Waves in the Wind (39 page)

Tears streaming down his hard, leathery face, Goban nodded. “Aye. That we have, me lad, that we have.”

Laying a trembling hand on Goban’s arm, he whispered, “There is one last favor I request of you as well, though I fain not, fearing it too much to ask of a dear friend.” He paused, gasping. “Remove the knife. Do it now, for my time passes swiftly and I would not die with Erc’s filth within me.”

Though I knew him as a man of strong heart, Goban wavered and his eyes found mine. At my nod, he knelt; his hand grasped the knife hilt. “Are you ready lad?” he muttered.

Laoidheach spoke not a word, but closed his eyes, and nodded, a gentle smile curling his pale lips. A long, final sigh escaped him as Goban withdrew the knife.

Silence gripped the room as I leaned forward with a moan, and clasped my dearest friend hard to my breast. Rocking back and forth with him in my arms, tears blinded my eyes, anguish my mind.

Thus I continued until behind me, Brendan intoned, “In Nominee Patris,
et Filii, et Spiritūs Sancti, we ask you Heavenly Father to receive the soul of Laoidheach—”

Rage enslaved my heart and I spun about on my knees, spittle and venom spewing from my mouth, filling the air. “No! You did not have him while he lived, and by the Queen of Death herself, you shall not claim him now. He,” I gasped, “my friend…died true to his gods…his soul belongs to them.”

Brendan’s clasped hands opened as he began to explain. “Ossian, at this time, surely you do not begrudge God’s—”

“Damn you. Damn you and your blasphemous god.” Hand trembling, accusing finger jabbing toward his heart. “You are responsible for this, Brendan. Erc was your man, and you knowingly harbored hatred in your midst. My friend’s death rests with you.”

Mouth open, Brendan stood there, eyes wide and unbelieving, speechless.

“You…you are not welcome here.” My voice shook as I waved a dismissive hand. “G-Get out. Get out now. This is no place for,” I paused, and then spat the word, “Christians!”

Brendan still hesitated, staring at me.

“Go!”

* * *

I wore the green robe in the morning. Stepping through my doorway into the predawn light, I saw Brendan near the shore, kneeling, hands clasped beneath his chin as he faced
Trá Lí Bay
.

My footsteps crunched upon gravel as I walked towards him, and he rose and turned about to face me. His eyes swept my robe, though he said nothing of it. Indeed, he said nothing at all, but merely stood there, waiting.

“Goban and I leave later this morning. You heard Laoidheach’s dying request?”

“Aye, I heard him and know you must honor his appeal.” His solemn eyes held me. “You wonder if I will wait here for you?”

I nodded.

“Despite all…” He shook his head as if to dispel what he intended to say. “You needn’t worry. I will honor our agreement and shall not sail. This I promise you in God’s name, I shall not sail until you return.”

Gentle waves washed upon the shore, gulls dove, turned and cried against a gray sky as Brendan continued, “You were right in what you said. I knew narrow-minded hatred stood at my side and for too long chose to ignore it to my own ends. Brother Erc was my responsibility, so yes—Laoidheach’s murder falls upon me. I have since prayed God’s forgiveness, and yet for committing such a sin, well I know I must pay a heavy price.” Eyes to the sky, he added, “In Your Name, Father.”

Great weariness overcame me. Perhaps it was unfair not to forgive Brendan, but my heart and mind were still not prepared to do so. Still, I could understand him. “We are priests you and I. We hear our gods, try to obey their commands and bring their voices to the people. Though we do our best, often we will fail, for we are only men. How can we hope to interpret the will of a god? We make mistakes, on occasion, grave ones. I admit to making critical errors, and yes, Erc was yours.”

“Yes. Though we be only men, that does not excuse our mistakes. I should have sent Erc away months ago. If only I had I done so…” His face raised to the sky as he murmured, “For Laoidheach I will never forgive myself.”

“All men carry burdens, they are a part of life.” Arms crossing my chest, I turned to him with a cocked eyebrow. “I have my burdens. Laoidheach rests with you.”

We stood together for a long while, facing the tranquil bay. A sigh escaped him. “Forgiveness does not dwell within your heart, does it?”

“No, not any more. Too much has happened. Too many have died. Memories are all that remain for me. They fill my heart, leaving no room for forgiveness.”

“Then it is sorry for you, I am, for you are not a complete person. It is only through forgiveness as revealed to us through God’s Own Grace that you may fully regain your humanity.”

How could this priest possibly understand the turmoil stirring within me, born of never-ending sadness? My attention moved beyond the bay towards the distant sea, my voice husky with emotion. “Do not trouble yourself. I am human enough, Brendan. Oh yes, I am completely human, for only a human heart could harbor so much sorrow. That is not your concern, but rather a matter to be resolved in good time between me and
my
gods.”

Chapter 31

To Old Friends

I looked back over my shoulder and raised my voice that Goban might hear above the cart’s squealing wheels. “So, tell me. What did Brendan say when you told him of the two monks we held in the cave?”

Reins in hand, Goban sat slumped on the seat of the two-wheeled cart as it trundled north along the narrow trail towards
Trá Lí and beyond. Dense thickets of gorse and heather crowded the trailside, obscuring the surrounding landscape except for the rugged mountains rising to meet the sky behind us.

He chuckled. “About as ye would expect, I think.” Sitting up a bit straighter, a grin spread across his face. “At first he was furious that we had abducted his men. I’m thinkin’ he’s a good man too, for when I told him why and how we done it and that his men weren’t hurt, he shook his head and laughed. It was a good joke on him, he said. Afore we left, he was sendin’ out some men to fetch ’em back to the village.”

Yes
, I thought,
Brendan is a good man and I have no doubt he will stand by his promise to await our return before sailing
. Never would I have considered trusting the word of a Christian, but with Brendan, it was the man I trusted, not his faith.

Ever north we traveled. Laoidheach’s body, wrapped in many layers of fine linen, lay stretched in the back of the cart. In the far distance and many days away rose a barren hill and, atop it, a single alder tree—in its shade, a lonely grave.

The faces of the people we met grew wary or sometimes angry at the sight of my emerald green robe. Only a few elderly folk approached me with reverence, addressing me as Wise One, asking for a blessing. I sighed, again realizing the Morrigan’s words were true. Everything had changed, now nothing remained for me here on my native soil. My future, if I was to have one, lay across the sea to the west.

We followed familiar trails, those we traveled on our previous journey. It took us a week to come upon the rutted path leading to Saithne. Skirting that village of death, we turned towards the hill and our destination.

* * *

A smile touched my face as Laoidheach’s laughter echoed in my memory. Though I grieved for my dearest friend, he would never leave me, not really. Always I would remember his face, his voice, the way he walked, the joy he brought to all about him.

Laoidheach was one with the gods now. Nothing remained that I might offer him, naught but a prayer that our gods favorably receive his soul, and that his afterlife would prove a blessed one.

The morning sun warmed me as I stood beneath it and gazed upwards, the spirit smoke of the sacral fire swirling about me. A cloud shaped, I thought, much like a lyre held my attention, and it was to that drifting cloud I offered my prayer.

“O mighty Lords of the Sidhe, purveyors of the everlasting, I speak to you of Laoidheach, born a spirit child of the wind and air, grandson of one of your own, the great god Belimawr. He was a man I knew and loved well, for we were as brothers he and I, men of two skins sharing a common heart.

“Find him worthy in your eyes, a man of music, poetry and gaiety who brought no harm to anyone for never harm dwelt within him. I beg you release my friend from the fearsome darkness of death and grant him entrance to paradise; allow him to dwell beside his beloved Aine at Tír na nÓg. Let him be known among the Golden Ones there as Laoidheach of the Silver Voice.

“O great Lords, I pray you look upon Laoidheach with kindness and hold him close to you forever. Permit him to continue to sing his songs of joy and praise always. These things you can do for my friend, a man who stood beside you in life, and who will honor you for all eternity. This is my prayer for him; these things I beg of you.

“Almighty gods of our fathers, we bow to your will.”

* * *

A light wind entwined the flames of our fire as Goban and I sat beside the newly erected cairn covering Laoidheach’s grave. The funeral ritual fulfilled, quiet we were, holding our own thoughts, thinking back, remembering.

It was Goban who broke the silence as he squatted beside me, his gnome-like muscular body contorted, tears streaking his twisted, grief-filled face. “Has he reached it? Has he arrived at Tír na nÓg? Has he found Aine? What do ye see, Ossian? Ye must tell me.”

Cross-legged I sat, eyes closed, mind quiet. The vision came, the coalescence of a shimmering palette, and with it the words I spoke, though not my own, a gentle offering from Danu.

Within a silent grove,

She awaits him.

Ancient Rowans towering,

Verdant neath the sun’s radiance.

Welcoming arms outstretched,

Graceful hands beckoning.

Eyes aglow and tears-filled,

As only a lover’s should be.

He is there, yes, he is there,

Tall, straight and laughing.

Striding forward to hold her,

At Tír na nÓg.

Together they cling,

They kiss.

Beneath the trees,

Promise fulfilled.

Golden Ones now, the two,

Gift of enchantment joined.

As O so long ago,

The gods ordained.

Love everlasting,

Where time stands still.

As it must,

Within a silent grove.

Some thoughts a person must own for themselves, wrap tightly within them, treasure and lock away from curious minds and loose tongues. Such it must have been with Goban as he stood beside me, eyes closed, face turned to the sky. There he remained, unmindful of my presence until a sigh escaped him.

My eyes followed him as, head erect, shoulders square, he turned and strode towards our horses. I did not begrudge that Goban chose not to share his thoughts with me, for I held my own about Laoidheach and Aine and Tír na nÓg. And I locked them away.

* * *

A squalid, moldering hovel crouched beside the trail near the edge of a village and we arrived there with the dust of the road clogging our throats. A farmer leaning upon his hayfork who pointed the way told us the owner sold his red ale to travelers.

The cart we had abandoned atop the hill. Now Goban rode astride a horse and our return journey passed swiftly. My green robe, soiled during our travel north, was stowed in my bundle, so again I wore a kirtle and leggings. We stepped down from our horses, thoughts of cool ale filling our heads.

We were tying our reins to a bush, when a loud crash followed by the sound of breaking crockery erupted inside. Yelling ensued, the raised voices of arguing men.

Goban cocked an eyebrow, and smirked. “This sounds like a likely spot.”

Two tall, burly lads emerged from the hut, a struggling man between them. They lifted him up, one grabbing the man’s arms, the other his legs, and gave him a hefty backwards swing before pitching him a goodly distance through the air, where he landed on his face amid a cloud of dust with an, “Oomph.”

Their victim raised himself on hands and knees, shook his head and then spun about, facing his huge adversaries. He lifted his face to the sky, howling like a wolf, and then leaped to his feet, dashing back into them, fists swinging.

I chuckled when I noticed the men were twin brothers who towered beside the door almost casually, lopsided grins on their faces. The man’s blows bounced off them like hailstones thumping granite. Repeating their previous performance, they again lifted the man up, tossed him through the air and enjoyed a similar result.

This time the man lay still before finally turning onto his side. His hand went to his mouth, and a moment later he withdrew and inspected a tooth pinched between his thumb and forefinger. A disgusted sneer crossed his bearded, dust-covered face, as he cast the tooth aside and spat blood on the ground.

It was the first time I saw the man clearly, and laughter erupted from my throat upon recognizing him. “So Torcán, how goes your battle?”

He lifted his head and glared at me. “And who would you be to nose into another man’s fight?” In that moment he knew me. “Ossian!” Staggering to his feet, he swayed and then lurched towards me.