Miriam's Talisman (24 page)

‘What about Dana? She was a goddess, wasn't she?'

‘Dana? Yes, a major deity, possibly the same as Bridget. She was the goddess of one of the mythical tribes. The Tuatha de Danaan, the Children of Dana.'

‘Mythical tribes?'

‘Yes. You see the Celts seem not to have had any creation myths like most religious cultures—no Adam and Eve, that sort of thing. Apparently, according to them, Ireland has always existed. In one of the earliest texts called the
Book of Invasions
, they explain their own arrival by claiming descent from the pre-human races of gods who invaded Ireland in successive waves. The Tuatha de Danaan were the fourth arrivals.'

‘What happened to the other three?'

‘Defeated by the newcomers, mostly. The first wave was nearly all destroyed in the great flood, another commonly occurring legend. Except Fintan, of course.'

‘Yes, Miriam spoke of Fintan. Wasn't he the patron of traditional lore and storytelling?'

‘That's right. He escaped the deluge by changing into the form of a salmon, or in some versions it was an eagle or a hawk. Shape-shifting is quite rife in Celtic mythology. It was he who witnessed all the subsequent
invasions and was able to pass on the history.'

‘And he changed into an eagle?'

The wind threw itself against the house, shaking the windows in their ancient frames. Invisible claws tapped and scraped at the panes. My head was throbbing. I pressed the coldness of the wine glass against my temple. Marcus, undeterred, talked on.

‘Now, the Tuatha de Danaan are interesting. They were said to have come out of the west, out of the misty seas. They were known as the beautiful people, tall and graceful, well versed in music and the arts. However, they were also powerful warriors and they brought with them their own magicians. That's how they managed to conquer the land so efficiently, by the use of magical weapons. There was a bottomless cauldron that fed everyone, a magic sword and spear, and a stone that sang truths and fate to the world. Even so they were eventually defeated and went to live in the fairy kingdom.'

‘The golden apples of the sun!'

I jumped, startled at Janet's voice as she entered the room holding aloft a steaming hot plate.

‘Ah, one of your famous apple pies, my love,' said Marcus. ‘You'll never taste better, Chloe.'

‘No, no. I mean yes, it
is
apple pie, but that's not what I meant.' She placed it in the centre of the table and reached for a knife. A little cloud of steam arose at the first cut and with it the aroma of cinnamon and cloves. ‘These apples came from Miriam's orchard. She sent a tray over just a few days before…Well …' She cut a huge wedge, placing it in front of me. ‘I should have made two, Chloe, then you could have taken one home with you. Oh no, you're going away tomorrow, aren't you?
When you come back, then. Though I suppose they must be your apples now. Are you really going to live in the cottage?'

‘Yes, I think I am. I think that's what she wanted.' I looked down at my plate. Yes, my apples, my orchard. ‘What did you mean about golden apples?'

‘Yeats.'

‘Sorry?'

‘Yeats, William Butler. You were talking about shape-changing when I was in the kitchen.'

Marcus peered at her over his glasses. ‘I don't quite follow you, my dear.'

‘Yes, you do. Now, how does it go?

‘That's it, you see. Only that was a salmon…or was it a trout?' She continued to dissect the pie as Marcus and I looked at her in blank silence.

‘Of
course
you know what I mean.' In feigned exasperation she snapped the knife down on the side of the plate. ‘Just a moment, I'll go and find it.'

She bustled out of the room and I turned to Marcus, who was smiling and shaking his head.

‘You were telling me about these Tuatha de Danaan people. Were they really only a myth?'

‘Well, I dare say there was originally a powerful tribe of conquerors upon whom the legend was based. Rather like the Ancient British leader who united tribes under one banner and became known as King Arthur. Naturally,
all that stuff about round tables and Merlin and swords coming out of lakes is pure fantasy. It was the same with the Tuatha de Danaan. They probably did exist. A tribe of refugee invaders, a bit more cultured than most, who just got lucky for a while.' Marcus smiled, pleased with himself, expecting me to share his little joke. He was unaware of the wind pounding at the doors, the scratching at the windows. He didn't know I was being driven toward the edge, that I could fall and go on falling.

‘What would they have been like? How would they have lived?'

‘By our standards very poorly, even for kings. They were herdsmen and warriors, constantly involved in minor skirmishes with neighbouring tribes. They would have built simple huts and lodges surrounded by a wooden stockade for protection, probably on a hill. The wealthy and powerful among them would have had horses and metal jewellery and weapons, but little else. Life was short and hard for everyone. Death always at their shoulders.'

‘And the rats,' I murmured, ‘
don't let me die where there are rats
.'

‘What's that, my dear?'

‘Oh, nothing, please go on.'

‘Well, they had their kings and spiritual leaders, of course.'

‘The Druids?'

‘Yes, but the Druids were more like administrators of religion. It was the Filidh who were the experts in spells and divination.'

‘Yet, you say they were defeated?'

‘Yes, that's right. Eventually their power waned and
they were overthrown by the Sons of Mil, the immediate ancestors of the Irish people.'

Janet came back into the room holding a book. ‘Here you are, I was right, it was a trout. Listen.

There, you see, shape-changing. I was right.'

‘Yes, my dear, you were right, as always. And, of course, Yeats was an Irishman, too. A politician, among other things, and an authority on Celtic legend. A poet and mystic with a vision of a united Irish culture founded in its mythology.'

‘Well, you and he would have had a lot to talk about then, Marcus. And, of course, he did take a great interest in Faerie lore. Are you interested in the Faerie legends, Chloe? Perhaps I could lend you something to read.'

What was it he had said?
Be alert for the fish. It is a sign and may have more than one meaning
. Yes, that was it. But what did it mean? We all concentrated on the dessert for a while, and I did manage to eat some of it. Then Janet said she would make coffee. I offered to help but was
dismissed: guests weren't allowed to work. Marcus went back down to his basement study, muttering something about the four magical weapons and a link with alchemy. We had come close, so very close. I would not be turned back now. I followed him down.

He entered the room and switched on a table lamp which threw a yellow circle over the desk. Unlike Miriam, who worked amid chaos, Marcus kept his space neat and orderly. Or perhaps it was Janet who filed his papers and tidied away his pens. The corners of the room, outside the circle of light, were full of shadows. The darkness had entered the house now, and the wind heaved and sucked at the curtains. He pulled out several books from the shelf and flipped through them. I perched on the desk, looking over his shoulder and trying not to shiver.

‘You said that these people—the Tuatha de Danaan, is it?—went to live in the Faerie kingdom?'

‘Well, there's some confusion. In some of the tales, the Danaan tribes seem to be human, living side by side with the Faerie and able to interact with them. In others, the roles become blurred, as if they were actually Faerie themselves, or at least became the Faerie after their final defeat. It's really not at all clear.'

‘The Irish still choose to believe in fairies, don't they?'

‘Oh, no, I don't think the Irish
choose
to believe in them exactly. Rather, it's something deeply rooted in the Celtic psyche. The Irish have always lived on easy terms with the supernatural, and historically their belief in the natural order of things has always seemed somehow vaster and more flexible than ours.' As he spoke I noticed a picture hanging above the mantelpiece, a large print. It was
A Midsummer Night's Dream
by Joseph Paton, the same
as the card Miriam had given me for my birthday all those years ago. Not an incredible coincidence, considering Marcus and she shared a fascination for the subject of the painting. I moved over to look at it more closely.

There were the figures of Titania and Oberon, as I remembered them, amid a magical gathering of ethereal spirits and sprites with beautiful faces and gossamer wings. But now I could see that they were not all beautiful. Some among them were ugly and misshapen. A wild-eyed male, his arms muscled like knotted wood, dripped poison from a flower cup into the mouth of a sleeping human. Gnomes and dwarves with leering grins urged him on, gleeful in the torment of their plaything. Nearby a winged fairy looked down. She had breasts as white as porcelain and the blessed face of a madonna. A dark-bearded satyr clung to her naked thighs. Such a sweet and innocent corruption.

The Faerie King and Queen stood amid their court, their bodies entwined with ropes of flowers. They had no thought beyond the tricks of love and betrayal they devised for each other to while away the long night: mind games, with human lives as the gaming board. And all the while the tiny subjects danced about their feet and plucked their harps and sang their songs while their victims slept on, oblivious to such an exquisite and dainty depravity.

‘Chloe? You're miles away. What are you thinking?' Marcus's voice cut through my thoughts.

I went back to his desk, laughing a little to hide my embarrassment. ‘I'm sorry. It was the picture. I was thinking that Miriam was always very passionate about the nature of the Faerie. She hated the storybook images
of little people flitting among the flowers or sitting on a toadstool. She often got quite angry about it.'

‘Well, the new culture of Christianity needed to diminish the power of the old ways by diminishing their gods to harmless picture-book creatures. The Faerie, or the Sidhe as they were also called, were remarkable beings to be provoked at one's peril. Some believe that they're fallen angels, ejected from Heaven but not wicked enough for Hell. Certainly, by human standards, they seem to be amoral, but then they're of a different social order and less, well, solid and bound by physical laws. They were able to change shape at will, to come and go, make themselves invisible. I suppose they would seem more like devils than angels.'

I wanted to run out of the room, to run upstairs to Janet's domestic sanctuary. The gloom beyond the circle of light held me fast. I forced myself to speak, to tell myself what I already knew; what I had known all along.

‘Of course there were all kinds of beings, but Miriam said the Elven races were the most powerful and the most feared. They were tall and slender and beautiful. Their very presence could weave a spell over the human mind. To hear their voice was an enchantment, one would be lost to them forever.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Marcus. ‘There are countless tales of young men and women being enticed away by the fairies. Legend would have us believe they actually interbred with the ancient tribes. Their sons and their descendants are said to be the ancient Kings of the Celts. Mind you, it's not all one-way. The Sidhe have been known to attach themselves to humans. There have even been claims of them following people who have emigrated to America
and Canada. But that seems highly unlikely. Apparently they have some aversion to crossing salt water.'

I was at the very edge now, looking down into my own fear. There was something deep and dark here, threatening to rise up and engulf me. But I had to know.

‘Marcus, this talisman?'

‘Yes, I noticed you were wearing it. Strange, I always meant to ask her about it but never got around to it somehow.'

‘You don't know what it is then?'

‘Well, no, but let me see it.' He took the pendant in his hands. ‘A strange metal. I thought it was silver, but it's much too bright. The colours seem to shine from under the surface. Mithril, I bet.'

‘Mithril? What's that?'

‘Just my little joke, Chloe, all this talk of Faerie. You must have read Tolkien?'

‘Of course.'

‘Then you would know all about Elven silver.'

I couldn't answer. Sweat prickled the nape of my neck and my palms were damp. He continued to hold the talisman, tracing the intricate lines with his fingertips.

‘Celtic, no doubt, though I have no idea how old it is. Iolair, of course, highly stylised, like most of their creatures.'

‘That name!'

‘What name, my dear? Why are you taking on so? What's wrong?'

‘You said his name. Iolair.'

‘Ah, no, no. That's not a name. Just a word from the Gaelic. It means eagle. Look, you can just make out the wings and the beak—What's the matter, child? Come,
you'd better sit down. Perhaps too much wine at dinner, eh? Where has Janet got to with that coffee? Janet? Janet!'

It was too late. The room was spinning and I was drifting down into emptiness.