Date: Mon, 24 Aug 2009 21:31:46 +0200 (CEST)
From: ARTFITZ <artfitz@orange.fr>
Subject: The druid chapter 8

A feast in an Irish rath at this time was a formal thing. The order of
things being laid out by the rules of hospitality. The Queen was of course
the centre of the evening and her Taniste or chief minister was second in
the pecking order. The Fillé or family poet was there as were the Ollamh
and the harpist. The food was prepared in great cauldrons decorated with
wild animals and intricate intertwining designs. The servants entered the
hall carrying a platter with a wild boar placed on it and presented it
before the Queen. She stuck her knife in the roasted animal and turned to
the Druid offering him the Hero's part. The Druid was deeply honoured, he
looked around at the assembly smiled and cut a tiny morsel of the beast and
offered the platter back to the Queen. The assembly slapped the trestle
tables making a great noise as the feasting began. The boar was followed by
many other animals and by great vats of bear and mead which enormous three
handled cups were dipped into and made their way around the hall. Coming
back empty to be refilled and restart the circular journey. When the eating
was finished and the crowd settled the Queen made a sign to the fillé to
start a poem which she had ordered for the Druid.

The poet stood in front of the Queen, smiled nervously as he opened his
mouth to recite the poem he had prepared.

Flowing white beard of Leinster
Wisdom, knowledge, art and craft.
Unite in your hand and heart.
Guardian of the great staff of power.
Guide to the people in their need.
Bring upon us the peace of plenty
Bring upon us the gift of the moon
Light and love shall grow in your shadow
Life shall take root in the bare ground
The rock shall be crushed before you.
The rod will strengthen in the the place
Where all life starts.
Your presence a gift of the great Dogda.
The triple headed God of our lands.

The crowd banged the tables as the poet bowed to the Druid and the Queen,
his keen eyes settled at last now that his words had received acclaim.

The harper played a haunting tune on the small hand held harp his long
fingernails plucking the strings of the highly decorated instrument. The
music entered the ears of the druid and seduced his mind, bringing back
memories of other feasts at other tables throughout the centuries past. So
many lives had been lived, so much he had learned, so much he had taught,
and yet so much left to be done. He sometimes wearied of the task but when
he looked around and saw the happiness and love which resulted from his
simple actions he drew strength and his will became iron. He was ready
always and everywhere to fight the evil of hate and smug indifference. He
knew that the coming days would try him very dearly and that the risks were
great, his companion would be rocked by a danger greater than anything he
had experienced and would have to suffer to regain his independence of
spirit. The mastery of his soul and the trueness of his love would be
tested deeply. That was for another day, he said to himself, as he returned
to the feast and glanced at Stefan across the room in the company of
Turloch and the other warriors. At that precise moment their eyes met and a
smile spread across both full lipped mouths as they gazed longingly at each
other.

That night they slept apart for the second night and they missed each other
so much that they slept badly. The boy feeling so lost and empty he could
not even use his hand to masturbate himself. The Druid weary after the work
of the last days and claiming sleep as his only reward. He slept eventually
with the image of Stefan engraved on his minds eye.

The following morning Stefan brought a piece of bread and some small beer
to the chamber of the Druid. He leaned over and kissed his forehead and
whispered soft words of love into his ear. The old man opened his eyes and
smiled at his servant. Stefan knelt in front of him and placed his head on
the druids chest and asked for his blessing. The Druid laid his hand softly
on the boys head and recited a blessing. The strain of the activities of
the last two days disappeared and both men felt well and rested. The druid
said to the boy, 'my love we must move on today and I must warn you that
the deep forests of Connemara contain an enemy who is formidable and very
dangerous. You must be brave and remember that you are protected by our
love.

Turlouch waved goodbye to the druid and winked at Stefan as he moved out of
the rath with the two horses in tow. The Druid and Stefan took their leave
of Queen Maeve and her court. The giggling of the girl warriors as Stefan
moved past was indication, as if it were needed, that he had made a huge
impression on them. Queen Maeve was pleased, she had revived her kingdom
and she understood that in nine months a number of new warriors would be
arriving to bring her army to full strength.

The Druids words about the deep forests of Connemara weighed heavily on the
mind of Stefan, he bit his beautiful red lips as they walked towards the
west and their destiny.