Waves in the Wind (9 page)

“So now ‘vengeance’ is the word, eh?”

“Aye, Your Majesty. Laoidheach and I were charged by Master Tóla to collect warriors about us and bring retribution against the Christians. If the gods will it, so we shall.”

The King looked to Laoidheach and pointed to a table across the room. “There is a bottle of wine and cups there. Pour some for us, will you? That’s a good lad.”

“It seems the High King gives us little option other than to raise warriors to defend ourselves and the gods,” my father muttered. “Sire, a crime was committed at Dún Ailinne, a high crime against all who died there, against our faith, against humanity itself. Master Tóla, chief Druid to King mac Dúnlainge, and martyr that he now is, was murdered. Had King Túathal Máelgarb stood against the Christians such a tragedy would not have occurred.”

“You are right, of course, Ciann,” King Domhnall sighed. “Were it that simple, but it is not. King Máelgarb feels the primary thing he must do, always do, is retain power and by so doing secure the throne for his lineage. He will say the attack on the school is a matter between religions and beneath the notice of kings. You see, it only becomes a threat to his supremacy if he openly chooses sides and he will not jeopardize his position by doing so.”

“Your Majesty—” I spun around at the crash of breaking crockery.

A shamefaced Laoidheach stood across the room, jagged pieces of a broken cup scattered about his feet. “I…I’m terribly sorry, Your Majesty. The silly thing slipped from my hand and…”

“No harm done,” he chuckled. “It was merely a cup. Let us only hope you perform better as a bard than a servant.”

Laoidheach, now on his knees scavenging for crockery shards, glanced up, his face crimson. “Yes, Sire, indeed I do…that is…yes, Sire.”

King Domhnall looked to me. “You were saying?”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I intended to ask how anyone could feel safe in a land where rulers refuse to rule. Are we now a land defined by chaos?”

“We are a land trapped within an incomprehensible, terrifying darkness. I’m afraid many of the rulers you speak of are lost within the darkness along with their people. Do not expect overly much of them,” he shook his head, “no, not in these times, not now. The attack upon your school was not born of a war between kings or tribes. It speaks to a war among the people, between individuals holding opposing beliefs.” He rose, stepped to the fireplace, held his hands to the fire and spoke over his shoulder. “If that is how you define chaos, I will not argue against it.”

Laoidheach toddled back to us, cautiously balancing four cups of wine in his hands. King Domhnall took a cup and gave him an encouraging smile. My father and I took ours and the four of us remained quiet as we sipped the dark wine.

My father spoke, breaking the silence. “It is easy for a king to rule during good times. Never have the people needed their kings more than they do now. King Máelgarb has abdicated his authority over Eire. Now other kings such as our own Eoghanachts King, Eochaidh mac Óengusso, and Illan mac Dúnlainge, King of Leinster must step forward to maintain order in the face of Christian attacks.”

Eyebrows knitted, King Domhmall asked, “Would you make the enemies of the Druids also the enemies of a king?”

“Kings rule at the benevolence of their gods.”

Laoidheach interrupted. “Excuse me. My home is among the Ui Maine and I do not understand the hierarchal aristocracy of the Eoghanachts.”

“My pardon, Laoidheach,” my father replied. “Eochaidh mac Óengusso is King of Kings among the Eoghanachts and his realm encompasses seven houses. King Domhnall rules one of the houses here in Rath Raithleann.”

“I thought it might be something like that. Thank you,” Laoidheach nodded.

“Yes, Ciann,” the King continued. “And do you forget that King mac Óengusso is a sworn Christian? He serves his god, not the Lordly Ones. Were it not for our King’s tolerance he would force his beliefs upon us all.”

“Of course I have not forgotten, Your Majesty. However, the unprovoked attack on Dún Ailinne revealed the Christians for who and what they truly are. Perhaps you and his other regional kings can now show King mac Óengusso the folly of supporting the Christians and their ways.”

“He is a good, caring man and will be distressed by the atrocity at Dún Ailinne. Yet he is also an honorable man and will be reluctant to renounce his Christian god.” The King paused to think before continuing. “Write a letter to him on my behalf, telling of Dún Ailinne. Write it in a subtle manner that speaks to my concern for the need to maintain order while protecting the security of all, including those who stand beside the Lordly Ones.”

“Very well, Sire. I shall write the letter immediately.”

“Immediately, yes. I would send it to King mac Óengusso by courier today.” The King turned to me. “Now, Ossian. You and your friend would do battle against the Christians?”

“Yes, Sire. We will need warriors, and if the gods will it, we shall strike at those who would attack us.”

He returned to his seat and leaned towards me, forearms on his knees. “You will find many men here who will wish to join you. That is all well and good but I must place a limit on the number who may go. I cannot permit Rath Raithleann to become unprotected. Choose no more than forty men to side you.”

My heart was warmed by King Domhnall’s support. “Thank you. You are very generous. With those men and others who will join us along the way we will become a formidable force.”

He cocked his head and frowned. “Perhaps. You and your friend here will lead those men. What know you of war?”

“I studied the art of war during many lessons on it. I pray they will serve me well.”

He watched my face closely as I spoke, but shook his head. “Studying war is not all the same as practicing it. You will need experienced help, for a battlefield is not a classroom. Bring to me the names of the warriors who volunteer to go with you. I will help you select those who will serve you best.”

“Thank you, My Lord. It is comforting to know you are beside me when it seems many other kings will stand aside.” Anger rose within me. “And, may they fall for turning their backs upon the Lordly Ones and may the carrion crows feast upon their rotting corpses!”

“Ossian!” My father shook his finger at me. “Remember King Domhnall’s words. Many kings are lost within this darkness along with their people. Do not so quickly judge them. You are now a Druid. Act like one! Fight against them if necessary, but you must also search for ways to help those who are lost to find their way out of the darkness.”

It was shamed I was, for of course he was right. “My apologies, Father.” I turned to King Domhnall. “And to you, My Lord. Please excuse my stupidity and ill-chosen words.” I paused for a moment to allow clarity to replace the anger clouding my mind. “Indeed, perhaps they are right to step away. If this be a war between religions and not kings, then so be it. Let it never be said that Druids turned away from a battle.”

* * *

That night, following dinner, Ceara’s family joined us at my father’s home. I again met her husband, a serious-minded man of considerable wealth who owned much land and many cattle.

Laoidheach entertained us, sharing stories of our people and gods—Laegaire in Magh Mell, the wedding at Ceann Slieve, and the House of the Quicken Trees. I watched Aine during the telling of them, and she laughed often, her eyes never leaving the bard’s face.

He then recited an old ballad of Conn of the Hundred Battles, one of my father’s favorites. However, his entertainment was not ended. From somewhere Laoidheach had borrowed a lyre and he strummed it while singing of young lovers whose passion was destined to remain unrequited due to the actions of a cruel king. Again I watched Aine, and once more she was captivated, her full attention on him as he sang the haunting melody.

Later as we lay on pallets in my old bedroom, Laoidheach whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister like Aine?”

There would be trouble. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

Chapter 8

Spirits of Twilight

Laoidheach still slept when my father and I left the following morning. The new faint light returned and we walked to his fields where men anticipated the coming of sunlight and worked to prepare his ground for planting.

Afterwards we returned home to find Laoidheach slumped outside on a bench, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands.

I strolled over to stand beside him. “Why so glum?”

He straightened with a baleful expression on his face. “She won’t speak to me.”

“What’s that?”

“Aine refused to speak to me.”

My father snorted and strode into the house.

I knew my friend only too well and lowered my voice. “So, what suggestive thing did you say to her?”

“Suggestive? I only said ‘good morning’ and that’s the truth of it.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “I said good morning to her, but she turned up her nose at me,” he flipped his hand outwardly, “and walked out the door without saying a word.”

Two village women strolled past, stopped and bowed to me. I bowed in return, offering blessings. “May Brigid smile upon you and your homes. May she keep you and yours safe during these dark times.”

They curtsied. “Thank you sir,” one replied, while the other said, “And may the gods bless you as well,” and they went on their way.

My thoughts returned to Laoidheach. Aine’s behavior was baffling. She had been immediately attracted to him and only the night before clapped gaily during his entertainment. I stroked my chin as I thought it over. “You are certain there wasn’t more to it?”

“That’s all there was, and…” His eyes glinted as he pointed an accusing finger toward me. “Just a moment. What did you tell her about me?”

I grinned. “I told her I would give you a good thumping if you attempted to trifle with her.”

“Trifle with her? Ossian, you know full well I would never…” He cleared his throat and squirmed on the bench. “Well yes, I suppose I have trifled with a few women now and again, but I would never consider such a thing with my future wife.”

His words swirled through the air, entered my ears and my mouth fell open. “Your wife?! Are you daft? You only met Aine yesterday.”

He rose from the bench, nose lifted, an indignant expression covering his face. “That makes no difference. If Aine will have me, she shall become my wife. Provided your father approves, of course.”

I had seen Laoidheach animated over women many times but never had I seen him like this. He wished to marry Aine? Now I needed to sit on the bench so I elbowed him aside and plopped down.

“I realize she is sixteen years,” he continued, “but many girls marry much younger. Besides, being four years her elder I will bring maturity and stability to our marriage, don’t you see? So now, with your father’s permission, there remains but one problem.”

“That being?”

“She loathes me. Move aside.”

I scooted to the end of the bench and he sat beside me. He then resumed his previous unhappy position, chin in hands.

My eyes reached out through the morning gloom. Nearby cottages appeared little more than vague shadows. Perhaps it was the grayness of the morning but my first thoughts of my friend and Aine marrying saddened me. It was an altogether selfish sentiment, for I realized that my relationship with them would forever change. Yet there was rightness about the feel of it I could not deny. A small smile crossed my lips; both were like a butterfly that alights upon your fingertip, an ethereal, innocent visitor that instills joy and beauty inside your heart. Perhaps the gods long ago destined they should meet and thereafter float within the world of butterflies side by side.

A dimly seen movement caught my attention. It was Aine flitting like an unswerving arrow towards our home. I rose and greeted her with a “Good morning,” but she ignored me as she walked through the door and slammed it behind her.

Laoidheach groaned. “I told you.”

* * *

Sparks swirled, darted and joined with the smoke rising above the fire blazing before the stone altar. It was here within the Sacred Grove, as a youth, I spent countless days with my father. This night it served my purposes as an open-air temple.

Four days had passed since my arrival at Rath Raithleann, during which time I had neglected my responsibilities toward my dead friends. My eyes closed as I stood before the fire; arms spread wide, palms upward, I intoned a prayer for the dead of Dún Ailinne.

Within the still darkness,

Spirits of the lost,

Begging release,

Seeking the eternal.

O Aed, Lord of the Underworld,

Souls of Dún Ailinne,

Send them on their way,

Free them for all time.

By your gracious will,

Paradise awaits them,

Upon a distant shore,

Beyond the western sea.

My prayer was just begun, though I intended it for others with no thought of becoming a part of it myself. The fire’s smoke dissipated and the salty aroma of the sea filled my nostrils. I staggered to regain my balance as the ground beneath me shifted and sloped down to my right. Pitch-blackness prevailed while, again to my right, was the sound of waves washing upon an unknown shore.