Evelyn concluded, “It was then that Paddy told Cathal, apparently in jest, that the mystery was solved. Undoubtedly the hawthorn bushed guarded the entrance to an old fairy fort. The little people had placed the child on the hillside and then returned to their underground world. The two boys had a good laugh over that, but then Paddy agreed, however ridiculous that explanation may sound, he had no other ideas.”
Molly, who apparently was listening intently when she heard her name being mentioned, stood up, stretched her long frame and wandered over to accept the accolades of the two women for her role in solving the mystery. When she was properly thanked, and checked the baby to be sure he was safe, she returned to her spot under the table.
“So what happened then?” Margaret asked eager to hear the rest of the story.
Evelyn continued, “Well, the boys returned and made their report laughing, of course, at the bit about the leprechauns. They brought the feather mattress along with them but obviously left the granite crib to mark the spot. After some discussion Paddy decided, that rather than immediately reporting the incident and turning the child over to the authorities, he would make some discreet inquiries to determine if any children had gone missing. Alternatively, perhaps some young one had a child in the past several weeks… you know how that might go. Paddy said that he could just imagine what the boys down at the station house would say if he tried to explain how we had happened upon the abandoned infant.”
“Anyway, the long and the short of it was that Paddy found that there were no reports of missing children. He could find no record of any child having been born in the last two months, anywhere in the country or the north for that matter, that was not fully accounted for. Of course, Paddy admitted that it was possible that someone in a rural area, like myself for example, could have a child without notifying the authorities or medical professionals. He told us that although it was not as common as it was twenty or thirty years ago that sort of thing did still happen.”
“So at the end of the day, we all decided that Cathal and I would mind the baby unless and until someone came forward with a plausible explanation for the baby’s sudden appearance in the middle of a field. Although we all agreed that if, somehow, someone abandoned the infant in such unlikely circumstances, they were hardly likely to admit the crime. If, in fact, no one came forward, we would be the couple who, to anyone who might inquire, delivered a child without notifying the authorities or medical professionals.”
“And so that is what has happened,” Margaret concluded.
“Yes, you could say that,” Evelyn replied, “although we might have been a little premature in going public. As you would know, Cathal and I don’t do a great deal of socializing and as I am not exactly petite so it was easy enough to intimate that I had been pregnant but we were keeping it a secret… except for experts like yourself. Anyway with buying cribs, diapers, formula and clothing no matter what we did, the word was going to get out more quickly than we would have hoped. This community is just too small for no one to take notice.”
“What a story!” Margaret marveled. “If it wasn’t the little people, perhaps it was a miracle that the good Lord granted your wish for a child. A little peculiar way of going about it I must say.”
Evelyn smiled, “Well there is one other little bit. You know the gold Celtic jewelry that came with the package?”
“Don’t tell me,” Margaret said, “it was real.”
“I’m afraid so,” Evelyn said. “Cathal took a small ring with a bit of the woolen cloth in which it was wrapped. He had the ring analyzed and the woolen cloth carbon dated. He told the staff at the university that he found the ring, wrapped in the bit of wool, on a hillside overlooking the Boyne, which as you know is the complete truth. He just got the report back and it has been authenticated. The most perfect specimen of Celtic or even pre-Celtic jewelry ever discovered – at least three thousand years old. Although metal can’t be carbon dated, the bit of wool could and it helped to confirm the age of the ring. Of course he turned it over to the national museum and apparently there is going to be some major publicity on the find in the next week or so. I’m afraid the hillside might be overrun with people and their metal detectors although in fairness Cathal didn’t say exactly which hillside.”
“And what of the other gold and the sword?” Margaret inquired.
“We can only assume that they are also authentic, but we have not told anyone, except Paddy and yourself about it. You see, it may not be ours to give away.”
“Of course it is yours. You found it on publicly owned land didn’t you?” she asked.
“We did,” Evelyn replied, “but it came with Brian so perhaps it belongs to him. You see Margaret, that is the reason your dreams and visions had such an impact on me. I know that this makes absolutely no sense at least in terms of common sense. Were I to share this story with nearly anyone, I would be the one certified as senile but I, and Cathal and Paddy for that matter, have no other explanation. What you told me is just another thread in the fabric of this story.”
“And how is that?” Margaret asked, a puzzled look on her face.
Evelyn replied slowly, “Suppose, just suppose that there was an infant in Celtic times who was in some way related to a great king. And suppose, again I know how this sounds, but after all, it is your story as well as mine… suppose you, in a former life were responsible for that child. Now, for background purposes, Cathal can tell you all about the Celtic myths and legends, particularly how it was that many of the Tuatha Dé Danann, when faced with the invasion of the Milesians, abandoned the earth and retreated into a land under the ground where they became immortal and are sometimes known as leprechauns or little people.”
“Suppose that this infant for some reason, his own protection for example, was spirited into the underworld, where time stands still, with these treasures where he became immortal as an infant just as the Tuatha Dé Danann were immortal. But now, three thousand years later, for some reason he is being returned to the mortal world with all the treasures that belong to him.”
“What an incredible, amazing story,” Margaret exclaimed. “I can certainly see how anyone might say that it is preposterous. Best kept to ourselves, obviously… but then… infants lying in granite cribs don’t just appear in perfect health in the middle of a meadow accompanied by perfectly preserved Celtic artifacts that are three thousand years old now do they? Isn’t that just as amazing?”
“You understand perfectly, don’t you?” Evelyn asked and Margaret smiled and nodded her head. “I have no way of knowing how any of this is going to turn out, but whatever else, we have this beautiful baby boy who, God willing, we will raise as our son and I hope that you, dear Margaret, will help us take care of the child just as you did three thousand years ago…perhaps.”
“You know,” Margaret replied, “a few weeks ago I was morbidly considering the end of my life on earth and looking forward to joining my Brendan in the next… not that I would mind that of course… But I must admit that the future of this little fellow, whoever he might be, is far more interesting. Of course I will help to take care of our young Brian.”
She looked down at the little fellow who awakened from his slumber and was looking at the older woman. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
The little fellow smiled brightly and wiggled his head and shoulders as if nothing could make him happier.
Extract from the Academic Press:
Journal of Natural History: What has been described as among the most significant finds in the twentieth century was publicly displayed for the first time at the National Museum. A perfectly preserved gold ring from the early Celtic era was discovered in the Boyne Valley by Dr. Cathal O’Sullivan, professor of Celtic Studies at University College Dublin.
Dr. O’Sullivan explained that he was out walking with his wife in the fields overlooking the Boyne, when he came upon something wrapped in a rough cloth. A closer examination revealed the ring, which O’Sulliv
an assumed was a reproduction that someone lost. When he returned home and had an opportunity to examine his find more closely he was so impressed by the detail that he decided to have the ring studied at the university. After a comprehensive examination the experts determined that the ring was around three thousand years old. Remarkably, carbon dating the cloth in which the ring was wrapped confirmed their conclusion.
The find adds another chapter to the mysteries surrounding these discoveries. How, for example, did a piece of cloth survive intact for three thousand years? Dr. O’Sullivan had no answers but suggested that since the cloth was found among rocks, perhaps it had been embedded for all these years. Wind, rain or a careless step might have ultimately cracked open its resting place.
Dr. O’Sullivan would not disclose the exact location of the find to the general public so that the integrity of the location might be preserved. Experts from the university will continue to study the area for further clues. Meanwhile the ring is on public display during normal museum hours.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Margaret O’Neill stood by her living room window eagerly awaiting the strawberry-blonde head that would soon appear over the front garden hedge, bounding toward her door. Brian Boru O’Sullivan would be followed by that massive dog Molly, who had apparently decided that, because she was the one who discovered the boy, she was not about to let him out of her sight. Molly’s one concession was to accompany him to the local grade school and then leave Brian to his studies. However she was certainly not about to let him run home alone, particularly when there would probably be a visit to Mrs. O’Neill along the way. Brian’s mother explained that Molly knew exactly when classes were over for the day and she would always wait at the school gate to greet her boy.
Few days passed when the Brian did not visit Margaret and the boy also stayed with her on a number of occasions when his parents were attending a conference or having a night out. Margaret cherished each such visit and they were without question the highlight of her day. Even waiting for him to arrive brought a smile to her face.
After that memorable afternoon, my goodness was that five or six years ago, when Evelyn O’Sullivan told her the remarkable story of Brian’s appearance, the dreams and visions of what she now thought could have been her former life, had stopped. Margaret reasoned that these dreams were intended as a message and after she understood what they meant, there was no need for repetition. That did not mean that she didn’t think about the dreams because for several months after the Evelyn’s visit Margaret recalled them in vivid detail and committed them to her memory.
Although Margaret still had difficulty believing in reincarnation, the more she thought about it, the more Margaret was convinced that in those ancient times there was a woman whose life had now, somehow, become part of her own. She had even given the ancient woman a name, Mairéad, which was Irish for Margaret. Even if that woman was not actually Margaret in a former existence, a possibility that Margaret did not entirely discount, she had undoubtedly established a mystical connection between the two. As a result, Margaret was able to see what the ancient woman saw and feel what she felt.
Margaret strongly believed that this connection was disclosed in those early dreams because her ancient alter ego wanted to tell Margaret about Brian and, more importantly, commit the child to her care. Margaret knew, without question, that this ancient woman loved and cared for the child when he was first born. She was now passing that responsibility on to this twentieth century grandmother. It was a task Margaret accepted with great joy because she knew immediately that she too, loved the little boy.
For Margaret, accepting the role as the child’s special guardian meant more than just being a glorified baby-sitter and she gave a great deal of thought to how best she could guide the child. Of course, she would always be there for Brian but Margaret had another idea as well.
To implement her plan she dug into the boxes of books that her family had accumulated over the decades. Margaret pulled out every old book she could find that had anything to do with ancient Irish history, the arrival of the Celts in Ireland or Celtic mythology. She also made a point to visit Green’s Bookstore whenever she was in Dublin and she always came away with a few more old and worn texts. Margaret even visited an optometrist to acquire a special pair of magnifying glasses to ease the strain on her eyes and then she began to read and study everything she had assembled.
For many months Margaret attacked the task she had appointed for herself with a single-mindedness she would not have thought possible. Even after the initial period of intense study, not a day went by when she didn’t spend some time either reading or re-reading some book or article.
Margaret embarked on her studies simply because she wanted to learn everything she could about the times and culture into which Brian was born. This, she reasoned, was an important part of her job as his special guardian. Although the boy may never know that he was the son of a great king or hero, when the time was right she wanted to be able to tell him everything there was to know about these people. Without even realizing it, she considered that she might even be telling him about his own parents.
Thinking about the books she read and the library she had accumulated, now neatly lined up on a bookshelf Margaret purchased specifically for these special books, gave her a feeling of accomplishment. Laughing to herself she thought that even though she didn’t have a fancy degree, there couldn’t be too many people who knew more about the subject than she did. She had nearly memorized at least a couple translations of the Tain Bó Cúalnge – the story of the Cattle Raid at Cooley – where only Cúchulainn stood between Ulster and the forces of Queen Maeve. In addition she read everything she could find about kings and druids and, of course, the legendary Red Branch Knights.
Reading many of the stories and legends brought back warm memories from her own childhood. She remembered, long before anyone dreamed of a television, gathering at the home of an old storyteller, called a shanachie, who would spin tales and tell stories of those ancient times. When she was young Margaret thought that the shanachie must have a remarkable imagination to tell such wonderful stories. She now realized that the old man was simply retelling these legends, a tradition that went back hundreds and hundreds of years, long before anything was actually written down. And now, perhaps, she was a bit of a shanachie herself.
Her audience, however, was not a clatter of wide-eyed children but one little boy with sparkling blue eyes who hung on her every word. Although he was entirely too young to understand what Margaret and his mother suspected, she had no difficulty in explaining that Brian, like many modern Celts, was born of an ancient people. His ancestors were a race of great heroes with special gifts who above all did what was honorable and right. As she told those stories, the boy listened in rapt attention and at times she thought she saw a flicker of recognition, a recollection perhaps of something that was buried deep in his forgotten memories. The first time it happened, Margaret decided that she seeing something she expected to see, not something that was actually present. Over the years, however, she thought she saw the same thing many times. Not each time she told him a story, but often enough. Invariably it appeared as a raised eyebrow or a puzzled expression as if he was trying to remember something that was just beyond the edges of his memory.
On most of the little fellow’s visits there was no talk of Celtic legends and myths. The events of the day, his adventures at school or on the sporting fields were usually the stories that Brian wanted share over his milk and cookies and Margaret was an enthusiastic audience, listening carefully and seeking even more detail.
From that first time when Evelyn pushed the buggy holding its special cargo through her front gate, Margaret thought each visit was special. She remembered the day when Brian and his mother, with Molly of course, walking hand in hand, stopped in after his first day at the local grade school. How cute he looked, with his grey pants and sweater and a bright blue knapsack to hold his books and treasures. When as
ked whether he enjoyed school he explained, quite seriously, that he thought they spent entirely too much time sitting around but he did enjoy the playtime. Margaret told Brian that she understood perfectly because when she was a little girl she felt the same way. He looked on dubiously as she further explained that if he listened very closely to what the teachers had to say, he would learn all kinds of exciting and magical things.
Later Evelyn told Margaret that she was afraid Brian would be fidgety for some time to come. He had always been extremely active, always running, always on the move and to ask him to sit quietly would take some getting used to. Early on she consulted with an expert to determine whether he suffered from some attention deficit disorder but she was assured that such hyperactivity was normal in healthy, active little boys. In time, Brian solved the problem in his own way. He explained to Margaret that since most of the other children sat quietly, he decided he could sit just as quietly as they and so in the end, his determination overcame his nature.
About a week after school began, a week arriving at Margaret’s gate accompanied by his mother on his way home from school, Brian was confident enough to make his own way, accompanied as usual, by Molly. Evelyn explained that one afternoon she was in the middle of an intricate silver design when Molly informed her that it was time to retrieve her son. More in jest than anything else, she said, “You go bring him home,” and she opened the door for the dog. Molly ran out and down the path before stopping and looking back at Evelyn who once again told her to go. So, off Molly went. Feeling a bit guilty and concerned, Evelyn retrieved her sweater and set off after the dog. By the time she got to Margaret’s house, the dog had accomplished his task. Boy and dog were making their way through the gate without any problems.
When Evelyn joined the party she suddenly felt as if her presence was not really necessary. Perhaps even more than delivering Brian to school for the first time, this experience left her feeling depressed because her son was now asserting his independence. After that, Evelyn occasionally joined Molly in collecting Brian, but most of the time it was the boy and the dog that visited their special friend.
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