Waves in the Wind (7 page)

I took his hand and heaved him to his feet. Upon becoming upright, the top of his head reached my chin and he glanced up.

“I hadn’t actually noticed until now. You’ve grown tall in the ten years you’ve been here.”

“Only eight,” I reminded him.

“Oh yes, that’s right, I forget. That makes you twenty years, am I right?”

“Yes, sir.”

His hands gripped the edge of the table and he began a gentle knee-bending exercise. “Ah, that’s much better.”

I stood rigidly, trying to remain calm though I wanted to shout my frustration at his indifference to the rooftop. Finally, I blurted, “Christians are our natural enemies! Are they not dedicated to the destruction of our gods and Druidism itself?”

“Enemies?” He continued bobbing up and down as blood circulated through his legs. “We must not think of Christians as enemies, for within the meaning of the word there can be no mutual acceptance or respect. They are our adverseries, of course, and some will follow the standard raised by their fanatical priest Patrick who during his lifetime was relentless in trying to push us out.”

He frowned, leaned across the table and brushed tiny speckles of ash from a manuscript. “That is unfortunate, for there is no place for unyielding intolerance among thinking men. Always remember, within our world there can be disagreement, but in the end there must be room to accept all manner of beliefs. We Druids must try to understand that, and while you might find a few rabble rousers among them, you will discover that most Christians believe it as well.”

A lifetime of training held my emotions in check so my face remained calm while my stomach roiled. A disrespectful display of my growing sense of futility before the Master would never do. “You have also taught us that ignorance breeds intolerance and fear begets violence. This new darkness has sown ignorance and fear among all the people. My father’s message speaks to those things and urgently warns that Christians plan violence against us.”

The Master walked around the table, settled into his chair and sighed. “It is true your father speaks to those terrible things.” His hands scoured his weary face. “Yet, his warning is weighted by his intolerance of Christians. I sense no urgency.”

I stepped toward him, placed my hands on his table and leaned forward. “The message reveals my father’s knowledge of pending danger, not his opinion.”

“As a true son you support your father.” A small smile flickered across his face. “Very well, I shall reply to his message and ask further clarification. Meanwhile, I see no reason to disrupt the harmony of the school or needlessly frighten the students. In the end, I am confident that even during these dark times reason will be the torch that leads us into the light of wisdom and peace.”

Another chill ran down my spine, but at least he agreed to further investigate the warning. “It will soon be time, I think, for my afternoon alchemy lecture, and my students will be gathering. With your permission, Master Tóla, I must go prepare for it.”

He nodded, and read the worry on my face as he handed the scroll back to me. “Yes, thank you for sharing your father’s warning. Do not allow it to weigh on your heart. Though we must remain vigilant as he says, I doubt there will be serious trouble.”

I bowed again. “As you say. Thank you, Master. May the Lordly Ones smile upon you.”

“And you, Ossian. Indeed, may the gods smile upon us all.”

I trudged down the hill, my thoughts in turmoil. My father’s strong views and message haunted me, as did the defiant words of the Christian bishop, which, despite the Master’s assurances, were sure to inflame his followers.

Foreboding stopped me, and I looked back up the hill. I must go back, urge the Master to write King mac Dúnlainge. Leinster warriors must secure the school and the sacred shrine of Knockaulin. In my frustration I kicked a stone to send it bounding down the hill, but yelped and hopped up and down on my uninjured foot when I simply managed to stub my toe. Augh, saying more to the Master now would do no good. I would merely look foolish in his eyes and he didn’t expect that he must explain himself twice. Perhaps he would be more open to my suggestion at a later time.

* * *

Weeks passed, more weeks of unrelenting darkness. There had been no opportunity to again discuss my father’s warning with the Master. Whether he wrote my father, I did not know. Therefore, as fears are wont to do lacking fresh fuel to feed their flames, mine dimly smoldered.

I sat on the ground in the night, my back against the outer wall of my dormitory. A single candle cast dim light upon the vellum codex open on my knees. My eyes quickly scanned across the Greek characters as I studied the principles of language. As was often the case, I marveled that the mind of one man could create such a remarkable thing as a book, and that others accurately transcribed each page time and again in breathtaking artistic detail.

“Psst! Ossian!”

He stood in darkness, but I knew the voice.

“Laoidheach, it is very late,” I whispered. “Everyone is already abed. Why are you here?”

“Do you think you are alone in finding something of interest at a late hour? Put away your book and follow me, for I have a fresh flagon of ale under my arm and two willing women nearby.”

I chortled, thinking of the single-minded purpose of Laoidheach’s life. “Away with you, rogue! I have studying to do and an early morning lecture.”

“Bah! Studying and lectures? What matter when women anxiously await your intimate attention? Come. Opportunity awaits!”

It was a rare occasion when I escaped the sensuous traps Laoidheach laid for me and this night was no exception. Within a short time we lay on the floor of a Kilcullen cottage in the arms of women who until that night I had never met. I winked to Laoidheach that he would know I approved his latest discovery.

The buxomly lass lying beside me trailed her finger across my bare chest and cooed, “So, Wise One, is it true that Druids have extraordinary powers?”

I drank from the flagon of ale, and whispered, “Yes, but they are at their best when demonstrated in privacy. The back room there, shall we enter it that I might show them to you?”

Much later I lay beside her, regaining my breath. I began to roll from her, but froze when I heard men’s voices outside the cottage.

“What is it?” she murmured.

“Men are outside.”

“Oh no! My husband!”

What was that? Her husband? I silently damned Laoidheach as I hurried into my robe and sandals. The voices outside continued and then I heard the clank of metal on metal. It was not one man or even a few. Many men were moving out there, stealing quietly through the night, skulking in the direction of the school.

I groped my way through the darkness into the front room, and in a quiet voice called Laoidheach. There was no response so I began to feel about on the floor in search of him.

At last I found a leg, a leg attached to a body. I nudged him with my toe and again called to him, my voice low. “Laoidheach! Laoidheach, wake up!”

Once more I nudged him and called his name, and received a muffled groan in response. Outside surrounding the cottage were footsteps, the sounds of large groups of men stumbling through the darkness.

Something was amiss. Something was happening out there and my mind reeled with sinister possibilities.

“Laoidheach!” I leaned down and shook his shoulder. “Wake up, damn you! We must get out of here!”

“Get out?” he mumbled. “Get out? Why?”

My thoughts leaped to the one thing that would start Laoidheach moving. “There are men outside. You must hurry. Perhaps these women’s husbands are returning.”

“Their husbands!” He leaped to his feet, scrambled into his clothes and whispered, “We mustn’t use the door—the husbands may be waiting out there. Listen, there’s an open window beside me. Come on, that’s our way out.”

We hastened through the window and stood in the dark, listening. The sounds of groups of men could still be heard but were growing faint as they neared the school.

Laoidheach was disgusted. “The women’s husbands, eh? How many husbands do they have? There must be a hundred men out there.”

“Their husbands is a matter I intend to discuss with you later. I had to get you out of there, don’t you see? Those men are moving toward the school.”

“And what of it? You scared five years off my life talking as you did, and a fine friend you are to do such a thing.”

“Quiet!” There was no longer any indication of movement though I strained to hear it. “I think those men are Christians planning to attack the school.”

“Attack the school, you say? And why would Christians do such criminal a thing?”

“The ‘why’ doesn’t matter right now. Come on. Let’s follow them. Perhaps we can find a way to stop them.”

“Stop a hundred men who, if you’re right, intend who knows what? Stop them how?”

I fumbled about in the dark, grasped his arm and tugged. “Come on.”

We felt our way along narrow alleys, hopped fences and finally stopped within the stillness of the grove where we had a good view of the school. Almost immediately a torch flared, then another, and another…

A voice rang out in the darkness. “In the name of our Father! Death to all demon worshippers!”

Now a hundred torches were burning, possibly more, many of which were thrown through the air to land on the thatched roofs of the dormitories and nearby buildings. The roofs caught fire and we could then clearly see the throng of armed men encircling the compound.

Laoidheach’s horrified voice trembled as he whispered, “They…they w-would kill us all?”

“So it seems.” I stared at the flaming scene in disbelief. A student appeared in the doorway of my own dormitory. It was too dark…I was too far away to recognize him. He dashed towards safety, was intercepted by three men wielding swords and cut down. A second student ran from the building, followed by a third. Both shrieked as they died.

A dark robed figure carried a wooden cross to the center of the compound, a stark silhouette against the burning buildings. He raised the symbol of his god high as he exhorted the mob to greater acts of violence.

Panicked students erupted into the compound from all the blazing dormitories. They dashed through doors and leaped through windows. A slaughter ensued, the terrified screams of my friends and fellow students filled the night air as they were chased and ruthlessly hacked down one by one by the laughing, cheering multitude of Christian fanatics surrounding them.

“They have no chance,” Laoidheach muttered, “no chance at all.”

I turned away, sickened by the gruesome scene. The ale I so gaily consumed earlier that night spewed upon the ground.

“Ossian!” Laoidheach shook my shoulder. “The Master! Hurry, maybe we can reach him before those killers climb Knockaulin!”

Careful to remain in shadows, we raced around the flaming compound to the foot of the hill and began our ascent. We crossed the hill’s face at an upward angle until we intersected the path, and continued climbing.

Master Tóla was coming down the hill toward us. Light from the fires below revealed that he held staffs in both hands, his Slatnan Druidheacht in one, the other bearing a gleaming white death’s head pommel.

He stopped when he saw us looming in the darkness. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Ossian, Master. Laoidheach is with me. We came to warn you. Christians are attacking the school.”

“Attacking the school?! I saw the fires and of course came to investigate, but I thought… Explain yourself!”

“A large group of Christians surround the school and have set fire to it. They are killing the students as they run from the flaming dormitories.”

“They are killing my boys?” he gasped.

“Yes, Master. I’m afraid they intend to kill them all and there is no stopping them.”

His voice trembled while dense smoke now swirled about him. “But no, that…that can’t be possible. Why would they…why would Christians do such a horrible thing?”

“You recall my father’s message?”

“Yes…yes, of course.” He sighed aloud. “This is my fault. You and your father tried to warn me, and now the blame for this horrible tragedy rests with me.”

I glanced down the hill as I spat, “The blame is upon the Christians!”

“Does it matter now, does it truly matter? What is done is done and that is the truth of it. I have failed my gods, my King and. most terribly, my students. It is they who now pay the horrible penalty for my lack of judgment.”

“We must escape, Master. Follow us that we may flee this madness.”

Master Tóla stood quietly as from below smoke and heat from the fiery buildings surged up the hill toward us along with the distant heart-wrenching din of victims’ screams and assassins’ cheers. “Flee?” his shoulders sagged. “No, Ossian, my place is down there with my boys.”

Laoidheach coughed and wheezed in the smoke. “No Master! You mustn’t go down there; those bastards will kill you for certain! Do something! Call upon the Dagda, call upon him to stop this thing; call for vengeance for our fallen, call upon him to strike every killer down.”

The Master’s voice came to us, a hollow resonance in the darkness. “Do you think the Lordly Ones are unaware of what happens here?” He shook his head in wonder. “You were right, Ossian, the Christians are our enemies and it was negligent of me not to see it, but...” His voice faded as though his own dream or nightmare swallowed him.

We remained silent, honoring his thoughts, patiently waiting for our beloved Master to continue. He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders and said, “Now I call upon you, Ossian, and you, Laoidheach, to protect our faith. We are in a war, a killing war between two beliefs. Tonight’s attack was the first battle of that war and we have lost it. Spread the word among all tribes to take up arms against the Christians that we might never lose another. Tell the people what occurred here, tell them the gods demand blood for blood, bone for bone.”

“Come with us, Master,” I pleaded. My eyes watered in the smoke, or was it only the smoke? “Your word will carry weight where ours…”

“No. My time upon this earth has passed. The Lordly Ones have decreed that my proper place lies within the flaming furnace below us. My place has always been with my boys and so it shall be now. As for you, Druid,” he handed the death’s head staff to me, “the time for warfare has come. Take this staff that you may rally men to battle. You, Laoidheach, beat the drum of war; sing loud the songs that raise warriors’ spirits.”