Waves in the Wind (8 page)

I stood in awe, loving him, worshipping him. My breath caught in my throat and I dared not speak lest I disturb the spiritual peace I knew dwelt within him. Besides, there were no inspired words, nothing more that could add to his grandeur—Tóla the magnificent who would rise above death by becoming a martyr to his faith.

He hesitated only an instant more and then resumed walking past us down the path through the churning smoke, saying over his shoulder, “My reliance rests with you to speak for your gods and spread their words of vengeance. Remember—blood for blood, bone for bone!”

* * *

Laoidheach and I fled Dún Ailinne. From a distance I looked back one final time. Towering flames performed a macabre dance in the dark skies above the school while an enormous pyre now raged atop Knockaulin itself. It was a forgotten scene, one I scarcely remembered, an image revealed in a long-ago dream, a vision given me by my mother.

Chapter 7

Rath Raithleann

For two days we traveled in darkness. Long it was we talked as we walked along, grim discussions about our past and what might lie ahead.

Vengeance was required. Laoidheach chose to follow me to my home at Rath Raithleann. From there we would launch our reprisals against Christians. How or where we would strike our first blow we did not know. Regardless, we would gather willing warriors about us and the time for revenge would come soon.

We stretched our legs on the third day as we followed a narrow lane, for day it was. A remarkable change occurred with the coming of morning. We could truly see, not in full daylight, more like the waning moments of twilight preceding full darkness.

The spring in Laoidheach’s step reflected the lightening and for the first time since that fiery night on the side of Knockaulin his voice came to life. “So, think you the darkness may be ending?”

Our rapid pace proved tiring. Months of inactivity brought on by the darkness left me gulping for air. “We may only pray,” I gasped, “the wound in Mother Earth is healing. Remember the Dagda’s song, though.” I gasped again. “We face nine months of darkness but only five have passed.”

Laoidheach chuckled. “Maybe we… Look, someone comes.”

Two men approached. My Druid’s robe and death’s head staff revealed my status so they stepped to the side, bowed and allowed me to pass. I slowed my pace and bowed in return, offering blessings upon them.

Perhaps it was the newness of the twilight setting, but many people traveled that day. In every case they stopped and bowed as I came to them. As a boy, I had seen my father treated with such deference, but this was a new experience for me. Each person we met greeted me as “Wise One,” and I was amused to find myself discomfited in my new role. It would take time to feel at ease inside the skin of a Druid.

At last we neared my home. I gained a bounce in my stride as the country we passed through grew familiar. I visited my home only three times during my eight years at Dún Ailinne. Two years had passed since my prior trip. Despite the heaviness still weighing upon my heart, I anticipated the joy of seeing old friends and loved ones.

Three armored warriors rode toward us. As they drew near I recognized two faces from Rath Raithleann, men who accompanied my journey to Tara. We mounted horses to ride double behind two warriors while the third galloped ahead to the village to announce our arrival.

So it was that a short while later we rode into Rath Raithleann to find the people gathering to welcome us. Among the first I noticed was my elder sister, Ceara. I leaped from the rear of the horse and gave her a cautious hug, for she held a babe in her arms. Two small boys huddled within the folds in her skirt.

“Welcome home, brother.” Her dark eyes glistened as she stood on tiptoes and kissed my cheek.

I hugged her again, knelt and was re-introduced to my nephews, who had grown a great deal since my last visit. Their large shy eyes peered at me from behind her skirt.

Laoidheach alit from his mount and stood beside me. I rose from where I was kneeling to find my father standing beside him, his hand rested upon Laoidheach’s shoulder.

My father’s eyes held a greeting, but something more—they demanded an explanation for our unexpected presence and the death’s head staff in my hand.

I bowed. “May the gods’ many blessings be upon you, father. I bring news of a great tragedy though I believe it would be best that we speak of it privately.”

His raised hand swept ’round to indicate all those gathered about us. “You have returned to family and friends and are free to speak your news here.”

Now hundreds of faces crowded around us as word of my arrival contined to spread throughout the village. They stood muttering questions among themselves at the import of the news I brought.

I held my staff above my head, calling for silence, and raised my voice so all could hear. “Three days past a large body of Christian zealots attacked and destroyed the school at Dún Ailinne and the holy shrine atop the hill of Knockaulin.”

A gasp went up, and I gestured to Laoidheach before continuing. “My friend and I were fortunate to escape the school with our lives, for the Christians massacred all the others.”

Again, a gasp rose among the crowd, and the beginning of angry whispering. I waved my staff again, begging silence, and a large lump grew in my throat. “Our leader, Master Druid Tóla, wise and holy man that he was, knowingly martyred himself by walking to his own death in defiance of the depraved murderers. By so doing he demonstrated for all time his undying reverence for his gods, the mighty Lords of the Sidhe.”

Angry shouts came from the gathering, demanding vengeance.

“Strike them back!”

“Damn all Christians!”

“Revenge our martyrs!”

My left hand raised the staff, my right hand, a fist. “Yes! Master Tóla’s last words to me spoke of vengeance, a war against all Christians. His death demands blood for blood, bone for bone!”

A roar erupted from men’s throats while women’s wild shrieks rent the air.

I glanced to my father, who bent down speaking into a man’s ear. He gave the man a gentle shove, and he whisked away through the crowd.

“I sent the man to carry your news to King Domhnall,” he murmered to me. Then, his hands were raised in the air to quieten the still rowdy crowd. His angry voice shouted, “Yes! Vengeance is demanded! Make ready your arms for war. If it is war the Christians want, we shall bring it to them!”

Again the gathering roared, and he waited ’til they quieted.

His voice softened as he continued. “This morning we gleefully offered our thanks to the gods that the darkness might be waning. But now?” He shook his head. “Now, our thoughts must turn to the lost ones, all those who died at Dún Ailinne. I ask that tonight every home offer prayers in their memory. I also ask that every home offer blessings upon Master Tóla, the martyr to our faith.”

He waited a moment longer as his eyes swept the crowd. “This Druid and I must now take the tragic news to our king. I thank you all for gathering here to welcome my son to his home.”

“You and Laoidheach follow me home,” he muttered. “You must wash yourselves before you meet King Domhnall, and perhaps I have clothing to replace your soiled garments.”

We no sooner entered the great-room of my father’s home than a flashing blue swirl darted through the door behind us, leaped into the air and clasped slender arms around my neck. Aine! She squealed with delight as I twirled her about, her feet sweeping the air.

I relished the joy of holding her in my arms and reluctantly set my young sister on the floor. Extending her away at full arm’s length, my hands held her shoulders while my eyes drank in her loveliness. At sixteen years, green eyes twinkled within her small, oval face, while silken auburn hair tumbled down her back to her waist. Never had I seen anyone or anything more beautiful.

“Oh Ossian, I’ve missed you so,” she began and chattered on, though I confess I heard nothing more she said as I stood there enchanted by her gaiety.

The spell was broken by nearby coughing and loud throat clearing. It was Laoidheach, standing aside looking helpless and exceedingly jealous.

“Oh. Pardon me. Laoidheach, meet my sister, Aine.” I gestured. “Aine, this is my friend Laoidheach. He will be staying with us for a while.”

Aine dropped her head and gracefully curtsied before him. “It is my honor, sir.”

His head bobbed, he swallowed hard and a harsh, meaningless screech escaped his lips, “Heeeek!”

Aine did not seem to notice his awkwardness, though a flush crept up her face as she flitted back to hold my hand.

My father cocked an eyebrow as his questioning eyes followed his daughter, but then he looked to me. “Come then. I shall see if I can find presentable clothing for the two of you.”

He turned to leave the room, Laoidheach following, but I added, “Go on Father, you too Laoidheach. I’ll be with you in a moment. First though I would speak with Aine.”

My suspicions aroused, I waited until they left the room, crossed my arms over my chest and demanded, “Well?”

Aine was hanging her shawl on a wooden peg and turned to me. “Well, what?”

“The redness in your cheeks speak though you do not.”

“The redness in my cheeks?” Her hands flew to her face. “That is nothing. I’m merely…” Her voice trailed away.

“Merely what? Thinking of Laoidheach?”

“Well what if I was?” Her hands moved to her hips and she glared back at me. “He is quite easily the handsomest man I’ve ever seen and he filled my eyes for a moment. That is all.”

“All? Was it your eyes that were filled or your heart?”

Again she flushed. “My heart? What manner of foolish question is that? I do not even know the man!”

My friend devoured women like most folk would a tasty bowl of porridge, though I would not speak of it. “No, but I do and I know he will bear watching.”

“Hah.” Aine tossed her hair. “You make a big thing out of nothing. I doubt he scarce noticed me.”

“Oh, I assure you he noticed you.” I rocked back and forth from heels to toes, my arms still crossed, and smirked. “Laoidheach never missed noticing a pretty girl in his life. He’s…well, never mind that, but good friend though he is, I’ll thump him hard if he attempts to trifle with you.”

She tilted her nose, wagged a finger at me and sassed, “It is you who should never mind, brother. If a man deserves thumping, I’ll be doing it myself.”

I groaned aloud. As if there wasn’t trouble enough already, here was something new. If Laoidheach wasn’t cautious, my father would take his head.

* * *

We ducked through the door of the King’s longhouse and removed our shoes so as not to track dust across the reed mats carpeting the floor. Laoidheach and I stood by the door in our stocking feet. My father walked to the mid-point in the dimly lit room where King Domhnall and three landholders sat in chairs by the fireplace discussing the status of the kingdom’s cattle herds.

Laoidheach muttered in my ear. “Is this a king’s chambers or a hunting lodge?”

I leaned upon the death’s head staff, shrugged at his question and smiled. Memories of past visits here filled my mind as I glanced at the many trophy heads of deer and boar hanging upon the walls alongside tapestries depicting hunting scenes.

My heart saddened to see the King’s white hair and beard. The good man’s lined face had aged greatly during the years I had been away to school. In short order he dismissed the landholders, who bowed to me on their way out the door.

Then we were sitting beside the King while I described the events at Dún Ailinne. My attention was captured by the flames within the fireplace as I spoke of the burning of the school, how my friends were slain and the martyrdom of Master Tóla.

“One question.” My father relaxed beside me. “The attack occurred late at night. Why were you and Laoidheach not asleep within the dormitories along with the others?”

I cleared my throat, but Laoidheach spoke up. “We were visiting friends in Kilcullen that night. Ossian heard the movement of men in the darkness and insisted we investigate.”

My father’s hands remained folded in his lap as he cocked an eybrow. “I see. Thank you, Laoidheach. You were very fortunate. It seems little has changed since I was a student there.” With a wink, he added, “I too occasionally visited friends in Kilcullen.”

“The men who attacked Dún Ailinne, who were they?” The King’s calm voice was little more than a whisper.

“I don’t know, Your Majesty,” I shrugged. “One hundred or more faceless men. In the night I could see no colors or banners to identify them or their tribes. Yet there was one man, their leader, wearing the unmistakable robe of a Christian monk or priest. Perhaps he was the only man among them who knew precisely why he was there—to rid the land of all who speak for the Lords of the Sidhe.”

“You are certain they were Christians?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I’m certain.”

“Why do you say the leader’s robe was unmistakable in the darkness?”

“I knew the robe by the cut of it and rope cincture about the waist. There became no doubt about what he was when I saw him as a silhouette in the fiery darkness as he raised the Christian cross.”