Chapter 17 - Midsummer Night's Scheme
:.This Island set apart
This island set apart, this motherland of many dreams,
still yields its secret, but it is only as men seek that
they truly find.
To reach the heart of Iona is to find something eternal...:
--G.E. Troup
. . . .
Emlyn sat rather stunned, in silence awhile. Shannon and
Jeanne seemed undisturbed by their awesome proclamations,
and set to tidying up the picnic things.
'I, I hardly know what to say...'Em wondered, was this
indeed her dan, her destiny? Did these women know her better
than she knew herself? Indeed, what of their merry band?
She knew that direct interrogation would be deemed most
impolite. 'It's rather a bit much to take in all of a
sudden. We only just met!'
'Oh, but, as you say, we are not strangers!' Shannon
casually dismissed Em's protestations.
'Trust your instincts, Emlyn, your inner knowing,' Jeanne
supplied.
'Yes, well...' Em demurred, 'It will take a bit of, ah,
digestion...'
Jeanne smiled. 'Tis well. We'd not have it any other way;
indeed you must be discerning. So, consider this then:
we three also all have names, either male or female;
although in my case, spelled somewhat differently for men,
'Gene', although tis 'Jean' to our French amis.'
Shannon continued, 'And, we meet here, in the West, where we
have found our third partner, Emlyn. Although, my family
came from Louisiana, while Jeanne is from Massachusetts.'
Em's ears pricked up at that. 'So, you see, our patterns
form a triangle,' She drew a triangle in the sand,
delineating the points as upon a map.
'Ah! Good one, Shannon! Our Nymph here is indeed Wise,'
Jeanne smiled.
'Well,' Em allowed, I was born upon the 8th day of the 8th
month, in the old calendar, October. So, my birthday comes
in the middle of the wheel of the zodiac, tis true...' Em
was getting in the spirit of things now.
Jeanne nodded. 'Ah, you see...I'm sure more will soon point
to the truth of it; tis ro-o'rdachadh, predestination.'
'Tell me more, Jeanne!' Emlyn saw that, whatever this
meeting was, either chance or dan, t'was certainly an
opportunity not to be wasted. 'What of your background, and
Shannon's?'
Never late to take her cue and leap forward, Shannon offered
up, 'Tis a Fitzgerald I am! And of direct descent from the
goddess A'ine! And, indeed, wasn't it just on St. John's
Eve, June 23rd and close enough to today, that weren't my
own ancestors seated about the hill, Cnoc A'ine, all women
they were and watching the games, they stayed on late into
the dusk, and who should appear before them but our great
ancestor, A'ine, the sun-goddess herself, her golden locks
shimmering with light from within!
'A good and gracious lady, indeed, she thanked them for
their honoring of her, but entreated them to quit for home,
as her friends in the Otherworld did wish to begin their
revels this night. And, indeed, hitherto invisible, all
could now behold the Fay gathered about, awaiting the
celebration to begin once the heavy tread of mortals were
off back whence they'd come!'
'Ye've a fair teanga, tis true, or at least a teanga well-
exercised...' Jeanne raised a brow to her locquacious Irish
sister. She sighed, '...As for my wee self, I am a
MacKinnon, a bra clan who fought honorably with the
Jacobites. Our ancestral seat is in fair Iona.'
Emlyn sat stunned, yet again. 'I don't believe it...Iona...'
she muttered, Jeanne regarded her curiously. 'Jeanne, I was
only just recalling a dream I had once, of Iona...and the
name 'MacKinnon' was somehow connected!'
'Ah, there you see!' Jeanne sat back, satisfied, and not at
all surprised. 'I'm sure you must have been a MacKinnon
yourself, at one time upon the Great Wheel! Such knowledge
comes back to us, when needed, from our former, future and
other selves.'
Em slowly shook her head, quite bedazzled. 'Oh,
Jeanne...this is all so strange...'
She looked at her new friends, (or were they Old Friends?
'Auld acquaintance', she mused),
'I was at the library, studying up on the Kelts, and I
discovered the most amazing prophecy, surrounding a coming
avatar, a woman, at Iona, who would somehow embody both male
and female and usher in the new age, a blending of the male
and female, yin and yang, and a new beginning for the
planet.' Em regarded Jeanne, eyes wide, 'She would be the
awaited Wise One, the Virgin Sophia, bringing peace on earth
at last.'
And finally, Emlyn found, her friends were rendered
speechless by her declarations and not the other way 'round.
Jeanne and Shannon looked at one another, both wide-eyed and
close-mouthed.
Then Jeanne found her voice, 'Ah, Emlyn, you speak truth, I
ken!' She nodded to Shannon, 'This is the way of it: we
each have a puzzle piece, and now that the time is
propitious, we have come together to share the knowledge and
see clear the Path before us!'
'But what of your own background, Emlyn? Sure'n you are a
Welsh lass, coming here with your First Fruits on a
Midsummer's day at noon!' Shannon rallied first, and her
smile once more was sunny.
Before Em could expound upon her own story, they heard the
approach of others and Em recognized Jethro's voice raised
in song with the voices of others, '"Should auld
acquaintance be forgot, and ne'er brought to mind! Should
auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne!"'
'Sure'n the lads have been at the poteen already...' Shannon
shook her head.
Jeanne stood, gathering the cloth and basket, 'Come Em! It's
back up the hill with us you go! We've only just begun!'
. . . .
Back up to the ridgetop, then, and by late afternoon the
company had all regrouped about the field that Emlyn
recalled from their previous visit in May...
Atop the hill they could view the sun setting and as they
had gathered firewood from windfalls en route up through the
woods, they now began erecting their tents and piling wood
for their campfires. No large bonfires today; the woods were
far too dry to risk them.
Emlyn, Shannon and Jeanne had been busy gathering as well;
blackberries, however, and they washed and shared these
amongst the troupe. Jethro worked with the men, setting up
camp, and seeing to their horses, and all were settled in by
sunset. They had their own ring of tents about a central
campfire and Emlyn's new friends seemed well to know the men
Jethro had met.
This time, having anticipated ahead, they brought their
sheepskins from May Day and were prepared to spend the night
out. 'You can share our tent, Em. The men can have their
own...', Shannon told her, '...unless you wish to join
them!' She winked. 'There are couples tents, too,' she
nodded to smaller tents set thereabouts, Em noted now, where
red ribbons streamed from the top tentpoles.
'I...see...' Emlyn smiled. Not wishing to dissuade young
Shannon, she said, 'Who knows where the evening may lead?
But I had hoped to share more talk with you both abit
longer! I've learned so much this solstice!'
She spread her sheepskin out before their tent and her two
friends joined her whilst Jethro seemed well content to
parlay awhile with his new men friends across the fire.
Someone produced guitars and a fiddle, even a dulcimer, and
Jethro looked pleased to see a mandolin make itself heard as
they got up an impromtu jam session, which found him not shy
about joining.
'Och, there now, we have musical accompaniment to our
cruinneachadh...' Jeanne said smiling, 'that's 'gathering',
Cambria,' she addressed Emlyn thus.
They listened contentedly to the musical offerings on the
night's breeze and Em thought how very different this high
holiday was, compared to Beltane. She was enjoying herself
just as much, indeed, and hoped Jethro was as well.
'When we were last here, in May, we met up with another
group of folk, with huge bonfires and quite a large company
altogether...' Em tentatively began.
'Ah, Beltane. We had gone down to the lake, then,' Shannon
replied. And Em knew she meant one of the great lakes found
among the Sierras. 'If you had come this morning, you could
have shared ceremony with us. Tis more informal a gathering
as the day circles round to close.' She began to braid her
hair and regarded Em, 'But you were about to tell us more
about yourself, Chuimrigh! Share, you must!'
'Ah, well...' Emlyn wondered how much she should share. But
her friends had been most forthcoming with some wild tales
of their own... 'Alright then, it is believed, that, on the
distaff side, my mother's people, the Bowens, from Alabama,
were descended from Madoc ab Owen,' she cleared her throat,
'the Welshman who discovered America.' There, see what they
make of that, then!
Shannon's eyes went wide, and she looked to Jeanne, who had
arched her eyebrows skyward. 'Tis firinn! Tis truth! You
see, Jeanne, she's the One!' Shannon flung her braid over
her shoulder and bent toward Em, 'Ah, Em, you see, that
proves it! Oh, we're a force to be reckoned with now, you'll
see! The Triumvirate!'
Jeanne nodded sagely, 'Tis so, tis so...'
'Ah, well, we'll see!' Emlyn smiled.
'There's a famous Maedoc, in Eire as well, you know,'
Shannon informed her.
'I didn't know, do tell?,' Em asked, knowing that Shannon
needed no prodding.
'St. Maedoc. Well, who knows who he was, truly, but a
Welshman, to be sure...Ard Ladren is marked as a landing
site where he arrived from Wales, after administering the
last sacrament to St. David sometime in the 500's you
know...' Shannon set her skirts about her, and settled in
for another storytelling, 'But, although he supposedly built
a church there, he wasn't quite the pure Christian he
sounds, as it is also true he was of divine origin. His
mother saw the moon, it is said, go into his father's mouth,
whilst his father saw a star going into hers! Suspiciously
pagan, that. Also, he came from Wales riding atop the back
of a sea monster, and performed magics here, turning barley
into gold and back, as the people needed.' Shannon nodded,
'Not your usual behavior for a bishop.'
'Twas altogether usual for the Welsh, though,' Jeanne added.
Emlyn lay back upon her sheepskin padded saddle, and gazed
above her at the first stars and listened to the music and
thought about this strange magical night, altogether other
than what she had expected, though no less potent. She
noticed a different sound struck now, and looking over the
fire, she saw Jethro with a mallet in one hand whilst the
dulcimer man held the other and was teaching him a tune.
How wonderfully odd to find herself, and he, here tonight,
under the same sky, as such folk, found not upon Nob Hill,
(except Bridget and Conner perhaps), their newfound
Midsummer Night's Kindred...
She saw Jethro look up then and grin at her through the
leaping flames, as he endeavored to follow his new mentor,
and she decided she was well pleased with today and hoped
the spirits of the mountains were, as well they should
be...t'was a fine clear evening as the stars wheeled about
the velvet night sky shining brightly near as only found in
the heights and away from the dim lights of town. Emlyn
recognized the Big Dipper above, which her Keltic ancestors
had named: The Plough...
'...Draoidheachd,' Jeanne pronounced softly to the night
wind.
Shannon glanced up smiling wickedly through her light hair
glowing like a lamp in the twilight, '..."Enchantment",' she
translated.
As the musicians tuned up, one comely lad with long dark
hair and a well trimmed beard and moustache, rather
d'Artagnanish, Em appraised, stood and approached, wearing a
kilt plaid in dark hunter green, Em noted, and carrying an
earthen jug.
'Feasgar, Bandias,' he went to one knee before Jeanne and
offered the jar.
Jeanne smiled and lowering her lashes, drew her long auburn
locks glowing red in the firelight, behind her shoulder and
daintily accepted the offering.
'He says, "Good evening, Goddesses,"' Shannon leaned to
Em's ear and whispered with a grin.
A lone piper came wandering through the camps just then
piping A Midsummer Night's Dream, incidental music, Op. 61,
in G major, and Em bethought it the most perfect background
accompaniment to what surely was all a beautiful dream...
'"You spotted snakes with double tongue
Thorny hedgehogs be not seen,
Newts and blindworms do no wrong,
Come not near our Fairy Queen."'
Emlyn hardly was aware that it was she who had spoken these
lines, yet it seemed fair and fitting and all smiled about
her, as Jeanne passed the jar.
Em tasted a fine smooth apple jack upon her tongue and made
a soft animal sound of appreciation for the gentle way it
melted, and, as she handed the jar to Shannon, she noticed
the young acolyte who had bowed before Jeanne, held his hand
out to accept a guitar...and as she made room beside her, he
did take a seat and began a tune to his Lady:
"Branbridge Town and a County Down
one morning last July,
from a boreen green came a sweet colleen
and she smiled as she passed me by
she looked so sweet up from her feet
to the sheen of her nut-brown hair
Such a coaxing Elf sure I shook myself
for to see what was really there!"
...And the others joined him then on guitar and fiddle and
dulcimer, with Jethro on the mandolin.
Shannon leaned next to Emlyn and whispered, 'All the men are
in love with Jeanne,' she blinked slowly up at Em, 'tis only
natural,' she smiled and leaned back, munching merrily away
upon Em's apples, humming along with the tune, watching the
turn of the stars.
Well, well! Em thought, pleased; it has been a most
surprising day indeed...and why not? That can be a good
thing too, Em, she told herself.
Just see here: we have our good Jeanne, the Crone! Em
shook her head, smiling to herself that such a young and
lovely lass was aspiring to Cronehood! She fell to watching
the Bard woo the Lady upon a Midsummer's Night...and why
not? Why not, indeed?
She had bethought that Shannon and Jethro would be ivy-
entwined by now but Jethro, happily playing mandolin, was
smiling at Jeanne and her troubador, seemingly altogether
content to celebrate with brothers...and that was well, too,
Em thought, knowing Jethro an only child and Weird Homer his
only relative.
He needed this...and, t'was good practice for their
upcoming festival. Ah, surely these lads would participate!
...And the young Bard sang:
'The Harvest Fair she'll be surely there
And I'll dress in my Sunday clothes,
With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right
For a smile from my nut brown rose.
No pipe I'll smoke, no horse I'll yoke
Till my plough turns rust coloured brown.
Till my smiling bride by my own fireside
Sits the star of the County Down...'
Emlyn sighed and took a small sip from yon jar and sent it
back round to Shannon who was favoring it, rather, she
noticed. Well, I am not her mother, and she certainly isn't
all that young...20, perhaps...? Em smiled, thinking, 'at
most'--and grabbed the jar from Shannon and brought it round
to Jethro as the song ended and all applauded and howled at
the stars.
She sat beside him as his band mates took a break and folks
milled about finding new jars of jack and yet more breads
and fruit and cheeses, wandering the field and stargazing...
Em noticed Jeanne and the Troubador had wandered away as
well, while more musicians recommenced wooing the
muse...whilst Shannon danced a reel with a lad at least a
head and a half taller than she.
'So,' Em handed Jethro the jar, 'This Midsummer Night's
Dream okay by you, Captain?'
'Avy, aye, matey!' Jethro grinned at her. 'I'm learning so
much tonight, Em! These guys,' he nodded, 'are some fine
musicians, and so knowledgeable of musical history! You know
I love sea chantys!'
'No, Jethro, I dinna! But I'm so glad,' she held his arm.
'I'm learning much myself. Fellow Kelts, you know...'
Jethro looked at her a long moment. 'Thanks for bringing me
here, Em.' She leaned her head upon his shoulder a moment,
then got up, leaving the jar with the men, and began to
wander about the field, taking in the starscape...
She heard Jethro strike up a reel himself as his brothers
joined in and, yes, it sounded like a sea chanty, Em
mused...she and Jethro used to 'Play Pirates' growing up and
they did some damage in wooden-swordfights, poor Jethro
still had a scar...
'Sing ho for the love of the sea!
It's a pirate's life for me!'
Emlyn was happy to be where she was, here and now, with her
pirates and lost boys, troubadors and bards, young godlings
with tall tales of the moon-and-star-swallowing Welsh of
yore and she somehow felt the here and now, overlapping into
then and beyond, and her past, future and otherselves were
all here as well tonight on Midsummer's Night, and all was
well she believed, and all manner of things shall be well...
. . . .
Watch!
Orthodox Celts with Star of the County Down
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEt2XdN_TbQ
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