Waves in the Wind (21 page)

“Yes, I am Brendan, I am a priest and I am still hungry.” His eyes once again reflected humor. “Come traveler. Let us eat while we talk of the old times and the new.”

I placed no confidence in the promises of Christians, but Brendan I felt I could trust, not as a priest, but as a man of his word, a man worthy of respect. And the lure of the stew was irresistible.

* * *

Firelight reflected from the hovel’s stone walls as a woman, her woolen shawl drawn taut to her face and slumped shoulders, flitted like a spirit around our rough table. She brought bowls of stew, fresh bread and mugs of ale.

Brendan sipped his ale. “Who are you, traveler?”

“I am called Ossian and I live in a cave near the sea.”

“Ossian. Ah, but that is merely a name, and a cave is merely the place where you live. I asked who you are.”

“I fear the answers you seek are of no more account than fancied phantoms in yon evening’s mist. I am what you see before you and no more—a poor man, a fisherman and gatherer who lives alone and strives only to survive.”

Brendan shook his head. “A poor fisherman who wears the serpent ring?”

“The ring is not for you to speak of.”

“I think not. I am a Christian priest, yes, but well I know the old ways too, and know that the serpent ring may only be worn by a chosen few.”

I sat quietly, sipping stew from the bowl.

“Ossian.” Brendan rolled the name on his tongue, “Hmm. It is said long ago a man of that name stood alongside Finn Mac Cumhaill to found the Fianna at Almu. It is also said that same Ossian was a renowned Druid leader, a man of ballads and songs. Are you, Ossian of the serpent ring, such a man yourself?”

I ignored his question. The stew was good, the best I had eaten in many months. “Have you tried the stew? I believe you will find it fine and to your taste.”

Brendan’s eyebrows lifted and his humor returned. “Hah! A Druid and man of ballads and songs you may possibly be, but even if so, you are a hungry one.”

“I thank you for inviting me to join you. It is a rare treat.”

Brendan spoke as he munched his bread. “I merely invited you to the table. God provided the meal. A timely meal it is, too, from the looks of you. You are overly thin and stooped. Are you ill?”

Earlier, as I stood beside him, it was necessary to raise my eyes to meet his though he was but average height. Still, I cared nothing about my stooping posture and would tell little to this priest. “I am recovering from…that is, yes, I have been ill.”

“Then I shall pray for your speedy recovery. Tell me, Ossian the fisherman, have you a boat?”

“A crude curragh I found abandoned on the shore. I made a few repairs to it and take it on the sea when the weather permits.”

“You fish the nearby bays and inlets?”

“Yes.”

The priest swiped his bread through his bowl to capture the moisture of the stew. “You travel beyond the sight of land?”

“At times, depending upon the weather.”

“Are you afraid of being lost at sea?”

“There is the sun.” I shrugged. “What is there to fear?”

“You know the positions and movements of the stars, as well?”

And so. It wasn’t fishing that held his interest; he knew of the Druids’ preoccupation with the stars and would gauge my knowledge. “I know no more and likely far less of the stars than most who fish these waters.”

“The villagers here are building a large curragh for me and my followers that we might sail to the Northern Isles to spread the word of Christ there. Perhaps you’ve heard of this?”

“A little…no more.”

“The voyage will require several days. Which stars would we follow to reach the Isles?”

It was another of his tests. “You will have a pilot aboard. He will know better than one such as I, who has never been to the Isles.”

“God is my pilot in all things—”

A light rap at the door interrupted Brendan’s comment, and a cowled monk entered. “I apologize for interrupting your meal, father, but—” and then he noticed me.

“Yes, Brother Erc, what is it?” Brendan asked.

“I’m sorry, father. I didn’t realize you had a guest.”

“Indeed, Brother. This is Ossian, the fisherman.”

“Ossian!” Erc hissed. “Father, this is the Druid the old priest warned us about.”

“Of course he is.”

So, the ring had been telling enough. From the beginning Brendan had known who and what I was, that I had earned the right to bear a Druid’s staff.

Erc was a slender, swarthy man. His uncompromising hatred of me and all that I represented radiated from black, burning eyes as he turned to me. “What evil wind brought you here? The Holy Saint Patrick, may God rest his immortal soul, banished all of you pagan snake worshipers from Eire.”

“Brother Erc,” Brendan interceded, “please restrain yourself. This man is here because I invited him to eat with me.”

“But, father! I urge you beware this man. Patrick himself invoked all of the virtues of the Holy Trinity to,

guard against the black laws of heathenism,

against the spells of women, and demons, and Druids.”

Brendan nodded. “Indeed he did, dear Brother, though I do not need you to remind me of it. But, Patrick intended so much more when he invoked the Trinity to support his true mission here, that Christ may be seen and cherished,”

in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,

in the mouth of everyone who speaks to me,

in every eye that sees me,

in every ear that hears me.

Place your trust in the Lord God, Brother Erc,” Brendan added with a soft voice. “I would that this man see, hear and come to Christ through me.”

“Yes, father, though I would prefer to see this blasphemous Druid in chains.”

“And I would prefer to have him embrace Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior! Now Brother Erc, you had a purpose in coming here?”

“Yes, father, it’s the villagers, they claim…” Erc hesitated, his eyes slanted toward me. “Father, please accept my apologies for disturbing you. My message is not urgent. With your grace I shall leave you now that we may discuss the matter tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Brother, that will serve me well.” As Erc turned to leave, Brendan added, “And Brother, please hear this and share it among all my followers. Ossian the fisherman is not to be disturbed. He shall be free to leave the village at his will. Do you understand?”

Erc bowed. “Of course, father. I will tell the others and it shall be as you say.”

The door closed as Erc quietly shut it behind him. Brendan turned to me. “Don’t worry, you are safe here under my sanctuary. So, shall we now discuss…hmm, how did you phrase it earlier? Oh, yes, now I remember. Shall we discuss your phantoms in yon evening’s mist?”

I sat quietly for a moment before answering. “What matter phantoms even if such exist? We banter words, you and I, but to what good end? We are as unlike as the ox and the whale, and follow far different paths.”

Brendan nodded. “Yes, there are differences between us, but with God’s help I hope to wash them away. With the Light of His only son, Jesus Christ, I shall find the way to deliver you into the Grace of the Holy Trinity.”

“I am but one man, insignificant, and unworthy of your efforts.”

“Not so small, I think, and what’s more, every soul is worthy in the eyes of God. Yes, and I would that you will see His glory and come to Him.”

“What matter? Beyond this evening’s meal we will speak no more.” I pushed my empty stew bowl away. “After tonight your thoughts will turn again to the Northern Isles where there are many who might hear your words and be swayed by them.”

“After tonight I shall not forget you. Even though my brethren have spent scores of years in the Northern Isles spreading His word there remain many who might be converted to the True Way.”

“Yes, you and your brethren are relentless in spreading your faith. I fear even the Golden Ones of the Blessed Isles shall not be spared your incursion.”

Brendan was an eager listener. “The Blessed Isles, you say? It is a familiar name known to me though I know nothing of them. Where lay these Isles?”

I pointed vaguely outward, beyond the hovel’s walls. “Many weeks sailing across the western sea near the River Oceanus. Or so Mac Lir said.”

His disappointment showed on his face. “Mac Lir said? Mac Lir is but a blasphemous pagan sea spirit. Your Blessed Isles and the people there are but a heretic myth, then.”

“A myth? Think so, if you will, but I know them to be otherwise. The Blessed Isles have been called many things but perhaps are best known among us as Tír na nÓg, the Isles of the Ever Young. Much has been said of the Isles by others who proclaimed them a paradise.”

“Tír na nÓg?” Brendan shook his head. “It is merely spoken of in legends. But the Ever Young? Who are they?”

“They are the Golden Ones, the spirits of the dead. There they remain until called upon by the gods to return here and be reborn.”

“You describe a Heaven here on earth? Such a thing is not possible and is contradicted in the Scriptures by God’s Own Word. No, your beliefs are founded in the ancient stories of the old ones, for spirits live on only by the grace of God Himself.”

I would not mention my encounter with the spirits of Dún Ailinne as they boarded the ghost ship enroute to Tír na nÓg. Perhaps he would believe my story, perhaps not, but it was not something I would share with him. “As you say, priest, but The Blessed Isles are there, you may rely upon it.”

“You have proof of them, then?”

“No proof, but I have faith and that is something a man like you should understand. There is an old song of our people that tells of the Isles. Though I am a poor singer I will tell it to you.”

Fair are the blessed,

The Isles of the Ever Young.

Far to the West.

Where live the Golden Ones.

They have no want or care,

Soft breezes soothe the Land.

The springs run crystal clear,

Where the sacred Rowans stand.

They have no guilt or fear,

And nothing gives them flight.

There is no darkness there,

Only the soft moonlight.

My heart cries out for the West,

And the touch of the Ever Young.

Where no man is oppressed,

And the songs of the gods are sung.

Brendan remained silent for a moment. “Your voice is not poor. I hear the training in it. Do your people have other tales of this land?”

“There were many. Within the Isles are four great cities: Falias, Gorias, Murias and Findias. Within each city dwells a powerful Druid, and within each a potent magical treasure. Now the old ways are vanishing and there are few left who know the details and the old songs. I know but a fragment of one other, from the song of Nihil.”

She takes my hand at the sea marge,

She whispers low on the wind,

She sets her sail for Tír na nÓg

And leaves worn life behind!

I rose from my bench. “I do not wish to be impolite but it is late and I would go back to my cave. I thank you for inviting me to eat with you, for the food was well done.”

Brendan was surprised. “You go now? So late? Stay that we might talk more of these Isles of yours. You are unwell and are welcome to sleep here that you may depart more comfortably in the morning.”

“Thank you, but you will be busy tomorrow and I would not burden you. I have kept a man waiting for me and there are things that I must do beside the sea, things important to my meager existence best done in the early morning.”

I walked to the door, opened it and glanced back at him. “I wish you a safe journey, Brendan.”

“I think we will meet again, Ossian.” The priest rose, placing his palms together before him in the manner of prayer. “But go if you must, go with God’s blessings upon you.”

Chapter 16

A Path to Tír na nÓg

The evening sun, a dull orange orb, sank toward the distant rim of the western sea. Only a few shorebirds that frequented the rock-strewn beach below me remained. Soon they, like others of their kind, would end their daylong search for the tiny shellfish hiding beneath the sand. My own daily search for food began early that same morning. First was the gathering of knotgrass and goosefoot seeds to prepare a poor porridge, and, as I tired of sea fare, later I hiked the banks of
Cumeenduff Lough
to fish for the trout there. Time and again I cast my baited hand line into the sparkling clear water and sat on a stone, anticipating a reward. At days end I returned with three fish, a small one and two others of pleasing length and girth.

I turned from my view of the birds and darkening sea and entered my cave to bake the small fish for my dinner. The two larger ones were suspended above the smoke to be preserved for later. Many of my days were spent in such a way.

A fortnight had passed since last I visited the village and spoke with the priest, Brendan. Soon he would sail to the Northern Isles. I doubted to see him again as he would stay long in the North to spread his religion. His movements were of little interest to me. I would remain in my cave beside the sea until I felt safe to move on.