What the popular press at the time called "redhaired giants"
immediately roused the hackles of mainstream academia and caused them to sweep the whole unpleasant subject under the rug::..
Richard J. Dewhurst
The Ancient Giants Who Rule America
. . . .
..::When his active work in Dinas Emrys was done, there came about Myrddin the glass dome or ship...and in it he was transported with the 13 Precious Things of the Island of Britain::..
. . . .
..::...In Scotland the Greek-Celtic form of Christianity lasted longer than anywhere else; for about six centuries Rome did not establish what to her seemed order and dignity.
The travels of the Celtic monks took them to far places on the globe. Cormac went to Orkney, the Shetlands and probably Iceland. Brendan spent most of his life at sea and, according to tradition, landed on American shores.
Proverbially, these monks were linked with the Druids by sailors:
'He who is wise will have two tillers to his rudder:
The Art of the Druids for Luck of Wind,
And the faith of Iona for stilling the winds.'::..
. . . .
'My Druid is Christ'
St. Columcille (Columba)
Ross Nichols
The Book of Druidry
. . . .
'Where is Duncan's body?' -- 'Carried to Colme-kill
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors
And guardian of their bones.'
Shakespeare
Macbeth, II, 4.
None had gone to their beds that evening. Long and long the Company had danced far into the night, at times themselves taking turns at guitar or piano, as the stars moved them. Only now, in the Between Hours, did they take their rest; after the music and revelry, after the crowds of townspeople and travelers retreated and retired.
They were partaking of sweet oranges in a corner booth. The empty place seemed to echo of music, though the crackling fire was the only sound of here-and-now.
She glanced through the window; grey advanced upon black, the thick bay fog of Otherwhere. Between night and dawn.
'The hour of the wolf,' Athena whispered. Em's eyes questioned.
Just then, Sebastiao entered with a tray bearing walnuts, a wheel of cheese and apples.
'...And coffee.' he passed the mugs round.
'It smells like heaven,' Athena waved the mug under her nose, inhaling the dark smoky scent.'Thank you, Sebastiao.'
He merely smiled and sat beside her across from Em and Raimundo, too tired to pontificate for once.
'Raimundo,' Em began, peeling an orange, 'I am so glad we came; and I found you again. You are perhaps the only person I know who would understand all that, well, all that has happened. And has been happening, for some time.'
'I am pleased we could reunite, Josephina.'
Raimundo sipped his coffee, leaning against the wall, more relaxed than Em had seen him before; well, since Alice had been around.
'You and Diego...you do not speak of such matters?' he inquired archly.
Em drank deep of coffee. 'Yes, we can. About most things. He was one person I could go to for answers to certain questions. But not all.' Her gaze went straight to Raimundo.
She shifted on the bench, turning toward him.
'For instance, what was the nature of that...experience I had in the desert? I think that you would be the one to ask.'
Raimundo took a glance out the window at the lurking fog.
'You are the one to know that, Josephina. It was for you, alone.' He began to crack walnuts. 'How did it make you feel?'
Diosa, Emlyn thought...how to convey that in mere words?
'It should be obvious, how I felt; mon dieu...' Em's head fell into her hands and she pulled her hair back as she raised her head, staring into the night, lost in...thought.
All smiled at that.
'Undeniably, you were ecstatic, ma chere',' Athena opined.
A soft moan escaped Em involuntarily as she lay her head in her hands...
Raimundo gently touched her arm, then handed her a nutmeat.
'Would you say, it was, altogether a beneficient, benign wind, Josephina?'
'Wind.' She repeated staring ahead blankly. 'Was that what it was?'
She took the walnut half, staring at it as though she recognised it not.
'What am I to make of it all? Oh, Raimundo...'
Raimundo put an arm about her shoulders, glancing at Athena and Sebastiao.
'Let us see if there are any eggs in the kitchen, sim?' Sebastiao held out a hand to Athena, and they made their way into the kitchen behind the bar.
Raimundo pulled a knife from his belt and began slicing apples; he thumbed a slice Em's way.
'It was like nothing on this earth,' she declared, '...and yet, familiar somehow.' She plucked the apple from his hand.
'But, when I think of the bloody history of Mesopotamia and the holy land, Egypt...I wonder. Was it not there, in those very desert regions, Arabian tales of djinns were spawned?'
Her eyes slid to Raimundo's: '...Thaumaturgy, Essence of St. Michael...'Al Khem'; is that not the land of Egypt, land of 'al-chemy'?' She regarded her companion.
'I have much to wonder about.'
Raimundo secreted his blade back in its sheath.
'You,' he began, 'you, yourself are always the best judge of such things. Especially that which happens to you in particular. Did it seem to be 'an ill wind which blows no good'? -- Like an oboe...'
Em smiled at that. 'No, you rascal. And I love the oboe.' She paused, musing.
'I know what you mean, though. No, I do not think that it was anything but...beautiful.'
Her eyes took on that slightly glazed, far-seeing aspect.
'Perhaps it was...Beauty itself.'
'Not a spirit, nor a djinn,' she decided. 'It had no personality, as such.'
'I believe you have your answer,' Raimundo counseled. 'Beauty is truth, and truth beauty. To live infused with beauty is to experience the harmonious blending of love, awe, truth, kindness and respect. It led Jacob and Rachel toward their individual and collective destinies.'
His gaze sought her own, '...of course, you know of El Shaddai; its meanings are variously, wind, or breath, mountain, and all-encompassing.'
Kitchen doors swung open then, revealing Athena and Sebastiao entering along with the wond'rous waft of a real breakfast.
'Ah, and the cheese! Good.' Sebastiao announced. 'A bit of that will go well with the eggs...'
Silence reigned but briefly, as they tucked in.
Emlyn found she was not all that hungry, surprisingly.
'I wonder, though...Raimundo, was my experience anything like what happens to you when you were acting as a vehicle for Frank?'
Raimundo paused, considering. 'No, not really. When I am ridden by someone else, I retreat. I am not so aware of their presence. But with an experience like yours, that is more like a...merging with pure spirit. As you said, not any specific personality.' He returned to the business of breakfast, requiring sustenance.
Emlyn turned to Athena; 'Raimundo...used to be a, vehicle, for someone for years,' she explained. 'He is a practitioner of Candomble.'
Em continued: 'He acted as a channel for my good friend Alice's husband Frank; who had been lost in a time...a time, bubble? -- you might say.
'He, Frank, was involved in the same early timewalking experiments as my father...the mundane one.'
Emlyn's voice took on a hard edge whenever she spoke of her more earthbound parent. 'Long, long ago...'
No one said anything for some minutes; intent upon business. Then Em realised she smelled peppers and finished off her plate at last; leaning back from the table.
'Muito saboroso!' Em proferred up her poor pittance of Portuguese. 'Thank you both for this. I am feeling more myself.' She endeavored to hide a yawn.
Raimundo was moved by breakfast to smile;
'Sebastiao can turn a hand to other things than gambling and carousing, at times...'
Sebastiao turned a wounded look toward Athena who regarded him with lifted brows.
'This, the thanks I receive from a friend,' he groused, turning a bored look upon Raimundo. 'Next time, breakfast is on you,' he stabbed a fork at him, then cleaned his plate. 'Not bad, for a sparse larder.'
'Most of the kitchen's pantry is locked up nights before the staff leaves,' Raimundo explained. 'But, they know us here. It is a second home, to some.' He regarded Sebastiao with a dark glance.
'Dishes...' Sebastiao announced, pushing his plate to Raimundo as he leaned back, stretching his hands behind his head, '...are all yours!' With a grin, he winked at Athena.
. . . .
As usual, another storm was brewing back in Massachusetts.
'Just so...' Daryl murmured to himself. He went to the desk and swept it clear; maps, books... All went back in the drawer.
He stalked the room, hands thrust in pockets. Pausing by the fire he stared across the library at the armoire. Cup and Box lay within. They called to him. The mahogany seemed to throb.
Daryl tore his gaze away and returned his attention to the fire...let the flames draw his mind from that sirens song. He heard the low rumble of thunder without and knew another timestorm was imminent.
He also knew that his questions would not be answered by any mundane journey, no.
'"The weak become strong when they are reckless,"' Daryl muttered to himself, '"and the strong become weak from scruples."'
Whether thinking like von Bismark was wise or not, Daryl strode slowly to the armoire.
He took a deep breath and opened the double doors of blood-dark swirling wood.
'Here we go,' he whispered as he took hold of Cup, swathed in its indigo velvet, and set it upon the desk.
Box was next. He examined it from all angles; it did not look all that old at the moment. Box had that handy trick of changing appearance; it could be newly gleaming, or weather'd and worn, depending on the whim and wherewithall of its own entity. Who or whatever that may be.
He reached into a small drawer in the armoire and brought forth an old salt cellar. Striding to the desk, he poured a circle of salt around it, wide enough for him to step inside.
Box now sat on the opposite end of the desk from Cup. Daryl made sure he had all that may be required; especially his mobile unit, just in case.
He regarded both objects a moment, and removed the velvet from Cup. He then slowly opened the lid of Box, then crossed himself, (also just in case.)
He then put his left hand upon Cup, and the right upon Box.
'You know what I need...' he breathed. 'Answers.'
The rumble of thunder increased in power. A faint blue light began to glow about the Cup, while the Box was illumined by a slight golden aura.
A loud crack of thunder echoed above and lightning flashed as the fire suddenly died and an ethereal silent wind began to blow in a whirlwind about Daryl. He felt it snapping up his legs and then it completely enveloped him. He held fast to the Infernal Instruments and clamped jaws tight.
Cup and Box sat alone; still, silent, with no hint of spirit fire.
Daryl was off again.
. . . .
Nob Hill house? What am I doing here, Daryl thought?
He then found himself in the cellar below where some sort of gathering was taking place. To his amazement, Emlyn's father was among the group.
-- This did not look good.
We have traveled far, thought Daryl. Rather than being thrust into the scene as one of the players, this time, he discovered he was merely an observer.
Interesting.
As he watched the scenario taking place, he began to sense a presence near him.
His attention switched focus: a nebulous whirl of fog or smoke was materializing beside him. As he stared at it, he thought he could discern a figure. Human, seemingly male. The features began to coaslesce into a recognisable face.
-- Frank! The professor's old research partner.
But how could that be? Emlyn had told him that Frank was now in South America and back with his wife, Alice.
Daryl now began to realise that the others here could also see Frank, or what bits had appeared.
All eyes were turned upon the amorphous figure that swirled about, becoming alternately a foggish phenomenon, then focusing into a more solid looking outline of Frank.
Something caught Daryl's eye...
The professor was withdrawing a box of some sort from within his jacket and pointing it at the figure of Frank. He turned a dial on the box.
The men crowded round the professor and strangely, began to smile, and to congratulate one another. Emlyn's father returned the box to his pocket and shook hands with several well-dressed men who appeared to be backers of this dubious discovery.
Daryl was confused and appalled; this was certainly not what he had expected from this trip. What could any of this mean, he wondered?
Just as he was considering that perhaps taking his leave would be wise about now, his appetite for adventure was further quelled by the sudden appearance of the exceedingly vast, Herculean presence of Axelis -- Emlyn's Otherworldly, other father.
Unlike the others however, Axelis looked directly at Daryl, unsettling him to the point of near embarassment.
To his relief, the redhaired giant then regarded the group of men, who had meanwhile retreated into a corner far from Axelis. His formidible, fantastic presence they most certainly had not ignored.
The professor fumbled in his pocket for the box, and with a shaking hand attempted to turn its focus upon Axelis.
-- The box disappeared.
Daryl wanted badly then to follow its example.
Enough of this, whatever it was...he tripped the catch on his mobile unit and the last thing he saw was Axelis turning his gaze upon him.
The eight-foot-tall Otherworldly giant with the warship did not look pleased.
. . . .
Emlyn at last had the time to ask Athena about her dream initiation. They were now on the road, having left straight from the inn sans sleep, and already were nearing the City.
'I'm relieved that it turned out well for you. So you were truly in ancient Greece? That's...fitting.' Em regarded her friend with something near awe; she was thinking that the enigmatic librarian could easily walk in the sandals of the gods.
Athena smiled.
'Keep your secrets, then.' Em leaned against the window, yawning. She shut her eyes against the growing light. 'I wonder what Daryl has been up to whilst we were gone?'
'-- Gone: dancing all night with other men!' Athena had suddenly found her tongue.
'Who, Daryl?' Em was wicked when tired. They both had a hardy chortle. 'Oh, I am sure he kept busy. Up to his eyes in dread iniquity.'
'Daryl...simply, "prefers an accommodating vice to an obstinate virtue", ala Moliere,' Athena stretched, yawning.
'Here,' she grabbed Em's leg and hefted it. 'Put your feet up on the seat over me, then I shall do the same.'
'Aahh...' Both women sat against opposite coach walls, feet propped.
After some minutes, Athena tentatively inquired, 'Em, will you never give up trying to save the devil?'
'Is that what I'm doing? I assume you mean Daryl.' Em crossed her arms before her and lay back, attempting to get comfortable. 'Do you think I will succeed?'
Athena did not answer for some time. Then,
'I think it's worth a shot.' She cleared her throat and observed, '"One woman's devil is just another woman's loving husband,"' or so that lay goes...'
'Oh, Athena,' Em chided, but she was smiling.
The company rambled on down the well-worn coast road for some time; the fantasmal fog nipping at their heels.
'Athena...?' Emlyn shifted, and looked over at her friend. 'Thank you for coming with me. I just had a feeling that you would be the best companion on such a journey. You were wonderful...you didn't even bat an eye when Raimundo suggested we ah, do ceremony.'
'Well, Em,' Athena's eyes were closed, but she seemed alert still. 'I did just walk into a crystal ship with an eight-foot tall being, with never a glance back.' She blinked then, casting a stiletto glance Em's way.
'It's what I do.' She reached down and took a drink from the water sack. 'Thirsty?''Athena, tell me something, anything, of Axelis? Please?' Her eyes fluttered between closed and awake.
Em just sighed in answer.
'But I will try...' Athena sat up a bit, stretching. 'You know, he truly does have your best interests at heart.'
'Ah, I'd love to see you with Daryl then!' They both dissolved into over-weary giggles.
Athena began to hum...then to softly sing:
A man among men
and you're seven-four...
But with all your faults
it's you I adore,when you stand up
your hands touch the floor..."
Em whooped aloud with laughter, nearly tumbling from the seat.
Athena continued undaunted;
"It had to be you,
wonderful you,it had to be you..."
Athena taught Em the song and they sang it the rest of the journey home.
How long had it been, she wondered, since she had been back to her wee bed back in the Sierra foothills at Mrs. Murphys? She had not seen her Triad sisters in far too long. Not since the solstice.
'Sleep...' Athena entered behind her, 'Bed, now.'
'Of course, cherie...' Emlyn put a hand on her shoulder. 'And, merci' for coming with me.''Ma plaisir,' Athena smiled. 'Now, to bed before I fall over...'
Heading toward the stairs, she'd one foot poised to climb, when she thought she heard small noises coming from the library. Probably just Rosa, she told herself as she softly crept to the study doors...
A rustling sound was heard then; near the sofa. Padding quietly forward, Em held her breath as she drew closer. Peering over the sofa's back, she suddenly beheld --
'Daryl!' she breathed, frowning. 'What...?' She wondered then if he had followed them?!
He seemed to have been sleeping, fully clothed. He turned over on his back and opened his eyes, blinking up at her..
'Em?' He coughed and sat up. 'You're...back.' He seemed as confused as she.
'Daryl?' She came round and sat beside him.
He reached for his mug of cold coffee and drank; ran a hand through his wild hair, then took Emlyn's hand in his.'Em. Ah, how, so how was your outing?' He mumbled, still waking. He rubbed his forehead, commanding himself to think.
Mind, stuck. He needed a psychic Heimlich...
'What, are you doing here?' Inquired his beloved novia, daughter of the giant redhaired, very ancient, very angry, Otherworldly warrior.
Em waited, quiet. What was all this about?
'Emlyn, I...I've just seen...your father.'
'And, your other father as well...Axelis.'
'Here. But, not now. In the past.' Daryl stared into the fire. He hung his head then. 'I also saw, Frank.'
'Em,' Daryl sat down beside her, taking her hands once more.
'There is something...something going on that is, I fear...' He groped for the proper words; settled at last on '-- malevolent. And, I believe your father is behind it.'
'Which one?' Emlyn asked bitterly, thinking that she had finally found the reason behind her intimations of trouble.
Daryl ran a finger lightly over her emerald.
'The Professor. Of course. There was some sort of experiment he and a group of men were conducting. Suddenly, Frank appeared; just the vague outline of him. The professor pointed a device of some kind at him which seemed to cause him pain. Before I could do anything, he'd disappeared entirely. That's when Axelis showed up.'But she was getting an idea...
'Sim, Josephina...'
She rose then, leaving Daryl to stare up at her. Oh, if only I had those eight feet of my father's now, thought she.
'It has been a long journey, and I am tired,' she informed him. 'We can talk later; just now, I can hardly think...' A yawn escaped her then, she waved it away, along with Daryl's disclosures. 'I'm having a bath and then I must sleep.'
As she began to take her leave, Daryl reached for her hand.
'Did you and Athena have a good time?' 'Sim.'
'Later,' she breathed.
But, his own trespasses and transgressions kept him silent on this.
He knew then that to keep Josephina, he had to let Emlyn ramble free. Freedom to roam, he knew, was not to be denied for either of them; and in fact, gypsies they were in their truest selves.
George Moore was right in that, Daryl mused. However...it was never the destination, but the journey that mattered, he knew.
What day was it then? He had no idea; occupational hazard of timewalking. Daryl checked the calendar in surprise: Thursday, March 11. Incredible...the solstice seemed just past and now it was nearly spring.
The hazards of Timewalking.
. . . .
From "A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night" (1973)
Harry Nilsson - It Had To Be You 
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