not wrong, exactly. But I have to go.”
“When? Where?” Ieuan jumped to his feet and looked around. there was no immediate threat. “Where are you going?”
“I have to leave the College. Tomorrow, I expect. I want you to look after Ciaran. He’s...” he paused. “He’s very special.” He stood and walked around his small cell. “Ciaran has a very special Gift, as you know, and also a very heavy burden. I won’t be around to help him. You must redouble your efforts. I know I can trust you to take care of him. And you must. there are those who would...” he searched for the right word, “would abuse him and his Gift. Make sure they don’t get to him.”
“Where are you going?” Ieuan asked coldly. Diarmuid stopped his pacing, closed his eyes and raised his face to Heaven. He felt a trace of warmth and knew he was doing right, even though he felt so miserable and devastated.
“Away. Away from here.”
“You’re going to the Christians, aren’t you?” Diarmuid nodded, shortly. “Traitor.” Ieuan said. “Everything you have, you have received from our gods, from Lugh. Your position, your Gift, everything!” He spoke quietly, but his words were edged with ice and hate. “All you have, you owe to our old gods, who were here in the Land before these Christians were ever dreamed of. They cared for us, and you turn your back on them. And go to this dead God of the Christians.”
“I can’t deny Him, Ieuan,” Diarmuid replied sadly, “even though I may be the most reluctant and desolate convert He has ever made.”
“ These Christians are thieves. They steal our people, they try to steal our Land. They take our gods and twist them to their own purpose: Lugh died and rose from the grave. This Christ, they say, was born in winter: the time of Imbolg and rebirth. He died and rose again in Spring, the time of Bealtaine and the first shoots of the crops. He rose and went to his so-called Father to be received as a king at the time of Samhain, claiming domination over this and all other worlds. Like Lugh. The Christians can’t even come up with their own gods, they steal ours. And you go to join them. Traitor! May your blood freeze in your veins!” He turned to leave.
“Ieuan,” Diarmuid called quietly, “I haven’t said anything about this to Ciaran. Look after him. You know he knows nothing of his Gift, not consciously. Take care of him for the sake of the love we both have for him. Please.”
Ieuan stopped short on his way to the door. He half turned and gave a brief nod. “I’ll do all I can for him - for his sake, not for yours.” Then he left.
7
I was on my way to the refectory for breakfast when I saw Diarmuid and Amergin. The High Druid had a face like thunder, my teacher was wearing a very old and tattered robe and he was heading towards the gate. He was carrying a small bag and I knew at once he was leaving. Ieuan tried to stop me but I shook him off and ran over to my friend, the only Druid I trusted.
“Where are you going?” I asked. “When will you be back?” The Druid stopped and leaned on his stick a little. He grabbed my arm and looked straight into my face - no green tinge to his eyes this time, he was speaking to me straight. His eyes were sadder than I had ever seen before, except for a vague memory of my mother’s face as I was taken away.
“I have to go, Ciaran. I’m going to join the Christians.” I tried to step back but he held me firm. “Look after yourself. Trust Ieuan, he’s your friend. He will be with you when I cannot. And keep as far away from Lucius and his group as you can.”
“Diarmuid!” Amergin called. “Let the boy go and leave! Leave now, turncoat! He is not yours and never will be! Go, and take the little that you brought with you!” Diarmuid looked down at his small bundle. He let me go and stood up tagain. I stepped back in case his apostasy somehow contaminated me as well. But I didn’t run, as maybe I should have. Diarmuid turned to leave. “Brother Lucius,” Amergin said cruelly, “please take the boy and ensure that he is taught correctly from now on.” Lucius advanced with an unpleasant smile and made to pull me away. Diarmuid turned once again, a mixture of anger and dismay on his face.
“Amergin!” he called. “The boy knows nothing! You know I haven’t attempted anything with him! Direct your anger at me, not at this child. He knows nothing!” Amergin’s only answer was a curt nod to Lucius, who gripped me more tightly than was necessary and forced me away. I was devastated - at the loss of my friend and at being put in Lucius’ power. Lucius! By all the gods, Lucius, of all of them! Diarmuid looked to Ieuan and drew breath as if he was about to call on him but then he seemed to think better of it. He picked up his bag, turned his back on the High Priest and left the College grounds without looking back.
Lucius dragged me, as reluctant to go with him as Diarmuid was to leave, to our classroom. He held my arm as Diarmuid had, but there was no affection in this grip. The face was twisted in anticipation and delight.
“No more special treatment for you, my little prince,” he hissed from no more than a couple of inches away from my face. “You heard the High Druid. You’re mine now.” I wrestled myself free, against Lucius’ best efforts, and stepped back. It was a small victory.
“I’m not yours,” I replied quietly, “not now, not before, not ever. I
will submit to your discipline as I always have. But it doesn’t make me yours. Not ever. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” and I made for the door.
“I don’t excuse you!” Lucius shrieked. I shrugged my shoulders and continued on my way. Lucius started after me but help on this occasion came from an unexpected quarter - Cormac, who was no friend of mine, entered and intercepted the enraged ollamh.
“A moment of your time please, brother,” he said and put his arm round his colleague’s shoulder. Lucius’ face showed even more surprise than mine. “On your way, boy,” he called out, and I left. I hesitated outside the door but could hear little more than Lucius’ hiss and a few words from Cormac - “don’t over-reach yourself. Don’t move too soon” - then I went on to breakfast.
I kept out of Lucius’ way as much as possible. Of course, the druid sought me out as much as he could and punished me remorselessly for every fault, real or imagined. I was singled out: Coivin was not routinely beaten alongside me, although the opposite did apply. My treatment was such that even he expressed sympathy.
Innisgarbh (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 1) Page 7