Star Woman in Love (21 page)

We smiled. “Bríd, welcome”

The three goddesses came to stand by my side and placed their bejewelled hands on my shoulders. From that point onward we would walk together on the way to Tara. With their power behind me I felt invincible and as infinite as the Life Force itself.

It was now the gods’ turn to show up. We faced the opposite direction, gazing at the sky. The sounds of the Earth were like an orchestra: the wind, the call of the cows, the lull of the stream at the foot of the hill, the strident song of the crows. Our wait wasn’t long. A bright ball of Light appeared in the East, approaching the Mound. It opened up to reveal old King Nuada of the Silver Hand, a monarch of the Tuatha Dé Danann. His body was imposing and athletic. He brandished his famous Sword of Light and sported long grey hair and a dark beard. His aura bore the energy of wisdom and self-sacrifice. The legend tells how, having lost his hand in battle, he was seen as unsuited to rule his people. Perfect health would always be a prerequisite for the high kings. A working silver hand was cast by a master wright and attached to his body by a master physician. The king’s physical prowess had been restored. He was thus returned to the throne. He was eventually killed and beheaded in battle by Balor of the Evil Eye. As it was fit for a king, he fell protecting his people though he had already abdicated in favour of his successor by then.

“Greetings, Twins. I am pleased to meet you both,” he said.

We bowed in acknowledgement. “King Nuada.”

A swift lightening cut through the sky, opening the way for King Lú of the Long Arm. He manifested out of thin air carrying his magic spear. This youthful god with blond hair and sinuous limbs was once Nuada’s chief bard, and then his successor at Tara when the former stepped down in his favour. When he was a young man, Lú travelled to Tara to join King Nuada’s court. The gatekeeper wouldn’t let him in unless he had a special talent which could be of use to the ruler. He offered his services as a wright, a smith, a champion, a swordsman, a harpist, a hero, a poet and historian, a sorcerer, and a craftsman. But he was turned down each time as there was already someone among the Tuatha Dé Danann with that specific skill. Then Lú asked whether there was anyone at the court who possessed all those skills at once. The gatekeeper acquiesced and Lú was permitted to join the court. Lú was a very persistent all-rounder, and a great ally to have in the Otherworld.

The two High Kings moved next to you and wove their protective rays around you. They would be your shields against the Dark Forces on the way to Tara. Infinity had opened its door to us, two mortal visitors walking on sacred ground on our quest to regain our own divinity. With our godly retinue we headed for the hillock where the Lia Fáil, the Stone of Destiny, stood. This phallic symbol is the ancient Coronation Stone of Tara, upon which the high kings of old were crowned. The Tuatha Dé Danann had brought it there from their expeditions in the Northern Isles. When the rightful high king of Ireland put his feet on the stone, it roared in delight and its screech could be heard all over the country. Its power could also protect and rejuvenate the king, ensuring that his reign would be long.

For many centuries now the Lia Fáil has been watching over the vast lands that stretch around it in a sad silence. No rightful king is leading the tribe these days. Of course, as is the case in mythology, the strength of the message embodied in a symbol can operate at various levels. One can choose to believe that myths refer to a legendary time in the past. In truth, they refer to the present moment. While we walked towards the Lia Fáil as the Alchemical Couple preparing for our Sacred Marriage, the myth we enacted in the Dreamtime was a reflection of what was still latent in us. One day it would come to the fore and nothing would be the same anymore.

We reached the Stone. We circled it three times clockwise and three times anticlockwise. A family of German tourist were in the meadow and stared at us with curiosity. They couldn’t see our royal companions. I kissed the top of the Lia Fáil. Then you placed your right foot and then your left foot on it. The meaning of our ritual is clear to those who possess the Knowledge. Three is a divine number. The circling in the two directions is a reminder of the ability to go in and out of time. My kiss on the Sacred Phallus marks the Holy Bride’s acceptance of the Divine Groom. Your feet on the Stone signal your vow to walk on the path of Sacred Maleness, on the Path of the High King. The Stone roared in delight. The sound expanded across the valley to the four corners of the Earth. You were the High King and I was your Divine Queen. The German onlookers didn’t hear a sound. They also didn’t see anything apart from a young couple in love messing about with quirky pagan lore.

* * * *

Newgrange, 21 December 1995

“Polly, turn right here. See the little country road that goes along the river? Follow that, please!”

“Okay, Oscar. Bit of a detour, eh?”

“Keep going, you’ll see why later...”

Your voice woke me up. I was lying with my head in your lap in the back seat of the car. I had been asleep as it was just after eight in the morning. You caressed my face when I opened my eyes. I sat up and saw the windscreen wipers working over time, trying to fend their way through buckets of rain.

“I’ve just seen a crow fly in that direction,” you said, “looks like we have a date at Newgrange.”

The Morrígan was guiding us to the sacred site aligned with the Winter Solstice, which happened to be that day. Polly was driving and Sam was sitting next to her. My two friends were now boyfriend and girlfriend. They were our guests during the Christmas holidays. We had spent the weekend in a spa hotel near Drogheda. Polly was adamant that we should leave in good time. There were severe weather warnings and she wanted to be in Dublin before the rain got any worse. An early start to the journey would also allow them to drop their bags at our place. Then we could head for our lunchtime appointment at a renowned fish restaurant in Dun Laoghaire.

The sun had not yet risen in that infernal sky. You and I had been very busy in bed the night before. We were both a little worse for wear at breakfast that morning. I thought we were going straight to Dublin and I could catch forty winks on the journey. But you saw a crow fly in the direction of Newgrange and we had to detour there; it didn’t matter that we were in the middle of a storm.

We drove past the Visitor’s Centre. It was closed at this time of the year. A small group of people wearing plastic ponchos waited in the lashing rain next to a minibus. It didn’t look very inviting out there, I thought. You must have read my mind.

“It’s only water, Cassie,” you said.” Water is always a blessing...”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then we are very blessed here in Ireland.” 

We reached the nearest access to the site and parked the car. The gate to the grounds was open to welcome visitors for the Winter Solstice celebrations. It was still dark but the sun was starting to rise in the East. A mystical silence enveloped the place. As we were walking towards the Passage Tomb, the rain eased off significantly. But the wind turned even more blusterous and horrid. You put your arm around me to shelter me from the elements. Our friends didn’t seem too happy to be there. Polly’s tiny frame was shaking in the harsh Irish weather. Sam held her hand to encourage her. Some people were already outside the entrance to the Tomb. We joined them as they listened to their guide. She was describing the archaeology of the place in great detail, explaining how passage tombs like Newgrange incorporated both rituals of death and rebirth.

“This is a Marriage Chamber, Cassie,” you whispered.

I knew. It is also a time-travelling and dream-magnifying temple. I wanted to remind you so when I got interrupted by someone calling your name.

“Oscar, fancy meeting you here today! And what a great coincidence it is!”

The man who approached us was the poet, Kenneth Drury. In his late sixties, he looked remarkably energetic and healthy.

“See these people here? We are this year’s Newgrange Lottery winners. You know, the only way to get into the Chamber to admire the first Solstice sunrays is by entering a lottery draw. I’m one of the lucky winners. At last, after forty odd years trying! Well, guess you are even luckier than me, my son. We’re about to go inside. Sunrise is expected at 9.02 am. Four of the winners didn’t turn up because of the weather. And guess what? Oscar O’Leary and his three friends appear at the right time to replace them! Come this way, squeeze in!”

Our magic had worked to gain us priority access to one of the most sacred power spots in the land. Something was calling us inside the chamber that morning, to witness the revered ritual. Something higher and undimmed by time was enticing us to be present, with the frequency of our Union, at a very portentous space-time junction. We didn’t quite grasp the scope of the event at first. But the solemnity of the moment became apparent once we entered the dark gallery.

Seventeen people in a line walked into the tumulus, one by one. You led the way before me, holding my hand. The long entrance gallery is a very narrow and low corridor. You had to bend not to bang your head. It was pitch-black inside, bar the guide’s torch that flickered through the shapes of the bodies making their way towards the chamber. When we got there, we were asked to stand in silence with our backs to the walls. The guide reminded us that the monument dated back five thousand years to a time before the pyramids at Giza or even Stonehenge in England had been erected. In ancient times, at Newgrange, or Brú na Bóinne as it’s known in Irish, pilgrims would come from all corners of the land to worship the Light winning over the Darkness on the shortest day of the year.

“The poetry of this site is unbeatable,” you said in my ear. “It’s death and rebirth, it’s the primordial womb of the Mother gestating the Sun god, it’s the Alchemical Marriage in all of its beauty.”

“Shhhhh...”

The guide reminded us to be quiet and let Nature do all the talking. Then she switched off her torch. Seventeen individuals stood in complete silence in the temple. You put your arms around me. Everybody was trying their best to make their presence inconspicuous. We stood in the darkness for what felt like eons. Our heads were turned towards the little roof-box at the entrance. The sunlight would enter from there. Your breath and mine synchronised. I could hear the prayers and dreams of the ancestors who had come here to sing their songs and play their drums to the Life Force. They had also made love; the Kings and the Queens of old consumed their Sacred Union here. You and I felt the frequency of their ancient alchemy, just like our own.

A feeble suggestion of light appeared in the distance. A sunray stretched its lazy fingers through the gallery, inch by inch down the nineteen meters until it reached the chamber. The Light of the sun filled the space, illuminating our solemn faces. It revealed a multitude of symbols that decorated the walls around us, and quartz fragments contained therein. Awe filled our souls as we beheld the changing of the season. I looked up to see your face. When our eyes locked, we found ourselves elsewhere in space and in time.

* * * *

“Welcome to my home, Twins.”

Our eyes almost popped out of their orbits with surprise. We were in a room full of strange ornaments. The scent of myrrh filled the air. The walls were carved out of crystal. A bat of an eyelash earlier, we’d been staring in amazement at the first ray of sunshine penetrating the darkness of the Newgrange chamber. Now we were in paradise. The tall lady with long dark hair who was talking to us had led us there. Why, we didn’t know yet.

“I am the Morrígan. But you can call me Morgana as I’m better known these days. You are most welcome visitors in Shambhala, the White Island.”

We were speechless.

“Don’t be so surprised! You have been here many times before in your dreams and in your visions. We all know you very well here. We hadn’t managed to get you past the Gates of the City of Light for long before, but now you’re fully grown up in your love. The frequency of the feeling you have for each other is the Key that opens the Gates. You wouldn’t have been able to enter without that strong tie that now binds you.”

Morgana clapped her hands and three crows flew through a big patio window that opened onto a square. As we turned to look at the birds, we noticed many trees in blossom outside the house. There were buildings made of many-coloured crystals shining in the sunshine and reflecting a multitude of rainbows across the air. The crows turned into middle-aged men dressed like the Knights Templar.

“Cassandra, these are your guides. Alongside me, they will accompany you to the Crystal Waterfall. They are at your service and will answer all your questions. Just make sure that you ask the right ones as they will not offer any information otherwise.”

I couldn’t contain my excitement at meeting them. The gentleman to the right was Hugues de Payens, the co-founder and first Grand Master of the Knights Templar. Next to him was Godfrey of Saint-Omer, another founding member. Hugues and Godfrey had been so poor that they had only one horse between them. Indeed, the famous image on the seal of the Templars, with two men riding a single horse, was inspired by them. To their left was Phillipe de Plessis, famous among other things for helping uphold the treaty between Saladin and Richard I. To the sound of crystal laughter, an elderly man appeared in the room.

“Greetings, Twins! I believe you’ve just arrived from Brú na Bóinne, the place that was once my home. I am the Dagda, though in more recent times I have become known as the Merlin. Young lady, you were absolutely right when you tuned into the frequency of the Sacred Union in the temple. That was the Marriage Chamber where I laid with Elcmar. There we conceived Aengus, the god of love. Morgana won’t be too happy to be reminded of that. The Phantom Goddess is not that fond of physical reproduction,” he said, winking at me.