by S C McGrath
On this morning, Keelin was determined to enter the Otherworld, regardless of any Dagda law forbidding it. Several times during the past week, she had come very close and felt cold, lifeless air hit her face for but an instant. Then the veil between the worlds closed, shutting her out. Now, as Keelin approached the tomb, she closed her eyes and kept walking. She stopped just short of its entrance and stood absolutely still. Instead of forcibly ridding her mind of all thought she relaxed, and slowly her dreams, worries, and desires melted away. She felt the Otherworld’s cold air touch her and still she kept her eyes shut. Finally, she opened them and found herself floating not far above the tomb. Cloaking the entire hill of Tara were clouds, limiting the view to only her immediate surroundings. Keelin did not care. An intense feeling of triumph swept over her. The next moment she found herself sitting on the damp grass outside the tomb.
“The Otherworld is not to be conquered but respected.”
Keelin looked up and saw Nuala standing there, looking like a malevolent wraith. Surprisingly, though, the priestess’s tone of voice had not been entirely censorious, and she held out a hand to help Keelin to her feet.
“All week the tomb has called to me . . .” Keelin’s voice trailed off. When Nuala did not respond, Keelin said, “I entered the Otherworld and do not regret it.” Then, with vehemence, she added, “I broke no law.”
The priestess sighed and shook her head. “No, you broke no law. The gods have granted you great power, though I am at a loss to understand why. You have yet to demonstrate the wisdom that such power demands.”
“I did not wish for any of this.”
“Indeed you did not. Yet the Otherworld welcomes you. You have managed to enter its realm without benefit of The Dagda’s blessings or cloak, without even taking your novitiate vows. There has been only one other with such powers.”
“The priest who could travel freely back and forth in time? The priest you spoke of outside Danu’s cave?”
“Yes.”
“Please tell me about him.”
Nuala did not respond. Instead, the priestess turned and said, “Deirdre, you have finally arrived. I thought perhaps you had forgotten.”
Deirdre wore her Dagda cloak and looked resplendent, even in the dim light of dawn. She regarded Nuala and Keelin, then smiled. “So you invited Keelin after all. I am glad you agreed she should take part in our planning.”
“I did not invite Keelin,” responded Nuala. “Instead, I found her here, just as the Otherworld expelled her.”
“You are truly gifted!” proclaimed Deirdre. She hugged Keelin and whispered in her ear, “Pay no heed to Nuala’s displeasure.”
“I see no purpose for your whispering,” Nuala commented. “I can hear everything in your mind.”
“Yes, I know,” said Deirdre, looking unwaveringly at Nuala.
“Well, we will talk later, after Keelin has taken her vows. Perhaps it is wise to include her in our plans for the Romhanach.” Nuala looked once more at Keelin and then turned away. Her tall figure was soon lost in the mist.
“Now I may ask you, Keelin,” said Deirdre, “what were you doing here before dawn? I know quite well you are not an early riser.”
“I would still be happily asleep were it not for Saoirse and her praying. I cannot abide the novitiates and have absolutely nothing in common with them.”
“They are a decidedly gloomy lot, to be sure.”
“Sometimes I wonder what the gods were thinking when they gave me such powers,” said Keelin, “why they made me so very different. This is not how I imagined my life. Yet now I believe my powers may allow me to live a better one.”
“And how did you imagine your life?”
Keelin smiled, remembering. “When we were young, Brian, Séamus, and I used to dream up the most wonderful, exciting adventures in faraway lands. Well, perhaps just Brian and I. Séamus has always been happy with his life on Eire. Still, he was determined to accompany Brian on all of our adventures.”
“So your dreams always included Brian?”
“Not always,” replied Keelin. “Yet, we understand each other. He is a restless soul . . . as am I.” Keelin paused, pondering her future. “Perhaps the gods bestowed upon me these powers so that I might determine my own destiny, whether as a priestess of The Dagda or not.”
“Well, everything should become clearer at the ordination ceremony tomorrow. The Stone of Fáil may enlighten you. What has Nuala told you about the ordination?”
“She detailed the order of events, how and when I will take my oath. She also told me that Fearghus will bless my cloak, giving it powers to aid my travel to and from the Otherworld. I know nothing of the Stone, except that I must place my right hand on it while I say my vows. What has Nuala not told me?”
Deirdre eyed Keelin intently. “When you place your hand on the Stone, you will not only pledge your loyalty to The Dagda but you will also be given a glimpse into your future, for the Stone has the gift of foresight. Usually, this portent is visual, though it can be manifested in other ways, such as a spoken message or even as a powerful premonition. For some, the portent is maddeningly vague or seemingly insignificant, and years may pass before its importance is revealed or understood. For most, however, the portent already has profound significance.”
Keelin was not sure she liked the idea of seeing into her future. She felt a vague disquiet and laughed nervously. “As long as my future does not include the solemn Saoirse reciting verse, I will be immensely happy.”

The processional avenue leading to the sacred tomb of passage on the hill of Tara was lined three deep with the priests and priestesses of The Dagda. Those standing along the outermost and elevated perimeter of the avenue held flickering candles, the only illumination against the darkening skies of dusk. Even in the fading light, the beautiful Dagda cloaks worn by all created a phantasmal mosaic of rich, vibrant colors. The strong voices of the priests resounded in the open air, singing recitations of honor to the gods. As the priests sang the final notes of their stanzas, the priestesses would answer, celebrating the power of the land and its endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth. With the end of each recitation and response, the singers would join in a refrain, their voices accompanied by the haunting chords of a hundred harps.
Keelin stood at the far end of the processional with the other young men and women who would be ordained this evening. She was already feeling uncomfortable and apprehensive, shifting from leg to leg, wondering when this interminable ceremony would end. Granted, the voices of the priests and priestesses were beautiful, but they sang in the ancient tongue of The Dagda and the music had none of the lilting, melodic beauty that Keelin loved. Had she been taller, she could have studied the many faces of the priests and priestesses. As it was, she saw only the faces of those closest to her, and those solemn individuals were singularly uninteresting.
After what seemed like three lifetimes, the novitiates were summoned to the processional avenue and formed a single-file line leading toward the high priest Fearghus and the Stone of Fáil. Keelin walked slowly up the avenue, seeing nothing but the cloak of Saoirse, who stood in front of her. She was nonetheless stirred by the sound of Fearghus’s deep voice as he blessed the novices and their cloaks. It was not until she stood at the front of the line, watching Saoirse recite her vows, that Keelin actually got a good look at the high priest. She was awed.
Fearghus looked magnificent in his Dagda cloak of rich burgundy. Down the middle of the cloak ran a dazzling lightning bolt of fine gems, with a golden sun glowing from the left and a silver moon and stars shining from the right. On the third finger of his left hand was a magnificent ruby ring, its thick gold band etched with intertwining scrolls. Fearghus himself was imposing, exuding power and knowledge, and embodying both the mysticism and wisdom of The Dagda.
Keelin was nervous and wanted to bolt like a frightened rabbit. Instead, she stood waiting. Shortly thereafter, all was quiet and she looked up into the clear bl
ue eyes of the high priest. All her fears vanished in an instant as she felt the warmth of his soul. Keelin stepped forward and firmly placed her hand on the Stone of Fáil and began reciting her vows. When the vision came, portending her future, Keelin’s eyes widened in surprise. It was as unexpected as it was familiar.

CHAPTER twenty-three

eirdre’s deft fingers dressed Keelin’s thick hair, pulling it away from the girl’s forehead and temples. The priestess then braided the upswept locks, weaving in sprigs of evergreen and silver ribbon. Finally, she wound the plait into a bun at the back of Keelin’s head. Masses of glossy, auburn hair still tumbled down Keelin’s back and spread like a veil to her waist.
Keelin sat impatiently as Deirdre fussed over her, knowing all of her friend’s efforts would make little difference. Keelin knew she would never be beautiful, even pretty for that matter. Her eyes were too big, her jaw too square, and her irregular features defied all measures of traditional beauty. She now heartily regretted allowing Deirdre to dress her for tonight’s festivities at Tara. The priestess had been twittering for days about the beautiful gown she had sewn for Keelin, saying repeatedly, “It will enhance your beautiful eyes and your otherworldly allure!”
Keelin had been drawn into Deirdre’s excitement, wondering whether she could indeed be transformed. But with her backside slowly going numb, reality was now intruding and she wished she were anywhere but sitting there as Deirdre tried to work miracles. Just as Keelin’s patience was at its limit, Nuala entered the cottage. She looked splendid in her Dagda cloak and carried a satchel filled with essences for the night’s ceremony.
“I see neither of you is ready to walk with me to the hill of Tlachtga. While I have been preparing for Samhain and the lighting of the first fire of the New Year, the two of you have been engaging in foolishness.” Nuala looked with displeasure at both young women, and at Deirdre in particular. But the young priestess only smiled, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“Walking to Tlachtga will take hours. Why would you consider such toil when the Otherworld is readily available?”
“A holy task is at hand. Walking is not toil but a respite from the disquiet of life. It cleanses the soul. I can meditate and prepare for the coming year. The two of you would be wise to do the same. When will you join me?” Nuala started to open the cottage door.
“As soon as I have finished readying Keelin for this evening,” said Deirdre. “As for Keelin, she will not attend the ceremony at Tlachtga.”
At Deirdre’s last words Nuala stopped, her hand still on the latch of the door. She looked sharply at Deirdre, ignoring Keelin.
Keelin stood and faced Nuala. “As only a novice I cannot take part in the lighting of the fire at Tlachtga, and I wish to join in the festivities here at Tara.”
Keelin was expecting Nuala’s censure. Instead, after an appraising look, the high priestess said, “Well, I suppose it is not necessary for you to attend. You conducted yourself quite admirably at the ordination ceremony yesterday. Enjoy the evening. You will have little rest in the months to come.” Without a backward glance, Nuala stepped outside and closed the door behind her.
Keelin watched Nuala leave then distractedly sat back down in the chair, remembering her ordination and the Stone of Fáil vision. Addressing Deirdre, she said, “Can you tell me about the priest who had the power to readily travel back and forth in time? The priest Nuala mentioned that day outside Danu’s cave. She will tell me nothing.”
Deirdre hesitated, then pulled up a chair and sat facing Keelin. “Aidan was a powerful priest and admired by everyone. He was also Nuala’s great uncle. I am told the two were very close when she was a young girl. He did not think her odd and unsettling, as did most of the villagers—and even her own parents. Nuala adored him and, in turn, he protected her and helped her develop her extraordinary gifts, even though she was but a child. Of course, I know nothing of this firsthand. Fearghus has told me most of what I know about Aidan. When Nuala was only eight years old, he disappeared for nearly a year. For some months before his disappearance, he had been traveling within the Otherworld, briefly visiting a future life. Almost no one knew then of the ease with which he traveled back and forth in time. Little Nuala was likely one of his only confidants. When he returned from his year-long absence he was different, more secretive, even with Nuala. Whispering and speculation soon began within The Dagda, especially after he disappeared several more times over the next few years, often gone for weeks at a time. The last time he disappeared he never returned. The pull of his future life was apparently too great.”
“Nuala must have suffered when he did not come back home,” said Keelin. She knew how isolated and different she had often felt while growing up. Yet she had always had her family and Brian. Life would have been intolerable without them.
“Yes, I imagine she did. That is perhaps why she chooses not to speak of him.”
“I feel the pull of the Otherworld,” said Keelin. “Especially when I venture near the passage tomb. Yet, perhaps it is not the Otherworld that beckons me but my future life. The one I visited that day.”
“I would not dwell too much on what the future may hold but cherish these moments in the present,” replied Deirdre, concern in her voice. Then, hastily changing the subject, she said, “And now your dress.” She walked across the room to a large, beautifully carved cedar chest.
“Stand up and close your eyes. Do not open them until I tell you.” After Keelin had complied, she heard Deirdre open the chest, then felt her carefully slip the dress over her slender neck and shoulders, tightening the laces that ran down the gown’s back.
There was a pause, then Deirdre said with satisfaction, “Now you may look.”
Keelin opened her eyes and turned anxiously toward the mirror of highly burnished metal. The sight she beheld was startling and she drew her hand to her mouth in surprise, barely recognizing herself. The beautiful gown fit Keelin to perfection, gracing her curves. Its feminine neckline revealed her delicate collarbones and the dark indigo color accentuated her white skin. Dipping elegantly low in the back, the gown’s skirt fell to the floor like liquid silk. Keelin’s fingers traced her figure in the mirror and, reaching her face, she studied her reflection. Her violet eyes sparkled and the sharp angles of her high cheekbones were softened by the blush of her cheeks. Her lips were tinted with a subtle rose-colored stain. Delicate earrings of sapphire and silver hung from her ears.
“You are a vision,” Deirdre said proudly. “No one at festival tonight will look as splendid as you, my fairy princess!”
Keelin at first could not tear her eyes away from her reflection. At length, she turned and smiled shyly at Deirdre. “Thank you, Deirdre. I look . . .”
“Beautiful,” added Deirdre simply.
Keelin decided at that moment she would go to the great hall where the Fianna would assemble to feast before the ceremony. “Do you think anyone will recognize me?”
“Brian most assuredly will, but you may not recognize him or his Fianna friends unless you visit the great hall where they feast. After supper they will don masks and light the bonfires of Tara. I would hate for you to choose wrongly and dance with a man not of your choosing tonight.”
“I think that highly unlikely. Besides, you will be there to help me.”
“Not I,” said Deirdre. “I never stay at Tara during Samhain. As soon as the fire is lit at Tlachtga, I will leave for my home in the north.”
“Why not stay and enjoy the night?” urged Keelin. “You love to dance.”
“Samhain is a frightening time for starlings such as I, especially at Tara. You forget that I hear the souls of the dead. During Samhain the boundary between our world and the Otherworld is penetrable. Souls of the dead are awakened this night and move freely back and forth, waiting to begin their next life. Souls of those who have died during the year and souls of those long dead are everywhere. They converge on Tara, pulled inexorably toward
the sacred tomb of passage. The souls of those long dead can be the most alarming. They are only tenuously bound by their mortal, earthly memories and cry for deliverance to a new life, wreaking havoc and tormenting the living with their wailing. That is why I never stay at Tara after the bonfires are ablaze, wishing to spare myself much grief. I will see you and Nuala at her cottage tomorrow.”
“Where did you say you will go tonight?”
“I have a small cottage nestled amongst the rocks on a cliff in northern Eire. It is there I go when I need peace and rest. Tonight Déaglán will be waiting for me. I can think of no better way to celebrate Samhain.”
“I am to travel back to Nuala’s alone . . . through the Otherworld?”
“Your cloak will aid you. You are already skilled beyond understanding and know what to do. Remember, traveling from here to Nuala’s cottage is no distance at all, akin to walking across this room,” said Deirdre, dismissing Keelin’s concern with a wave of her hand.

Aided by her Dagda cloak, Keelin traveled to Tara’s great stone fortress through the Otherworld, entering the assembly hall like a ghost and hovering above the many long tables. Most of the revelers had finished eating and were now drinking ale. Some have already imbibed too much of the drink from the looks of them, thought Keelin with a wry smile. When she spied Brian, he was sitting next to Ruaidhrí with Seán and Pádraig on the bench opposite them. Keelin’s heartbeat quickened and she whispered his name soundlessly. She had fooled only herself for a long time. She watched Brian stand and scan the hall, seemingly distracted, before sitting back down. Keelin then left the hall, found a dark alcove in an anteroom to conceal her cloak, and stepped from the Otherworld onto the stone floor of the fortress.