Mythology Abroad (24 page)

“Top of the morning to you,” Keith said cheerfully, gathering his papers under one arm. “And thanks a lot.”

Keith emerged from the Genealogical Office and found his way to the rendezvous point where the others were waiting. Diane steered them to a place that was serving lunch. As soon as they had given their orders to the waiter, Diane pointed at the pile of photocopies under Keith’s elbow.

“Is all that from the Genealogy Office?” Diane asked.

“Yup. I have a few starting places,” Keith said, patting the sheaf of papers. “I’ve got a list of parish churches and an abbey which might have records of my ancestors that can fill in holes in the stuff we’ve already found. The rest of this is copies of the birth and death registers for a lot of my multiple-great-grandparents and their children. If we take the train south from here to Bray or Arklow, we can start looking around there locally.”

“It’s still the season for wildflowers,” Holl said meaningfully. “If there’s no trouble involved, I’d like to keep a close watch out for the bellflowers. It is the reason I came here, after all.”

“Of course,” Keith assured him. “I think it’ll have to be on bicycles, though, and that will take a lot of time, not to mention muscle power. I’m too young to rent a car over here. They want you to be twenty-five.”

“Ah,” said the Master. “I can solf that problem.”

“You’ll really be the first couple married in Illinois?” Diane asked Holl sentimentally.

“Yes, indeed, as well as the first ones to be born there. Because we’re beginning a new page in our history, it’s important to us to have a touch of the old ways about it. Maura and I have had a bond between us all our lives, and I want it to be a permanent one. I love her,” he ended fiercely, looking off out of the restaurant window. No interloper will have her, he promised himself. I will win her back.

The Elf Master took off his spectacles and polished them with a pocket handkerchief. For the first time Keith had ever seen him so, the Master looked distressed.

“What’s the matter, sir?” he asked.

“Ach, nothing. Both of my children are thinking of marriage. They grow so qvickly. I hardly think ve haf had enough time to enjoy them.”

“Enoch is talking about getting married, too?” Keith asked, astonished. “Is he still dating Marcy?” Marcy Collier was a Big Person. She had been the object of Keith’s affections for most of a school year. He had stopped chasing her when she had revealed a preference for one of the Little Folk. Keith knew about her and Enoch, and applauded it, but the idea of matrimony between them amazed him somewhat.

“Yes, he is,” the Master confirmed.

“You’re just going through empty-nest syndrome,” Keith said, thinking out loud. “Maybe you should have some more kids.”

The Master glanced at him, looking for evidence of flippancy, and found none.

“You’re younger than Holl’s folks, and they have a three-year-old,” Keith pressed.

The Master shrugged. “Perhaps ve vill consider it. But I do not think that is the answer, vith so much vork left to be done on our new home.”

Keith thought then that it would be politic to change the subject. Holl was still staring off into space. He tried to catch the Little Person’s eye, and decided to let him come back to Earth at his own pace. “So, what did you see in Dublin?”

“Trinity College is walking distance from here. I had a look around. That’s where they keep the
Book of Kells
. It’s kind of a pity,” Diane complained. “The book is shut up in a glass case in a fairly dark library. You only get to see whatever page the curator decided to show off on a day. I mean, I didn’t expect to get to handle it, but it would have been nice if they had someone up there who could answer questions. I think he was having his tea.”

“It is a mastervork,” the Elf Master put in. “This vas a splendid opportunity for me. There were other illuminated manuscripts on display, vhich I examined closely. I haf purchased a complete reproduction of the
Book of Kells
itself for class study on medieval art.”

“I thought you might say that,” Holl groaned. “So that is what made you put in an Interlibrary Loan request for works by the Master of Sarum.”

“That is true,” the Master said complacently. “I alvays seek new subjects to explore. Research is the backbone of knowledge.”

Leaving the restaurant, the Master took the lead. He guided them along the street, into the next block, and over the threshold of a glass-fronted showroom on the corner. The sign over their heads read Ath Cliatha Auto Rentals. Keith caught his arm.

“Where are you going?” he yelped. “The train station is the other way.”

“Solfing the problem of transportation. You can drive vun of these autos?” the Master asked calmly.

“I think so,” Keith said, involuntarily glancing at the traffic. “It’s on the wrong side of the road, but it looks pretty straightforward.”

“Gut. Then come vith me and choose. I am certainly old enough to sign the contract.”

Thunderstruck, Keith followed the small teacher into the agency. Holl and Diane tagged along behind. A slim woman with dark brown hair and dusty green eyes stood up as they entered.

“Back again, Professor?” the woman greeted him cheerfully, putting out a hand for his. The Master clasped it. “We have two four-passenger vehicles on the lot now.” She named two manufacturers. The Master looked back at Keith.

“Uh, either one, I guess,” he said, and then watched as the young woman filled out the contract.

“May I have your driving license, please?” she asked the Master. Without murmur or hesitation, he duly produced a small card with a photograph in one corner. She turned to Keith. “If you’re driving as well, I’ll need to take your details, too.” Keith handed his wallet card to her and waited while she copied down his name and address.

He said nothing until the woman went for the keys to the car, and then leaned over the Master’s head. “I’m going to tell the Department of Transportation on you.”

The Master glanced up at him with a conspiratorial wink. Keith was delighted.

“Here you are,” the young woman said, leading them outside to a small blue two-door compact. She put the keys in Keith’s hands and opened the door for him. Keith slipped into the driver’s seat and looked for the rearview mirror. It was on the wrong side. So was the left view mirror. It was on the right. Panicking, he looked up at the young woman for help. She smiled, crinkled lines gathering at the corners of her eyes.

“Let me go over the controls with you. There’s a full tank of petrol. The rest is fairly easy to understand….”

***

C
HAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Keith’s first few miles driving the car were as tentative as the first flight of any baby bird from a nest which was surrounded by asphalt and wild birds zooming by at top speed within inches of his wings. He made his way cautiously into the lane of traffic to the tune of racing engines and screeching brakes. The Dublin drivers didn’t give an inch among themselves, and the roads seemed unaccountably narrow from his point of view on the wrong side of the car. Diane, navigating in the front passenger seat, was huddled as close to the center of the vehicle as she could be without obstructing the rear view mirror. Shortly, as Keith began to relax, his driving improved, but his passengers took some time to lose the white around their eyes.

“Who says the Irish don’t believe in magic?” Keith demanded, once they were out of the city and onto the smaller southbound roads. “Look at that. This road is almost as narrow as my bed. They paint a yellow stripe down the middle and presto! Two lanes.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. His back seat passengers were not impressed by his levity. His jaw set, Holl was clutching the rubber loop hanging from the ceiling, and the Master simply sat looking pale. “Do you want me to stop and pick up some four leaf clovers?”

“No,” the Master said. “Drive more slowly.”

“Okay,” said Keith imperturbably, without turning his head. “So where do we go?”

Diane handed the map into the back seat, and the Master opened it up. “I do not know,” he admitted after examining it closely. “It has been a long time, and the names have changed somewhat. Mere lines on paper mean nothing to me. I think I may haf to see landmarks to be certain.”

“You didn’t see anything familiar on the train ride south into Dublin, did you?”

“Of that I am certain, no. I do remember Dublin, and it vas most definitely to the north of vhere ve lived.”

“That’s okay,” Keith assured him, following a fork in the road to the left. “I’ll just head toward where I’m going, and if you have a place you want to stop on the way, then tell me, and we’ll check it out.”

With Diane directing him from the map, Keith drove through County Wicklow. The land changed gradually as they left Dublin. On the west side of the road, low mountains began to appear over the tops of the trees. They were not the dramatic black and gold peaks of Scotland. Instead, they were more gently rounded, with bright green grass and darker green trees covering their expanse. A high, nearly conical mountain passed by to their right, casting a long shadow across the road. At times they emerged into flattened valleys where the road was edged with trees. Or wound along through small villages with signs written half in English and half in Gaelic. The iron mailboxes, which in Scotland had been red, were painted bright green.

“This is where you leave the Arklow road,” Diane said, reading from the map as they came to a sharp intersection to the right. Cutting across the right lane swiftly while there was no traffic, Keith turned inland, and started looking for the way to the first parish church on his list.

The road narrowed immediately to an unstriped lane between high hedges. Cautiously, Keith hugged the shrubbery on the left side. Though the road was frighteningly straitened, there always seemed to be enough room for two vehicles to pass one another. After one panicked moment when he had to dive into a blackberry thicket to avoid a farm vehicle and an old woman on a bicycle, their progress was much more calm.

“Hey, I’m getting the hang of this,” he said happily, and then glanced at his passengers, who were hanging on in silence. “Hey, don’t you all applaud at once.”

Through the brush bounding the road, they could see farmhouses and manor houses, and well-trimmed fields with sheep or cows placidly grazing. A cluster of small cottages emerged among a stand of trees. “Look, Holl, it’s your house,” Keith said, cocking his head toward the roadside. A tiny white cottage with a high-peaked roof of red slates lay nestled amid a wreath of rosebushes. Ivy climbed one wall and twined around the base of the chimney. A sheepdog lying in the middle of the drive regarded them with professional disinterest.

“It’s amazingly similar,” Holl said, staring as they passed the cottage.

“But old,” Diane commented. “Really old.”

“Vhere function does not change significantly, form rarely alters,” the Master said enigmatically.

“We’re getting close to your village, aren’t we?” Keith asked excitedly.

“I am not certain,” the Master said without inflection. “I have seen nothing yet which awakens memory in me.”

At last, a churchyard appeared on their right. The church, a fairly small building made of time-darkened stone, raised a square tower surmounted with a cross over the peak of the roof. The headstones, tilted this way and that in the tall grass around the building, were mostly flat and white, with sharp edges that made them look as if they had been cut out of a cake of wax. Beyond it was a residence, much newer than the church, but with the air of age. “This is it,” Diane announced. “St. Michael’s of the Downs.”

“This is where I make sure that the Butler who I think married the grandfather who came to America actually left the area,” Keith said, trying to avoid mentioning his female ancestor, but still get his meaning across. This curse was getting to be a pain.

“If I may understand your circumlocutions,” Holl said, “you wish to find that the great-grandmother was not buried here, so that you have a match against the name of the one who left for America.”

“Right,” Keith said, relieved that someone understood his problem. “If the parish clerk is in, he or she might be able to give me some help finding the name.”

“I’ll help you,” Diane said.

“I’m staying here,” Holl declared. “I don’t feel much like being exorcised today.”

“Oh,” said Keith curiously. “Well, okay. I’ll leave the key in the ignition in case you want to listen to the radio.” He and Diane disappeared through the creaking wrought iron gate.

As soon as they were out of sight, Holl threw an aversion around the body of the car to drive off the gazes of idle passersby.

“To vhat purpose do you do this?” the Master asked curiously, observing Holl’s handiwork. “You know ve haf nothing to fear from their priests.”

“I know,” Holl said, and steeled himself. “But I wanted a chance to speak with you privately. It is important that we come to an understanding. I have thought long and deeply on the subject, and I am determined to follow the old ways—where they are good ones. Though I don’t see why a bunch of simple flowers should be enough to prevent marriage among our people, I will follow the tradition set down. I am grateful that you came to help me when Keith Doyle was lost, but I feel that you have taken over the entire direction of this journey. All the decisions that have been made since you arrived have been yours. What about my task? How can I complete it if you take control?”

“I?” the Master asked, looking puzzled. “I shall do nothing to abrogate your task from you. Vunce ve are in the correct location, I intend that you shall complete your task on your own. My only concern is similar to that of Meester Doyle’s. I vish to find our old home, and ensure that our folk still live. Vhether or not you haf a use for the flowers yourself vhen you return home, you have undertaken a responsibility on behalf of the others. I expect you to fulfill it.”

Holl was mollified, but only just. He nodded.

“After all, unless you finish vhat you set out to do, you cannot reap the rewards of that action,” the Master continued. “And it has alvays been my intention that you should do so.”

Holl tried to find something to say in reply, but he found himself gaping at his teacher. So the Master was in favor of his match after all. He quickly turned away and went back to looking out of the window. Behind him, the Master chuckled softly.

A loud creak of protest from the churchyard gate heralded the return of the two Big Folk.

“Whew!” Keith said, swinging into the driver’s seat, after he had unlocked the passenger door for Diane. “There was no one in the church, so we had to go over the tombstones one by one by ourselves. That was like taking attendance in a study hall. I counted a hundred and fifty seven names.”

“Were any of them the one you were seeking?” Holl asked.

“Nope,” Keith replied happily. “In this case, no news is good news.”

“Well, it’s getting pretty late. We’d better find a place for the night,” Keith said. “I have a booklet of B&Bs and guest houses from the Ordinance Survey office. We’ll see if any of the ones nearby have room.”

They pulled over beside the nearest green and yellow telephone box, and Keith started phoning down the list in the book. The first two had no room, and the third didn’t answer. Keith grimaced apologetically to his passengers while waiting for the fourth to answer. There was a click, and a voice.

“Hello, Mrs. Keane? My name is Keith Doyle. I got your name from a tourist booklet. Do you have room for four people for about five nights? A twin room and two singles or a triple, and a single are what we need. You can? That’s terrific!” He scrawled down directions on the back of the book. “Right, see you soon.” Keith returned to the car. “Voila. It’s not far away either. We’re staying right in the middle of the clan area.”

Under Diane’s direction, Keith descended from the mountain valley and into the plain looking up into the heart of the range between the foothills. They followed the roads into a small town and out again, looking for the unmarked turnoff. Once they found it, they drove for a mile alongside a stretch of croplands interrupted only by telephone poles and odd lines of trees. They came to a gravel drive between white-painted gateposts and drove through.

The house in the center of the grounds was a large manor in the Georgian style, with pillars around the entranceway. Keith parked next to a few other cars and stood up to stretch his legs.

“This is the place,” he announced.

“Yes,” said the Elf Master, getting out of the car and looking around him with evident satisfaction. “This
is
the place.”

Keith eyed him. “Is there any more significance to that phrase than simply ‘we are here’?”

The Master gestured with his chin toward the horizon. “Those mountains are to the north of us, are they not?”

Keith glanced to his left and then back at the Master. “Unless the sun has started setting somewhere else, yes.”

“Then this is the correct area. The village lies to the south of the mountains you see before you, and not far away. The angle is correct.”

“Yahoo!” Keith said eagerly. “Are you sure? Right here in the middle of Doyle country? Terrific! We’ll get an early start tomorrow, and find your old home. I knew it, we’re neighbors.” Holl groaned.

Together, they climbed the broad stairs between the pillars and into the front hall. “Hello?” Keith called softly, hearing his voice echo in the high, ornate ceilings above.

Suddenly, there was the sound of activity deep inside the house. One of the heavy wooden doors burst open, and a woman bore down on them, beaming. She was a handsome woman in her middle forties, roughly cylindrical in shape, with dark hair piled high on her head and milk white skin. The woman glanced at Holl and Diane, stared curiously at the Master for a short moment, and then her dark blue eyes fixed on Keith. She shook hands with him.

“Mr. Doyle, is it? How do you do? I’m Amanda Keane. Let me show you to your rooms.”

The family occupied only the ground floor of the grand house, leaving the upper floors available for numerous guests. Keith and the others had a small wing almost to themselves. Diane was installed in a corner room at one end of a corridor. Keith and Holl were to share a twin room a couple of doors down, next to the bathroom. The Master was given the other corner room. Each was furnished with antiques and handmade rugs. Diane was breathless with admiration.

“There’s tea-making facilities in each room,” Mrs. Keane explained. “The bath is here. You should have it to yourselves, at least for tonight.” She held out the keys to Keith.

“They’re terrific, Mrs. Keane,” Keith began, reaching for them, “but I forgot to ask how muh—, how muh—”

Holl swiftly stepped in to rescue him. “He was asking what the tariff is. We forgot to inquire.”

“So that’s what the young lad here was asking,” Mrs. Keane laughed, patting him on the back. Keith shot a pleading look at Holl, who opened the tourist booklet and showed a page to the guesthouse owner.

“By the way, I notice that here in the book you have a weekly rate, which is less than we would pay for five nights’ stay. May we pay that instead?”

“Done and done,” Mrs. Keane agreed, shaking his hand solemnly, and putting the keys into his hand. “Breakfast at eight, if you please.”

“Thank you,” Holl said. “And now, can you tell us a good place nearby where we can get a meal?”

“Well, you might try the White Wolf. Their food is good, and it’s only just up the road,” Mrs. Keane instructed him, watching as he wrote down the directions. “But there’s no sign on the road, and it doesn’t say White Wolf. It says “Gibson’s,” and only on the glass. You have to watch for it.”

Holl thanked her and accepted the keys. She bid them good night and went down the stairs. He watched her go. How good it was to be treated as an adult again! Perhaps Keith Doyle was correct, and the people around here did know the look of his folk. Then he heard her voice say to someone below stairs in a highly amused voice, “Such a
serious
child, you can’t think!” He smiled to himself. And then again, perhaps not.

“Well, that’s all too complicated for me,” Diane yawned. “I still have jet lag. I’m going to bed.”

The others went off in high energy to find the White Wolf and discuss their search for the village. Diane took the opportunity when the house was quiet to have a long, hot bath and wash her hair. While she was toweling her hair dry, there was a tap at one of the doors down the hall.

“Mr. Doyle?” Mrs. Keane’s voice asked.

Diane opened the door and leaned out. “They’ve gone to dinner, Mrs. Keane.”

“Ah, well, there’s a man on the telephone for him,” the landlady said.