The Legends (14 page)

“So I see,” Paddy replied looking curiously at the child.

“What happened to the two of you?” Evelyn asked as she relieved her husband of the baby.

“A bit of an accident,” her husband answered. “After several hours I suppose it was to be expected.”

Cuddling the baby, Evelyn said, “Oh did you piddle all over Daddy, you poor thing you?”

Paddy, looking even more confused than ever, finally had enough, “All right, will one of you please tell me what is going on?”

“Yes, of course,” Cathal replied as he directed Paddy to a seat. “The long and the short of it was that we were out walking along a hillside overlooking the Boyne, when we, or should I say Molly, found this baby, obviously abandoned.”

Paddy replied, “I see. So you want me to make a report and take the baby to the hospital.”

Evelyn quickly interrupted, “Well it is a little more complicated than that. The baby is obviously as healthy as a horse so there is no need to rush him to a hospital. And then, even though he was apparently abandoned, the place where we found him, the crib that he was left in, and a few things that were left behind are so amazing they… well… they defy belief.”

“In what way?” the Inspector asked. “It seems quite straightforward to me.”

“Let me start from the beginning,” Cathal said, “and see what you think.”

With that Cathal described the morning’s occurrences from the time the couple left the house until they returned. He also described his observations, from the condition of the child, the size of the crib and the state of the long wet grasses around the site. Cathal then explained that he concluded it was highly unlikely that anyone had been at the site for at least several hours before they arrived and yet, the child was found in bright sunshine without a whisper of sun blush. When he finished, Cathal showed Paddy the gold that had been found in the bushes nearby.

“I see what you mean,” the Inspector said, obviously perplexed. “Was the child dowsed in sunblock?”

Evelyn touched the baby’s cheek and forehead and raised him up to her nose. “Not unless they have invented a totally invisible product that cannot be felt or smelled.”

“So do you have any ideas as to how the baby arrived at the site?” he asked.

“Believe me,” Cathal answered, “I think I have considered every angle but I am at a complete loss. Particularly considering the weight of the crib, the only thing I could think of was that for some reason a helicopter lowered the crib, child and treasures but we were out for a couple hours and we certainly didn’t see or hear anything.”

Evelyn added, “You know Paddy, you are a professional and no matter how careful Sherlock Holmes here has considered the matter, maybe it would be better if Cathal took you out there so you could have a look for yourself. The crib is still lying in the field and it isn’t that far away. Maybe you will have to cordon off the area for forensic study, or whatever it is they do.”

“And what of the baby?” Paddy asked.

“Well, little Brian is certainly safe enough with me, at least until we have sorted this out,” Evelyn replied. “I bought a few things for him and I am sure it is time to give him something to eat.”

“Brian, is it?” Paddy said rose from his chair.

“Sure we had to call him something,” Cathal replied. “Hold on a minute while I put on a pair of dry pants. And while I’m at it, it might be a good idea to take my camera along.”

Evelyn O’Sullivan pushed her baby-buggy through Margaret O’Neill’s gate. The old woman, forewarned by the happy barks of her good friend Molly the wolfhound, was waiting, a welcoming smile on her wrinkled face.

“Hello Molly,” she said scratching the big dog’s ears as she had so many times. “Aren’t you a grand girl looking after the little fellow so?”

Addressing Evelyn, she continued the words coming in rapid succession, “You are very welcome… come in, come in – before the heavens open up. The water’s on the boil.” Reaching into the buggy she touched the infant’s cheek forgetting for the moment any thought of impending rain. “So this is the little fellow I have heard so much about.”

“It is indeed,” Evelyn replied happily, “Brian Boru O’Sullivan, allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Margaret O’Neill.”

“So pleased to meet you, Mr. O’Sullivan,” the old woman replied taking his little hand in her own. “I’m sure we will be great friends.”

Molly gave a short bark, reminding Margaret of her tradition of providing him with an appropriate treat, and they all walked through the yard and into the kitchen. The dog was presented with a fine bone and settled under the kitchen table to enjoy her treat, while Margaret prepared the tea.

“Sit down there,” she ordered directing Evelyn to a chair. “You must be exhausted altogether and you up all hours taking care of the little one.”

Evelyn did as she was told, and replied, “In truth, he is no problem at all.”

Margaret placed a slice of freshly baked slice of apple pie before her guest and proceeded to pour the tea. “You should know that I am a little cross with you. Here you are with a fine little baby boy and I didn’t even know you were expecting. Usually I’m very good at noticing such things,” she concluded with a raised eyebrow.

“I am sorry about that,” Evelyn said slightly flustered. “You know I’m a bit large at the best of times so maybe that’s it. You also know that I am not as young as I once was – and you never know. Anyway, we didn’t tell anyone, even our families, so everyone was surprised, as you can well imagine.”

“And a very pleasant surprise it was,” Margaret said. “Tell me know, what did your family think?”

“Like you they were very surprised but also very happy for Cathal and me. You know that we have dreamed about this for years but we had long since accepted that we would not be blessed with a child. Believe me when I tell you, Brian came as quite a shock to us as well.”

“May I hold him?” Margaret asked.

“But of course,” Evelyn replied as she reached into the buggy, removed the baby and passed him to the older woman, “he is amazingly good with strangers.”

Margaret accepted the child holding him in the crook of her left arm. Her actions reflected an expertise that was, without question, not lost in the years since she held her own children. She reached out and pulled the shirt, which had ridden up, away from his chin. “Now so then, let us take a good look at you,” she said as she looked into his remarkable blue eyes. Margaret was quiet for a several seconds as she studied the baby. Perhaps she had intended to make the type of comment that most woman make when presented with a new baby, but instead her words came as a surprise, even to herself. “I know this may sound peculiar, but as I look at this child, I feel that I know him, perhaps I have always known him.”

With that, Brian smiled brightly and reached out his hands toward the old lady as if he were asking to give her a hug. Margaret responded to his request and as the child gurgled happily, Evelyn looked at the pair in amazement.

While the child clung to her neck, Margaret closed her eyes as if she was dreaming and a look of perfect contentment came over her face. Evelyn had, by then, become accustomed to strange occurrences where the infant was involved, but this had to be the strangest since his discovery. “Perhaps,” she said tentatively, “Brian reminds you of Cathal or me, or one of your grandchildren.”

“That may be,” Margaret replied doubtfully. When the child released his hold on her neck, she returned him to her left arm and thoughtfully traced his face with her hand. After a short time, she looked up at her guest and said. “I hope you will not think me strange or a victim of what do they call it, “senile dementia,” but I am going to tell you something that I would not have dreamed I would mention to a living soul.”

Evelyn put her cup down and studied the old woman waiting for what Margaret had to say with mounting curiosity. She decided that the last thing in the world she would suspect was that this old woman was senile in any shape or form. To the contrary, Evelyn wished that she were as sharp as Margaret.

“For the last few weeks,” Margaret began, “I have had the strangest dreams. Well let me correct that, dreams while I sleep, yes, but also visions while I am awake, usually while I am out walking these hills. I see myself in those dreams and visions, just as I appear today, an old woman who, perhaps, has outlived her usefulness.”

Evelyn protested, “Now Margaret, please don’t say things like that. You are very important to me and any number of people in this community…why just…”

Margaret put her hand up and Evelyn stopped speaking. “I am not complaining my dear, just stating facts. At any rate, although I am old in my dreams and visions, I do not see myself in today’s age but rather in an age that must have been long, long ago. In my dreams there are no houses, as we know them, no cars or even roads, no electricity, no running water, and absolutely none of the conveniences of the modern age. I am dressed in rough clothing as is everyone else, and I am at some kind of feast. I am eating, with my hands, lumps of meat that have been taken from an animal that has been boiled in a pit and I am drinking from a wooden goblet.”

She stopped for a moment to wipe a bit of spittle from Brian’s chin, then Margaret took a sip of tea and continued, “There are many people present, women with long unkempt hair some holding or nursing infants and men dressed in robes with long moustaches and beards. There are also wealthy kings and nobles with finer robes wearing beautiful golden jewelry. There are also children present, barefoot and dirty, dressed in homespun robes that fall to their knees. I look into each person’s face searching for someone I recognize, but no face is familiar to me.”

“After a time, a big man with a great long beard, perhaps a king because he is dressed in the finest robes, delivers two infants to me and it is clear that I am, in some way, responsible for these children. I hold each child, speak softly to them, and sing songs in words that I do not recognize but I am at peace. Even though this dream is very strange, I do not find it at all disturbing and, in fact, I find it quite comforting. Although it is completely surreal, I have experienced this dream so many times that it is now familiar to me, almost part of my life. Do you not find this very strange my dear?”

Evelyn sat, her tea going cold, infatuated by the story. It took her a moment to realize that she had been asked to respond. “Strange, perhaps,” she replied, “remarkable, certainly. Tell me Margaret, do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Reincarnation?” Margaret said. “I don’t think so. That would be the kind of thing that would not sit well down at the parish church. Still and all, if there were such a thing, perhaps my dreams show me as I was in some prior life. Do you believe in reincarnation?”

Evelyn replied, “I don’t know whether I do or not. You know my Cathal is a professor of Celtic studies and he greatly respects their way of life. Apparently the early Celts were strong believers in some cycle of life in which a person returns to the earth in another time. And of course I’m sure you have heard many stories about people who have had premonitions about being someplace before when they knew that was not the case. I have never had any such experiences but, perhaps, you were an early Celt. Undoubtedly, they would have roamed these hills.”

“Well I don’t know about that,” Margaret responded with a smile, “You know that when I was newly married, there was an old man who lived in a house not far from here, which has long since fallen to ruins. We used to visit him and he was full of stories and legends about the people who lived near here. He could tell you about every fairy fort in the country and he had a remarkable collection of tales about encounters with the little people. I often wish we had recorded his stories. I doubt that he had read all the legends about Celtic heroes like Finn MacCool, Cúchulainn and the Red Branch Knights but he certainly knew them line and verse and we spent many a long winter’s evening listening to his tales. Maybe, after all these years, I am inserting myself into those stories but you would think that I should at least be dreaming that I was a fetching young maiden rather than a great-grandmother. Just my luck,”

Margaret laughed. “It seems strange though, that these dreams should come to me after all these years, and then, only in the last few weeks.”

Evelyn agreed, “It does seem strange. Do you ever remember having such dreams before?”

Margaret thought for a moment and answered, “Definitely not that I can remember. And definitely not with the frequency of these dreams. But the strangest thing of all, my dear—one thing about which I have no doubt in my mind—one of the infant children that I held when I dreamed of myself in that other world, is this child, your son Brian.”

Evelyn sat in silence for a moment considering what Margaret told her. And then, her eyes went wide, she placed her hand over her mouth and her eyes teared over.

Margaret was shocked at the younger woman’s reaction and hurriedly apologized. “I am so sorry for causing you pain. And you after just having this baby. I do hope that you will forgive me and not think that I am unstable and not fit to visit with this darling boy. Sure it’s only an old woman’s ramblings and it means nothing.”

This time it was Evelyn who put her hands up asking Margaret to stop apologizing. Evelyn collected herself and said, “Please Margaret, nothing you have said has made me think any less of you, rather, as amazing as it may seem, you may have confirmed something that is even more difficult to believe than what you have just told me. I am only sorry I was not a bit more forthright, but then maybe you will understand once I explain.”

The old woman seemed genuinely relieved but also intrigued. She returned Brian, who was asleep in her arms, to his buggy and asked her guest if she would care for a bit more tea.

“I think that might be a good idea,” Evelyn replied. “Or maybe something a bit stronger if you have anything.”

“That bad?” Margaret replied, even more intrigued. “I do have a drop of sherry.”

“That will do nicely,” the younger woman said. “I don’t think what I have to say is bad but I would say very difficult to believe.”