Florence Gay

“ Ahoi! Come, Cormac, brother of Ethne! Ethne daughter of Druids! Come, Brother and Druids!”
They danced savage, prancing dances—rough, red limbs tossing and twirling. With broad, expanded nostrils they uttered screaming Pictish war-cries.
“Away with the Christians!” they yelled. “Away with cave-dwellers, fools, and fasters! Hibernia shall have men and warriors—not saints and hermits! Away with monks and virgins!”
Cormac dashed forward with Ethne by his side. Where he was going he did not know. He only knew that he was fighting for the liberty of his bards, and that Columba was on his side. ”

“ He fell back from the compass of her arms and drew his sword, flourishing it around his head.
“Pict do you call me!” he cried, in the same screaming voice. “Ay, Pict am I, and Pict art thou! And we will rally Pict and Scot around us! We will to Britain again and harass the Saxons, as in olden days we harassed the Britons! Scot am I and Scot art thou—and the Scots brought Lia Fail and the Ogham books to Hibernia!”
“Fire!” she returned, “and blood and plunder! Men we make white with fear. Our swords drink deep of blood of maids and babes. Ahoi—we will once more to Britain!” ”

“ Beside them was a group of frenzied worshippers cutting their naked bodies with flints; their cries broke in upon the silver of the Druids’ voices in notes of brass.
The youth upon the saddle had closed his eyes; he swayed a little as though he had already drunk of the mead which the people were spilling and drinking.
“You are ours,” cried the voice of the Druid, “ours! But you reel and sicken at our incense as the bee, fresh from the cell, reels and sickens at a field of clover!”
The young warrior opened his eyes. His face was as white as the Druid robes around him. ”

“ The bards paused—the earth around Cormac was covered with white-robed Druids, prone before him. The blood mounted on the boy’s cheeks. Again they smote upon their golden harps.
“Welcome to Hibernia! Welcome—thrice welcome! Behold us at thy feet! We—the mouthpiece of thy country! We offer thee all—all that Fail hath to give! Her gold, her honey, her white-toothed daughters, her swift racers, her fair, spotted trout, her sloes, and apples and brown nuts—her blood for thy sword to drink. Take all, take all—only let us worship thee. For art not thou from Tuathal’s loins? Tuathal Teachmar? ”

“ King Griffith’s bard—as the O’Fhirgil, had been bards in the family of Finnfuathairt for generations. Ethne had been sent, as a babe, to Hibernia; where she had been fostered, and where she had lived until she was twelve years of age. The family, who had fostered her, had been poor. On her arrival in Britain the wealth and splendour of Griffith’s lands and palaces impressed her in a way she had never forgotten. She was enraptured by the magnificence of the Roman villa where her mother dwelt with the baby prince, Cormac. From that day Ethne became a slave to wealth and luxury. ”

“ Here is the Avenger! Here is the Black Horse! And though Britain lies white with the cold ash of the White Horse she shall be blackened, in time, by the scorch of the Black!”
The tumult was so great, after this, that although Cormac was seen to speak, his voice could not be heard.
Again he walked up and down with the easy, spirited motion that reminded Elgiva so irresistibly of the fleet mountain steeds. Often had she seen such springing, quivering movements as she had watched them, eager for the race. ”

“ A big fair girl lay with one arm round the hound’s neck and the other clasped to her heart a man’s sword and torques—of so rich and rare a pattern that only a great king could have possessed them. A little removed from these three beings was a small dark woman from whom the simple monks recoiled at first, saying she had the air of a sorceress; she was clothed royally, like the boy, and was fair, too, as women are accounted fair in Hibernia—having long fine hair of ebony blackness. ”

“ Cormac rose and thrust Ethne away from the creature. Gelert was now specially dear to him because of the lost Elgiva.
Ethne turned on her foster-brother. In her rage she was a mad-woman—forgetting that the Saxons had bereft her of her weapons she sprang backward, fumbling at her girdle for her dagger; her face horribly distorted, showed to their full her beast-like tusks.
The hound, looking on, understood the familiar action. He had lived too long among fighters not to know that she sought her sword; and that sword, he knew, was to be used against his master. ”

“ The hound, who could not endure the Saxon out of his sight, followed her.
Ethne sneered as she glanced after the retreating figures.
“It will soon be time, Cormac of Fail,” she said, “for you to take the Saxon maid to wife. She will make a fitting bride for a king, in yon sack-cloth shift.”
Again she sneered—Cormac grew crimson.
“And thou can’st have none other. Remember that! One wife must suffice for a Christian. Ha, ha!”
Cormac pushed his platter from before him and rose.
“Ethne,” he said, “I cannot fulfil my father’s commands. I cannot wed the Saxon.” ”

“ From the half-closed hand lying on the sack-cloth robe the tiny head and bright eyes of a little wren were peeping. As Cormac gazed at the great man he realised what was meant when men said that Columba lived in a kingdom of love. Yet he was a wild and fearless warrior, too, gaining repute on the isles and mainland of savage Caledonia.
The saint suddenly addressed the young man.
“You are better, my son. Your wounds were slight, though they were many—you will soon be at the head of your bards again.”
Cormac frowned.
“Never again! I will lead men—not cowards and deceivers.” ”

“ Ethne watched him, well-pleased; knowing that, to these simple people—children of the soil—a stronger appeal could be made by dance than by speech.
“Ahoi! Ahoi!” came Cormac’s battle cry once more. He tossed his locks from his gleaming forehead; his thin nostril quivered; [Pg 155] his sword shimmered constantly in a half-arc of light. Swifter and swifter flew his feet, as sword and shield gleamed in the warrior dance. He chanted as he sang:
“Dance on! dance on: let us dance on! Dance on for aye! Till sword, and foot, and tongue doth yield. The magic sense from rhythm born! ”

“ Hibernia—with her gold and her learning, her intellect, her enterprise, her high spirit—might she not be mistress of the world, could she but send forth warriors as she sent missionaries?
The Christian zeal Ireland showed was the wonder of the age. Daily, from her shores, she saw her children depart to spread the gospel in the world. Kings and scholars—ardent and dauntless—bare foot and clothed in sack-cloth going forth to spend their lives in wattled cote by barren sea-shore, or to freeze in Alpine heights, or in open boats on the ocean. ”

“ The mother of Elgiva gently closed the staring eyes and said:
“Judge not, that ye be not judged! This woman was a Druidess, and a daughter of Druids, and they are reared in vice and cruelty. Their mothers are naught to them; when they marry it is not with one man, but with many; the children they bear are sent at once to the foster-mother. Love and honour are closed books to them.” ”

“ Is not Death the portal to the Beyond, and if you would have its secrets you must enter by the only door open. We believe that when Death has just descended upon a human being his heart and lungs and inward parts unfold the future to us! And ’tis better if every passion be excited first!”
Cormac shuddered.
He felt he must leave Ethne; never look again upon her face—he would return to the Christians. And then the dreadful thought came that he himself had offered unto Baal—he was unclean! He wished to leave Ethne, yet she still attracted him and there was a new and horrible tie between them. ”

“ As she rode through the circle, in which the rude pillars were arranged, she uttered Druidical incantations in a low, piercing voice. The place was thronged with bards and their steeds and beagles—they were riding and walking through the two long avenues and the great central circle; a group in white robes were assembled around the stone of sacrifice—one of these ran to Ethne’s side as she reined in her horse.
“Fortune favours us!” she said, in a low impressive voice. “You fight for your liberty not only under Cormac of Fail, but under the protection of the saint, Columba! ”

“ He leant forward in his saddle—his eyes were wide with hunger—the hunger of fierce, stifled excitement. With one sweeping glance he took in all the scene before him—the struggling hosts that seemed to circle to the far horizon—the smoke blending with the dark sky above—the stars blending with the distant fires—the distant fires that brought the dull glitter of far bog and quagmire into the play of universal flame. Burning flame that added crimson to the flowing blood—flesh to the glancing steel—gold to the poured-out mead—and snow to the naked limbs of the frenzied dancers. ”

“ There was a further howl of wrath from the crowd; and Cormac’s body would have been hewn down instantly, but that the slaying of a man at a Fair meant not only death, but a curse after death on the spirit of the slayer.
Cormac was parrying blow after blow; men were climbing towards the woman along the trunk of the hewn tree, and some were trying to set on fire the dried leaves and twigs.
“A Saxon! a Saxon!” they yelled. “If a man do but enter the airecht of the women he must die—let her die also! Let her die the death!” ”

“ Cormac and his followers rode on—through boundless forests, marshy wilds, and high-lying pasture-lands; through a land without cities; over broad, unbridged rivers that they crossed at fords and shallows on their swimming horses, or by the aid of stepping stones and hurdles; by unpaved roads and bridle-paths; galloping through scattered hamlets of wattle and wicker-work; scaring the cotter’s children at play among the marsh mallows; sometimes slackening their speed amid pastures gray with sheep. ”

“ On every side was a continuous crush of musicians, merchants, snake-charmers, bards, and [Pg 124] law-givers. Spinners, potters, carpenters, workers in gold and silver cried their wares. Everything was offered to the passer-by, from an ingot of gold to roasted cow-flesh on spits. Now came a blinding flash from sun-lit metal, and a sword was thrust in Cormac’s face. Gold and silver-smiths were proclaiming their work. “An Excalibur! An Excalibur!” they chanted. “Without trouble of crossing the lake and suing unto Morgan le Fay! Young men and warriors! ”

“ Flown before the Saxons like fire—as the heathen themselves were wont to describe it.
“It is late, Cormac,” said Ethne, suddenly, looking at the shadows of the trees. “Long past noon, and you have need of meat and milk. Soon, very soon, you will be well enough to fast one day and feast the next; but we have not finished yet our work of making flesh and blood!” ”

“ When you ride to battle again the banners shall bear the old device. The Black Horse is not vanquished—he is but worsted for a time—he will rise again victorious. The Black Horse, Cormac of Fail, the Black Horse against the White!”
The boy shook his head.
“I will never fight again,” he said, mournfully. “The world is lost to me—you are my world now, Ethne, and when you cease to love me I shall die.” ”

“ Pipe, and harp, and clash of battle-axe accompanied the war-songs of the warriors as they rode past in the rain; prancing stallions often added their notes to the din. There was a continual glitter of sword, pike, and javelin; a glare of saffron robes and purple cloaks—woaded limbs and faces. Here and there bronze lance-heads and bronze axes showed themselves, mingled with primitive, leaf-shaped swords of bronze, stone hammers, and hide-covered shields of wicker. Horse and man bristled with tough yew-bows and sheaves of arrows ”

“ Brawny-limbed, red-skinned Saxons with floating ruddy hair—fighting with a strength and valour worthy of the men beside them; as much at home in that scene of blood-shed as they were by their hearths making the trews and baking the bread of their lords and his ceorls. British ladies reared in the refinement and luxury that the Romans had made common in Britain; satin-skinned and white-handed, strangers to the lightest toil—now forced, in dire necessity, on the battle-field ”

“ It was the same hound who had followed them on their flight from Britain, whose life the girl had saved and for whom she had received wounds from Ethne; he was a wonderful creature still, in spite of his age—all muscle and fire—of the breed the Romans had admired; so tall, his head reared itself to the height of a man’s shoulder; so strong he could bear a man over bog and boulder ”

“ Many bronze shields could be seen; some were heirlooms—all bossy and gleaming with rich ornament. There was little order in the procession; it was a perpetual jostle between horse and woman and man; great Irish hounds slipped in and out among the crowd.
In one part of the procession a note of sombre colour and the sound of hushed music prevailed, where a thousand chanting monks from Iona followed their leader Saint Columba.
Suddenly the glare of saffron and purple streamed brighter, the clash of battle-axe grew sharper ”

“ Glass in place of mica or shell filled the windows, and brilliant glass was inlaid, jewel-like, in the walls and in the mosaic of the floors; the rich metal-work was by Byzantine workmen.
Ethne herself was clad, royally, in purple and ermine; bare arm and brow and neck clasped by Celtic torques. For ornaments she seldom wore the amber, rock-crystal and coloured glass with which most women were content, and now the long brooch that clasped her brat flashed with encrusted emeralds, set in by cunning Roman workmanship. ”

“ One night Cormac would lodge with a Druid in the shadow of an ancient tower—on the next he would crouch on the cold clay of a hermit’s cave. At Derry, or the Place of Oaks, he stayed with the monks who were building the great monastery Columba had founded—then he passed to the palace of the northern kings and joined in its revelry; in the day-time sitting and watching the feats of the juggling Druids—and at night listening to their tales as he sat with the hounds and men by the hall fire. The spirit of early Christianity was to work by degrees amongst the heathen ”