Waves in the Wind (26 page)

Laoidheach could no longer remain quiet. “You both chatter away while my stomach is treated unfairly. Surely, the salmon are well done. See for yourself, they are beginning to char.”

Though Goban’s words still stirred me, I nodded. “Very well, yes, it seems the fish are ready.”

We sat down beside the fire and ate greedily.

“Needs butter,” grunted Goban, stuffing pieces of fish into his mouth. “Salt too!”

“Food, food,” muttered Laoidheach, “that’s all you ever think of.”

“And who was it, me harpist friend, just now whinin’ over the cookin’ of the salmon?”

“It’s called a lyre,” he cocked an eyebrow, “and I merely wished to be sure the salmon was cooked properly.”

Goban licked his fingers. “In a goat’s ass.”

Chapter 20

A Hero’s Journey

We buried the Corcu Duibne warriors that morning. I walked the riverbank and found two rowan seedlings, transplanting them atop the graves. In keeping with tradition, I muttered a plea to the seedlings that they hold the warriors’ ghosts in their graves lest they escape to haunt me in coming years.

We inspected the warriors’ gear, but found little of use. Goban retrieved his heavy smith’s hammer, iron tongs and hand bellows, and Laoidheach found his lyre. The chariot we would burn as Goban suggested, but we would keep the two horses for our travel.

Goban tossed a leather purse to me. “Look there, the big man carried it. It contains coins, I think.”

I emptied the contents of the purse into my hand—nine copper coins bearing the image of an old Roman. I tucked the purse inside my kirtle.

Laoidheach absently strummed his lyre, and, without looking up, asked, “So where go you from here, Ossian?”

“I will return to
Trá Lí
Bay. A Christian priest is there, his name is Brendan, and I will go with him on a voyage to the west.”

“To the west of where?”

“We sail west to find the Blessed Isles.”

Laoidheach almost dropped his lyre. “To Tír na nÓg? Are you daft, man? No mortal can sail to the Blessed Isles. Everyone knows that.”

“Beware what everyone knows, Laoidheach, lest you know it too.”

“What?” Laoidheach shook his head. “Listen Ossian, this priest, Brendan, has he bewitched your mind with his Christian ways that you would attempt so foolish a voyage?”

“Perhaps it was I who bewitched him. My old friend, this is not merely a voyage I would make, it is a voyage I must make.”

“You speak in riddles, but I suppose that is the Druid in you.”

“Ossian is a Druid?” Goban was surprised.

“Of course he is…oh wait, we forgot to mention it, did we not?”

“Yes, but it explains much.” Goban nodded toward me. “So, Ossian, tell me more about this voyage of yours. Do ye think there might be a place for a smith on your ship?”

Goban seemed a solid, reliable man, and I found the suggestion in his words agreeable. “The decision would not be mine alone, I’m afraid, but yes, if I have my way, you will be welcome.”

Laoidheach shook his head in astonishment. “Crazy men! I am in the company of crazy men!”

Goban’s eyes glinted. “Ye say so, Laoidheach? And where go you from here? Ye think to sing sweet songs to a king while he blows in your ear?”

“Well, I hadn’t actually thought upon it…that is, I haven’t considered the future. I am a bard, and as such will be welcomed in many circles.”

“No, me fine lad.” Goban shook his head. “Once ye would have been welcome, but now? Ye’re an escaped slave and filthy murderer. Ye’ll be hounded by the Corcu Duibne when their warriors fail to return. They are Christians and have much influence among all the clans. Can ye say as much?”

“I killed no one!”

“Yes, Ossian killed those scum, but it will make no difference. Ye’ll be sought after as a killer.”

Laoidheach stood and began to pace. “I…I still have friends who will hide me. After a while, I can travel to new provinces and…” His voice trailed away as the enormity of his changed status dawned upon him.

“Yes, ye can travel the land until caught, and then…krrrrk!” Goban grinned evilly as he drew his index finger across his throat.

Laoidheach stopped, clasped his ashen face in his hands and then peeked at Goban through his fingers. “So, if I stay here, I will have my head lopped, but if I go with you, I will surely drown in the sea?”

“Those seem to be your choices, yes,” Goban smirked.

“You have the dark heart of a slave trader, Goban, and take pleasure in tormenting me.”

“If so, it is because ye are so easy to torment, Laoidheach. But if I was a motherless slave trader, I’d not be wastin’ my time on the likes of ye.”

“Hah, and what would you know of such things?”

Goban scowled and shook his head. “I’ve seen much of slave traders and their ways. On me way here, there was a girl…”

His mood swinging in an instant at the mention of a girl, Laoidheach grinned. “A girl you say? Tell me of her.”

“She was a beautiful thing, young, fifteen or sixteen years I would say, with long reddish hair, and the world’s bluest eyes. She sat in chains, surrounded by a group of dick-head slavers, though she held her head high.”

“Who was she? How did such a girl become a slave?”

“I was not permitted to speak with her, of course, but she is called Aine, and I learned she was captured months ago when the dog filth Corcu Duibne raided her village.”

“Aine!” Laoidheach spun to face me. “Ossian, you heard Goban? Aine! Think of it, our Aine captured and a slave; it must be her, for there cannot be two such girls in all Eire!”

My mind swirled at Goban’s words. They could not be true. Aine was dead. The Morrigan had said to me
…your father will not rise from the dead, nor will your sisters.

“Ossian!” Laoidheach urged. “Listen to me, listen to Goban. My betrothed, and your sister Aine is alive and a slave!”

It was impossible. I fought back the hope that surged in my heart. “No, my friend, Goban describes another girl, though her name and description be altogether the same as our Aine. There can be no doubt of it. Our Aine is dead.”

“How can you be so sure? Ossian, you didn’t see Aine yourself after the Corcu Duibne attacked our village, and you didn’t witness her lying dead.”

“No, I did not see her.” My hands scrubbed my face, a hundred thoughts battling within my head. How could I explain my conversations with the Morrigan to these men? “I say again, there is no doubt of it.”

“I say there is doubt! How can you give up on your sister so easily? I will not. I leave immediately to go to her, and you can damned well come or go as you will!”

Aine was dead. Had not the Morrigan, the goddess of death herself, said exactly that? Yet, Laoidheach was right. Goban’s description of the girl planted a seed of doubt, one I could not ignore.

Rising to my feet, hands clasped at my back, my eyes closed as my thoughts raced. How could I go in search of the girl and thereby be certain about her without breaking my vow to the gods that I would return to sail with Brendan? He planned to sail within two months, and already much time had passed since last I saw him. I could not break my pledge merely on the possibility that my Aine lived.

A promising solution came, my eyes opened and I pointed to a nearby hill. “I will go there alone. At the crest of the hill, I will build a sacred fire and call upon the gods for guidance. Will you wait for me here, my friend, until I return?”

Laoidheach nodded. “Of course I will wait, but how long will it take for the gods to answer?”

“Who can say? Today, tonight, tomorrow…perhaps never. The gods speak when they will and no sooner.”

“It had best be the sooner, for I will wait for you until morning, Ossian, but only until then.”

Goban had been watching, and now offered caution. “I know ye for a Druid, Ossian, and know your powers. Still I warn ye be wary. Humph, ye may be favored by the gods, but as for me,” he spat into the fire, “I would have nothin’ of it.”

Picking up the sword taken from Ó Scannláin, I left them with a nod to walk up the hill alone, thoughts on the ritual before me. My Druid powers had waned during my long months of isolation, though I hoped my mission would succeed. Praying to all the gods for illumination would do no good. One god must be called upon, the god most likely to care about the well-being of a desperate woman. The names of the many gods and goddesses swam in my head until I settled upon Brigid, goddess of all feminine arts.

The day was in the eighth month, the month in which holly ruled. Therefore, it was fitting to kindle my fire with holly branches. Casting about the hillside I came upon a holly tree and lopped branches from it with my sword until my arms were full. I muttered my apologies and appreciation to the tree as I did so.

Upon the summit of the hill, I created a small fire, and sat stiffly erect, cross-legged beside it. Soon a column of smoke spiraled upwards, and I reached my hands outwards toward it. Only then did I begin my prayer to the goddess, Brigid.

I call upon the Earth Mother,

I call upon all the Lords of the Sidhe,

I call upon all the Mysteries of our land,

I, Ossian, a Druid of the faith, call upon you.

I call upon you Brigid, O goddess of women,

I call upon you Brigid, O goddess of prophecy,

I call upon you Brigid, O goddess of divination,

I, Ossian, a Druid of the faith, call upon you.

I pray that you might hear me,

I pray that you might answer me,

I pray that you might guide me,

I pray that you might bless my quest.

I come to you, dear Brigid, offering all that I am.

I offer my mind, that I might hear you,

I offer my heart, that I might understand you,

I offer my soul, that you might see all that I am.

I ask that you hear me now, dear Brigid,

Though I come not with empty hands.

Demand of me what you will in return,

Demand payment for my poor appeal.

Must I prostrate myself before you?

If so, I shall willingly do so.

Must I create a shrine to you?

If so, I shall eagerly build it.

Must I offer my blood to these flames,

That you might absorb my passion,

That you might taste my sincerity?

If so, my blood will be spilled, and gladly.

I come to you, dear Brigid, that I might see more clearly,

I come to you for a girl who cannot speak for herself,

I come to you that you might offer guidance,

I come to you that I might best serve the will of the Lordly Ones.

My prayer was repeated, time and again, as the sun crept by overhead. I remained seated before the fire, desiring neither food nor water. A fresh holly bough was positioned on the fire as needed to feed its flames.

The afternoon was growing late when Brigid answered, her voice coming from the center of the pillar of smoke rising above the fire. “I hear you, Ossian, though I wish I did not. I answer you only that you might stop calling my name.”

Hers was not the response I had expected. “Thank you, dear Brigid, for answering my prayer. I am humbled in your presence.”

“And humble you should be. Hurry now, what is it you want of me?”

“There is a girl, dear Brigid, a girl taken into slavery. Her name is Aine. It is said she could be my sister, Aine, daughter of the Druid, Ciann Mehigan. I ask your aid that I might see her, hear her and thereby discover if it is truly she.”

“And if it is she?”

“Then I will go to her and deliver her from the slavers who hold her captive.”

“And if it is not?”

“The Morrigan has laid a geas on me. If the girl is not my sister, I shall promptly accede to the Morrigan’s wishes.’

Brigid’s gay laugh emanated from the smoke. “Poor Ossian. You are in quite a dilemma, aren’t you? But, let us assume that I will allow you to see and hear this girl, Aine. What do you offer in return?”

“I said in my prayer—”

“No, no. You offered mere trifles, Ossian. I demand more.”

“Of course, dear Brigid. If it is mine to give, it shall be yours.”

She laughed again. “Be not so eager, Druid, else I raise my demands. Let me see, what do I want from you? Hmm…oh yes, I have it! It has been long since I lay with a mortal. I wish to do so tonight. If you agree to send a man to me here on this hill tonight, I shall grant your request.”

I was shocked. The goddess wished to lay with a mortal? I had heard of such things, but her demand came as a complete surprise. I ventured cautiously, “Dear Brigid, I must admit you have surprised me, and since I am already here, perhaps…”

Brigid chuckled. “No Ossian, though I find you very handsome, and believe you capable of satisfying me. But no. Your offer is too simple a solution, don’t you see? No, I insist you must convince someone else to come here, a man I will find agreeable.”

Laoidheach! Did he not claim to be descended from a changeling? Women found him irresistible, and he made a sport of attracting them. I nodded. “I know such a man. He is nearby, and I am certain I can convince him to come here tonight.”

“You
are
accommodating, aren’t you, Ossian? Very well, I accept our bargain, but I warn you, do not break it. I have had men castrated for less!”