The Celtic Serpent

by S. Robertson

  “I’m beginning to feel slightly drained. In a single evening you’ve turned my world upside down. The world I thought was real is either an illusion or layers of energy which can be identified and manipulated. I’m either frozen energy or frozen light, which is still a bit hard to accept. However, I’m beginning to see the connection with the medallion. I’m aware that the medallion’s gemstones have been selected to affect different chakras. Is that it in a nutshell?” asked Angi.

  “You certainly are a quick learner, Angi. You’ve taken a giant step. I’m aware challenging your well established views can be threatening. But your openness to new ideas is impressive. Do not get discouraged nor be surprised that by morning you start doubting much of this. I’ll keep repeating it in the days ahead. Now let’s begin the practical application of this information. First I’ll get you to use your hands to manipulate the energy, and then later I’ll make you do it entirely with your mind.” Looking at a box of tissues on Angi’s table, she pulled one out and said, “Lets see if you can move this light object from the desk to the center of your bed. Concentrate on the item, force the energy through your fingertips, lift the tissue in the air and guide it towards the bed. The medallion will enhance your efforts.”

  The first, second and third attempts failed……..the tissue barely rose, then it rose and fell abruptly, then it rose and landed on the floor. Frustrated, Angi remarked, “This is harder than I thought. What am I doing wrong?”

  “Nothing,” was the gentle voice of her instructor. “You’re still not comfortable with these new concepts and your own abilities. Compare it to your early nursing days………does that work?”

  “Oh, that’s indelibly etched on my brain……….understood……... practice makes perfect, or some such mantra,” as Angi continued to move the object.

  “We’ll stay with this simple task until it’s mastered, then we’ll move to heavier objects,” said Sirona. The rest of the night was filled with a repeated sound of “Again……. again……..again.”

  * * *

  Four nights passed as Sirona, a tough drill master, worked with Angi in moving items from the desk to the center of the bed, each task demanding more skill. If one could see into the room one would encounter various objects floating in the air with Angi apparently talking to herself, because only she had the benefit of the medallion.

  Concluding the fourth night, Sirona decided it was time to test Angi’s progress. “Angi, tomorrow you have a medical appointment. Your head wound has had a few days to heal but, taking a small device from her pocket, she examined the area through the dressing to record a before and after image. I want you to concentrate on the back of your head, visualize the wound, and begin to heal the area by working with the energy fields.”

  “Well, this is more my speed. Wound care I know.” Angi thought of a former patient with a similar injury, and placing her hands over the back of her head, began. After some minutes she opened her eyes. “Now, can you take another photo, as I believe that is a miniature camera you took out of your pocket?”

  Sirona smiled. “You are clever. Yes, it takes photos and does a lot more,” and she looked at Angi waiting for the expected response.

  “I know……….we’ll talk about it later,” said Angi, and thought, “I’ll have to book more time with Sirona. There’s so much to learn………I wonder if I’ll live long enough. It’s like discovering an ancient treasure trove with an English speaking guide ……..what could be better than that? It’ll be tough sledding under her tutelage, but I prefer that.”

  Smiling, Sirona checked the results. “Very good, Angi,” and not revealing her findings she turned and asked, “I want you to register the physician’s comments tomorrow but say nothing. Whatever occurs, don’t think we’re ready to reveal much to your colleagues. You’ll need a lot more training. This is a first test. We are making progress. See you tomorrow night,” and after the usual routine scanning she disappeared.

  * * *

  Angi reported back to her colleagues the answers to the first two questions, and said they would have to wait on the last one. She was pleased no one pressed her for more details. But Sirona had not taken into account the castle’s inquisitive nature. Within days everyone knew that Angi’s light was not extinguished until after two in the morning, a change from her previous routine. No one asked why, as they knew.

  When Andrew’s personal physician removed the dressing and examined Angi’s head wound, he hesitated and asked, “When did this accident occur?” He went to his desk to check his records and returned to Angi. “I’ve never seen a wound heal like this. There’s practically no evidence anything happened yet the ER report is clear that you had a critical injury a few days ago requiring stitches. I’ll remove the stitches but there’s no need for another dressing or appointment.” Puzzled, he asked, “Angi, do you have a history of healing quickly?”

  “No,” replied Angi, wanting desperately to relieve his perplexed expression. Elated at her progress, she could hardly contain her excitement, but held her silence. “No time to get too exuberant,” she thought, “your still a novice.”

  Fortunately, the others were preoccupied; the mole in their midst had not been unearthed no matter how many times they checked and rechecked the records and electronic devices, and plans for Iona were well underway.

  Angi knew she had little time to dwell on her accomplishments for much would be expected of her at Iona. On the trip back to the castle a thought registered “Sirona knew. She wanted me to hear it from a physician in this dimension. I wonder what other surprises she has in store.”

  * * *

  Scotland: Iona

  Preparations for Iona had hit a frenzied pace. The road ahead was plagued with suspense. As the group focused in on the last two gemstones, they knew Antonino would be getting desperate.

  Former Guardians, contacted to see if they remembered anything about the Iona hiding place, had nothing to contribute. Passing the gemstone onto a trusted relative was, they thought, their only directive. Several Iona experts were contacted by Andrew to see if they knew of a secret hiding place on the Island but this too came up blank.

  Edginess hung over their inability to uncover the mole. Planning continued with trepidation assuming every detail was being transmitted to Antonino. The police, having missed their chance to arrest him, reported he had vanished. While word on the street was that he was not getting a warm reception from his underworld contacts, the police knew with the incentive being offered he was bound to find someone. So, for greater control, it was decided that a small group would travel to Iona by helicopter. Andrew would make the arrangements. Because Iona was a popular tourist site, the flight would begin at DunRoslin at 4:30 in the morning, allowing four hours to get to the island, complete their search and, hopefully, find the gemstone. “We’ll have to be damn lucky to find anything in that short of time,” said Andrew, growing restive.

  For days everyone was busy scanning the Internet, checking Andrew’s library materials and reviewing maps. Large maps covered the library table and several reference books lay open as the group tried to determine where someone, with three hundred year foresight, would pick a hiding place for the gemstones. Before the trip they gathered in the library to review their findings.

  The weather was hot and humid, two open windows providing little relief. The group, so absorbed in their research, kept wiping beads of perspiration from their upper lips and foreheads. No one complained about the discomfort. While Angi and Vette sat on large leather chairs wading through books, Wolfram and Andrew manned the computers, leaving Morgan and Bryce scanning maps and old drawings of Iona.

  “There’s so much history to consider,” said Morgan. “We’ll need to go back further than the Christian era after all there are some items on the Island which go back to the Druids. Maybe there’s some special significance to the hidden place, like a stone circle, an ancient cairn, a statue or a building.”

  “Now that you mention it Morgan, the
old Gaelic name for Iona was Innis nan Druidhneach which translates as the ‘Island of the Druids’. I’ve also heard it called the ‘Sacred Isle of the Druids’. Apparently, Iona was a primary seat of learning for the Celtic Druid Magi,” replied Andrew.

  “Is that the source of its name?” asked Vette.

  “Well, the name HY or I, by which Iona was generally known, is said to signify the sacred Isle of the Eye,” replied Andrew.

  “You mean like the Eye of Horus of the Egyptians?” asked Morgan.

  “As you know, the Eye was an ancient symbol of life, understanding, and vitality related to sacred matters. It also represented Druidic wisdom and knowledge.”

  “But why was this particular island so sacred to the Druids and Celtic Christians?” asked Angi.

  Bryce responded. “It may go back further than the history we know. Tradition says that there was once a city of sacred reputation on Iona, adorned with fine buildings and temples, a seat of learning visited by students from all parts of the world. Its present village, called Threld, means in the Gaelic, “great city” and the remains of stone circles and menhirs testify to its considerable antiquity. The original island is said to have had a colonnade of 360 engraved stones of which only two have survived. The 360 stones were thought to have had an astronomical significance and date from a period prior to the change in the calendar which we talked about before. The one surviving stone on Iona is called the Maclean’s Cross. This stone has been carved out of a block of solid granite, stands eleven feet in height above ground, and its engraved figures are so worn they could be pre-Christian.”

  “Are you implying this island might have been an important religious centre of Atlantis, a place of high learning which was destroyed in the comet attack?” asked Wolfram.

  “Possibly,” replied Bryce. “It may have been this subconscious awareness which compelled the Druids and Celtic Christians to maintain a sacred presence on the site.”

  “Or, perhaps the Druids were continuing a legacy which they already knew,” interjected Morgan. “It is argued that the Druids were a much older group than the historians give them credit. The Celts also called Iona a ‘thin place’ where the material and spiritual worlds were separated by the thinnest of veils.”

  “Brigit talked about ‘thin spaces’ when we were in Ireland,” replied Angi.

  “Well, thin spaces or Atlantis roots, it means that Iona possessed a mysterious something unique to other islands. But sticking to recorded history, there is another factor which may have significance. While most regard Iona’s history as beginning about 563 C.E. with the monk St. Columba (also known as Colm Cille), there is evidence that there were monks there long before that. As you may know, Druid priests converted to the Christian faith forming a monastic order, an earlier Celtic Christian order, known as the Culdees (Coli Dei), which means ‘servants of the Lord of God,’ ” said Andrew.

  “Yes, I read about that in your books here in the library. What happened to the Culdees?” asked Angi.

  “As expected, they established Celtic Christian churches in former Druid centers, with Iona being their chief seat. Being followers of the Old Testament, they were said to be connected to the Church of James, the Essenes, and the Gnostics. When the Roman church decided to get rid of any opposition, the Gnostic groups were their earliest targets. It took some time before the Celtic Christians were under attack, but it finally happened. At that time, the Culdees melted into existing Christian groups, some of their beliefs and symbols rising to the surface in later centuries.”

  “I’m sure you read that the Culdee’s favorite symbol was the dove, which is still evident on Iona today,” replied Bryce.

  This prompted Vette to ask, “Isn’t the dove a feminine symbol?”

  “Fascinating,” replied Angi, “it is said that in this century feminine spirituality will become essential to our survival because it’s focused on the heart. Maybe this has already begun on Iona.”

  “That should create a royal battle with the males who favor a patriarchal religious hierarchy,” replied Vette.

  “Now, that’s a topic we could chew on for days,” said Wolfram with a broad grin, “but not today. However, Andrew, I’m assuming you’ve mentioned the Culdees because there may be some symbol, like the dove, which could lead us to the secret hiding place?”

  “Yes and no,” was Andrew’s reply. “What I’m trying to point out is that we have a number of possibilities and, regrettably, we do not know what the original planners had in mind back in the 1600s. You will note that while we have the names of the original families, we do not know the leader of this carefully organized secret enterprise. Was it someone different from the chosen gentry? Someone went to a lot of effort and cost to have those miniature boxes made in Europe and assemble the couples in Scotland. I expect this is the same person, or persons, who financed the four couples who immigrated to the new world. If we knew this person or persons we might have a better fix on the site. Without that, we’re speculating. So let’s see what we have.”

  Angi began. “We have three buildings of significance; the Iona abbey, the nunnery and St. Oran’s chapel and cemetery. Very little of the original monastery built by St. Columba in the 6th century, survives. In 1203, a Benedictine abbey was built and, while it came under attack by the Vikings in the middle ages, it continued until the Reformation when the building was demolished and left in ruins. It wasn’t until the 20th century that the abbey was restored.”

  “Do we have any idea what the pre-restoration building might have looked like?” asked Wolfram.

  “Here’s a printout,” said Morgan, who picked it out of a pile of papers on the table. “The abbey doesn’t look too promising. In the 1600s, the medallion planners would know of the Reformation attacks and would not risk exposing the gemstones either to the elements or further attack.”

  “Nevertheless, Lord George MacLeod must have had these plans in the 1930s. Let’s hold onto them, just in case,” said Wolfram. “What’s the next one?”

  Morgan responded, “The nunnery, which was also destroyed at the Reformation and was never restored. It remains as it did in the 1700s. However, since the gemstones were left to females to guard, this could be the site, but, unfortunately it’s open to the elements.”

  “It doesn’t rule out a hidden chamber,” interjected Angi.

  “I don’t suppose we have any detailed drawings of the nunnery?” asked Wolfram.

  “No, we’ve searched the Internet and books, there is nothing. At best we have drawings of what it might have looked like on the outside,” replied Morgan, pulling out another piece of paper.

  “Let’s go with that. It might have some use,” said Wolfram “What’s the third option”.

  “That’s the chapel and cemetery. Both sit at the end of the Street of the Dead, and the chapel is regarded as the oldest standing building on Iona,” reported Morgan.

  “Why the Street of the Dead?” asked Vette.

  “The name originated from the practice of medieval pilgrims walking along the street from the abbey to the chapel leading to the cemetery. The cemetery was an ancient royal burial ground, called in the Gaelic “Reilig Odhrain” (English: Oran’s burial place or cemetery). It is said to have contained the graves of 48 Scottish, 8 Norwegian, and 4 Irish kings and possibly rulers from Dal Riata and France. As such, it may have been an important burial place long before the recorded 9th to 11th centuries.”

  “What about the graves, maybe one king stands out?” asked Angi.

  “Unfortunately,” replied Morgan, “none of the graves are identifiable, the inscriptions were worn away by the 17th century. So it’s unlikely the 17th century planners would have considered this option, they would be looking for something more substantial.”

  “Nevertheless, let’s look around when we get there just in case something stands out. The Internet videos didn’t give us much,” replied Angi.

  “What about the chapel,” asked Wolfram, realizing the options were dwind
ling?

  Andrew reentered the discussion, “St. Oran’s chapel has an interesting history. Some say it was built by Columba and others say it was there before he arrived. Irrespective of this unrecorded account, some ruin was restored in the 12th century when the Benedictine abbey was built. It’s simple and unadorned except for an elaborate tomb-recess built into the south wall in the 1400s said to be for the MacDonalds, the Lords of the Isles. The exterior is of stone, with a beautifully carved Norman arch over the entrance. It’s a good possibility.”

  “There’s an interesting side story about this place,” said Angi. “Apparently, in 1098 when the Norse King Magnus Barelegs entered the chapel with intent on plunder, he recoiled, shaken and ordered that none should enter. He never revealed what he saw or what caused such fear. Any chance we might rattle some ancient ghost?”

  “There’s quite a few tales about this place,” replied Andrew, “even one that someone was buried alive when it was constructed.”

  “It’s well known that conquering societies build their religious buildings on top of temples or sacred places of their enemies. So, this chapel may have been built over a pagan center. We’ll know if a raging ghost appears from some ancient time period. While I’d love the possibility, I think it would hamper our search,” said Morgan with a chuckle.

  “What about the tomb?” asked Angi “Any chance it might be ‘something else’. Remember what Fiona said ‘It’s not what it appears’.”

  “Good point,” replied Wolfram, showing a decided interest. “I’ll bring up a larger photo on the computers and let’s take a look.”

  Using both computers the video and still photos were reviewed several times.

  “It could be,” said Andrew “but if it’s not what it seems, then it begs the question, what would trigger a secret opening? We could play with the design and stones for days and come up with nothing. Let me check with an old colleague to see if there are any more details about this tomb.” He went to his study, and closed the door to make a call. The others waited proposing various opinions as to how a secret compartment might be opened.