My side and my leg were nearly healed. Although the muscles of my leg had wasted, McLir felt certain I would soon walk properly again. I would still be lame for a while and unable to travel far. So I could not go home yet, since our village is some distance from the shore. The river is too shallow for boats to reach high enough. One day, McLir went out and brought back the forked branch of a tree. He showed me how to use the wood, propped under my arm, to hobble round the cave. I was delighted to be able to move again without his help. At first, though, I found any movement hard work and, at night, I often ached all over. But it was wonderful to see a little of the world outside. McLir would not let me go past the entrance, which opened out onto the narrow shelf. Beyond this small lip, the jagged rocks began, far too slippery with seaweed and spray for me to cross. Winter had come hard and early, and apparently, the hills had been white for some time. This was unusual, for the solstice was still some weeks away.
I did not want to return home yet. I had no wish to go back to my father’s house, where people always shouted and argued. When I lived there, I was always uneasy, expecting to be called to task for some omission or fault. Not only my injuries had healed during my time in the cave; part of my spirit had healed too.
Gradually, my health and the weather improved. The intense cold and the lashing rain ceased, and the days became bright and crisp. I had made rapid progress. I could put my foot on the ground and take some of my weight on it. I came to rely on my crutch less. I used it more as a stick than the prop I had needed before. Although I rejoiced in my recovery, my life had a bittersweet quality now. Every day brought me nearer to the time when I would have to leave the cave and go home. I longed to keep the new peace and tranquillity I had found. I wanted the stories to continue and the teaching, which had opened new, undreamt of horizons to me. I would miss Shea’s friendly presence, but, most of all, I would miss McLir.
5
I did not have long for regrets. One night, soon after my qualms had begun, my initial fear of McLir returned far more strongly than ever before. I wished, for the first time, to leave him because I witnessed his true magic. He had not meant me to be awake when it happened. I would not have been, if an accident had not occurred, but perhaps fate decreed that I was.
All day McLir had been restless. He tried to carry on with his usual tasks, but would suddenly break off and sit staring into space. He frowned, as if he had some dark thoughts in his mind.
“What is it?” I asked him once. He had snapped at me for the third time, something he had never done before. “Are you all right?”
He smiled then and answered in his old way, “Yes. But the east wind is blowing and sometimes I become irritable when it does.” He had not mentioned such a thing to me before. I never paid any attention to the direction of the wind, but it definitely blew from the east. I had heard the direction of the wind could affect some people, although I was surprised to find McLir was one of them. I accepted his explanation and said nothing more.
In the evening, McLir poured us both a last drink, finished his own and went outside, Shea following him as usual. I lingered by the fire, not very tired for once, but hoping sleep would come soon. Then I noticed my cup had leaked and almost all of my tea had seeped out onto the floor. I wasn’t thirsty, so I left the cup on the hearth and went to bed. I thought no more about the accident until later.
I did not hear McLir come in. I must have quickly fallen asleep, but I found myself in a restless slumber. I kept tossing around, and my dreams seemed a total confusion of images. They were full of a nameless fear, which made me want to run away. Eventually I opened my eyes to escape from them.
I had expected the cave to be in darkness. We always banked the flames with damp turves before we went to sleep. Tonight, however, everything looked different.
The walls glittered in an eerie rainbow light. The turves had been removed and the fire built high, so the flames roared up towards the roof. They sparkled in different colours – reds, golds, blues, greens and a purple so dark it seemed almost black.
“What’s happening?” I cried out in alarm, sitting bolt upright and looking around. “Máistir?”
A moaning sound answered me. I peered into the shadows, screwing my eyes up against the uncanny light. At first, I could not make him out. Strange purple fumes seemed to be spiralling out of the fireplace, and clouding the room with a veil of smoke. I was afraid we would both be suffocated. I tried to rise, but my legs had stiffened and I could not stand. The air had a sickly sweet smell. I remembered this smell had occasionally tainted the morning air in the cave at a time when I had been too sick to ask about it. This time, though, the air positively reeked. I caught up a rag and pressed its folds over my face, breathing with difficulty through the cloth.
“Poison!” I gasped. “We’re being poisoned.”
I struggled desperately to get to my feet. I had to get us out of the cave, but my legs were so weak that I seemed incapable of rising. I rolled off my bed, landing on my hands and knees and began to crawl forwards. Then I jumped in alarm, startled by Shea’s sudden bark. I had not noticed him before. He sat upright on one side of the fire, as if he was on guard. He turned his head towards me and the bright uncanny colours of the firelight glittered in his eyes. I looked past him and made out McLir’s shadowy form. He sat in the darkness beyond the dog, leaning back against the wall. His eyes were closed and he moaned softly. Even as I watched, he threw up his hand, as if to ward off some blow. Shea watched him intently, his body tense, with anxiety. I started to move again, intending to wake McLir and get us all away from the choking fumes. However, Shea growled softly in his throat, in what I recognised as his way of stopping me. I stopped. I would not be able to get past the dog, if he did not want me to do so. Carefully, I inched towards the shutter instead, intending to dispel the fumes out into the night. This time, Shea barked and did not stop until I sat back down on my bed again. I do not know why I obeyed the dog, but he was clearly giving me orders. All my instincts were against obedience, yet I did as he told me. I did not dare do anything else.
I sat there for a long time, watching the man and his dog. The colours and the vapours flowed all around us. Although the fumes made me light-headed, I seemed no different than I had been when I first awakened. So the smoke could not be poison and my first thought had been wrong. But if not poison, what had caused the vapours and what purpose did they serve?
McLir continued to make soft sounds and, occasionally, he mumbled words I half recognised. “Sétanta” and “Fand” were two of them. Once, startling me, my own name, “Renny”, said in a voice full of anxious fear. The firelight flickered over his face, revealing his emotions, which, for once, he could not hide. Dread and anger obviously passed through his mind, and, at the end, a curious kind of peace. Whatever he had put on the fire gradually burned away. The colours faded and only a small trickle of the vapour remained. The air seemed fresher, and the sickly smell lessened. I sniffed gladly, happy to get the scent out of my nostrils and breathe fresh air once more.
McLir groaned. His eyes flickered open, unfocussed and opaque. Shea stood up and came close to him, sniffing his ears and licking his face, trying to make him wake up. In his own way, the dog told his master how anxious he had been. His touch seemed to draw McLir back from some far distant place. He put his arms round the dog’s neck and caressed the shaggy fur. Then he looked up and saw me watching him.
“I did not mean you to witness that,” he said in a voice quivering with tiredness.
“The light woke me,” I explained.
“A pity.”
Now he had awoken, I dared to move; this time, Shea made no attempt to stop me. I fetched McLir some water and he drank it eagerly. “What happened?” I asked. “Did you put the colours into the fire and make the purple smoke?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I thought you’d poisoned us when I first woke up.”
“The fumes cause me go into a trance, in which I can discover even
ts that are about to happen. I must do so from time to time. Today, I was compelled to find out what’s in store for us.”
“You can look into the future?” I gasped, unable to believe what he told me. “But no one can do that!”
“I can. An uneasiness comes to me at times, something I can’t explain. If I neglect the sensation, my visions don’t come.”
“Is that why you were so restless earlier this evening?”
“Yes.”
“You blamed the east wind.”
He smiled, as I repeated his words back to him. “Perhaps I did. I’ve no idea why the sensation comes over me. It just does. The direction of the wind is as good an explanation as any other.”
“You dreamt such unpleasant dreams. I wanted to wake you, but Shea wouldn’t let me.”
He nodded. “Years ago, I trained him to let no one come near me when I fell into such a state. At the time, my visions came without warning, and he became the only defence I had from harm or interruption. It hurts if dreams of this kind are broken. The images fade so fast I can’t recall what I’ve seen. Often my memories are of vital importance to me, and those about me. But Shea didn’t hurt you, did he?” His voice sounded anxious.
“No, he only growled at me, but he made his meaning quite clear.”
McLir reached out for the jug. His hand shook so badly, I took it from him and poured some more water into his cup. He drank and sighed, “I’ve been told that sometimes I speak aloud when I’m in such a state. Did I do so this time?”
“Yes, a few words.”
“What did I say?” His voice sounded anxious.
“I couldn’t understand very much. You didn’t speak clearly enough. I thought you called out two names, ‘Sétanta’ and ‘Fand’, as if they worried you. Then, just before you woke, you said, ‘Renny’, nothing more.” I was still shuddering with reaction to hearing my name in such a way. Now he seemed to have shaken off his trance and he spoke as he had always done to me before. Yet I was still afraid. Why should he call my name if I had not been in his thoughts and why had he been so anxious? I asked, “Was I a part of your dream?”
He nodded. “What happens to me is not really a dream, more an altered state of consciousness. My mother and my grandmother both had such visions, and they often revealed the future to us. Where this ability comes from, or why it should happen to my close kin and me, I don’t know. Sometimes seeing what’s going to happen is a gift, at times it’s a penance. Either way, none of us can avoid either the feeling or the outcome. My visions are the only true magic I possess, and this knowledge must be kept a deadly secret, otherwise my life, and perhaps yours, is in peril. The priests call this ability evil, for we find out things that are not good for people to know in advance. Sometimes, we can inadvertently prevent events from happening that the priests believe are meant to happen.”
“I would never betray you.”
“I don’t think you’d choose to do so. But even a word out of place might cause some people to attack me. The punishment for practising witchcraft is death, being cast adrift on the sea with only one oar. What you’ve just seen would be considered witchcraft by many. You’re also at risk, for you were here and you’ve seen my magic.”
I shuddered as an image of a tossing sea and a coracle adrift on the current flashed through my mind. I felt icy cold with fear. “I’ll never, ever, speak of what you’ve told me tonight. Nor will I tell anyone about the things I’m learning from you.”
“I could make you forget, if you think your tongue might slip unwarily.”
“How could you do such a thing?”
“I can put you into a deep sleep and order your mind to disregard everything you’ve seen or heard.”
“I’ll not say anything, but you may make me forget if you don’t believe I can keep silent.”
For a moment, he looked at me, long and hard then he smiled and shook his head.
“I don’t think you’ll betray me,” he said. “But, should you ever be afraid you might slip, tell me.”
“I will.” I was amazed he would trust me with his life. I vowed I would always be worthy of his faith in me, although I felt so uneasy being with him.
McLir was rapidly recovering from his experience, as I sat there, turning things over in my mind. I became more and more curious.
“When did you first have your visions of the future?”
“I was very young. They came one night, without warning and left me too terrified to tell anyone for a long time. Months later, my mother was with me when I went into another trance. She recognised what had happened, because the same thing had happened to her at the same age. She taught me how to control my fear, to use the gift as it was meant to be used. When I became a man, I discovered I didn’t always need to wait for the sight to come to me. I could make it happen when I wanted. I tried putting various herbs and other substances onto the fire and sniffing the fumes as they burned. I took a long time to find the right mixture. Once I did so, my visions became much clearer and the trances lasted longer. If I’m uneasy and the sight is about to come upon me, I use my knowledge to heighten the experience. Everything seemed to be covered with mist when I was a boy. I was only able to perceive vague shapes. This can still happen, but much more rarely now. Often, my visions have saved my life by giving me enough warning to escape.”
“Were your visions hazy this time?”
“On the contrary, the images were very clear...” he hesitated.
“Can you tell me about the things you saw?” I was agog with curiosity. What a wonderful gift he had.
“I must, for one of them concerns you.”
I did not expect this reply and I started with surprise.
“Oh?” I shivered, afraid to hear what he had to tell me, but wanting to find out at the same time.
“Soon, you’ll be well enough to return home − but your homecoming will not be happy. I realise this thought is not new to you and is in your mind as well. A time of great stress and difficulty is coming to you. You’ll pass through quickly, for the difficulties will not be long lasting. Before Lughnasa, you’ll leave your home again unexpectedly. The trees had all their summer leaves as I watched you go. Possibly, you returned here, because you walked along the strand and I walked beside you. Your gown was torn and you had blood on your face. Once again I had rescued you from something which had threatened you.”
“What sort of a threat?” I did not like the sound of that.
“That I don’t know.”
“What happened next?”
“The picture blurred and changed.” He fell silent for a moment, as if he had recaptured an unpleasant image. “I have an enemy. Sétanta is his name. He swore to find me and kill me, to avenge a wrong he thinks I once did to him. Although I have paid for my action ten times over, he won’t rest and still pursues me.
“In my vision, I met a young man whose face is yet unknown to me. He had dark hair and a scar down his right cheek. He brought me a warning that my enemy had found me once again. When I meet this young man in reality, I’ll know my time here is coming to the end and I must leave. He’s the forerunner of the events that are coming. After that, everything faded and I was able to see no more.” He rubbed his eyes, as if they ached, or maybe to shut out the sight of something painful.
“Do the things which happen in your visions always come true?” A strange sick numbness came over me as I asked him.
“No, but it’s rare they do not.”
“You’re frightening me.” My body shook, as if I had suddenly been clothed in ice.
He nodded. “Sometimes the future terrifies me too. Such foreknowledge can be a dangerous thing for me and for the people who are close to me.”
“Can your predictions ever be changed?”
“Perhaps. I’ve rarely been able to change anything and I tried many times to do so. I don’t really understand how such changes can be controlled. Sometimes, inadvertently, change happens because I choose a different route or avoid some
person. The best I’ve ever been able to do is run before a danger. Sometimes I can give others a warning, so they can also flee. This evening, the restlessness came to me as a strong warning. Events are stirring beyond these shores, happenings that’ll affect us both. So I decided to put myself into the trance, although I didn’t expect you to witness what happened.”
“You took a dreadful chance, knowing I might wake and watch you. I might’ve been eager or stupid enough to betray you.”
“I must apologise to you. I put something into the brew I gave you tonight. You should have slept soundly and seen nothing at all. I’m surprised the herbs didn’t affect you.”
“That was because I didn’t drink the full cup,” I said sharply, feeling for the first time, since I had lived with him, that he had betrayed me.
“When I looked, your cup had been emptied.”
“My cup was cracked and the drink seeped out before I’d taken more than a couple of sips. Look.” I held up my cup so light shone through the crack in the bottom.
“So that is why...”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want to upset you but I had to make you sleep. You must understand I never let anyone witness what you’ve seen tonight. Through a mischance, both our lives are now in your hands. That’s a great responsibility for any person to bear, especially one who is so young. I wanted to spare you, if I’d been able to.”
I nodded. I understood, but the thought still rankled. “Keeping quiet is a small repayment for the enormous debt I owe you for saving my life and looking after me.” I heard the reproach in my voice, although I had tried hard to keep it out.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, as if there was nothing else he could say. He fell silent for a while. He gazed deep into the smouldering embers of the fire, which had now resumed their normal colour. Then he said slowly, as if he spoke words he did not want to say. “Perhaps I was wrong to try to make you sleep, but I didn’t realise you’d be in my dream. Listen to me, for there’s something important I must tell you now. I saved you from the waves, the night on the shore. Unintentionally I set in motion a chain of events, which link our lives together, for a short while at least. The images were so clear; these events are bound to happen. I rescued you once and I will save you from danger one more time before we part. You will repay your debt, not only by keeping silence. Quite soon now, you will save my life and Shea’s in return.”
Manannan Trilogy Page 5
